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THE
DRAMATIC WORKS
WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,
FROM THE TEXT OF
JOHNSON, STEVENS, AND KEED,
GLOSSAKIAL NOTES, LITE, ETC.
A NEW EDITION,
BY
WILLIAM HAZLITT, ESQ.
IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOLUME II.
LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND CO., FARRINGDON STREET.
1853.
/
?K
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
All's Well that Ends Well Page 1
Taming of the Sheew 62
Winter's Tale 119
Comedy of Ebeobs 188
Macbeth 227
King John 280
The Life and Death of King Eichabd II 337
Fibst Pabt of King Henby IV 398
Second Pabt of King Henby IV 462
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING OF FRANCE.
DUKE OF FLORENCE.
BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon.
LAFEU, an old Lord.
PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram.
Several young French Lords, that
serve with Bertram in the Flo-
rentine war.
STEWARD, 1 Servants to the Coun-
CLOWN, J tea of Rousillon.
A PAGE.
COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, Mo-
ther to Bertram.
HELENA, a Gentlewoman protected
by the Countess.
AN OLD WIDOW of Florence.
DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.
VIOLENTA, l Neighbours and
MA RI ANA, / Friends to the Widow.
Lords attending on the Kino ;
Officers, Soldiers, &c, French
and Florentine.
Scene, partly in France, and partly
in Tuscany.
ACT I.
SCENE I.— Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS'S Palace.
Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and
LAFEU, in mourning.
Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second hus-
band.
Ber. 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.
Laf. 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.
Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment ?
Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians. Madam ; under
whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope ; and finds
no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope
by time.
Count. This young gentlewoman had a father (O, that had !
how sad a passagef 'tis !), whose skill was almost as great as his
* Under guardianship,
VOL. II.
t /. e. passing recollection.
2 all's wel-l that ends well. [act I.
honesty ; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immor-
tal, 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.
Laf. How called you the man you speak of, Madam ?
Count. He was famous, Sir, in his profession, and it was his
great right to be so : Gerard de Narbon.
Laf. He was excellent, indeed. Madam ; the king very lately
spoke of him, admiringly, and mourningly : he was skilful
enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against
mortality.
Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?
Laf. A fistula, my lord.
Ber. I heard not of it before.
Laf. I would it were not notorious. — "Was this gentlewoman
the daughter of Gerard de Narbon ?
Count. His sole child, my lord ; and bequeathed to my over-
looking. 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 withf pity, they are virtues and traitors
too ; in her they are the better for their simpleness ; % she derives
her honesty, and achieves her goodness.
Laf. Your commendations, Madam, get from her tears.
Count. '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 to have.
Mel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed ; but I have it too.
Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive
grief the enemy to the living.
Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it
soonmortal.il
Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Ijaf. How understand we that ?
Count. Be thou bless'd, 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 check'a for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. "What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish,^" and my prayers pluck down,
Pall on thy head ! Farewell. — My lord.
'Tis an unseason'd courtier ; good my lord,
Advise him.
* Qualities of good breeding and erudition. + Are attended by.
t Her excellences are the better because they are artless.
\ All appearance of life.
jj If the living oppose themselves to excessive grief, it soon die*.
% I. *. that may help thee with more and better qualifications.
fcSM I.J all's well that ends well. 3
Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.
Count. Heaven bless him ! — Farewell, Bertram.
[Exit Countess.
Per. The best wishes, that can be forged in your thoughts f To
Helena], be servants to you ! * Be comfortable to my mother,
your mistress, and make much of her.
Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : You must hold the credit of your
father. [ Exeunt Beetbam and Lafetj.
Hel. 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 it, but Bertram's.
I am undone ; there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were 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 a plague,
To see him every hour ; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table jt heart, too capable
Of every line and tnck+ of his sweet favour :§
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify nis relics. Who comes here ?
Enter Pabolles.
One that goes with him : I love him for his sake ;
And yet 1 know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ;
Yet these fix'd evils sit to fit in him,
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak in the cold wind : withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.
Hel. And you, monarch.
Par. No.
Hel. And no.||
Par. Are you meditating on virginity ?
Hel. 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 ?
Par. Keep him out.
* I. e. may you be mistress of your wishes, and have power to bring
them to effect.
t Picture — canvass. t Peculiarity of feature.
S Countenance. I I. e. no monarch, no queen,
* 2
4 all's well that ends well. [act I.
Hel. But he assails ; and our virginity, though valiant in the
defence, yet is weak : unfold to us some warlike resistance.
Par. There is none ; man, sitting down before you, will un-
dermine you, and blow you up.
Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers, and blowers
up ! — Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up
men ?
Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will quicklier be blown
up : many, in blowing him down again, with the breach your-
selves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the common-
wealth 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 it.
Hel. I will stand fort a little, though therefore I die a virgin.
Par. 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 feed-
ing his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle,
made of self-love, which is the most inhibited* sin m the canon.
Keep it not ; you cannot choose but lose by't : Out with't : with-
in ten years it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase ;
and the principal itself not much the worse : Away with't.
Hel. How might one do, Sir, to lose it to her own liking ?
Par. 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
tooth-pick, which wear not now : Your datef 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 dryly ; marry, 'tis a withered pear ; it was for-
merly better ; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear : Will you anything
with it ?
Hel. 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
* Forbidden.
t A quibble on date, which means age, and candied fruit.
SCENE I.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS "WELL. J5
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
Par. What one, i' faith ?
Hel. That I wish well.— 'Tis pity
Par. What's pity ?
Hel. That wisning 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
Returns us thanks.
Enter a Page.
Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit Page.
Par. Little Helen, farewell : if I can remember thee, 1 will
think of thee at court.
Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable
star.
Par. Under Mars, I.
Hel. I especially think, under Mars.
Par. Why under Mars ?
Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs
be born under Mars.
Pur. When he was predominant.
Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather.
Par. Why think you so ?
Hel. You go so much backward, when you fight.
Par. That's for advantage.
Hel. 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.
Par. 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 capabief 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.
Hel. 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 r
The mightiest space in fortune nature brings
To join like likes, and kiss like native things.^
* 7. «. and show by realities what we now most only think.
t I. e. thou wilt comprehend it.
t Things formed by nature for each other.
6 all's well that ends well. [act r.
Impossible be strange attempts, to those
That weigh their pains in sense ; and do suppose,
"What hath been cannot be : Who ever strove
To 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.
SCENE II. — Paris. A Boom in the King's Palace.
Flourish of Cornets. Enter the KlNG OF FRANCE, with letters ;
LORDS, and others attending.
King. The Florentines and Senoys* are by the ears ;
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue
A braving war.
1 Lord. So 'tis reported, Sir,
King. Nay, 'tis most credible ; we here receive 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.
1 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.
2 Lord. It may well serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing an exploit.
King. What's he comes here ?
Enter Beetbam, Lafetx, and Pakolles.
1 Lord. It is the count Bousillon, my good lord,
Xbung 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.
Per. 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 lavsted long ;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
* Siennese.
8CENE II.J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 7
To talk of your good father : In his youth
lie 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 its 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 : ouch a man
Might be copy to these younger times ;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward.
Ber. His good remembrance. Sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb ;
So his approof lives not in epitaph,
As in your royal speech.
King. 'Would I were with him ! He would always say
Slethinks. I hear him now ; his plausive words
e scatter d not in ears, but grafted them,
To grow there, and to bear), Let me not live, —
Thus 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; tchose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments ;* tvhose 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.
2 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 physican at your father's died ?
He was much famed.
Ber. 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.
Ber. Thank your majesty.
[Exeunt. Flourish,
* Who are mere Inventors of dress.
8 all's well that ends well. [act I.
SCENE III.—Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.
Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown.
Count. I will now hear : what say you of this gentlewoman ?
Steto. Madam, the care 1 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.
Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah:
The complaints, I have heard of you, I do not at 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.
Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, Madam, I am a poor fellow.
Count. Well, Sir.
Clo. No, Madam, 'tis not to 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,f Isbel the woman and I will do as we may.
Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar ?
Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case ?
Clo. 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 of my body ; for they say, bearnsj are blessings.
Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry.
Clo. My poor body, Madam, requires it: I am driven on by the
flesh ; and ne must needs go, that the devil drives.
Count. Is this all your worship's reason ?
Clo. Faith, Madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they
are.
Count. May the world know them ?
Clo. I have been, Madam, a wicked creature, as you and all
flesh and blood are ; and indeed, I do marry, that I may repent.
Count. Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness.
Clo. I am out of friends, Madam ; and I hope to have friends
for my wife's sake.
Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave.
Clo. You are shallow, Madam; e'en great friends; for the
knaves come to do that for me which I am a-weary of. He that
ears§ my land, spares my team, and gives me leave to inn the
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, howsoe'er their hearts are severed in
religion, their heads are both one, they may joll horns together,
like any deer i' the herd.
Count. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave ?
* To act up to your desire. t To be married.
J Children. I Ploughs.
8CENE III.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 9
Clo. 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.
Count Get you gone, Sir ; I'll talk with you more anon.
Stew. May it please you, Madam, that he bid Helen come to
you ; of her I am to speak.
Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I would speak with her ;
Helen, I mean.
Clo. Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, [Singing.
Why the Grecians sacked Troy ?
Fond done,f 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.
Count. What, one good in ten ? you corrupt the song, sirrah.
Clo. One good woman in ten, Madam ; which is a purifying
o' the song : Would God would serve the world so all the year !
we'd find no fault with the tithe- woman, if I were the parson :
One in ten, quoth a' ! an we might have a good woman born but
for every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the
lottery well ; a man may draw his heart out, ere he pluck one.
Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you ?
Clo. 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 Clown.
Count. Well, now.
Stew. I know, Madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely.
Count. 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.
Slew. 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 : Diana, no
queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knightj surprised,
* The nearest way. t Foolishly done.
; (Tobe.i
10 all's well that ends well. [act I.
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.
Count. 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 mis-
doubt : 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 STEWAED.
Enter HELENA.
Count. Even so it was with me, when I was young :
If 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'a 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.
Hel. What is your pleasure, Madam ?
Count. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.
Set. Mine honourable mistress.
Count. 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 ?
AVhy ? that you are my daughter ?
Hel. That I am not.
Count. I say, I am your mother.
Hel. Pardon, Madam :
The count Eousillon 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 vassel die :
He must not be my brother.
Count. Nor I your mother ?
Hel. You are my mother, Madam ; 'Would you were
(So that my lord, your son, were not my brother),
* Since.
BCEXBIII.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 11
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 ?
Count. 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' heacLt Mow 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 one to the other : and thine eyes
See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours,
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 clue ;
If it be not, forswear't : howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
Hel. Good Madam, pardon me !
Count. Do you love my son ?
Hel. Your pardon, noble mistress !
Count. Love you my son ?
Hel. Do not you love him, madam ?
Count. 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.
Hel. 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;
Mor 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 ;
Yetj in this captious and intenibleX 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,
* I.e. I care as much for : I wish it equally.
* The source, the cause of your grief.
t Receiving, but not retaining.
12 all's well that ends well. [act t.
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do : but, if yourself,
VVhose aged honour cites* a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wi?h chastely, -and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love ;f 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.
Count. Had you not lately an intent, speak truly,
To go to Paris ?
Hel. Madam, I had.
Count. Wherefore ? tell true.
Hel. 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 heedfullest reservation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were,
More than they were m note :J amongst the rest,
There is a remedy, approved, set down,
To cure the desperate languishes, whereof
The king is rendered lost.
Count. This was your motive
For Paris, was it ? speak.
Hel. 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.
Count. 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,
EmbowelFd of their doctrine,§ have left off
The danger to itself?
Hel. There's something hints,
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'd venture
The well-lost hfe of mine on his grace's cure,
By such a day, and hour.
Count. Dost thou believe 't ?
Hel. Ay, madam, knowingly.
* J. e. proves. t /. e. Venus.
t Receipts in which greater virtues were enclosed than appeared.
§ Exhausted of their skill.
SCENE III.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 13
Count. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave, and love,
Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings
To those of mine own 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.
ACT II.
SCENE I. — Paris. A Room in the King's Palace.
Flourish. Enter KlNG, with young LORDS talcing leave for the
Florentine war; BEETBAM, PABOLLES, and attendants.
King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike principles
Do not throw from you : — And you, my lord, farewell : —
Share the advice betwixt you ; if both gain all,
The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received,
And is enough for both.
1 Lord. It is 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.
2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty !
King. Those girls of Italy, take need of them ;
They say, our French lack language to deny,
If they demand : beware of being captives,
Before you serve.t
Both. Our hearts receive your warnings.
King. Farewell. — Come hither to me.
[ The KlNG retires to a couch
1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us !
Par. 'Tis not his fault : the spark
2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars !
Par. Most admirable : I have seen those wars.
Per. I am commanded here, and kept a coil£ with;
Too young, and the next year, and 'tis too early.
Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal away bravely.
Per. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,§
* Seeker. t Be not captives before you are soldiers.
: With a noise, bustle. 5 To lead ladies out to dance.
14 ALL'S WELL THAT EXDS "WELL. [ACT IT.
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.
1 Lord. There's honour in the theft.
Par. Commit it, count.
2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so farewell.
Per. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body.
1 Lord. Farewell, captain.
2 Lord. Sweet Monsieur Parolles !
Par. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks
and lustrous, a word, good metals : — You shall find in the regi-
ment of the Spinii, one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an
emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek ; it was this very
sword intrenched it : say to him, I live ; and observe his reports
for me.
2 Lord. "We shall, noble captain.
Par. Mars dote on you for his novices ! [Pxetmt Lobds.]
What will you do ?
Per. Stay, the king [Seeing him rise.
Par. 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,t there, do muster true gait, X 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.
Per. And I will do so.
Par. Worthy fellows ; and like to prove most sinewy sword-
men. {Exeunt BEETEAH and PAEOLLES.
Pinter LAFEU.
Laf. Pardon, my lord [Kneeling'], for me and for my tidings.
King. Pll fee thee to stand up.
Laf. 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 fort.
Laf. Goodfaith, across :||
But my good lord, 'tis thus ; Will you be cured
Of your infirmity ?
King. No.
Laf. 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,^
* A mere dress- sword.
t They are the foremost in the fashion.
t Have the true military step. i The dance.
I A failure ; a phrase taken from the exercise at a quaintaine.
% A female physician.
SCENE I.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 15
That's able to breathe life into a stone ;
Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary *
"With sprightly fire and motion ; whose simple touch
Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay,
To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand,
And write to her a love-line.
King. What her is this ?
Laf. 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 wond'ring how thou took'st it.
Laf. Nay, I'll fit you,
And not be all day neither. [Exit Lafet.
King. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues.
JRe-enter LAFETX, with HELENA.
Laf. Nay, come your ways.
King. This haste hath wings indeed.
Laf. 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,f
That dare leave two together ; fare you well. [Exit.
King. Now, fair one, does your business follow us ?
Hel. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was
My father ; in what he did profess, well found. J
King. I knew him.
Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him ;
Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of death
Many receipts he gave me ; chiefly one,
Which, as the dearest issue of his practice,
And of his old experience the only 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, —
* A lively dance. t Pandarns.
* Well esteemed. § A third eye.
16 all's well that ends well [act ir.
When our most learned doctors leave us ; and
The congregated college have concluded
That labouring art can never ransom nature
From her inaidable 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.
Hel. 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 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.
. Hel. 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,
Prom 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 sits.
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.
Hel. 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 ;t
But know I think, and think I know most sure,
My art is not past power, nor you past cure.
King. Art thou so confident ? Within what space
Hop'st thou my cure ?
Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ;
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp ;
* An allusion to Daniel judging the two elders,
t Pretend to more than 1 can do.
BCENE I.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 17
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 dar'st thou venture ?
Hel. Tax of impudence. —
A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame,—
Traduced by odious ballads ; my maiden's name
Sear'd otherwise ; no worse of worst 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 f another way.
Thy life is dear ; for all, that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate;!
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, 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.
Hel. 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 ;
Hut, if I help, what do you promise me ?
King. Make thy demand.
Hel. But will you make it even ?
King. Ay, bv my sceptre, and my hopes of heaven.
Hel. 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 Prance ;
My low and humble name to propagate
"VV ith 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 ;
Prom whence thou cam'st, 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 deed.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
* The worst said of me that can he said of the worst.
t Another sense vindicates. t Valued place.
} The spring of life. I Proper performance.
VOL. II. e
18 all's well that ends well. [act II.
SCUWU II.—Rousillon. A Boom in the Countess's Palace.
Enter Countess and Clown.
Count. Come on, Sir ; I shall now put you to the height of
your breeding.
Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and lowly taught ; I know
my business is but to the court.
Count. To the court ! why, what place make you special, when
you put off that with such contempt ? But to the court !
Clo. 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.
Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, that fits all
questions.
Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks ; the
Sin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn-buttock, or any
uttock.
Count. "Will your answer serve fit to all questions ?
Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your
French crown for your taffata punk, as Tib's rush* for Tom's
forefinger, as a pan-cake for Shrove-Tuesday, a morris for May-
day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding
quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth ;
nay, as the pudding to his skin.
Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all ques-
tions ?
Clo. From below your duke, to beneath your constable, it will
fit any question.
Count. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must
fit all demands.
Clo. 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.
Count. — 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 ?
Clo. O Lord. Sir ! There's a simple putting off; — more, more,
a hundred of them.
Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you.
Clo. O Lord, Sir ! — Thick, thick, spare not me.
Count. I think, Sir, you can eat none of this homely meat.
Clo. O Lord, Sir ! — Nay, put me to't, I warrant you.
Count. You were lately whipped, Sir, as I think.
Clo. O Lord, Sir ! — Spare not me.
Count. Do you cry, O Lord, Sir, at your whipping, and spare
not me ? Indeed, your O Lord, Sir, is very sequent to your
* /. e. the rush wedding-ring, used by those who could not buy a
better.
SCENE III.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 19
whipping ; you would answer very well to a whipping, if you
were but bound to't.
Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in my — Lord, Sir :
I see, things may serve long, but not serve ever. ■»
Count. I play the noble housewife with the time, to entertain
it so merrily with a fool.
Clo. O Lord, Sir, — Why, there't serves well again.
Count. 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.
Clo. Not much commendation to them.
Count. Not much employment for you : Tou understand me ?
Clo. Most fruitfully ; I am there before my legs.
Count. Haste you again. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III.— Paris. A Boom in the King's Palace.
Enter Bebteam, Lafeu, and Paeolles.
Laf. They say, miracles are past ; and we have our philoso-
phical persons to make modern* and familiar things superna-
tural 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.
Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot
out in our latter times.
Per. And so 'tis.
Laf. To be relinquished of the artists,
Par. So I say ; both of Galen and Paracelsus.
Laf. Of all the learned and authentic fellows, —
Par. Eight ; so I say.
Laf. That gave him out incurable, —
Par. Why, there 'tis ; so say I too.
Laf Not to be helped, —
Par. Eight : as 'twere a man assured of an —
Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death.
Par. Just ; you say well ; so would I have said.
Laf. I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world.
Par. It is, indeed : if you will have it in showing, you shall
read it in, What do you call there ? —
Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor.
Par. That's it I would have said ; the very same.
Laf. Why, your dolphin t is not lustier; 'fore me, I speak in
respect
Par. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange ; that is the brief and
the tedious of it ; and he is of a most facinorious J spirit that
will not acknowledge it to be the
Laf Very hand of heaven.
Par. Ay, so I say.
Laf. In a most weak
* Ordinary. t The dauphin. t Wicked.
C2
20 all's well that ends well. [act II.
Tar. And debile minister, great power, great transcendance ;
which should, indeed, give us a further use to he made, than
alone the recovery of the king, as to be
Laf. Generally thankful.
Enter KlNG, Helena, and Attendants.
Tar. I would have said it ; you say well. Here comes the king.
Laf. Lustic,* as the Dutchman says : I'll like a maid the bet-
ter, whilst I have a tooth in my head : Why, he's able to lead
her a coranto.
Par. Mort du Tinaigre ! Is not this Helen ?
Laf. 'Fore God, I think so.
King. Go, call before me all the lords in court.
[Exit an Attendant.
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 several LoEDS.
Pair 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.
Hel. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress
Pall, when love please ! — marry ! to each, butf one.
Laf. I'd 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.
Hel. Gentlemen,
Heaven hath, through me, restored the king to health.
All. We understand it, and thank heaven for you.
Hel. I am a simple maid ; and therein wealthiest,
That, I protest, I simply am a maid :
Please it your majesty, 1 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.
Hel. Now, P/ian, from thy altar do I fly ;
And to imperial Love, that god most high,
Do my signs stream. — Sir, will you hear my suit ?
1 Lord. And grant it.
* Lusty, cheerful. t Except.
t As to the teeth. S Chlorosis.
SCENE III.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 21
Hel. Thanks, Sir ; all the rest is mute*
Laf I had rather he in this choice, than throw ames-ace for
my life.
Hel. 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 !
2 Lord. No better, if you please.
Hel. My wish receive,
"Which great love grant ! and so I take my leave.
Laf. 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.
Hel. Be not afraid [To a Lobd] that I your hand should take ;
I'll never do you wrong for your own sake :
Blessing upon your vows ! and in your bed
Tind fairer fortune, if you ever wed !
Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her : sure,
they are bastards to the English ; the French ne'er got them.
Hel. You are too young, too happy, and too good,
To make yourself a son out of my blood.
4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so.
Laf There's one grape yet, — I am sure thy father drank wine.
But if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen : I have
known thee already.
Hel. I dare not say, I take you [To Bebtbam] ; 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.
Ber. 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 ?
Ber. 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.
Ber. 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
Bather corrupt me ever !
King. 'Tis only titlef thou disdain'st in her, the which
I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods,
Of colour, weight, and neat, 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 :
* /. e. I have no more to say to you.
t J. e. the want of title.
22 all's well that ends well. [act II.
Prom lowest place when virtuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by the doer's deed :
"Where great additions* swell, and virtue none,
It is a dropsied honour : good alone
Is good, without a name : vileness is so :f
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 best thrive,
"When rather from our acts we them derive
Than our fore-goers ; the mere word's a slave,
Debauch'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.
Her. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't.
King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose.
Hel. That you are well restored, my lord, I am 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 misprison shackle up
My love, and her desert ; thou canst not dream,
"We, poizing 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 : Check 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.
Ber. Pardon, my gracious lord ; for 1 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.
* Titles. t Vileness is vileness. t Child.
J If we put ourselves into her scale, we shall throw your scale up to the
beam.
scene ni.] all's well that ends well. 23
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.
Ber. I take her hand.
King. Good fortune, and the favour of the king,
Smile upon this contract ; whose ceremony
Shall seem expedient on the new-born brief*
And be perform'd to-night : the solemn feast
Shall more attend upon the coming space,"
Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her,
Thy love s to me religious ; else, does err.
[Exeunt King, Bebtbam, Helena, Lobds, and Attendants.
Laf Do you hear, monsieur ? a word with you.
Par. Your pleasure, Sir ?
Laf. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation.
Par. Eecantation ? — My lord ? my master ?
Laf. Ay ; is it not a language, I speak ?
Par. A most harsh one ; and not to be understood without
bloody succeeding. My master ?
Laf Are you companion to the count Eousillon ?
Par. To any count; to all counts ; to what is man.
Laf. To what is count's man ; count's master is of another style.
Par. You are too old, Sir ; let it satisfy you, you are too old.
Laf I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man ; to which title age
cannot bring thee.
Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do.
Laf. I did think thee, for two ordinaries,t 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 mani-
foldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a
burden. I have now found thee ; when I lose thee again, I care
not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; J and that
thou art scarce worth.
Par. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,
Laf 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.
Par. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity.
Laf. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou art worthy of it.
Par. I nave not, my lord, deserved it.
Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it ; and I will not bate
thee a scruple.
Par. Well, I shall be wiser.
Laf. E'en 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
* I. e. the contract just made.
t /. e. while I sate twice with thee at dinner.
t Contradicting.
24 all's well that ends well. [act II.
knowledge; that I may say, in the default,* he is a man I
know.
Par. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation.
Laf. I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor
doing eternal : for doing I am past ; as I willt by thee, in what
motion age will give me leave. {Exit.
Par. 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 have of—
I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again.
He-enter Lafett.
Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master 's married, there s news for
you ; you have a new mistress.
Par. 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.
Laf. Who? God?
Par. Ay, Sir.
Laf. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why dost thou garter
up thy arms o' this fashion ? dost make hose of thy 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'd beat thee : methinks, thou art a general offence, and every
man should beat thee. I think, thou wast created for men to
breathe J themselves upon thee.
Par. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord.
Laf. 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 heraldry of your birth and virtue gives you commission. You
are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave
you. [Exit.
Enter Bebteam.
Par. Good, very good ; it is so then. — Good, very good ; let it
be concealed a while.
Per. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever !
Par. What is the matter, sweet heart ?
Per. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn,
t will not bed her.
Par. What ? what, sweet heart ?
Per. my Parolles, they have married me :
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her.
Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits
The tread of a man's foot : to the wars !
Per. There's letters from my mother ; what the import is,
I know not yet.
Par. Ay,thatwould be known: To the wars, my boy, to the wars!
He wears his honour in a box unseen,
* At need. + (Pass.) t Exercise.
SCENE IV.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 25
That hugs his kicksy-wicksy here at home :
Spending his manly marrow in her arms,
Which should sustain the bound and high curvet
Of Mars' fiery steed : To other regions !
Prance is a stable ; we that dwell m't jades ;
Therefore, to the war !
Ber. 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.
Par. Will this capricio hold in thee, art sure ?
Ber. 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.
Par. 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,
SCENE IV. — The same. Another Boom in the same.
Enter Helena and Clown.
Hel. My mother greets me kindly : is she well ?
Clo. 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.
Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very
well ?
Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for two things.
Hel. What two things?
Clo. 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 Parc-LLES.
Par. Bless you, my fortunate lady !
Hel. I hope, Sir, I have your good- will to have mine own good
fortunes.
Par. You had my prayers to lead them on : and to keep them
on, have them still.— O, my knave ! how does my old lady ?
Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money, I would
she did as you say.
Par. Why, I say nothing.
Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for many a 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.
Par. Away, thou'rt a knave.
Clo. You should have said, Sir, before a knave, thou art a knave ;
that is, before me, thou art a knave : this had been truth, Sir.
* Gloomv.
26 all's well that ends well. Lact II.
Par. Go to, thou art a witty fool, I have found thee.
Clo. 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.
Par. 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 by 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-
Hel. What's his will else ?
Par. 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.*
Hel. What more commands he ?
Par. That, having this obtain'd, you presently
Attend his further pleasure.
Hel. In everything I wait upon his wilL
Par. I shall report it so.
Hel. I pray you. — Come, sirrah. [Exeunt.
SCENE V: — Another Boom in the same.
Enter Lafeu and Beeteam.
Laf. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not him a soldier.
Per. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof.
Laf. Tou have it from his own deliverance.
Per. And by other warranted testimony.
Laf. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a
bunting.
Per. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge,
and accordingly valiant.
Laf. I have then sinned against his experience, and trans-
gressed 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 Paeolles.
Par. These things shall be done. Sir. [To Beeteam.
Laf. Pray you, Sir, who's his tailor ?
Par. Sir?
Laf. O, I know him well : Ay, Sir ; he, Sir, is a good workman,
a very good tailor.
Per. Is she gone to the king ? [Aside to Paeolles.
Par. She is.
Per. Will she away to-night ?
* Ostensible necessity.
SCENE V.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 27
Par. As you'll have her.
Ber. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure,
Given order for our horses ; and to-night.
When I should take possession of the bride, —
And, ere I do begin,
Laf. 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.
Ber. Is there any unkmdness between my lord and you,
monsieur ?
Par. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's
displeasure.
Laf. You have made shift to run into't, boots and spurs and
all, like him that leaped into the custard ; and out or it you'll
run again, rather than suffer question for your residence.
Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, my lord.
Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took him at his 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 deserve at my hand ;
but we must do good against evil. [Exit.
Par. An idle lord, I swear.
Ber. I think so.
Par. Why, do you not know him ?
Ber. Yes, I do know him well ; and common speech
Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog.
Enter Helena.
Mel. 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.
Ber. 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 your way for home ;
And rather muse, than ask, why I entreat you,
For my respects are better than they seem ;
And my appointments have in them a need,
Greater than shows itself, at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother :
[ Chiving a letter.
'Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so
I leave you to your wisdom.
Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient servant.
28 all's well that ends well. [act III,
Ber. Come, come, no more of that.
Sel. 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.
Ber. Let that go :
My haste is very great : Farewell ; hie home.
Sel. Pray, Sir, your pardon.
Ber. "Well, what would you say ?
Sel. 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.
Ber. What would you have ?
Sel. 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.
Ber. I pray you, stay not, hut in haste to horse.
Sel. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord.
Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur ? — Farewell.
[Exit Helena.
Go thou toward home ; where I will never come,
Whilst I can sTiake my sword, or hear the drum : —
Away, and for our flight.
Par. Bravely, coragio ! [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — Florence. A Room in the Duke's Palace.
Flourish. — Enter the Duke of Florence, attended ; two French
Lords, and others.
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.
1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel
Upon your grace's part ; black and feaful
On the opposer.
Duke. Therefore we marvel much, our cousin France
Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom
Against our borrowing prayers.
2 Lord. Good my lord.
The reasons of our state I cannot yield,t
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
* Own. t Explain. t Not in the secret.
SCENE II.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 29
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail
As often as I guess'd.
Duke. Be it his pleasure.
2 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.
SCENE II.—Rousillon. A Boom in the COUNTESS'S Falace.
Enter Countess and Clown.
Count. It hath happened all as I would have had it, save, that
he comes not along with her.
Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melan-
choly man.
Count. By what observance, I pray you ?
Clo. Why, he mil look upon his boot,* and sing ; mend the
ruff,f 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. '
Count. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come.
[Opening a letter.
Clo. 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.
Count. What have we here ?
Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit.
Count. [Beads.] I have sent you a daughter-in-law : she hath
recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bed-
ded 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,
Beeteam.
This is not well, "rash and unbridled boy,
To fly the favours of so good a king ;
To pluck his indignation on thy head,
By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous
For the contempt of empire.
He-enter CLOWN.
Clo. O Madam, yonder is heavy news within, between two
soldiers and my young lady.
* Our young fellows. t The fold at the top of the boot.
30 all's well that ends well. [act III.
Count. What is the matter ?
Clo. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort ;
your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would.
Count. "Why should he be killed ?
Clo. 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 Clown.
Enter Helena and two Gentlemen.
1 Gen. Save you, good Madam.
Hel. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone.
2 Gen. Do not say so.
Count. 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 ?
2 Gen. Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence :
We met him thitherward ; from thence we came,
And, after some despatch in hand at court,
Thither we bend again.
Hel. Look on his letter, madam ; here's my passport.
[Beads.] 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 too, then call me husband : but in such a then I
write a never.
This is a dreadful sentence.
Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ?
1 Gen. Ay, madam;
And, for the contents' sake, are sorry for our pains.
Count. I pr'ythee, 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 ?
2 Gen. Ay, Madam.
Count. And to be a soldier ?
2 Gen. Such is his noble purpose : and, believe't,
The duke will lay upon him all the honour
That good convenience claims.
Count. Beturn you thither ?
1 Gen. Ay, Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed.
Hel. [Beads.] Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.
Tis bitter.
Count. Find you that there ?
Hel. Ay. Madam.
1 Gen. "lis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which
His heart was not consenting to.
Count. Nothing in France, until he have no wife !
There's nothing here, that is too good for him,
* (That are.)
SCENE II.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 81
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 ?
1 Gen. A servant only, and a gentleman
Which I have some time known.
Count. Parolles, was't not ?
1 Gen. Ay, my good lady. he.
Count A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness
My son corrupts a well-derived nature
With his inducement.
1 Gen. Indeed, good lady,
The fellow has a deal of that, too much,
Which holds him much to have*
Count. You are 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.
2 Gen. We serve you, Madanij
In that and all your worthiest affairs.
Count. Not so, but as we changet our courtesies.
Will you draw near ? [Exeunt Countess and GENTLEMEN.
Hel. 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 thci
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-piercing 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 it ;
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so affected : better 'twere,
I met the ravinj 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, BousiUon,
Whence honour but of § danger wins a scar,
As oft it loses all ; I will be gone :
My being here it is, that keeps 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 ;
* Too much vice, which yet stands him in stead.
t Exchange. i Ravenous. \ Only from.
82 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [ACT III.
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.
SCENE III— Florence. Before the Dijke's Palace.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Beetbam, Lords,
Officers, Soldiers, and others.
Duke. Tne general of our horse thou art ; and we,
Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence,
Upon thy promising fortune.
Ber. 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 !
Ber. This very day,
Great Mars, I put myself into thy file :
Make me but like my thoughts ; and 1 shall prove
A lover of xay drum, hater of love. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—Rousillon. A Room in the Countess's Palace.
Enter Countess and Steward.
Count. 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.
Stfur. I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone;
Ambitious love hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot 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,
Btis name with zealous fervour sanctify ;
BTis. 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 dog the heels of worth :
jffe is t(-3 good and fair for death and me;
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free.
Couni. An, wnat 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.
Stew. Pardon me, Madam :
If I had given you this at over-night,
* Discretion.
SCENE V.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. S3
She might have heen o'erta'en ; and yet she writes,
Pursuit would be in vain.
Count. 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.
Despatch 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.
SCENE V.— Without the Walls of Florence.
A tucket afar off. Enter an old Widow of Florence, Diana,
Violexta, Mariana, and other Citizens.
Wid. Nay ; come ; for if they do approach the city, we shall
lose all the sight.
Dia. They say, the French count has done most honourable
service.
Wid. It is reported that he has taken their greatest com-
mander ; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother.
We have lost our labour ; they are gone a contrary way : hark :
you may know by their trumpets.
Mar. 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.
Wid. I have told my neighbour, how you have been solicited
by a gentleman his companion.
Mar. 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 :f 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.
Dia. Tou shall not need to fear me.
* Temptations. t (The names of.)
VOL. II. D
8i all's well that ends well. Tact in.
JEnter Helena, in the dress of a Pilgrim.
Wid. I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim : I know she
will lie at my house : thither they send one another : I'll ques-
tion her. —
God save you, pilgrim ! "Whither are you bound ?
Eel. To Saint J aques le grand.
Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you ?
Wid. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port.
Hel. Is this the way ?
Wid. Ay, marry, is it, — Hark you ! \_A march afar off.
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.
Eel. Is it yourself?
Wid. If you shall please so, pilgrim.
Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure.
Wid. You came, I think from France ?
Hel. I did so.
Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of yours,
That has done worthy service.
Eel. His name, I pray you.
Diet. The count Rousillon ; Know you such a one ?
Eel. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him :
His face I know not.
Dia. Whatsoe'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 ?
Eel. Ay, surely, mere the truth ; t I know his lady.
Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves the count,
Reports but coarsely of her.
Eel. What's his name ?
Dia. Monsieur Parolles.
Eel. 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.^
Dia. Alas, poor lady !
'Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife
Of a detesting lord.
Wid. A right good creature : wheresoe'er she is,
Her heart weighs sadly : this young maid might do her
A shrewd turn, if she pleased.
Eel. How do you mean ?
May be, the amorous count solicits her
In the unlawful purpose.
* (That.) t The entire truth. t Questioned.
SCENE VI.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 85
Wid. 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.
Enter with drum and colours, a parti/ of the Florentine army,
Bebteam and Paeolles.
Mar. The gods forbid else !
Wid. So, now they come : —
That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son ;
That, Escalus.
Hel. Which is the Frenchman ?
Dia. 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 ?
Hel. I like him well.
Dia. 'Tis pity, he is not honest : Tond's that same knave,
That leads him to these places ; were I his lady,
I'd poison that vile rascaL
Hel. Which is he ?
Dia. That jack-an-apes with scarfs : Why is he melancholy ?
Hel. Perchance he's hurt i' the battle.
Par. Lose our drum ! Well.
Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something : Look, he has spied us.
Wid. Marry, hang you !
Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier !
[ Exeunt Beeteam, Paeolles, Officers, and Soldiers.
Wid. 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 J aques bound,
Already at my house.
Hel. 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 on this virgin,
Worthy the note.
Both. We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt.
SCENE FT.— Camp before Florence.
Enter Beeteam, and the two French Loeds.
1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, -put him to't ; let him have his
way.
2 Lord. If your lordship find him not a hilding,t hold me no
more in your respect.
1 Lord . On my life, my lord, a bubble.
Ber. Do you think, I am so far deceived in him ?
* Deals with panders. t A paltry fellow.
D 2
36 all's well that ends well. [act III.
1 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.
2 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.
Ber. I would, I knew in what particular action to try him.
2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which
you hear him so confidently undertake to do.
1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise
him ; such 1 will have, whom, I am sure, he knows not from the
enemy : we will bind and hood-wink him so, that he shall sup-
pose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer * of the
adversaries, when we bring him to our tents : Be but your lord-
ship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of
his life, and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray
you, and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and
that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my
judgment in anything.
2 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 bot-
tom 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 enter-
tainmentjf your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes.
Enter Paeolles.
1 Lord. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the humour of
his design ; let him fetch off his drum in any hand.
Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks sorely in your
disposition.
2 Lord. A pox on't, let it go ; 'tis but a drum.
Par. But a drum ! Is't but a drum ? A drum so lost ! — There
was an excellent command : to charge in with our horse upon
our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers.
2 Lord. That was not to be blamed in the command of the
service : it was a disaster of war that Csesar himself could not
have prevented, if he had been there to command.
Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success : some dis-
honour we had in the loss of that drum ; but it is not to be
recovered.
Par. It might have been recovered.
Ber. It might, but it is not now.
Par. 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 hicjacet.%
Ber. Wny, 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
* The camp. t Drum him out, t Or die.
SCENE VI.] ALL 'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 37
speed well in it, the duke shall hoth speak of it, and extend
to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost
syllable of your worthiness.
Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it.
Ber. But you must not now slumber in it.
Par. 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 fur-
ther from me.
Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, you are gone about it ?
Par. I know not what the success may be, my lord ; but the
attempt I vow.
Ber. I know, thou art valiant ; and, to the possibility of thy
soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell
Par. I love not many words. [Exit
1 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.
2 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 nave him ever after.
Ber. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this,
that so seriously he does address himself unto ?
1 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 ;t you shall see his fall to-night ; for, in-
deed, he is not for your lordship's respect.
2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with the fox, ere we casej
him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu : when his dis-
guise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him ;
which you shall see this very night.
1 Lord. I must go look my twigs ; he shall be caught.
Ber. Your brother, he shall go along with me.
1 Lord. As't please your lordship : I'll leave you. [Exit.
Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you
The lass I spoke of.
2 Lord. But, you say, she's honest.
Ber. 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 ?
2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt.
* Probable obstructions.
+ Enclosed him in a wood. t Strip.
38 all's well that ends well. [act III.
SCENE VII.— Florence. A Room in the Widow's Blouse.
Enter HELENA and WIDOW.
Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
T know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.
Wid. 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.
Hel. 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.
Wid. I should believe you ;
For you have show'd me that which well approves
You are great in fortune.
Hel. Take this purse of gold.
And let me buy your friendly nelp 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,
Resolves 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 countyf 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.
Wid. Now I see
The bottom of your purpose.
Hel. 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 past already.
Wid. 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.
* Importunate. t Count.
SCENE VII.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 39
Hel. 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.
ACT rv.
SCENE L— Without the Florentine Camp.
Enter first Lobd, with five or six Soldiers in ambush.
1 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.
1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the interpreter.
1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him ? knows he not thy
voice?
1 Sold. No, Sir, I warrant you.
1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to speak to us again ?
1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me.
1 Lord. He must think us some band of strangers i'the adver
sary's entertainment.* Now he hath a smack of all neighbour-
ing 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 : chough's 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 Paeolles.
Par. 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 fool-hardy ; but my heart hath
the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the
reports of my tongue.
1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was
guilty of. [Aside.
Par. What the devil should move me to undertake the reco-
very 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 ?t
* Pay. t The proof.
40 all's well that ends well. [act IV.
Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth, and buy
another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils.
1 Lord. Is it possible, he should know what he is, and be that
he is ? [Aside.
Par. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the
turn ; or the breaking of my Spanish sword.
1 Lord. "We cannot afford you so. [Aside.
Par. Or the baring of my beard ; and to say, it was in stra-
tagem.
1 Lord. 'Twould not do. [Aside.
Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped.
1 Lord. Hardly serve. [Aside.
Par. Though I swore I leaped from the window of the
citadel
1 Lord. How deep ? [Aside.
Par. Thirty fathom.
1 Lord. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed.
[Aside.
Par. I would I had any drum of the enemy's ; I would swear I
recovered it.
1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. [Aside.
Par. A drum now of the enemy's ! [Alarum within.
1 Lord. Throca rnovousus, cargo, cargo, cargo.
All. Cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo.
Par. O ! ransom, ransom : — Do not hide mine eyes.
[ They seize him and blindfold him.
1 Sold. Boskos thromuldo boskos.
Par. 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 will discover that which shall undo
The Florentine.
1 Sold. Boskos vauvado :
I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue : —
Kerelybonto : sir,
Betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards
Are at thy bosom.
Par. Oh!
1 Sold. O, pray, pray, pray,
Manka revania dulche.
1 Lord. Oscorbi dulchos volivorca.
1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee yet ;
And, hood-wink'd as thou art, will lead thee on
o gather from thee : haply thou mayst inform
Something to save thy life.
Par. 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.
1 Sold. But wilt thou faithfully ?
Par. If I do not, damn me.
SCENE II.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 41
1 Sold. Acordo linta. —
Come on, thou art granted space.
[Exit, with PaeoLLES guarded.
1 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.
2 Sold. Captain, I will.
1 Lord. He will betray us all unto ourselves ; —
Inform 'em that.
2 Sold. So I will, Sir.
1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and safely lock'd.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.— Florence. A Room in the "Widow's Souse.
Enter Beeteam and Diana.
Ber. They told me that your name was Pontibell.
Dia. No, my good lord, Diana.
Ber. Titled goddess ;
And worth it, with addition ! But, fair soul,
In your fine frame hath love no quality ?
If the quick fire of y6uth 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 stern ;
And now you should be as your mother was,'
When your sweet self was got.
Dia. She then was honest.
Ber. So should you be.
Dia. No:
My mother did but duty ; such, my lord,
As you owe to your wife.
Ber. No more of that !
I pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows :
I was compelled to her ; but I love thee
By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever
Do thee all rights of service.
LHa. 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.
Ber. How have I sworn ?
Dia. 'Tis not the many oaths that make the truth ;
But the plain single vow, that is vow'd true.
"What is not holy, that we swear not by,
But take the Highest to witness : Then, pray you, tell me
If I should swear by Jove'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
42 all's well that ends well. [act IV.
Are words, and poor conditions; but unseal'd;
At least, in my opinion.
Ber. Change it, change it ;
Be not so holy cruel : love is holy ;
And nay 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.
Dia. I see, that men make hopes, in such affairs,
That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring.
Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power
To give it from me.
Dia. "Will you not, my lord ?
Ber. 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.
Dia. 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.
Ber. Here, take my ring :
My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine,
And I'll be bid by thee.
Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window ;
I'll order take, my mother shall not hear.
Now wjll 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,
Wnen 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.
Ber. A heaven on earth I have won, by wooing thee. [Exit.
Dia. 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 his 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'll live and die a maid :
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin
To cozen him, that would unjustly win. [ Exit.
* Indecorously impetuous.
SCENE III.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 43
SCENE III— The Florentine Camp.
Enter tlie two French Loeds, and two or three Soldiers.
1 Lord. You have not given him his mother's letter ?
2 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.
1 Lord. He has much worthy hlame laid upon him, for shaking
off so good a wife, and so sweet a lady.
2 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.
1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the
grave of it.
2 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 monumen-
tal ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition.
1 Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion : as we are ourselves,
what things are we !
2 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.
1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of
our unlawful intents ? We shall not then have his company to-
night ?
2 Lord. Not till after midnight ; for he is dieted to his hour.
1 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.
2 Lord. We will not meddle witn him till he come ; for his
presence must be the whip of the other.
1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you of these wars ?
2 Lord. I hear there is an overture of peace.
1 Lord. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded.
2 Lord. What will count Eousillon do then? will he travel
higher, or return again into France ?
1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of
his council.
2 Lord. Let it be forbid, Sir ! so should I be a great deal of his
act.
1 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.
* Companion.
44 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL [ACT IT.
2 Lord. How is this justified ?
1 Lord. The stronger part of it hy 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.
2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence ?
1 Lord. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point,
to the full arming of the verity.
2 Lord. I am heartily sorry, that he'll be glad of this.
1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make us comforts of our
losses !
2 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.
1 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 cherish'd by
our virtues. —
Enter a SERVANT.
How now ? where's your master ?
Serv. 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.
2 Lord. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were
more than they can commend.
Enter Beeteam.
1 Lord. They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's
his lordship now. How now my lord, is't not after midnight ?
Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen businesses, a month's
length apiece, by an abstract of success : I have conge'd 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 despatch, effected
many nicer needs ; the last was the greatest, but that I have not
ended yet.
2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning
your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship.
Ber. 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.
2 Lord. Bring him forth [Exeunt Soldiers] : he has sat in
the stocks all night, poor gallant knave.
Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserved it, in usurping his
spursf so long. How does he carry himself ?
1 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
* Model, pattern. t (As a knight.)
8CENEII1.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 45
remembrance, to this very instant disaster of hi 3 setting i' the
stocks : And what think you he hath confessed ?
Ber. Nothing of me, has he ?
2 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.
Re-enter Soldiebs, with PAEOLLES.
Ber. A plague upon him ! muffled ! he can say nothing of me ;
hush! hush!
1 Lord. Hoodman comes ! — Porto tartarossa.
1 Sold. He calls for the tortures; what will you say without
'em?
Par. I will confess what 1 know without constraint; if ye
pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more.
1 Sold. Bosko Chimurcho.
2 Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco.
1 Sold. You are a merciful general: Our general bids you
answer to what I shall ask you out of a note.
Par. And truly, as I hope to live.
1 Sold. First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong.
What say you to that ?
Par. live 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.
1 Sold. Shall I set down your answer so ?
Par. Do ; I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way
you will.
Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this !
1 Lord. You are 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 practice
in the chape* of his dagger.
2 Lord. I will never trust a man again, for keeping his sword
clean ; nor believe he can have everything in him, by wearing
his apparel neatly.
1 Sold. Well, that's set down.
Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, — I will say true, — or
thereabouts, set down, — for I'll speak truth.
1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this.
Ber. But I conf him no thanks for't, in the nature he delivers
it.
Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say.
1 Sold. Well, that's set down.
Par. I humbly thank you, Sir : a truth 's truth, the rogues are
marvellous poor.
1 Sold. Demand of him of what strengththey are a-foot. What
say you to that ?
Par. By my troth, Sir, if I were to live X this present hour, I
will tell true. Let me see : Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian
* The hook -end of the scabbard.
1 J. e. know no thanks due to him. t (But.)
46 all's well that ends well. [act rv.
so many, Corambus so many, Jaques so many ; Guiltian, Cosmo,
Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each : mine own com-
pany, 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 which dare not shake the
snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to
pieces.
Per. What shall be done to him ?
1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him
my conditions * and what credit I have with the duke.
1 Sold. Well that's set down. You shall demand of him,
ivhelher one Captain Dumain be i' the camp, a Frenchman ; what
his reputation is with the duke, what his valour, honesty, and ex-
pertness in wars ; or whether he thinks, it were not possible, with
toell-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt. What
say you to this ? what do you know of it ?
Par. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the
inter'gatories : Demand them singly.
1 Sold. Do you know this captain Dumain ?
Par. I know him : he was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from
whence he was whipped for getting the sheriff's foolf with child ;
a dumb innocent, that could not say him, nay.
[DtJMAIN lifts up his hand in anger.
Per. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands ; though I know, his
brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls.
1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp ?
Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy.
1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your
lordship anon.
1 Sold. What is his reputation with the duke ?
Par. 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.
1 Sold. Marry, we'll search.
Par. 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.
1 Sold. Here 'tis ; here's a paper ? Shall I read it to you ?
Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no.
Per. Our interpreter does it well.
1 Lord. Excellently.
1 Sold. Dian. The count's a fool, and full of gold, —
Par. That is not the duke's letter, Sir ; that is an advertise-
ment to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of
the allurement of one count Eousillon, a foolish idle boy, but, for
all that very ruttish : I pray you, Sir, put it up again.
1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour.
Par. 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.
* Character. t I. e. idiot ward.
SCENE III.J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 47
Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue !
1 Sold. 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 vow'd to thee in thine ear,
PAROLLES.
Ber. He shall be whipped through the army, with this rhyme
in his forehead.
2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, Sir, the manifold linguist,
and the armipotent soldier.
Ber. I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a
cat to me.
1 Sold. I perceive, Sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain
to hang you.
Par. My hfe, 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.
1 Sold. "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 ?
Par. 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 them, he is stronger than Hercules. He will
He, 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 everything
that an honest man should not have ; what an honest man should
have, he has nothing.
1 Lord. I begin to love him for this.
Ber. For this description of thine honesty ? A pox upon him
for me, he is more and more a cat.
1 Sold. What say you to his expertness in war ?
Par. Faith, Sir, he has led the drum before the English trage-
dians, — 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 call'd Mile-end, to instruct for the dou-
bling of files : I would do the man what honour I can, but of this
I am not certain.
1 Lord. He hath out-villained villainy so far, that the rarity
redeems him.
Ber. A pox on him ! he's a cat still.
1 Sold. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not ask
you, if gold will corrupt him to revolt.
£S all's well that ends well. [act IV.
Par. 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 re-
mainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually.
1 Sold. What's his brother, the other captain Dumain ?
2 Lord. Why does he ask him off me ?
1 Sold. What's he ?
Par. E'en a crow of 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 com-
ing on he has the cramp.
1 Sold. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the
Florentine ?
Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, count Eousillon.
1 Sold. I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure.
Par. I'll no more drumming : a plague of all drums ! Only to
seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition* of that lasci-
vious young boy the count, have I run into this danger : Yet, who
would have suspected an ambush where 1 was taken ? [Aside.
1 Sold. 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.
Par. O Lord, Sir ; let me live, or let me see my death !
1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends.
[ Unmuffling him.
So look about you ; Know you any here ?
Per. Good morrow, noble captain.
2 Lord. God bless you, captain Parolles.
1 Lord. God save you, noble captain.
2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you to my lord Lafeu ? I
am for France.
1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet
you writ to Diana in behalf of the count JJousillon ? An I were
not a very coward, I'd compel it of you ; but fair you well.
[Exeunt BERTRAM, LORDS, S(C.
1 Sold. You are undone, captain : all but your scarf, that has
a knot on't yet.
Par. Who cannot be crushed with a plot ?
1 Sold. If you could find out a country where but women were
that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent
nation. Fare you well, Sir ; I am for France too ; we shall speak
of you there. [Exit.
Par. 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,
* The fourth part of a crown. t Respecting me.
X The opinion.
SCENE IV. J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
Ttust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles, live "|
Safest in shame ! being fool'd, by foolery thrive ! >
There's place, and means, for every man alive. J
49
I'll afterthem. [Exit.
SCENE IV.— Florence. A Room in the Widow's House.
Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana.
Hel. 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.
Wid. Gentle madam,
You never had a servant, to whose trust,
Your business was more welcome.
Hel. 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 saucyt trusting of the cozen'd thoughts
Denies the pitchy night ! so lust doth play
With what it loaths, for that which is away :
But more of this hereafter : You, Diana,
Under my poor instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalf.
Dia. Let death and honesty
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Upon your will to suffer.
Hel. 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 waggon is prepared, and time revives us :
Air swell that ends well; still the fine's J the crown;
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt.
* Mover.
t Lascivious.
1 End.
VOL. II.
50 all's well that ends well. [act rv.
SCENE V. — Rousillon. A Boom in the Countess's Palace.
Enter Countess, Lafett, and Clown.
Laf. No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffata
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.
Count. I would, I had not known him ! it was the death of
the most virtuous gentle-woman, that ever nature had praise for
creating : if she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dear-
est groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted
love.
Laf. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady : we may pick a
thousand salads, ere we light on such another herb.
'Clo. Indeed, Sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the salad, or,
rather the herb of grace.f
Laf. They are not salad-herbs, you knave, they are nose-herbs.
Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, Sir, I have not much
skill in grass.
Laf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a knave, or a fool ?
Clo. A fool, Sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's.
Laf. Your distinction ?
Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service.
Laf. So you were a knave at his service, indeed.
Clo. And I would give his wife my bauble, Sir, to do her
service.
Laf. I will subscribe for thee ; thou art both knave and fool.
Clo. At your service.
Laf. No, no. no.
Clo. Why, Sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a
prince as you are.
Laf. Who's that ? a Frenchman ?
Clo. Faith ; Sir, he has an English name ; but his phisnomy is
more hotter in France, than there.
Laf. What prince is that ?
Clo. The black prince, Sir; alias, the prince of darkness;
alias, the devil.
Laf. Hold thee, there's my purse : I give thee not this to sug-
gest J thee from thy master thou talkest of ; serve him still.
Clo. 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 his 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.
Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary of thee; and I tell
* The yellow starch then used for bands and ruffles,
t I. e. rue. t Seduce.
SCENE V.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 51
thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy
ways ; let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks.
Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em. Sir, they shall be jades'
tricks ; which are their own right by the law of nature. [Exit.
Laf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy.*
Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, made himself much
sport out of him : by this authority he remains here, which he
thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no
pace, but runs where he will.
Laf. 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 mas-
ter, 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 ?
Count. With very much content, my lord, and I wish it hap-
pily effected.
Laf. 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.
Count. 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.
Laf. Madam, I was thinking, with what manners I might
safely be admitted.
Count. You need but plead your honourable privilege.
Laf. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter ; but, I thank
my God, it holds yet.
Be-enter CLOWN.
Clo. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of vel-
vet on's face : whether there be a scar under it, 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.
Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour ;
so, belike, is that.
Clo. But it is your carbonadoedf face.
Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you ; I long to talk with
the young noble soldier.
Clo. '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.
* Trickish.
t Scotched like a piece of meat for the gridiron.
12
52 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [ACT V.
ACT V.
SCENE I.— Marseilles. A Street.
Enter Helena, "Widow, and Diana, with two Attendants.
Hel. 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 gentle AsTElNGEE.*
This man may help me to his majesty's ear,
If he would spend his power. — God save you, Sir.
Gent. And you.
Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Gent. I have been sometimes there.
Hel. I do presume, Sir, that you are not fallen
Prom the report that goes upon your goodness :
And 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.
Gent. What's your will ?
Hel. 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.
Gent. The king 's not here.
Hel. Not here, Sir ?
Gent. Not, indeed :
He hence removed last night, and with more baste
Than is his use.
Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains !
Hel. AWs well that ends well, yet ;
Though time seems so adverse, and means unfit. —
I do beseech you, whither is he gone ?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Bousillon ;
Whither I am going.
Hel. I do beseech you, Sir,
Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand ;
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it :
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.
* Falconer.
SCENE II. J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 53
Gent. This I'll do for you.
Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,
"Whate'er falls more. — We must to horse again ;
Go, go, provide. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—Rousillon. The inner Court of the COUNTESS'S
Palace.
Enter Clown and Pahc-LLES.
Par. Good monsieur Lavatch,* 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 moat, and smell somewhat strong or her strong dis-
pleasure.
Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so
strong as thou speakest of : I will henceforth eat no fish of for-
tune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.f
Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, Sir; I spake by a
metaphor.
Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose ;
or against any man's metapbor. Pr'ythee, get thee further.
Par. Pray you. Sir, deliver me this paper.
Clo. Poh, pr'ythee, stand away : A paper from fortune's close-
stool to give to a nobleman ! Look, here he comes himself.
Enter LAFEU.
Here is a pur of fortune's, Sir, or of fortune's cat (but not a
musk-cat), that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her dis-
pleasure, 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 smiles of
comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown.
Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
scratched.
Laf. And what would you have me to do ? 'tis too late to pare
her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with for-
tune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady,
and would not have knaves thrive long under her ? There's a
fuart d'ecu for you : let the justices make you and fortune friends ;
am for other business.
Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one single word.
Laf. You beg a single penny more : come, you shall ha't : save
your word.
Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles.
Laf. You beg more than one word then. — Cox' my passion !
give me your hand : — how does your drum ?
Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
Laf. Was I, in sooth ? and I was the first that lost thee.
Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you
did bring me out.
* La vache (cow). + Get to leeward of me.
54 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. [ACT V.
Laf. 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.
Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— The same. A Room in the COUNTESS'S Palace.
Flourish. Enter King, COUNTESS, Lafeu, LORDS,
Gentlemen, Guards, Sec.
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.f
Count. '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.
Laf. 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 ; X 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 do we bury
The incensing relics of it : let him approach,
A stranger, no offender ; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.
Gent. I shall, my liege. [Exit Gentleman.
King. What says he to your daughter ? have you spoke ?
Laf. 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.
* I. e. of general esteem. t Completely.
t Richest in the remembered sight of beauty. § Recollection.
SCENE III.J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 55
JFnferBEETBAM.
Laf. He looks well on't.
King. 1 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.
Ber. My high-repented blames,f
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 ?
Ber. 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 stol'n ;
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, strike's some scores away
From the great compt : But love, that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence.
Crying, That's good that's gone : our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them until we know their grave.
Oft our displeasures to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust :
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
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.
Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless 1
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse ! X
Laf 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. — By my old beard,
* I. e. of uninterrupted rain. t Faults. t Cease.
56 all's well that ends well. [act v.
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 leave at court,
I saw upon her finger.
JBer. 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 ?
Ber. My gracious sovereign,
Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,
The ring was never hers.
Count. Son, on my life,
I have seen her wear it, and she reckon'd it
At her life's rate.
Laf. I am sure, I saw her wear it.
Ber. 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 ingaged :* 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
Beceive the ring again.
King. Plutus nimself,
That knows the tinct and multiplying medicinef
Hatb 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 wbat 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
SVhere you have never come), or sent it us
pon her great disaster.
Ber. She never saw it.
King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour ;
And mak'st 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 BEBTBA3T.
* In the sense of unengaged. t The philosopher's stone.
SCENE III.J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 57
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.
Ber. 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 Beeteam, guarded.
Enter a GENTLEMAN.
King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gent. 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, talcing 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. DlANA CAPULET.
Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him:f 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.
[Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.
I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.
Count. Now, justice on the doers !
Enter Beeteam, guarded.
King. I wonder, Sir, since wives are monsters to you,
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry. — What woman's that ?
Re-enter GENTLEMAN, with Widow and DlANA.
IHa. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet ;
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
Wid. I am her mother, Sir, whose age and honour
• Post-stages. f Pay toll for him.
58 all's well that ends well. [act V.
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease* without your remedy.
King. Come hither, count ; Do you know these women ?
Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny
But that I know them : Bo they charge me further ?
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife ?
Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
Dia. If you shall marry,
Tou 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.
Laf. Your reputation \To Beetbam] comes too short for my
daughter, you are no husband for her.
Ber. 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 !
Dia. Good my lord,
Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.
King. What say'st thou to her ?
Ber. She's impudent, my lord ;
And was a common gamestert to the camp.
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price ;
Bo not believe him : O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect, and rich validity,^
Bid lack a parallel ; yet, for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.
Count. 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.
Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument ; his name's Parolles.
Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
King. Find him, and bring him hither.
Ber. What of him?
He's quoted § for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd ; ||
* Decease. t A common woman. t Value.
S Noted. i Debauched.
SCENE III.] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 5d
Whose nature sickens, but* to speak a truth :
Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter,
That will speak anything ?
King. She hath that ring of yours.
Ber. 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'sf course
Are motives of more fancy ; and, in fine,
Her insuit coming 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.
Dia. 1 must be patient ;
You, that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me.§ I pray you yet
(Since you lack virtue, 1 will lose a husband),
Send for your ring, I will return it home,
And give me mine again.
Ber. I have it not.
King. What ring was yours, T pray you ?
Dia. Sir, much like
The same upon your finger.
King. Know you this ring ? this ring was his of late.
Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.
King. The story then goes false, you threw it him
Out of a casement.
Dia. I have spoke the truth.
Enter Paeolles.
Ber. My lord, I do confess, the ring was hers.
King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts you.
Is this the man you speak of ?
Dia. 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?
Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been an honour-
able gentleman ; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen
have.
King. Come, come, to the purpose : Did he love this woman ?
Bar. 'Faith, Sir, he did love her ; But how ?
King. How, I pray you ?
Bar. He did love her, Sir, as a gentleman loves a woman.
King. How is that ?
Bar. He loved her, Sir, and loved her not.
King. As thou art a knave, and no knave :—
What an equivocal companion || is this ?
* Only. t Love.
t Attractions, though these were not extraordinary.
S May justly make me fast. I Fellow.
60 all's well that ends well. [act y.
Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.
Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator.
Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage ?
Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak.
King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st ?
Par. 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 that 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 : there-
fore stand aside. —
This ring, you say, was yours ?
J>ia. Ay, my good lord.
King. Where did you buy it ? or who gave it you ?
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.
King. Who lent it you ?
Dia. It was not lent me neither.
King. Where did you find it then ?
Dia. I found it not.
King. If it were yours by none of all these ways,
How could you give it him ?
Dia. I never gave it him.
Laf. 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.
Dia. 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.
Dia. I'll never tell you.
King. Take her away.
Dia. I'll put in bail, my liege.
King. I think thee now some common customer .f
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while ?
Dia. 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. [Pointing to Lafexj.
King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her.
Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. — Stay, royal Sir ;
{Exit Widow.
The jeweller, that owesj the ring, is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord.
Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
* Artful. t Common woman. t Owns.
SCENE III.J ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 61
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 ?
' Lft real, that I see ?
Hel. No, my good lord ;
"Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.
Ber. Both, both, O pardon !
Hel. 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 ?
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly,
I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.
Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step between me and you ! —
O, my dear mother, do I see you living ?
Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon : — Good Tom
Drum [To Pabolles], lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank
thee ; wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee : Let thy cour-
tesies alone, they are scurvy ones.
King. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow : —
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, [7b Diana.
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower ;
For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid,
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. —
Of that, and all the progress, more and 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.
Advancing.
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
TAMING OF THE SHREW.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
TRANIO, l Servants to Lucen-
BIONDELLO, i tio.
GRUMIO, \ Servants to Petru-
CURTIS, J chio.
PEDANT, an old Fellow set up to
personate Vincentio.
A LORD.
CHRISTOPHER SLY.^
a drunken Tinker, Persons in
Hostbss, Page, Play- Kthe Induc-
ers, Huntsmen, and [ Hon.
other Servants at-
tending on the Lord, J
BAPTISTA, a rich Gentleman of
Padua.
VINCENTIO, an old Gentleman of
Pisa.
LUCENTIO, SontoVincentio, in love
with Bianca.
PETRUCHIO, a Gentleman of Ve-
rona, a Suitor to Katharina.
lllTE%io,} Suitorsto:Bianca -
Scene. — Sometimes in Padua ; and sometimes in Petrucliio's
House in the Country.
KATHARINA, the Shrew, \ Daugh.
BIANCA, her Sister, i ters to
Baptista.
WIDOW.
Tailor, Haberdasher, and Ser-
vants attending on Baptista
and Petruchio.
CHARACTERS IN THE INDUCTION
To the original Play of The Taming of a Shreiv, entered on the
Stationers' books in 1594, and printed in quarto, in 1607.
A LORD, &c.
SLY
A TAPSTER.
Page, Players, Huntsmen, &c.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
ALPHONSUS.rt Merchant of Athens.
JEROBEL, Duke of Cestus.
AURELIUS, his Son,") Suitorsto the
FERANDO, V Daughters of
POLIDOR, J Alphonsus.
VALERIA, Servant to Aurelius.
SANDER, Servant to Ferando.
PHYLOTUS, a Merchant who per-
sonates the Duke.
FMFl'lA [Daughters to Alphon-
PHYLEMA, J *"*•
Tailor, Haberdasher, and Ser-
vants to Ferando and Alphon-.
SU3.
Scene. — Athens ; and sometimes Perando's Country House.
SCENE I.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 68
INDUCTION.
SCENE I. — Before an Alehouse on a Heath.
Enter HOSTESS and SLY.
Sly. I'll pheese* you, in faith.
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue !
Sly. T'are a baggage; the Shes are no rogues: Look in the
chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore,
paucas pallabris ;f let the world slide : Sessa .'X
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst ?
Sly. No, not a denier : Go by, Jeronimy ; — Go to thy cold
bed, and warm thee.§
Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough.||
[Exit
Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by
law : I'll not budge an inch, boy ; let him come, and kindly.
{Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep.
Wind horns. Enter a LOED from hunting, with Huntsmen and
Servants.
Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee tender well my hounds :
Brace Merriman, — the poor cur is emboss'd ;^T
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.**
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault ?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord ;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent :
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.
Lord. Thou art a fool ; if Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all ;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
1 Hun. I will, my lord.
Lord. "What's here ? one dead or drunk? See, doth he breathe?
2 Hun. He breathes, my lord : "Were he not warm'd with ale,
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
Lord. O monstrous beast ! how like a swine he lies !
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image !
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
"Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
* Beat ; pay you off. t A word to the wise. t Be quiet.
S A line Introduced, in ridicule, from Kyd's play of the Spanish Tragedy,
the hero of which, Jeronimo, Sly confounds with Saint Jerome (Dyce).
I An officer whose authority equals a constable.
1 Strained. ** A small scenting-hound.
64 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [iNDTJC.
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
"Would not the beggar then forget himself ?
1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he waked.
Lord. Even as a nattering dream, or worthless fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jest : —
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures :
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet :
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound ;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say, — What is it your honour will command ?
Let one attend him with a silver basin,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers ;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper.
And say, — Will't please your lordship cool your hands ?
Some one be ready with a costly suit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear ;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease :
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic ;
And, when he says he is — 7 say, that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly,* geutle Sirs ;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty .f
1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you we'll play our part,
As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we say he is.
Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him;
And each one to his office, when he wakes. —
[Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sound*
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds : — [Exit Seeyant.
Belike, some noble gentleman, that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here. —
Re-enter a SEEVANT.
How now ? who is it ?
Serv. An it please your honour.
Players that offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near : —
Enter PlayEES.
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
1 Play. We thank your honour.
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night ?
* Naturally. * Moderataoa.
SCENE I.] TAMING OF THE SHREW. 66
2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.
Lord. With all my heart. — This fellow I remember,
Since once he playM a farmer's eldest son ; —
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well :
I have forgot your name ; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.
1 Play. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.
Lord. 'Tis very true ;— thou didst it excellent. —
Well, you are come to me in happy time ;
The rather for I have some sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night :
But I am doubtful of your modesties :
Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour
(For vet his honour never heard a play),
You break into some merry passion.
And so offend him : for I tell you, Sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient
1 Play. Fear not, my lord ; we can contain ourselves,
Were he the veriest antick in the world.
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one :
Let them want nothing that my house affords.
{Exeunt SEBVANT and Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, [To a See vast.
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady :
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him — madam, do him obeisance, —
Tell him from me (as he will win my love),
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observed in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished :
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ;
And say, — What is't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May show her duty, and make known her love ?
Ana then — with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyM
To see her noble lord restored to health,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar :
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift ;
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst :
Anon I'll give thee more instructions. [Exit Sebvant.
I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman :
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband :
VOL. II. p
66 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [iNDTTC.
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them : haply* my presence
May well abate the oyer-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A Bedchamber in the Loed's House.
SLY is discovered in a rich night-gown, with Attendants ; some
with apparel, others with basin, ewer, and other appurtenances.
Enter LoBD, dressed like a Servant.
Sly. For God's sake a pot of small ale.
1 Serv. WilFt please your lordship drink a cup of sack ?
2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves ?
3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day ?
Sly. I am Christopher Sly; call not me — honour, nor lord-
ship. I never drank sack in my life ; and if you give me any
conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask me what rai-
ment I'll wear ; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more
stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet ; nay, sometimes
more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the
over-leather.
Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour !
O, that a mighty man, of such descent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit !
Sly. What, would you make me mad ? Am not I Christopher
Sly, old Sly's son of Barton-heath ; by birth a pedlar, by educa-
tion a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by
present profession a tinker ? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-
wife of Woncot, if she know me not : if she say I am not four-
teen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the
lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught :f
Here's
1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn.
2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop.
Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth ;
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams :
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have music ? hark ! Apollo plays, [Music.
And twenty caged nightingales do sing ;
Or wilt thou sleep ? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say, thou wilt walk ; we will bestrew the ground :
Or wilt thou ride ? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
* Perhaps. t Distraught distracted.
SCENE IL] TAMING OF THE 8HEEW. 67
Dost thou love hawking ? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark : Or wilt thou hunt ?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
1 Sere. Say, thou wilt course ; thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay. fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures ? we will fetch thee straight
Adonis, painted by a running brook :
And Cytherea all in sedges hid ;
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid ;
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood ;
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds :
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord :
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
1 Serv. And. till the tears that she hath shed for thee,
Like envious floods, o'erran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world ;
And yet she is inferior to none.
Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady ?
Or do I dream ? or have I dream'd till now ?
I do not sleep : I see, I hear, I speak ;
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things : —
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed ;
And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. —
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight ;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands ?
[SERVANTS present an ewer, basin, and napkin.
O, how we joy to see your wit restored !
O. that once more you knew but what you are !
These fifteen years you have been in a dream ;
Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
Sly. These fifteen years, by my fay,* a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time ?
1 Serv. O, yes, my lord ; but very idle words : —
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door ;
And rail upon the hostess of the house ;
And say, you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts :
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Serv. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no such maid;
Nor no such men as you have reckon'd on —
* Faith.
F 2
68 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [iNDUC.
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell ;
And twenty more such names ana men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends !
All. Amen.
Sly. I thank thee ; thou shalt not lose by it.
Enter the Page, as a Lady, with Attendants.
Page. How fares my noble lord ?
Sly. Marry, I fare well ; for here is cheer enough.
Where is my wife ?
Page. Here, noble lord ; What is thy will with her ?
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me — husband ?
My men should call me — lord : I am your goodman.
Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband ;
I am your wife in all obedience.
Sly. I know it well : — What must I call her ?
Lord. Madam.
Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam ?
Lord, Madam, and nothing else ; so lords call ladies.
Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, and slept
Above some fifteen years and more.
Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me ;
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.
Sly. 'Tis much ; Servants, leave me and her alone.— —
Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.
Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two ;
Or, if not so, until the sun be set :
Por your physicians have expressly charged,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed :
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long. Put I
would be loath to fall into my dreams again ; I will therefore
tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood.
Enter a SERVANT.
Serv. Tour honour's players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
Por so your doctors hold it very meet ;
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy,
Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment.
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.
Sly. Marry, I will ; let them play it : Is not a commonty* a
Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick ?
Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.
* Comedy.
SCENE II. 1 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. CO
Sly. What, household stuff?
Page. It is a kind of history.
Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit hy my side, and
let the world slip ; Ave shall ne'er be younger. [.They sit down.
ACT I.
Scene I. — Padua. A public Place.
Enter LUCENTIO and Teanio.
Luc. Tranio, since — for the great desire I had
To see fair Paduaj nursery of arts, —
I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy ;
And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good company,
Most trusty servant, well approved in all ;
Here let us breathe, and happily institute
A course of learning, and ingenuous studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
Gave me my being, and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceived,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds :
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study
Virtue, and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of happiness
By virtue 'specially to be achieved.
Tell me thy mind : for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come ; as he that leaves
A shallow plash* to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Mi perdonate,\ gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as yourself;
Glad that you thus continue your resolve,
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy,
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoics, nor no stocks I pray ;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks, J
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured :
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetoric in your common talk :
Music and poesy use to quicken you :
The mathematics, and the metaphysics,
Pall to them as you find your stomach serves you :
* PooL + Pardon me. t Harsh rul<a.
70 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT I.
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ; —
In brief, Sir, study what you most affect.
Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
If Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness ;
And take a lodging, fit to entertain
Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay awhile : What company is this ?
Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town.
Enter Baptista, Katharina, Bianca, Gremio, and Hor-
TENSIO. LUCENTIO and TEANIO stand aside.
Bap. Gentlemen, imp6rtune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolved you know ;
That is, — not to bestow my youngest daughter,
Before I have a husband for the elder :
If either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well, and love you well.
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
Ore. To cart her, rather : she's too rough for me : —
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife ?
Kath. I pray you, Sir [To Bap.], is it your will
To make a stale of me* amongst these mates ?
Hot. Mates, maid, how mean you that ? no mates for you,
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
Kath. V faith. Sir, you shall never need to fear ;
I wis,t it is not half way to her heart :
But, if it were, doubt not her care should be
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
And paint your face and use you like a fool.
Sor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us !
Ore. And me too, good Lord !
Tra. Hush, master, here is some good pastime toward ;
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.
Luc. But in the other's silence I do see
Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.
Tra. Well said, master : mum ! and gaze your fill.
Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What I have said, — Bianca, get you in :
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca;
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
Kath. A pretty peat ! X 'tis best
Put finger in the eye, — an she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. —
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe :
My books, and instruments, shall be my company ;
On them to look, and practise by myself.
Luc. Hark, Tranio ! thou mayst hear Minerva speak. [Aside.
Sor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange ?
* To put me, stale-mate, into a corner.
t Think. i Pet
8CENE I. J TAMING OF THE SHREW. 71
Sorry am I, that our good will affects
Bianca's grief.
Gre. Why, will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue ?
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye ; I am resolved :
Go in, Bianca. [Exit BlANCA.
And for I know, she taketh most delight
In music, instruments, and poetry,
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth. — If you, Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio, you, — know any such,
Prefer* them hither : for to cunning men
I will be very kind and liberal
To mine own children in good bringing up ;
And so farewell Kathanna, you may stay ;
For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit.
Kath. Why, and I trust 1 may go too ; May I not ?
What, shall I be appointed hours ; as though belike,
I knew not what to take, and what to leave ? Ha ! [Exit.
Gre. You may go to tne devil's dam ; your gifts are so good,
here is none will hold you. Their love is not so great, Hortensio,
but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out ; our
cake 's dough on both sides. Farewell : — Yet, for the love I bear
my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man, to
teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.
Hot. So will I, signior Gremio : But a word, I pray. Though
the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon
advice,t it toucheth us both, — that we may yet again have access
to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love, — to
labour and effect one thing 'specially.
Gre. What's that, I pray ?
Hor. Marry, Sir, to get a husband for her sister.
Gre. A husband ! a deviL
Hor. I say, a husband.
Gre. I say, a devil : Think'st thou, Hortensio, though her father
be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell ?
Hor. Tusb, Gremio, though it pass your patience, and mine,
to endure her loud alarums; why, man, there be good fellows in
the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all
faults, and money enough.
Gre. I cannot tell ; but I had as lief take her dowry with this
condition, to be whipped at the high-cross every morning.
Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten apples.
But. come ; since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so
far forth friendly maintained,— till by helping Baptista's eldest
daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband,
and then have to't afresh. Sweet Bianca ! — Happy man be his
dole ! He that runs fastest gets the ring. How say you, signior
Gremio ?
Gre. I am agreed: and 'would I had given him the best horso
* Recommend. t Consideration.
72 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [ACT I.
in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her
wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.
[Exeunt GEEMIO and HoRTENSlO.
Tra. [Advancing.] I pray, Sir, tell me, — Is it possible
That love should of a sudden take such hold ?
Luc. O TraniOj till I found it to be true,
I never thought it possible, or likely ;
But see ! while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness :
And now in plainness do confess to thee, —
That art to me as secret, and as dear,
As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, —
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish. Tranio,
If I achieve not this young modest girl :
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst ;
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.
Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now;
Affection is not rated* from the heart :
If love have touch'd you, naught remains but so, — •
Bedime te captum quant queas minimo.
Luc. Gramercies, lad ; go forward : this contents ;
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel 's sound.
Tra. Master, you look'd so longlyf on the maid,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.
Luc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,
Such as the daughter X of Agenor had,
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand.
Tra. Saw you no more ? mark'd you not how her sister
Began to scold, and raise up such a storm,
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ?
Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,
And with her breath she did perfume the air ;
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.
Tra. Nay, then; 'tis time to stir him from his trance.
I pray, awake, Sir ; if you love the maid,
Bend thoughts ana wits to achieve her. Thus it stands : —
Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,
That, till the father rid his hands of her,
Master, your love must live a maid at home ;
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up.
Because she shall not be annoy'd with suitors.
Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father 's he !
But art thou not advised he took some care
To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her ?
Tra. Ay, marry, am I, Sir ; and now 'tis plotted.
Luc. I have iL Tranio.
Tra. Master, for my hand,
Both our inventions meet and jump in one.
Luc. Tell me thine first.
Tra. You will be schoolmaster,
* Driven out by chicling. t Longingly. t Europa.
SCENE I.] TAMING OF THE SHREW. 73
And undertake the teaching of the maid :
That's your device.
Luc. It is : May it he done ?
Tra. Not possible ; For who shall bear your part,
And be in Padua here Vincentio's son ?
Keep house, and ply his book ; welcome his friends ;
Visit his countrymen, and banquet them ?
Luc. Basta;* content thee, for I have it fulLf
We have not yet been seen in any house ;
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
For man or master : then it follows thus ;
Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,
Keep house, and port, % and servants, as I should ;
I will some other be ; some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or mean man of Pisa,
"lis hatch'd, and shall be so : Tranio, at once
Uncase thee ; take my colour'd hat and cloak :
"When Biondello comes, he waits on thee ;
But I will charm him, first to keep his tongue.
Tra. So had you need. [They exchange habits.
In brief then, Sir, sith§ it your pleasure is,
And I am tied to be obedient
(For so your father charged me at our parting ;
Be serviceable to my son, quoth he,
Although, I think, 'twas in another sense),
I am content to be Lucentio,
Because so well I love Lucentio.
Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves :
And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid
"Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye.
Enter Biondello.
Here comes the rogue. — Sirrah, where have you been ?
Bion. "Where have I been ? Nay, how now, where are you ?
Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes ?
Or you stolen his ? or both ? pray, what's the news ?
Luc. Sirrah, come hither ; 'tis no time to jest,
And therefore frame your manners to the time.
Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,
Puts my apparel and my countenance on,
And I for my escape have put on his ;
For in a quarrel, since I came ashore,
I killed a man, and fear I was descried :||
Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,
"While I make way from hence to save my hfe :
You understand me ?
Bion. I, Sir, ne'er a whit.
Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth ;
Tranio is changed into Lucentio.
Bion. The better for him ; "Would I were so too !
* 'Tis enough. t Planned in my head.
J Show. § Since. [ Observed.
74 TAMING OF THE SHEEW. [ACT 1.
Tra. So. would I, 'faith, boy, to have the next wish after, —
That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.
But, sirrah, — not for my sake, but your master's,— I advise
You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies :
When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio;
But in all places else, your master Lucentio.
Luc. Tranio, let's go : —
One thing more rests, that thyself execute ; —
To make one among these wooers : If thou ask me why, —
Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty. [Exeunt.
1 Serv. My lord, you nod ; you do not mind the play.
Sly. Yes, by saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely ; Comes
there any more of it ?
Page. My lord, 'tis but begun.
Sly. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady ; 'Would
'twere done !
SCENE II. — The same. Before Hoetensio's Souse.
Enter PETEUCHIO and Geuhio.
Pet. Verona, for a while I take my leave,
To see my friends in Padua ; but, of all,
My best beloved and approved friend,
Hortensio ; and, I trow, this is his house : —
Here, sirrah Grumio ; knock, I say.
Qru. Knock, Sir ! whom should I knock ? is there any man
has rebused your worship ? "
Pet. Villain, say, I knock me here soundly.
Qru. Knock you here. Sir ? why, Sir, what am I, Sir, that I
should knock you here, Sir ?
Pet. Villain, say I, knock me at this gate,
And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.
Qru. My master is grown quarrelsome : I should knock you
first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst.
Pet. Will it not be?
'Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll wring it;
I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.
[He wrings Gbtjmio by the ears.
Qru. Help, masters, help ! my master is mad.
Pet. Now knock when I bid you : sirrah ! villain !
Enter HOETENSIO.
Hor. How now ? what's the matter ?— My old friend Grumio !
and my good friend Petruchio !— How do you all at Verona ?
Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray ?
Con tutto il core bene trovato, may I say.
Hor. Alia nostra casa bene venuto,
Molto honorato signor mio Petruchio.
Rise, Grumio, rise ; we will compound this quarrel.
Qru. Nay, 'tis no matter, what he 'leges* in Latin.— If this be
* Alleges.
SCENE n.] TAMIXG OF THE SHEEW. 75
not a lawful cause for me to leave his service, — Look you, Sir, —
he hid me knock him, and rap him soundly, Sir : "Well, was it fit
for a servant to use his master so ; being, perhaps (for aught I
see), two and thirty, — a pip out ?
AVhom, 'would to God, I had well knock'd at first,
Then had not Grumio come by the worst.
Pet. A senseless villain — Good Hortensio,
I bade the rascal knock upon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it.
Oru. Knock at the gate ? — O heavens !
Spake you not these words plain, — Sirrah, knock me here, .
Rap me here, knock me well, and knock me soundly 1
And come you now with — knocking at the gate ?
Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.
Hot. Petruchio, patience ; I am Grumio's pledge :
Why, this a heavy chance 'twixt him and you ;
Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.
And tell me now, sweet friend, — what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here, from old Verona ?
Pet. Such wind as scatters young men through the world,
To seek their fortunes further than at home,
Where small experience grows. But, in a few,*
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me : —
Antonio, my father, is deceased ;
And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Haply to wive and thrive, as best I may :
Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world.
Hot. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee.
And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife ?
Thoud'st thank me but a little for my counsel :
And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich,
And very rich : — but thou'rt too much my friend,
And I'll not wish thee to her.
Pet. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we,
Few words suffice : and, therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife
(As wealth is burden of my wooing dance),
Be she as foul as was Florentia's love,
As old as Sybil, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse,
She moves me not, or not removes, at least,
Affection's edge in me; were she as rough
As are the swelling Adriatic seas :
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;
If wealthily, then happily in Padua.
Oru. Nay, look you, Sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is :
Why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet, or an
aglet-baby ,-f or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, though
she have as many diseases as two and fifty horses : why nothing
comes amiss, so money comes withaL
* Few words. t A small image on the tag of a lace.
76 TAMING OF THE SHKEW. [ACT I.
Sor. Petruchio, since we have stepp'd thus far in,
I will continue that I broach'd in jest.
I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and young, and beauteous ;
Brought up, as best becomes a gentlewoman :
Her only fault (and that is faults enough)
Is, — that she is intolerably curst,
And shrewed, and froward ; so beyond all measure,
That, were my state far worser than it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of gold.
Pet. Hortensio, peace ; thou know'st not gold's effect : —
Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough ;
For I will board her, though she chide as loud
As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack.
Sor. Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous gentleman :
Her name is Katharina Minola,
Benown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.
Pet. I know her father, though 1 know not her ;
And he knew my deceased father well : — •
I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her ;
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To give you over at this first encounter,
Unless you will accompany me thither.
Gru. I pray you, Sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O'
my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she would think
scolding would do little good upon him : She may, perhaps, call
him half a score knaves, or so : why, that's nothing ; an he begin
once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks* I'll tell you what, Sir, — an
she standi him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face,
and so disfigure her with it, that she shall have no more eyes to
see withal than a cat : You know him not, Sir.
Sor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee ;
For in Baptista's keep J 'my treasure is :
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca ;
And her withholds from me, and other more
Suitors to her, and rivals in my love :
Supposing it a thing impossible
(For those defects Ihave before rehearsed),
That ever Katharina will be woo'd,
Therefore this order§ hath Baptista ta'en ; —
That none shall have access unto Bianca,
Till Katharine the curst have got a husband.
Gfru. Katharine the curst !
A title for a maid, of all titles the worst.
Sor. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace ;
And offer me, disguised in sober robes,
To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
Well seent| in music, to instruct Bianca ;
* I.e. like a parrot. + Withstand. $ Custody.
§ Measure. II Versed-
SCENE II.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 77
That so I may by this device, at least,
Have leave and leisure to make love to her,
And unsuspected, court her by herself.
Enter GEEMIO ; with him LUCENTIO disguised, with books under
his arm.
Gru. Here's no knavery ! See ; to beguile the old folks, how
the young folks lay their heads together ! Master, master, look
about you : Who goes there ? ha !
Hot. Peace, Grumio ; 'tis the rival of my love : —
Petruchio, stand by a while. [They retire.
Gru. A proper stripling, and an amorous !
Ore. O, very well ; I have perused the note.
Hark you, Sir : I'll have them very fairly bound :
All books of love, see that at any hand ;*
And see you read no other lectures to her :
You understand me : — Over and beside
Signior Baptista's liberality,
I'll mend it with a largess : — Take your papers too,
And let me have them very well perfumed ;
Por she is sweeter than perfume itself,
To whom they go to. "YV hat will you read to her ?
Luc. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you,
As for my patron (stand you so assured),
As firmly as yourself were still in place :
Yea, and (perhaps) with more successful words
Than you, unless you were a scholar, Sir.
Gre. O this learning ! what a thing it is !
Gru. O this woodcock ! what an ass it is !
Pet. Peace, sirrah.
Hor. Grumio, mum ! — God save you, signior Gremio !
Gre. And you're well met, signior Hortensio. Trow you
"Whither I am going ?— To Baptista Minola.
I promised to inquire carefully
About a schoolmaster for fair Bianca :
And, by good fortune, I have lighted well
On this young man ; for learning and behaviour,
Pit for her turn ; well read in poetry,
And other books, — good ones, I warrant you.
Hor. 'Tis well : and I have met a gentleman,
Hath promised me to help me to another,
A fine musician to instruct our mistress !
So shall I no whit be behind in duty
To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.
Gre. Beloved of me,— and that my deeds shall prove.
Gru. And that his bags shall prove. [Aside.
Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love :
Listen to me, and if you speak me fair,
I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.
Here is a gentleman, whom by chance I met,
•Rate.
78 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT I.
Upon agreement from us to his liking,
Will undertake to woo curst Katharine ;
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.
Gre. So said, so done, is well : —
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults ?
Pet. 1 know, she is an irksome brawling scold ;
If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.
Gre. No, say'st me so, friend ? "What countryman ?
Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son :
My father dead, my fortune lives for me ;
And I do hope good days, and long, to see.
Ore. O, Sir, such a hfe, with such a wife, were strange :
But if you have a stomach, to't o' God's name ;
You shall have me assisting you in all
But will you woo this wild cat ?
Pet. Will I live ?
Gru. Will he woo her ? ay, or I'll hang her. [Aside.
Pet. Why came I hither, but to that intent ?
Think you a little din can daunt mine ears ?
Have I not in my time heard lions roar ?
Have I not heard the sea, puffd up with winds,
Bage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat ?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies ?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang ?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue ;
That gives not half so great a blow to the ear,
As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ?
Tush ! tush ! fear boys with bugs.*
Gru. For he fears none. [Aside.
Gre. Hortensio, hark !
This gentleman is happily arrived,
My mind presumes, for his own good, and yours.
Hor. I promised, we would be contributors,
And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er.
Gre. And so we will ; provided, that he win her.
Gru. I would, I were as sure of a good dinner. [Aside.
Enter Tranio, bravely apparelled ; and BIONDELLO.
Tra. Gentlemen, God save you ! If I may be bold,
Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of signior Baptista Minola ?
Gre. He that has the two fair daughters : is't [Aside to Tra-
nio] he you mean ?
Tra. Even he. Biondello !
Gre. Hark you, Sir ; You mean not her to
Tra. Perhaps, him and her. Sir ; What have you to do ?
Pet. Not her that chides, Sir, at any hand, I pray.
Tra. I love no cinders, Sir :— Biondello, let's away.
Luc. Well begun, Tranio. [Aside.
* Fright boys with bug-bears.
8CENE II.] TAMING OF THE SHREW. 79
Hor. Sir, a word ere you go ; —
Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, or no ?
Tra. An if I be, Sir, is it any offence ?
Ore. No ; if, without more words, you will get you hence.
Tra. "Why, Sir, I pray, are not the streets as free
For me, as for you ?
Cfre. But so is not she.
Tra. For whr.t reason, I beseech you ?
Ore. For this ieason, if you'll know,
That she's the choice love of signior Gremio.
liar. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio.
Tra. Softly, my masters ! if you be gentlemen,
Do me this right, hear me with patience.
Baptista is a noble gentleman,
To whom my father is not all unknown ;
And, were his daughter fairer than she is,
She may more suitors have, and me for one.
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers ;
Then well one more may fair Bianca have :
And so she shall ; Lucentio shall make one,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone.
Gfre. What ! this gentleman will out-talk us all.
Imc. Sir, give him nead ; I know he'll prove a jade.
Pet. Hortensio, to what end are all these words ?
Sor. Sir, let me be so bold as to ask you,
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter ?
Tra. No, Sir ; but hear I do, that he hath two
The one as famous for a scolding tongue,
As is the other for beauteous modesty.
Pet. Sir, Sir, the first's for me ; let her go by.
Ore. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules ;
And let it be more than Amides' twelve.
Pet. Sir, understand you this of me, insooth : —
The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for,
Her father keeps from all access of suitors ;
And will not promise her to any man,
Until the elder sister first be wed :
The younger then is free, and not before.
Tra. If it be so, Sir, then you are the man
Must stead us all, and me among the rest ;
An if you break the ice, and do this feat, —
Achieve the elder, set the younger free
For our access, — whose hap shall be to have her,
Will not so graceless be. to be ingrate.*
Hor. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive ;
And since you do profess to be a suitor,
You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beliolden.
Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack : in sign whereof,
Please ye we may contrive! this afternoon,
And quaff carouses to our mistress* health ;
* Ungrateful. \ Wear away.
80 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT II.
And so as adversaries* do in law, —
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
Ore. Bion. O excellent motion ! Fellows, let's be gone.
Hor. The motion's good indeed, and be it so ; —
Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.— The same. A Boom in Baptista's Souse.
Enter Kathaeina and Bianca.
Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me ;
That I disdain : but for these other gawds,f
Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment to my petticoat ;
Or, what you will command me will I do,
So well I know my duty to my elders.
Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
Whom thou loVst best ; see thou dissemble not.
Bian. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive,
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.
Kath. Minion, thou liest ; Is't not Hortensio ?
Bian. If you affect^ him, sister, here I swear,
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.
Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more ;
Tou will have Gremio to keep you fair.
Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so ?
Nay, then you jest ; and now I well perceive,
Tou have but jested with me all this while :
I piPythee, sister Kate, untie my hands.
Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her.
Enter Baptista.
Bap. Why, how now, dame ! whence grows this insolence ?
Bianca, stand aside ; — poor girl ! she weeps : —
Go ply thy needle ; meddle not with her. —
For shame, thou hilding§ of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee ?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word ?
Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.
[Flies after BlANCA.
Bap. What, in my sight ?— Bianca, get thee in. [Exit Bianca.
Kath. Will you not suffer me ? Nay, now I see
She is your treasure, she must have a husband ;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,
* I. e. opposing advocates. + Trifling ornaments.
t Love. S Jade.
SCENE I.] TAMING OF THE SHREW. 81
And, for your love to her, lead apes in helL
Talk not to me ; I will go sit and weep,
Till I can find occasion of revenge. [Exit Katharina.
Bap. Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I ;
But who comes here ?
Enter GBEMIO, with Lr/CENTIO in the habit of a mean man ;
Petruchio, with HORTENSIO as a Musician; and TfiANIO,
with BlONDELLO bearing a lute and books.
Ore. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista.
Bwp. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio: God save you, gen-
tlemen !
Pet. And you, good Sir ! Pray, have you not a daughter
CalFd Katharina, fair, and virtuous ?
Bap. I have a daughter, Sir, call'd Katharina.
Ore. You are too blunt, go to it orderly.
Pet . You wrong me, signior Gremio ; give me leave. —
T am a gentleman of Verona, Sir,
That,— hearing of her beauty, and her wit,
Her affability, and bashful modesty,
Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour, —
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine, [Presenting Hortensio.
Cunning in music, and the mathematics,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof, I know, she is not ignorant :
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong ;
His name is Licio, born in Mantua.
Bap. You're welcome, Sir ; and he, for your good sake :
But for my daughter Katharine, — this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.
Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her ;
Or else you like not of my company.
Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but as I find.
Whence are you, Sir ? what may I call your name ?
Pet . Petruchio is my name ; Antonio's son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.
Bap. I know him well : you are welcome for his sake.
Ore. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too :
Baccare !* you are marvellous forward.
Pet. O, pardon me, signior Gremio ; I would fain be doing.
Ore. I doubt it not, Sir ; but you will curse your wooing.
Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To ex-
press the like kindness myself, that have been more kindly
beholden to you than any, I freely give unto you this young
scholar [Presenting Lucentio], that hath been long studying
* Stand back.
VOL. H. G
82 TAMING OF THE SHREW. I. ACT II.
at Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as
the other in music and mathematics : his name is Cambio ; pray,
accept his service.
Bap. A thousand thanks, signior Gremio; welcome, good
Cambio. — But, gentle Sir {To Tbanio], methinks, you walk
like a stranger ; May I be so bold to know the cause of your
coming?
Tra. Pardon me, Sir, the boldness is mine own ;
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter
Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous.
Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister :
This liberty is all that I request, —
That, upon knowledge of my parentage.
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free access and favour as the rest.
And, toward the education of your daughters
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books,
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
Bap. Lucentio is your name ? of whence, I pray ?
Tra. Of Pisa, Sir ; son to Vincentio.
Bap. A mighty man of Pisa ; by report
I know him well : you are very welcome, Sir. —
Take you {To Hoe.] the lute, and you [To Luc] the set of books,
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within !
Enter a Seevant.
Sirrah, lead
These gentlemen to my daughters ; and tell them both,
These are their tutors ; bid them use them well.
{Exit Seevant, with Hoetensio, Lucentio, and Biondello.
"We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner : You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.
Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well ; and in him, me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I nave better'd rather than decreased :
Then tell me, — if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife ?
Bap. After my death, the one-half of my lands :
And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.
Pet. And for that dowry, I'll assure her of
Her widowhood, — be it that she survive me,
In all my lands and leases whatsoever :
Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.
Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
This is, — her love : for that is all in all.
Pet. Why, that is nothing ; for I tell you, father,
SCENE I. J TAMING OE THE 8HEEW. 88
I am as peremptory as she proud-minded ;
And where two raging fires meet together,
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury :
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all :
So I to her, and so she yields to me ;
For I am rough, and woo not like a hahe.
Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy by thy speed !
But be thou arm d for some unhappy words.
Bet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
That shake not, though they blow perpetually.
Re-enter Hobtensio, with his head broken.
Bap. How now, my friend ? why dost thou look so pale ?
Sor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good musician ?
Hot. I think, she'll sooner prove a soldier ;
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute ?
Hor. Why, no ; for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her, she mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering ;
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
Frets, call you these ? quoth she : I'll fume with them :
And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way ;
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute :
While she did call me, — rascal fiddler,
And — twangling Jack ; with twenty such vile terms,
As she had studied to misuse me so.
Bet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench ;
I love her ten times more then e'er I did :
O, how I long to have some chat with her !
Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited :
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter ;
She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. —
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us ;
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ?
Bet. I pray you do ; I will attend her here, —
[Exeunt Baptista, Guemio, Teanio, and HOBTENSIO.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say, that she rail ; Why, then I'll tell her plain,
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale :
Say, that she frown ; I'll say, she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew :
Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word ;
Then I'll commend her volubility,
And say— she uttereth piercing eloquence :
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay Dy her a week ;
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
o2
84 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT II.
When I shall ask the banns, and when be married : —
But here she comes ; and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter KaTHAEJNA.
Good morrow, Kate ; for that's your name, I hear.
Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing ;
They call me — Katharine, that do talk of me.
Pet. You lie, in faith ; for you are call'd plain Kate,
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all cates : and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation ; —
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs),
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.
Kath. Moved ! in good time : let him that moved you hither,
Remove you hence : I knew you at the first,
You were a moveable.
Pet. Why, what's a moveable ?
Kath. A joint stool.
Pet. Thou hast hit it : come, sit on me.
Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Kath. No such jade, Sir, as you, if me you mean.
Pet. Alas, good Kate ! I will not burden thee :
For knowing thee to be but young and light, —
Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch ;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet. Should be ? should buz.
Kath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle ! shall a buzzard take thee ?
Kath. Ay, for a turtle ; as he takes a buzzard.
Pet. Come, come, you wasp • i' faith, you are too angry.
Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out.
Kath. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.
Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his sting ?
In his tail.
Kath. In his tongue.
Pet. Whose tongue ?
Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails ; and so farewell.
Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail ? nay, come again,
Good Kate ; I am a gentleman.
Kath. That I'll try. [Striking him.
Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
Kath. So may you lose your arms :
If you strike me, you are no gentleman ;
And if no gentleman, why, then no arms.
Pet. A herald, Kate ? O, put me in thy books.
Kath. What is your crest ? a coxcomb ?
Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
SCENE I. J TAMING OF THE 8HBEW. 85
Kath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.
Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come ; you must not look so sour.
Kath. It is my fashion when I see a crab.
Pet. Why, here's no crab ; and therefore look not sour.
Kath. There is, there is.
Pet. Then show it me.
Kath. Had I a glass, I would.
Pet. What, you mean my face ?
Kath. Well aim'd of* such a young one.
Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
Kath. Yet you are withered.
Pet. "Tis with cares.
Kath. I care not.
Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate : in sooth, you 'scape not so.
Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry ; let me go.
Pet. No, not a whit ; I find you passing gentle.
'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and sullen,
And now I find report a very har ;
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous ;
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers :
Thou canst not frown, thou oanst not look askance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ;
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk ;
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft and affable.
Why does the world report, that Kate doth limp ?
O slanderous world ! Kate, like the hazel twig,
Is straight and slender ; and as brown in hue
As hazei nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt.
Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st, command.
Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove,
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait ?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate ;
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful f
Kath. Where did you study all this goodly speech ?
Pet. It is extempore from my mother-wit.
Kath. A witty mother ! witless else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise ?
Kath. Yes ; keep you warm.
Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed :
And therefore setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms : — Your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife ; your dowry 'greed on ;
And, will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now. Kate, I am a husband for your turn ;
For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty
(Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well)
Thou must be married to no man but me :
For I am he, am born to tame you, Kate ;
And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate
« For.
SG TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [ACT IL
Conformable, as other household Kates.
Here comes your father ; never make denial,
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Be-enter BAPTISTA, GEEMIO, and TEANIO.
Bap. Now,
Signior Petruchio : How speed you with
My daughter ?
Pet. How but well, Sir ? how but well ?
It were impossible I should speed amiss.
Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine ? in your dumps ?
Kath. Call you me, daughter ? now I promise you,
Tou have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half-lunatic ;
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet. Father, 'tis thus, — yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her ;
If she be curst, it is for policy :
For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn ;
Tor patience she will prove a second Grissel ;
And Eoman Lucrece for her chastity :
And to conclude, — we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.
Kath. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.
Ore. Hark, Petruchio ! she says, she'll see thee hang'd first..
Tra. Is this your speeding ? nay, then good night our part !
Pet. Be patient, gentlemen ; I choose her for myself;
If she and I be pleased, what's that to you ?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me : O, the kindest Kate !—
She hung about my neck ; and kiss on kiss
She vied* so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love,
O, you are novices ! 'tis a worldf to see,
How tame, when men and women are alone,
A meacockj wretch can make the curstest shrew. —
Give me thy hand, Kate : I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day : — ■
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ;
I will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine.
Bap. I know not what to say : but give me your hands ;
God send you joy, Petruchio ! 'tis a match.
Ore. Tra. Amen, say we ; we will be witnesses.
Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu ;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace :
* Wagered, as at cards. t Well worth. J Effeminate.
SCENE 1. 1 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 87
We will have rings, and things, and fine array ;
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.
[Exeunt Petbuchio and Kathaeina severally.
Che. "Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly ?
Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.
Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you :
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
Bap. The gain I seek is — quiet in the match.
Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter ; —
Now is the day we long have looked for ;
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Gre. Youngling ! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Grey-beard ! thy love doth freeze.
Gre. But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back ; 'tis age, that nourisheth.
Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes that fiourisheth.
Bap. Content you, gentlemen ; I'll compound this strife :
'Tis deeds must win the prize ; and he, of both,
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall have Bianca's love. —
Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her ?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold ;
Basins, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands ;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry :*
In ivory coders I have stuffd my crowns ;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,t
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies.
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'a with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house, or housekeeping : then, at my farm
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years. I must confess ;
And, if I die to-morrow tnis is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.
Tra. That only, came well in Sir, list to me,
I am my father's neir, and only son :
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa's walls, as any one
Old signior Gremio has in Padua ;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
* Probably the tapestry of Tiria, in Natolia, is here referred to.
t Counterpanes.
88 TAMING OF THE SHBEW". [ACT T I.
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. —
"What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio ?
G-re. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land !
My land amounts not to so much in all :
That she shall have ; besides an argosy,
That now is lying in Marseilles' road
What, have I choked you with an argosy ?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
Than three great argosies ; besides two galliasses,*
And twelve tight galleys : these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offers next.
Ore. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more ;
And she can have no more than all I have ; — •
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promise ; Gremio is out- vied.
Bap. I must confess, your offer is the best ;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is yoixr own ; else, you must pardon me :
If you should die before him, where's her dower ?
Tra. That's but a cavil ; he is old, I young.
Ore. And may not young men die, as well as old ?
Bap. Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolved : — On Sunday next, you know,
My daughter Katharine is to be married :
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance ;
If not, to signior Gremio :
And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit.
Ore. Adieu, good neighbour. — Now I fear thee not ;
Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and, in his waning age,
Set foot under thy table : Tut ! a toy !
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide !
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.f
'Tis in my head to do my master good :
I see no reason, but supposed Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd — supposed Vincentio ;
And that's a wonder : fathers, commonly,
Do get their children ; but, in this case of wooing,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. {Exit.
* A vessel of burden worked both with sails and oars.
t Then the highest card.
ACT III.] TAMING OF THE SHEEW. 89
ACT m.
SCENE L.—A room in Baptista's Bouse.
Enter LUCENTIO, HOBTEXSIO, and BlANCA.
Luc. Fiddler, forbear ; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcom'd you withal ?
Hot. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony :
Then give me leave to have prerogative ;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
Luc. Preposterous ass ! that never read so far
To know the cause why music was ordain'd !
"Was it not to refresh the mind of man,
After his studies, or his usual pain ?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.
Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which resteth in mv choice :
I am no breeching* scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down : —
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles ;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tuned.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune ?
[To Bianca— Hortensio retire*.
Luc. That will be never ; — tune your instrument.
Bian. Where left we last ?
Luc. Here, madam :
Sac ibat Simois ; hie est Sigeia tellus;
Hie steterat Primmi regia celsa senis.
Bian. Construe them.
Luc. Hoc ibat as I told you before, — Simois, I am Lucentio, —
hie est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, — Sigeia tellus } disguised thus
to get your love ; — Hie steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a
wooing, — Priami, is my man Tranio, — regia, bearing my port, —
celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.
Hor. Madam, my instrument 's in tune. [Returning.
Bian. Lef s hear ; [Hobtensio flays.
O fie ! the treble jars.
Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it : Hoc ibat Simois, I
know you not ; hie est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not ; Hie stete-
rat Priami, take heed he hear us not ; — regia, presume not ; —
celsa senis, despair not.
* Liable to be whipped.
90 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT III.
Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc. All but the base.
Hor. The base is right ; 'tis the base knave that jars.
How fiery and forward our pedant is !
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love :
Pedascule* I'll watch you better yet.
Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not ; for, sure, iEacides
"Was Ajax, — call'd so from his grandfather.
Bian. I must believe my master ; else I promise you,
I should be arguing still upon that doubt :
But let it rest. — Now, Licio, to you : —
Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
Hor. You may go walk [To Lucentio], and give me leave
awhile ;
My lessons make no music in three parts.
Luc. Are you so formal, Sir ? well, I must wait,
And watch withal ; for, butf I be deceived,
Our fine musician groweth amorous. [Aside,
Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art ;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade :
And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
Hor. Tet read the gamut of Hortensio.
Bian. [Reads.~\ Gamut I am, the ground of all accord.
A re, to plead Hortensio's passion :
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
C faut, that loves with all affection :
J) sol re, one cliff, two notes have I;
E la mi, show pity, or I die.
Call you this — gamut ? tut ! I like it not :
Old fashions please me best ; I am not so nice, J
To change true rules for odd inventions.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
And help to dress your sister's chamber up ;
You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both ; I must be gone.
[Exeunt Bianca and Servant.
Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit.
Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant ;
Methinks, he looks as though be were in love : —
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
* Pedant. t Unless. t Fantastical.
SCENE 1I.J TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 91
To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale,*
Seize thee, that list : If once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit.
SCENE II.— The same. Before Baptista's Home.
Enter Baptista, Geemio, Tranio, Kathaeina, Bianca,
LUCENTIO, and Attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio [ To Tranio], this is the 'pointed day
That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law :
What will be said ? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage ?
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours ?
Kath. No shame but mine : I must, forsooth, be forced
To give my hand, opposed against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen ;t
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool.
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour :
And to be noted for a merry man.
He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banns ;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katharine,
And say, — Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too ;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word :
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Kath. 'Would Katharine had never seen him though !
[Exit, weeping, followed by BlANCA and others.
Bap. Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep ;
For such an injury would vex a saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
Enter BlONDELLO.
Bion. Master, master ! news, old news, and such news as you
never heard of !
Bap. Is it new and old too ? how may that be ?
Bion. Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming ?
Bap. Is he come ?
Bion. Why, no, Sir.
Bap. What then ?
Bion. He is coming.
Bap. When will he be here ?
Bion. When he stands where I am. and sees you there.
Tra. But, say, what :— To thine old news.
* Bait. t Humours.
92 TAMING OF THE SHEEW. [ACT III.
Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old
ierkin ; a pair of old breeches, thrice turned : a pair of boots that
have been candlecases, one buckled, another laced ; an old rusty
sword ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and
chapeless, with two broken points:* His horse hipped with an
old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred : besides, possessed
with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine ; troubled with
the lampass, infected with the fashions,t full of wind-galls, sped
with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the nves,J stark
spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots ; swayed in the
back, and shoulder-shotten ; near-legged before,§ and with a half-
checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather ; which being re-
strained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and
now repaired with knots : one girt six times pieced, and a woman's
crupper of velure,|| which hath two letters for her name, fairly
set down in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.
Bap. Who comes with him ?
Bion. O, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the
horse : with a linen stock If on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on
the other, gartered with a red and blue list ; an old hat, and The
humour of forty fancies** pricked ft in't for a feather: a monster,
a very monster in apparel ; and not like a Christian footboy, or a
gentleman's lackey.
Tra. 'lis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion ; —
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd.
Bap. 1 am glad he is come, howsoe'er he comes.
Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didst thou not say, he comes ?
Bion. Who ? that Petruchio came ?
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.
Bion. No, Sir : I say, his horse comes with him on his back
Bap. Why, that's all one.
Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.
Enter Petbuchio and Gktjmio.
Pet . Come, where be these gallants ? who is at home ?
Bap. You are welcome, Sir.
Pet. And yet I come not well.
Bap. And yet you halt not.
Tra. Not so well apparell'd
As I wish you were.
Pet. Were it better I should rush in thus.
But where is Kate, where is my lovely bride ?
How does my father ? — Gentles, methinks you frown :
And wherefore gaze this goodly company ;
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy ?
• Tags. t Farcy.
t Vives ; a distemper in horses, little differing from the strangles.
i Foundered in the forefeet. || Velvet. «[ Stocking.
** A ballad of the period. tt Pinned.
SCENE II.J TAMING OF THE SHREW. 93
Bap. Why, Sir, you know, this is your wedding-day :
First were we sad, fearing you would not come ;
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie ! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.
Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself ?
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear :
Sufficeth ; I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress ;*
Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied withal.
But, where is Kate ? I stay too long from her ;
The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.
Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent robes ;
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.
Pet. Not I, believe me ; thus I'll visit her.
Bap. But thus. I trust, you will not marry her.
Pet. Good sooth, even thus ; therefore have done with words ;
To me she's married, not unto my clothes :
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can change these poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for myself.
But what a fool am I, to chat with you,
When I should bid good-morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss !
[Exeunt PeTBUCHIO, GbUMIO, and BlONDELLO.
Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire :
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.
Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this. [Exit.
Tra. But, Sir, to her love concerneth us to add
Her father's liking : Which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your worship,
I am to get a man,— whate'er he be,
It skillsf not much ; we'll fit him to our turn, —
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ;
And make assurance, here in Padua,
Of greater sums than I have promised.
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.
Luc. Were it not that my fellow-schoolmaster
Doth wateh Bianca's steps so narrowly,
Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage ;
Which once perform'd, let all the world say — no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.
Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business :
We'll over-reach the grey-beard, Gremio,
The narrow-prying father, Minola ;
* I.e. deviate. t Matters.
94 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [ACT III,
The quaint* musician, amorous Licio ;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio. —
Re-enter Gkemio.
Signior Gremio ! came you from the church ?
Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from school.
Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home ?
Ore. A bridegroom, say you ? 'tis a groom, indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
Tra. Curster than she ? why, 'tis impossible.
Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.
Gre. Tut ! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him.
I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio ; When the priest
Should ask — if Katharine should be his wife,
Ay, by gogs-wouns, quoth he ; and swore so loud,
That, all amazed, the priest let fall the book :
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up,
The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff,
That down fell priest and book, and book and priest ;
Now take them up, quoth he, if any list.
Tra. What said the wench, when he arose again ?
Gre. Trembled and shook ; for why, he stamp'd, and swore,
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
But after many ceremonies done,
He calls for wine : — A health, quoth he ; as if
He had been aboard carousing to his mates
After a storm : — Quaff 'd off the muscadel,+
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ;
Having no other reason, —
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck ;
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack,
That, at the parting, all the church did echo.
I, seeing this, came thence for very shame ;
And after me, I know, the rout is coming :
Such a mad marriage never was before ;
Hark, hark ! I hear the minstrels play. [Music.
Enter Petrtjchio, Katharina, Bianca, Baptista,
HOETENSIO, GSUMIO, and Train.
Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains :
I know, you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepared great store of wedding cheer ;
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
Bap. Is't possible, you will away to-night ?
* Strange.
t The wine drunk by the company in church immediately after th«
marriage-ceremony.
8CEXE IT.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 9S
Pet. I must away to-day, before night come :—
Make it no wonder ; if you knew my Dusiness,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all.
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife :
Dine with my father, drink a health to me ;
For I must hence, and farewell to you aU.
Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.
Pet. It may not be.
Ore. Let me entreat you.
Pet. It cannot be.
Kath. Let me entreat you.
Pet. I am content.
Kath. Are you content to stay ?
Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay ;
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.
Kath. Now, if you love me, stay.
Pet. Grumio, my horses.
Gru. Ay, Sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses.
Kath. Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day ;
No, nor to-morrow, nor till I please myself.
The door is open, Sir, there lies your way,
You may be jogging, whiles your boots are green ;
For me, I'll not be gone, till I please myself: —
'Tis like, you'll prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at tne first so roundly.
Pet. 0, Kate, content thee ; pr'ythee, be angry.
Kath. I will be angry : What hast thou to do ?—
Father, be quiet ; he snail stay my leisure.
Gre. Ay, marry, Sir : now it begins to work.
Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner : —
I see, a woman may be made a fool,
If she had not a spirit to resist.
Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command : —
Obey the bride, you that attend on her :
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,*
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves ;
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay. look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret ;
1 n ill be master of what is mine own :
She is my goods, my chattels ; she is my house,
My household-stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything ;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare ;
I'll bring my action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we're beset with thieves ;
llescue thy mistress, if thou be a man : —
* Bluster.
9C TAMING OF THE SHREW. . [ACT IV.
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate ;
I'll buckler thee against a million.
[Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and GRUMIO.
Bap. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.
Ore. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.
Tra. Of all mad matches, never was the like !
Imc. Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister ?
Man. That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.
Ore. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
Bap. Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom
wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know, there wants no junkets* at the feast ; —
Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place;
And let Bianca take her sister's room.
Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it ?
Bap. She shall, Lucentio. — Come, gentlemen, let's go.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.— A Sail in Petruchto's Country Souse.
Enter Grumio.
Gru. Fie, fie, on all tired jades ! on all mad masters ! and
all foul ways ; Was ever man so beaten ? was ever man so
rayed ?f was ever man so weary ? I am sent before to make
a fire, and they are coming after to warm them. Now, were
not I a little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to my
teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my belly,
ere I should come by a fire to thaw me : — But, I, with blowing
the fire, shall warm myself; for, considering the weather, a taller
man than I will take cold. Holla, hoa ! Curtis !
Enter Curtis.
Curt. Who's that, calls so coldly?
Oru. A piece of ice : If thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from
my shoulder to my heel, with no greater a run but my head and
my neck. A fire, good Curtis.
Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio ?
Oru. O, ay, Curtis, ay : and therefore fire, fire ; cast on no
water.
Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported ?
Oru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost : but, thou know'sl
winter tames man, woman, and beast ; for it hath tamed my old
master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.
Curt. Away, you three-inch fool ! I am no beast.
Oru. Am I but three inches ? why, thy horn is a foot ; and so
long am I, at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall
* Delicacies. t Bewrayed; dirtied.
SCENE I.] TAMIXG OF THE SHBEW. 97^
I complain on thee to our mistress, whose hand (she heing now
at hand) thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow
m thy hot office.
Curt. I pr'ythee, good Grumio, tell me, How goes the world ?
Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine ; and, there-
fore, fire : Do thy duty, and have thy duty ; for my master and
mistress are almost frozen to death.
Curt. There's fire ready; And therefore, good Grumio, the
news?
Gru. Why Jack boy ! ho boy !* and as much news as thou wilt.
Curt. Come, you are so full of conycatching : —
Gru. ."Why therefore, fire ; for I have caught extreme cold.
Where's the cook ? is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes
strewed, cobwebs swept ; the serving-men in their new fustian,
their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on ?
Be the jackst fair within, the jillsj fair without, the carpets§
laid, and everything in order ?
Curt. All ready ; And therefore, I pray thee, news ?
Gru. First, know, my horse is tired ; my master and mistress
fallen out.
Curt. How!
Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt ; And thereby hangs a
tale.
Curt. Lef s ha't, Good Grumio.
Gru. Lend thine ear.
Curt. Here.
Gru. There. [Striking Mm.
Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
Gru. And therefore 'tis called a sensible, tale : and this cuff
was but to knock at your ear, and beseech listening. Now I
begin : Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding
behind my mistress : —
Curt. Both on one horse ?
Gru. What's that to thee ?
Curt. Why, a horse.
Gru. Tell thou the tale : But hadst thou not crossed me,
thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell, and she under her
horse ; thou shouldst have heard, in how miry a place ; how she
was bemoiled ; how he left her with the horse upon her ; how he
beat me because her horse stumbled ; how she waded through
the dirt to pluck him off me ; how he swore ; how she prayed —
that never prayed before; how I cried; how the horses ran
away ; how ner bridle was burst ; how I lost my crupper ; —
with many things of worthy memory ; which now shall die in
oblivion, and thou return unexperienced to thy grave.
Curt. By this reckoning, he is more shrew than she.
Gru. Ay ; and that, thou and the proudest of you all shall
find, when he comes home. But what talk I of this ?— call forth
Nathaniel. Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the
i rest ; let their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats brushed,
* The commencement of an old catch. t (Drinking.)
t Women servants. § Table carpets or cloths.
VOL. II. H
98 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [ACT IV.
and their garters of an indifferent* knit ; let them curtsey with
their left legs ; and not presume to touch a hair of my master's
horse-tail, till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready ?
Curt. They are.
Oru. Call them forth.
Curt. Do you hear, ho ? you must meet my master, to counte-
nance my mistress.
Oru. Why, she hath a face of her own.
Curt. Who knows not that ?
Oru. Thou, it seems ; that callest for company to countenance
her.
Curt. I call them forth to credit her.
Oru. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
Enter several SERVANTS.
Nath. Welcome home, Grumio.
Phil. How now, Grumio ?
Jos. What, Grumio !
Nich. fellow Grumio !
Nath. How now, old lad ?
Oru. Welcome, you; — how now, you; what, you; — fellow,
you ; — and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions,
is all ready, and all things neat ?
Nath. All things is ready : How near is our master ?
Oru. E'en at hand, alighted by this ; and therefore be not,
Cock's passion, silence ! 1 hear my master.
Enter Petbuchio and Kathabina.
Pet. Where be these knaves ? What, no man at door,
To hold my stirrup, nor to take my horse !
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip ?
All Serv. Here, here, Sir ; here, Sir.
Pet. Here, Sir ! here, Sir ! here. Sir, here Sir ! —
You logger-headed and unpolished grooms !
What, no attendance ? no regard ? no duty ? —
Where is the foolish knave I sent before ?
Oru. Here, Sir ; as foolish as I was before.
Pet. You peasant swain ! you whoreson malt-horse drudge !
Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,
And bring along these rascal knaves with thee ?
Oru. Nathaniel's coat, Sir, was not fully made,
And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel ;
There was no hnkf to colour Peter's hat,
And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing :
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory ;
The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ;
Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Pet. Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. —
[ Exeunt some of the SERVANTS.
* Of different fashion, t A torch of pitch.
SCENE I.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 99
Where is the life that late I led — [Sings.
Where are those Sit down, Kate, and welcome.
Soud, soud, soud, soud !*
JZe-enter SEBVANTS, with supper.
Why, when, I say ?— Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogues, you villains ; When ?
It was the friar of orders grey, [Sings.
As he forth walked on his way :
Out, out, you rogue ! you pluck my foot awry :
Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. — [Strikes him.
Be merry, Kate : — Some water, here ; what, ho ! —
Where's my spaniel Troilus ? — Sirrah get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither :— [Exit Seevant.
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with. — *
Where are my suppers ? — Shall I have some water ?
[A basin is presented to him.
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily : —
[Seevant lets the ewer fall.
You whoreson villain ! will you let it fall ? [Strikes him.
Kath. Patience, I pray you ; 'twas a fault unwilling.
Pet. A whoreson, beetleheaded, flap-ear'd knave !
Come, Kate, sit down ; I know you have a stomach.
Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I ? —
What is this ? mutton ?
1 Serv. Ay.
Pet. Who brought it ?
1 Serv. I.
Pet. 'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat :
What dogs are these ? — Where is the rascal cook ?
How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
And serve it thus to me that love it not ?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all :
[ Throws the meat, S(c, about the stage.
You headless joltheads, and unmanner'd slaves !
What, do you grumble ? I'll be with you straight.
Kath. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet ;
The meat was well, if you were so contented.
Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away ;
And I expressly am forbid to touch it.
For it engenders choler, planteth anger ;
And better 'twere, that both of us did fast,—
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, — ■
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
Be patient ; to-morrow it shall be mended,
And, for this night, we'll fast for company :—
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.
[Exeunt Peteuchio, KatHABINA, and CUBTI8.
Nath. [Advancing.'] Peter, didst ever see the like ?
Pet. He kills her in her own humour.
* An expression to convey heat and fatigue.
HI
100 TAMING OF THE SHEEW. [ACT IV,
He-enter CtJBTIS.
Oru. Where is he ?
Curt. In her chamber,
Making a sermon of continency to her :
And rails and swears, and rates ; that she, poor soul,
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak ;
And sits as one new-risen from a dream.
Away, away ! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt.
Re-enter Petet/CHIO.
Pet. Thus have I politically begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully :
My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty ;
And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorged,
1 For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,*
To make her come, and know her keepers call,
That is, — to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That bate,f and beat, and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat :
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not ;
As with the meat, some undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed :
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets : —
Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend,!
That all is done in reverend care of her ;
And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night :
And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail, and brawl,
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ;
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour : —
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak ; 'tis charity to show. [Exit.
SCENE II.— Padua. Before Baptista's Souse.
Enter Teanio and Hoetensio.
Tra. Is't possible, friend Licio, that Bianca
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio ?
I tell you, Sir, she bears me fair in hand.
Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what 1 have said,
Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching.
[They stand aside.
Enter BlANCA and Lucentio.
Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read ?
Plan. What, master, read you ? first resolve me that.
* To tame my wild hawk. t Flutter. t Pretend.
8CENE II.J TAMING OF THE 8HBEW. 101
Luc. I read that I profess, the art to love.
Bian. And may you prove, Sir, master of your art !
Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart.
[ They retire.
Hot. Quick proceeders, marry ! Now, tell me, I pray,
You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio.
Tra. O despiteful love ! unconstant woman-kind !—
I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
Hot. Mistake no more : I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I seem to he ;
But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a god of such a cullion :
Know, Sir, that I am call'd — Hortensio.
Tra. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca :
And since mine eyes are witness ot her lightness,
I will with you, — if you be so contented, —
Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.
Hot. See, how they kiss and court ! Signior Lucentio,
Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow —
Never to woo her more ; but do forswear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours
That I have fondly flatter' d her withal.
Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath, —
Ne'er to marry with her though she would entreat :
Fie on her ! see how beastly she doth court him.
Hor. 'Would, all the world, but he, had quite forsworn !
For me, — that I may surely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pass ; which hath as long loved me,
As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard ;
And so farewell, signior Lucentio. —
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
Shall win my love : — and so I take my leave,
In resolution as I swore before.
[Exit Hortensio. — Lucentio and Bianca advance.
Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
As longeth to a lover's blessed case !
Nay, 1 nave ta'en you napping, gentle love ;
And have forsworn you, with Hortensio.
Bian. Tranio, you jest ; But have you both forsworn me ?
Tra. Mistress, we have.
Luc. Then we are rid of Licio.
Tra. I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
Bian. God give him joy !
Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her.
Bian. He says so, Tranio.
Tra. 'Faith he is gone unto the taming-schooL
Bian. The taming-school ! what, is there such a place ?
102 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT IV.
Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master ;
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, —
To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue.
Enter BlONDELLO, running.
Bion. O master, master, I have watch'd so long
That I am dog-weary ; hut at last I spied
An ancient angel* coming down the hill,
Will serve the turn.
Tra. What is he, Biondello ?
Bion. Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,t
I know not what ; but formal in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father.
Luc. And what of him, Tranio ?
Tra. If he be credulous and trust my tale,
I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio ;
And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio.
Take in your love, and then let me alone.
[ Exeunt LtTCENTlO and BlANCA.
Enter a Pedant.
Fed. God save you, Sir !
Tra. And you, Sir, you are welcome.
Travel you far on, or are you" at the furthest ?
Fed. Sir, at the furthest for a week or two :
But then up further ; and as far as Rome ;
And so to Tripoly, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countryman, I pray ?
Fed. Of Mantua.
Tra. Of Mantua, Sir ?— marry, God forbid ?
And come to Padua, careless of your life ?
Fed. My life, Sir ! how, I pray ? for that goes hard.
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua ; Know you not the cause ?
Your ships are staid at Venice ; and the duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him)
Hath publish d and proclaim'd it openly :
'Tis marvel ; but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
Fed. Alas, Sir, it is worse for me than so ;
For I have bills for money by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them.
Tra. Well, Sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this will I advise you ; —
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa ?
Fed. Ay, Sir, in Pisa have I often been ;
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens.
Tra. Among them, know you one Vincentio ?
Fed. I know him not, but 1 have heard of him :
A merchant of incomparable wealth.
* A messenger. t A merchant or a schoolmaster.
SCENE III.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 103
Tra. He is my father, Sir, and sooth to say,
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.
Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.
[Aside.
Tra. To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake :
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are hke to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credit shall you undertake.
And in my house you shall be friendly lodged : —
Look, that you take upon you as you should ;
You understand me, Sir ; — so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city :
If this be courtesy, Sir, accept of it.
Ped. O, Sir, I do ; and will repute you ever
The patron 01 my life and liberty.
Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good.
This, by the way, I let you understand ; —
My father is here look'd for every day,
To pass assurance* of a dower in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here :
In all these circumstances I'll instruct you :
Go with me, Sir, to clothe you as becomes you. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— A Boom in Peteuchio's Souse.
Enter Kathabina and Gbumio.
Gru. No, no ; forsooth ; I dare not, for my life.
Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears :
What, did he marry me to famish me ?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon entreaty have a present alms ;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity :
But I, — who never knew how to entreat, —
Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep :
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed :
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love ;
As who should say, — if I should sleep or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness, or else^present death. —
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast :
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru. What say you to a neat's foot ?
Kath. 'Tis passing good, I pr'ythee let me have it.
Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat :
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd ?
Kath. I like it well ; good Grumio. fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell ; I fear, 'tis choleric.
What say you to % piece of beef, and mustard ?
* Conveyance.
104 TAMING OF THE SHEEW. [ACT IV.
Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Gru. Ay ? but the mustard is too hot a little.
Kath. VV hy, then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Gru. Nay, then, I will not ; you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
Kath. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.
Gru. "Why, then, the mustard without the beef.
Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [Beats him.
That feed'st me with the very name of meat :
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you,
That triumph thus upon my misery !
Go, get thee gone, I say.
Enter PETEtrCHlO with a dish of meat ; and Hoetensio.
Pet. How fares my Kate ? What, sweeting, all amort ?*
Mar. Mistress, what cheer ?
Kath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.
Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.
Here, love ; thou see'st how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee :
[Sets the dish on a table.
I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word ? Nay, then, thou loVst it not ;
And all my pains is sorted to no proof :f
Here take away this dish.
Kath. 'Pray you, let it stand.
Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks ;
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
Kath. I thank you, Sir.
Sor. Signior Petruchio, fie ! you are to blame !
Come mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov^st me. — [Aside.
Much good do it unto thy gentle heart !
Kate, eat apace : — And now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house ;
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things ;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,^
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
What, hast thou dined ? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.
Enter Tailob.
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments ;
Enter HabeBDASHEB.
Lay forth the gown. — What news with you, Sir ?
Sab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
* Dispirited. t Find no approval. t Finery.
SCENE III.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 105
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer ?
A velvet dish ; fie, fie ! 'tis lewd and filthy :
"Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnutshell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap j
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.
Kath. I'll have no bigger, this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
And not till then.
Hor. That will not be in haste. [Aside.
Kath. Why, Sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak ;
And speak I will ; I am no child, no babe :
Your betters have endured me say my mind ;
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart ;
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break :
And, rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please in words.
Pet. Why, thou say'st true, it is a paltry cap,
A custard coffin* a bauble, a silken pie :
I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.
Kath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap ;
And it I will have, or I will have none.
Pet. Thy gown ? why ay :— Come tailor, let us seet.
mercy, God, what masking stuff is here ?
What's this ? a sleeve ? 'tis like a demi-cannon :
What ! up and down, carved like an apple-tart ?
Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slisn and slash,
Like to a censer t in a barbels shop : —
Why, what, o' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this ?
Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor gown. [Aside.
Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion, and the time.
Pet. Marry, and did ; but if you be remember'd,
1 did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, Sir :
I'll none of it ; hence, make your best of it.
Kath. I never saw a better fashion'd gown,
More quaint,^ more pleasing, nor more commendable :
Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.
Pet. Why, true ; he means to make a puppet of thee.
Tai. She says, your worship means to make a puppet of her.
Pet. O monstrous arrogance ! Thou liest, thou thread,
Thou thimble,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket, thou : —
Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread !
Away thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant ;
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
* Raised crust. t These censers resembled our brasiers in shape.
i Curious.
106 TAMING OF THE SHBEVT. [ACT IV.
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liVst !
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tai. Your worship is deceived ; the gown is made
Just as my master had direction :
Grumio gave order how it should be done.
Oru. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff
Tai. But how did you desire it should be made
Oru. Marry Sir, with needle and thread.
Tai. But did you not request to have it cut ?
Oru. Thou hast faced many things.*
Tai. I have.
Oru. Face not me : thou hast braved f many men ; brave not
me ; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto thee, — I bid
thy master cut out the gown ; but I did not bid him cut it to
pieces : ergo, thou liest.
Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.
Pet. Read it.
Oru. The note lies in his throat, if he say I said so.
Tai. Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown :
Oru. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the
skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread :
I said a gown.
Pet. Proceed.
Tai. With a small compassed cape ;X
Oru. I confess the cape.
Tai. With a trunk sleeve ;
Oru. I confess two sleeves.
Tai. The sleeves euriausly cut.
Pet. Ay, there's the villany.
Oru. Error i' the bill, Sir ; error i' the bill. 1 commanded the
sleeves should be cut out, and sewed up again ; and that I'll
prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.
Tai. Thus is true, that I say; an 1 had thee in place where
thou shouldst know it.
Oru. I am for thee straight : take thou the bill, and give me
thy mete-yard, and spare not me.
Hot. God-a-mercy, Grumio ! then he shall have no odds.
Pet. Well, Sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
Oru. You are i' the right, Sir ; 'tis for my mistress.
Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
Oru. Villain, not for thy life : Take up my mistress' gown for
thy master's use !
Pet. Why, Sir, what's your conceit in that ?
Oru. O, Sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for :
Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use !
O, fie, fie, fie !
Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid : — {Aside.
Go take it hence : be gone, and say no more.
Hot. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow.
Take no unkindness of his hasty words :
Away, I say ; commend me to thy master. [Exit Tailoe.
* Put facings to. t Many brave, i. e. fine. t A round cape
SCENE IV.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. 107
Pet. Well, come, my Kate ; we will unto your father's,
Even in these honest mean habiliments ;
Our purses shall be proud, our garment* poor;
For 'tis the mind that makes the bodj rich
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth* in the meanest habit.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful ?
Or is the adder better than the eeL u
Because his painted skin contents the eye ?
O, no. good Kate ; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array,
If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me :
And therefore, frolic ; we will henceforth with,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house. —
Go. call my men, and let us straight to him ;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end,
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. —
Lef s see ; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.
Kath. I dare assure you, Sir, 'tis almost two ;
And 'twill be supper time, ere you come there.
Pet. It shall be seven ere I go to horse :
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it.— -Sirs, left alone :
I will not go to-day : and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
Hor. Why, so ! this gallant will command the sun. [Exeunt.
SCENTS IV.— Padua. Before Baptista's house.
Enter Teanio, and the Pedant dressed like VlNCENTIO.
Tra. Sir, this is the house ; Please it you, that I call ?
Ped. Ay, what else ? and, butt I be deceived,
Signior Baptista may remember me.
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, where
We were lodgers at the Pegasus.
Tra. 'Tis well ;
And hold your own. in any case, with such
Austerity as 'longeth to a father.
Enter BlONDELLO.
Ped. I warrant you : But, Sir, here comes your boy;
'Twere good he were school'd.
Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah, Biondello,
Now do your duty throughly, I advise you ;
Imagine 'twere the right vincentio.
Bion. Tut ! fear not me.
Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista ?
* Appcareth. t Unless.
108 TAMING OF THE 8HBEW. [ACT IT.
Bion. I told him, that your father was at Venice ;
Arid that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
Tra. Thou'rt a tall* fellow ; hold thee that to drink.
Here comes Baptista : — set your countenance, Sir. —
Enter Baptista and Lucentio.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met : —
Sir [To the Pedant],
This is the gentleman I torn you of;
I pray you, stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
Fed. Soft, son ! —
Sir, by your leave ; having come to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And, — for the good report I hear of you ;
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him, — to stay him not too long,
I am content, in a good father's care,
To have him match'd ; and, — if you please to like
No worse than L Sir, — upon some agreement,
Me shall you find most ready and most willing
"With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
For curioust I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.
Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say ; —
Tour plainness, and your shortness, please me welL
Eight true it is, your son Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
Or both dissemble deeply their affections :
And, therefore, if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass % my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is fully made, and all is done ;
Tour son shall have my daughter with consent.
Tra. I thank you, Sir. Where then do you know best.
We be affied ; § and such assurance ta'en,
As shall with either part's agreement stand ?
Bap. Not in my house, Lucentio ; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants :
Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still,
And, happily.H we might be interrupted.
Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir :
There doth my father lie ; and there, this night,
We'll pass the business privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your servant here,
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this, — that, at so slender warning,
You're like to have a thin and slender pittance.
* Brave. t Scrupulous. t Assure or convey,
i Betrothed. I Accidentally.
SCENE V.J TIMING OF THE SHBEVT. 109
Bap. It likes me well : — Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight ;
And, if you will tell what hath happened : —
Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.
Luc. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart !
Tra. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way ?
Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer :
Come, Sir ; we'll better it in Pisa.
Bap. I follow you.
{Exeunt TEANIO, Pedant, and BAPTISTA.
Bion. Cambio. —
Luc. What say'st thou, Biondello ?
Bion. You saw my master wink and laugh upon you ?
Luc. Biondello, what of that ?
Bion. 'Faith nothing ; but he has left me here behind, to ex-
pound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.
Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.
Bion. Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the deceiving
father of a deceitful son.
Luc. And what of him ?
Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.
Luc. And then ? —
Bion. The old priest at St. Luke's Church is at your command
at all hours.
Luc. And what of all this ?
Bion. I cannot tell ; except they are busied about a counter-
feit assurance : Take you assurance of her, cum privilegio ad im-
primendum solum : to the church ; — take the priest, clerk, and
some sufficient honest witnesses :
If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say,
But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. { Going.
Luc. Hear'st thou, Biondello ?
Bion. I cannot tarry : I knew a wench married in an after-
noon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit ; and
so may you, Sir ; and so adieu, Sir. My master hath appointed
me to go to Saint Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come
against you come with your appendix. {Exit.
Luc. I may, and will, if she be so contented :
She will be pleased, then wherefore should I doubt ?
Hap what may, I'll roundly go about her ;
It shall go hard, if Cambio go without her. {Exit.
SCENE V.— A public Rood.
Enter PeTBUCHIO, KaTHABINA, and HOETENSIO.
Pet. Come on, o' God's name ; once more toward our father's.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon !
Kath. The moon ! the sun ; it is not moonlight now.
Pet. I say, it is the moon that shines so bright.
Kath. I know, it is the sun that shines so bright.
110 TAMING OF THE SHREW. [ACT IV.
Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father's house : —
Go on, and fetch our horses back again. —
Evermore cross'd, and cross'd ; nothing but cross'd !
Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go.
Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please :
And if you please to* call it a rush candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
Pet. I say, it is the moon.
Kath. I know it is.
Pet. Nay, then you lie ; it is the blessed sun.
Kath. Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun : —
But sun it is not, when you say it is not,
And the moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it named, even that it is ;
And so it shall be so, for Katnarine.
Hor. Petruchio, go thy ways ; the field is won.
Pet. Well, forward, forward : thus the bowl should run,
And not unluckily against the bias. —
But soft ; what company is coming here ?
Enter VlNCENTIO, in a travelling dress.
Good-morrow, gentle mistress : Where away ? —
[To Vincentio.
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman ?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks !
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face ? —
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee : —
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
Hor. 'A will make the man mad ; to make a woman of him.
Kath. Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and sweet,
Whither away ; or where is thy abode ?
Happy the parents of so fair a child ;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow !
Pet. Why, how now, Kate ! I hope thou art not mad ;
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd ;
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.
Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun,
That everything I look on seemeth green:
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
Pet. Do, good old grandsire ; and, withal, make known
Which way thou travellest : if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.
Vin. Fair Sir, and you my merry mistress, —
That with your strange encounter much amazed me ;
My name is call'd — Vincentio ; my dwelling — Pisa ;
SCENE V.] TAMING OF THE SHBEW. Ill
And bound I am to Padua ; there to visit
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.
Pet. What is his name?
Vin. Lucentio, gentle Sir.
Pet. Happily met ; the happier for thy son.
And now by law as well as reverend age,
I may entitle thee — my loving father ;
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
Thy son by this hath married : "Wonder not,
Nor be not grieved ; she is of good esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth ;
Beside, so qualified as may beseem
The spouse of any noble gentleman.
Let me embrace with old vincentio :
And wander we to see thy honest son,
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.
Vin. But is this true ? or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
Upon the company you overtake ?
Ror. I do assure thee, father, so it is.
Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
for our first merriment hath made thee jealous.
I Exeunt PetbUCHIO, KaTHAEINA. and VlNCENTIO.
I, Petruchio, thh hath put me in heart.
Have to my widow : and if she be forward,
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. [Exit.
ACT V.
SCENE I.— Padua. Before LlTCENTlo's House.
Enter on one side BlONDELLO, LUCENTTO, and BlANCA;
Gbehio walking on the other side.
Bion. Softly and swiftly. Sir ; for the priest is ready.
Luc. I fly. Biondello : but they may chance to need thee at
home, therefore leave us.
Bion. Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back ; and then
come back to my master as soon as I can.
[Exeunt Ltjcentio, BlANCA, and BlONDELLO.
Ore. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter PETBUCHIO, KaTHAEINA, VlNCENTlO, and Attendants.
Pet. Sir. here's the door, this is Lucentio's house,
My fathers bears more toward the market-place ;
Thither must I, and here I leave you. Sir.
Vin. You shall not choose but drink before you go ;
I think, I shall command your welcome here,
And; by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. [Knocks.
Ore. They're busy within, you were best knock louder.
112 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [ACT T.
Enter Pedant above, at a window.
Fed. What's he, that knocks as he would beat down the gate?
Vin. Is signior Lucentio within, Sir ?
Fed. He's within, Sir, but not to be spoken withal.
Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to
make merry withal ?
Fed. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he shall need
none, so long as I live.
Fet. Nay, I told you, your son was beloved in Padua. — Do
you hear, Sir ? — to leave frivolous circumstances, — I pray you,
tell signior Lucentio, that his father is come from Pisa, and is
here at the door to speak with him.
Fed. Thou liest ; his father is come from Pisa, and here look-
ing out at the window.
Vin. Art thou his father ?
Fed. Ay, Sir ; so his mother says, if I may believe her.
Fet. Why, how now, Gentleman! [To Vincen.] why, this is
flat knavery, to take upon you another man's name.
Fed. Lay hands on the villain ; I believe 'a means to cozen
somebody in this city under my countenance.
Be-enter BIONDELLO.
Bion. I have seen them in the church together ; God send 'em
good shipping !— But who is here ? mine old master, Vincentio ?
now we are undone, and brought to nothing.
Vin. Come hither, crack-hemp. [Seeing Biondello.
Bion. I hope, I may choose, Sir.
Vin. Come hither, you rogue ; What, have you forgot me ?
Bion. Forgot you? no, Sir: I could not forget you, for I
never saw you before in all my life.
Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see thy
master's father, Vincentio ?
Bion. What, my old, worshipful old master ? yes, marry, Sir ;
see where he looks out of the window.
Fin. Is't so, indeed ? [Beats Biondello.
Bion. Help, help, help ! here's a madman will murder me.
[Exit.
Fed. Help, son ! help, signior Baptista !
[Exit from the window.
Pet. lYythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see the end of this
controversy. [They retire.
Be-enter Pedant below ; Baptista, Teanio, and Seeyants.
Tra. Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my servant ?
Vin. What am I, Sir ? nay, what are you. Sir ? — O immortal
gods ! O fine villain ! A silken doublet ! a velvet hose ! a scarlet
cloak ! and a copatain* hat. — O, I am undone ! I am undone !
while I play the good husband at home, my son and my servant
spend all at the university.
* Conical.
SCENE I.] TAMING OF THE SHREW. 113
Tra. How now ! what's the matter ?
Bap. What, is the man lunatic ?
Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit,
but your words show you a madman : Why, Sir, what concerns
it you, if I wear pearl and gold ? I thank my good father, I am
able to maintain it.
7 In. Thy father ? O, villain ! he is a sail-maker in Bergamo.
Bap. You mistake, Sir ; you mistake, Sir : Pray, what do you
think is his name ?
Vin. His name ? as if I knew not his name : I have brought
him up ever since he was three years old, and his name is —
Tranio.
Bed. Away, away, mad ass ! his name is Lucentio; and he Is
mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, signior Vmcentio.
Vin. Lucentio ; O, he hath murdered his master ! — Lay hold
on him, 1 charge you, in the duke's name : — O, my son, my son !
— tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio ?
Tra. Call forth an officer [Enter one tvith an Officer] : carry
this mad knave to the jail :— -Father Baptista, I charge you see
that he be forthcoming.
Vin. Carry me to the jail !
Ore. Stay, officer ; he shall not go to prison.
Bap. Talk not, signior Gremio ; I say, he shall go to prison.
Ore. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be coney-catched *
in this business ; I dare swear, this is the right Vincentio.
Bed. Swear, if thou darest.
Ore. Nay, I dare not swear it.
Tra. Then thou wert best say s that I am not Lucentio.
Ore. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio.
Bap. Away with the dotard; to the jail with him.
Vin. Thus strangers may be haled and abused : — O monstrous
villain !
Re-enter BlONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BlANCA.
Bion. O, we are spoiled, and — Yonder he is ; deny him, for-
swear him, or else we are all undone.
Luc. Pardon, sweet father. {Kneeling.
Vin. Lives my sweetest son ?
[Biondello, Tranto, and Pedant run out.
Bian. Pardon, dear father. {Kneeling.
Bap. How hast thou offended ? —
"Where is Lucentio ?
Luc. Here's Lucentio.
Bight son unto the right Vincentio ;
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes bleard thine eye.f
Ore. Here's packing,! with a witness, to deceive us all !
Vin. Where is that damned villain, Tranio,
That faced and braved me in this matter so ?
Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio ?
Bian. Cambio is changed into Lucentio.
* Cheated. t Deceived thy eyes. X Tricking.
VOL. II. I
114 TAMING OF THE SHBEW. [ACT V.
Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
While he did bear my countenance in the town ;
And happily I have arrived at last
Unto the wished haven of my bliss ; —
What Tranio did, myself enforced him to ;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sate.
Fin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent me to the
jail.
Bap. But do you hear, Sir ? [To Lucentio.] Have you mar-
ried my daughter without asking my good-will ?
Yin. Pear not, Baptista ; we will content you, go to : But I
will in, to be revenged for this villany. [Exit.
Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. [Exit.
Imc. Look not pale, Bianca ; thy father will not frown.
[Exeunt Lucentio and, BlANCA.
Ore. My cake is dough: But I'll in among the rest;
Out of hope of all, — but my share of the feast. [Exit.
PETBUCHIO and KATHAEINA advance.
Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado.
Pet. Pirst kiss me, Kate, and we will.
Kath. What, in the midst of the street ?
Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me ?
Kath. No, Sir ; God forbid : — but ashamed to kiss.
Pet. Why, then let's home again : — Come, sirrah, let's away.
Kath. Nay, 1 will give thee a kiss : now pray thee love, stay.
Pet. Is not this well ? — Come, my sweet Kate ;
Better once than never, for never too late. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— A Boom in Lucentio's Souse.
A Banquet set out. Enter Baptista, VlNCENTIO, GEEMIO,
the Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Peteuchio, Kathaeina,
Hoetensio, and Widow. Teanio, Biondello, Gehmio,
and others, attending.
Imc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree :
And time it is, when raging war is done,
To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. —
My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome,
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine :
Brother Petruchio, — sister Katharina, —
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, —
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house ;
My banquet* is to close our stomachs up,
After our great good cheer : Pray you, sit down ;
Por now we sit to chat, as well as eat. [ They sit at table.
Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat !
Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.
* A banquet was an entertainment of fruit, cakes, &c.
SCENE II.] TAMING OF TIIE SHEEW. 115
Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
Hor. For both our sakes, I would that word were true.
Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.
Wid. Then never trust me if I be afeard.
Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my sense ;
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.
Wid. He that is giddy, thinks the world turns round.
Pet. Roundly replied.
Kaih. Mistress, how mean you that ?
Wid. Thus I conceive by him.
Pet. Conceives by me ! — How likes Hortensio that ?
Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.
Pet. Very well mended : Kiss him for that, good widow.
Kath. He that is giddy, thinks the world turns round :
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that ?
Wid. Your husband being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe :
And now you know my meaning.
Kath. A very mean meaning.
Wid. Eight, I mean you.
Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.
Pet. To her, Kate !
Hor. To her. widow !
Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.
Hor. That's my office.
Pet . Spoke like an officer : — Ha' to thee, lad.
[Brinks to HOBTENSIO.
Pap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks ?
Ore. Believe, me, Sir, they butt together well.
Bian. Head, and butt ? an hasty-witted body
Would say, your head and butt were head and horn.
Fin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you ?
Bian. Ay, but not frighted me ; therefore I'll sleep again.
Pet. Nay, that you shall not ; since you have begun,
Have at you for a bitter jest or two.
Bian. Am I your bird ? I mean to shift my bush,
And then pursue me as you draw your bow :
You are welcome all.
[Exeunt Bianca, Kathabina, and WIDOW.
Pet. She hath prevented me. — Here, signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not ;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Tra. O, Sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet. A good swift* simile, but something currish.
Tra. 'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for yourself ;
'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap. O ho, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thank thee for that gird,t good Tranio.
Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here ?
* Sharp. t Sarcasm.
12
116 TAMING OF THE SHEEW. [ACTV.
Pet . 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess ;
Andj as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Pet. Well, I say — no : and therefore, for assurance,
Let's each one send unto his wife ;
And he, whose wife is most obedient
To come at first when he doth send for her.
Shall win the wager which we will propose.
Hor. Content : What is the wager ?
Luc. Twenty crowns.
Pet. Twenty crowns !
I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.
Luc. A hundred then.
Hor. Content.
Pet. A match ; 'tis done.
Hor. Who shall begin ?
Luc. That will I. Go,
Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
Bion. I go. [Exit.
Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc. I'll have no halves ; I'll bear it all myself.
Re-enter Biondello.
How now ! what news ?
Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word
That she is busy, and she cannot come.
Pet. How ! she is busy, and she cannot come !
Is that an answer ?
Ore. Ay, and a kind one too :
Pray God, Sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.
Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife
To come to me forthwith. r Exit Biondello.
Pet. O, ho ! entreat her !
Nay, then she must needs come.
Hor. I am afraid, Sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
Re-enter Biondello.
Now where's my wife ?
Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in hand;
She will not come ; she bids you come to her.
Pet. Worse and worse ; she will not come ; O vile,
Intolerable, not to be endured !
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ;
Say, I command her to come to me. [Exit Gbt/MIO.
Hor. I know her answer.
Pet. What?
Hor. She will not come.
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
SCENE H.] TAMING OF THE SHEEW. 117
Enter KATHAEINA.
Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina !
Kath. What is your will, Sir, that you send for me ?
Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife ?
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
Pet. Go fetch them hither ; if they deny to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands :
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Kathaeina.
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor. And so it is ; I wonder what it bodes.
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
An awful rule, and right supremacy.
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.
Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio !
The wager thou hast won ; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns ;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is changed, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet ;
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.
Re-enter Kathaeina, with Bianca and Widow.
See, where she comes ; and brings your froward wives,
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. —
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not ;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.
[Kathaeina pulls off her cap, and throws it down.
Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
Till 1 be brought to such a silly pass !
Bian. Fie ! what a foolish duty call you this ?
Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too :
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Hath cost me a hundred crowns since supper-time.
Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty.
Pet. Katharine. I charge thee, tell these headstrong women
What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.
Wid. Come, come, you're mocking ; we will have no telling.
Pet. Come on. I say ; and first begin with her.
Wid. She shall not.
Pet. I say, she shall ; — and first begin with her.
Kath. Fie, fie ! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow ;
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor :
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds ;
And in no sense is meet, or amiable.
A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty ;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
118 TAMING OF THE snBEW [ACT V.
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance : commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land ;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
But love, fair looks, and true obedience ; — ■
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such, a woman oweth to her husband :
And, when she's forward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And, not obedient to his honest will,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? —
I am ashamed, that women are so simple
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace ;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ;
Eut that our soft conditions* and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts ?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms !
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great ; my reason, haply more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown:
But now, I see our lances are but straws ;
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, —
That seeming to be most, which we least are.
Then vail your stomachs,t. for it is no boot ;
And place your hands below your husband's foot :
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease !
Pet. Why, there's a wench !— Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad ; for thou shalt ha't.
Vln. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.
Imc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward.
Pet. Come Kate, we'll to bed :
We three are married, but you two are sped.J
'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white ; §
[To LXJCENTIO.
And, being a winner, God give yovi good night !
[Exeunt PETBUCHIO and KATH.
Sor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a curst shrew.
hue. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.
[Exeunt.
* Gentle temper. t Abate your spirits.
t I.e. done for. \ An allusion to Bianca.
WINTER'S TALE.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
LEONTES, King of Sicilia.
MAMILLIUS, his Son.
CAMILLO, "j
CLEOM^NES, \Sicilian Lords.
DION, J
Another Sicilian Lord.
ROGERO, a Sicilian Gentleman.
An Attendant on the young
Prince Ma.mii.i.ius.
Officers of a Court of Judicature.
POLIXENES, King of Bohemia.
FLORIZEL, his Son.
ARCHIDAMUS, a Bohemian Lord.
A Mariner.
Jailer.
An old Shepherd, reputed Father
of Perdita.
Clown, his Son.
Servant to the old Shepherd.
AUTOLYCUS, a Rogue.
TIME, as Chorus.
HERMIONE, Queen to Leontes.
PERDITA, Daughter to Leontes and
Hermione.
PAULINA, Wife to Antigonus.
EMILIA, a Lady, l Attending the
Two other Ladies, / Queen.
DORCAS, } Shepherdesses.
Lords, Ladies, and Attendants ;
Satyrs for a dance.
Shepherds, Shepherdesses,
Guards, &c.
Scene, sometimes in Sicilia ; sometimes in Bohemia.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — Sicilia. An Antechamber in Leontes's Palace.
Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS.
Arch. 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.
Cam. I think, this coming summer, the king of Sicilia means
to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.
Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us, we will be
justified in our loves :* for, indeed, —
* Make it up by our love.
120 winter's tale. [act I.
Cam. 'Beseech you,
Arch. 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, unin-
telligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us,
as little accuse us.
Cam. You pay a great deal too dear, for what's given freely.
Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me,
and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.
Cam. 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 attornied,* with inter-
change of gifts, letters, loving embassies ; that they have seemed
to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast;f
and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The
heavens continue their loves !
Arch. I think, there is not in the world either malice, or mat-
ter, 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.
Cam. 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, de-
sire yet their life, to see him a man.
Arch. "Would they else be content to die ?
Cam. Yes ; if there were no other excuse why they should de-
sire to live.
Arch. If the king had no son, they would desire to live on
crutches till he had one. [Exeunt.
SCENE II — The same. A Room of State in the Palace.
EtiterliEONTES, Polixenes,Hebmione, Mamillius, Camillo,
and Attendants.
Pol. Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been
The shepherd's note, since we have left our throne
Without a burden : time as long again
Would be fill'd 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 more
That go before it.
Leon. Stay your thanks awhile ;
And pay them when you part.
Pol. Sir, that's to-morrow.
I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance,
* Nobly supplied by ambassadors. t Waste.
: Affords a cordial to the state.
SCENE II.] WINTEE'8 TALE. 121
Or breed upon our absence. * That may blow
No sneapingf winds at home, to make us say,
This is put forth too truly ! Besides, I have stay'd
To tire your royalty.
Leon. We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.
Pol. No longer stay.
Leon. One seven-night longer.
Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow.
Leon. We'll part the time between's then : and in that
I'll no gain-saying.
Pol. 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.
Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen ? speak you.
Her. I had thought, Sir, to have held my peace, until
You had 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 :J say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.
Leon. Well said, Hermione.
Her. 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 [To Polixenes], I'll adventure
The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, 111 give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest§
Prefix'd for his parting: yet, good deed,|| Leontes,
I love thee not a jarlf o' the clock behind
What lady she her lord.— You'll stay ?
Pol. No, Madam.
Her. Nay, but you will ?
Pol. I may not, verily.
Her. 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 is
As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet ?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
* (Oh !) t Nipping-.
t The satisfactory intelligence we had yesterday.
i Post stage. | Indeed. U Tick. ** Flimsy.
122 • winter's tale. [acti.
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.
Pol. Your guest then, Madam :
To be your prisoner, should import offending ;
Which is for me less easy to commit,
Than you to punish.
Her. Not your jailer then,
But your kind hostess. Come I'll question you
Of my lord's tricks, and yours, when you were boys ;
You were pretty lordlings* then.
Pol. 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.
Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o' the two ?
Pol. 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, no, 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.f
Her. By this we gather,
You have tripp'd since.
Pol. O my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to us : for
In those unfledged days was my wife a girl ;
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young playfellow.
Her. Grace to boot ! J '
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.
Leon. Is he won yet ?
Her. He'll stay, my lord.
Leon. At my request he would not.
Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest
To better purpose.
Her. Never?
Leon. Never, but once.
Her. What ? have I twice said well ? when was't before ?
I pr'ythee, tell me : Cram us with praise, and make us
As fat as tame things : One good deed dying tongueless,
* A diminutive of lords. t Setting aside original sin.
t Grace help me.
8CENE II.j TVTNTEfi'S TALE. • 123
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages : You may ride us,
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere
With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal : —
My last good 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 me have't ; I long.
Leon. 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.
Her. It is 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.
[ Giving her hand to POLIXENES.
Leon. Too hot, too hot : [Aside.
To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods.
I have tremor cordisj 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 : it may, I grant :
But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are ; and making practised snules,
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 ?
Mam. Ay, my good lord.
Leon. I' fecks? 9
Why that's my bawcock.|| What, hast smutch'd thy nose ? —
They say, it's 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 virginallinglT
[ Observing POLIXENES and HERMIONE.
Upon his palm ? — How now, you wanton calf?
Art thou my calf ?
Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.
Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the shoot's 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,ft as wind, as waters ; false
* By joining hands. t Trembling of the heart.
t The tune played at the death of the deer. t By my faith.
H Beau and coq. If I. e. playing with her fingers as on a spinnet.
** Thou wantest a rough head, and the budding horns that I have,
tt /. e. stuffs.
124 • winter's tale. [act I.
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 welkinf 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 ;
Communicat'st 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.
Pol. "What means Sicilia ?
Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol. How, my lord ?
What cheer ? how is't with you, best brother ?
Her. You look,
As if you held a brow of much distraction :
Are you moved, my lord ?
Leon. 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, methought, 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 lik', methought, I then was to this kernel,
This quash,1F this gentleman : — Mine honest friend,
Will you take eggs for money ?**
Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.
Leon. You will ? why, happy man be his dole !ft — My brother,
Are you so fond of your young prince, as we
Do seem to be of ours ?
Pol. 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.
Leon. So stands this squire
Office'd with me : We two will walk, my lord,
And leave you to your graver steps. — Hermione,
* Boundary. + Blue. t Slice of me.
§ Intent, imagination. || Credible.
% Young: peacod. ** Will you be insultingly cajoled ?
tt May his share of life be a happy one.
SCENB II.] WINTER'S TALE. 126
How thou loVst 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.
Her. If you would seek us,
We are yours i' the garden : Shall's attend you there ?
Leon. To your own bents dispose you : you'll be found,
Be you beneath the sky : — I am angling now,
Though you perceive me not how I give line.
Go to, go to !
[Aside. Observing Polixenes and Hebmione.
How she holds up the neb.f the bill to him !
And arms her with the boldness of a wife
To her allowing! husband ! Gone already ;
Inch thick, knee-deep : o'er head and ears a fork'd one.§
[Exeunt PoLIXENES, HEEMIONE, and Attendants.
Go, play, boy, play j— 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 his 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 it ;
It will let in and out the enemy,
With bag and baggage : many a thousand of us
Have the disease, and feel't not. — How now, boy ?
Mam. I am like you, they say.
Leon. Why that's some comfort. —
What ! Caimllo there ?
Cam. Ay, my good lord.
Leon. Go play, Mamillius ; thou'rt an honest man. —
[Exit jVLamillius.
Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold :
When you cast out, it still came home.
Leon. Didst note it ?
Cam. He would not stay at your petitions ; made
His business more material.
Leon. Didst perceive it ? —
* Next heir. t Mouth.
t Approving. ) A horned one, a cuckold.
126 winter's tale. [act I.
They're here with me already ; whispering, rounding,*
Sieilia is a so -forth : 'lis far gone,
When I shall gustf it last. — How came't, Camillo,
That he did stay ?
Cam. At the good queen's entreaty.
Leon. 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.
Cam._ Business, my lord ? I think most understand
Bohemia stays here longer.
Leon. Ha ?
Cam. Stays here longer.
Leon. Ay, but why ?
Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the entreaties
Of our most gracious mistress.
Leon. 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.
Cam. Be it forbid, my lord !
Leon. To bide upon't ; — Thou art not honest : or
If thou inclin'st 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 pla/d home, the rich stake drawn,
And tak'st it all for jest.
Cam. 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,
Amongst 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,
Whereof the execution did cry out
* To round in the ear, was to tell secretly. t Taste.
t Inferiors in rank. 5 Hamstring.
SCENE II.] WINTER'S TALE. 127
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear
Which oft affects the wisest : these, my lord,
Are such allowed 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,
'lis none of mine.
Leon. Have you not 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
Besides not in that man, that does not think it),
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 hobbyhorse ; deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to
Before her troth-plight : say it, and justify it.
Cam. 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.
Leon. Is whispering nothing ?
Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ?
Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career
Of laughter 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.
Cam. Good, my lord, be cured
Of this diseased opinion, and betimes ;
For 'tis most dangerous.
Leon. Say, it be ; 'tis true.
Cam. No; no, my lord.
Leon. 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.t
* Disorders of the eye. t Hour-glass.
128 winter's tale. [act I.
Cam. Who does infect her ?
Leon. Why he, that wears her like her medal, hanging
About his neck, Bohemia : Who — if I
Had servants true about me : -that bear 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 bench'd, and rear'd 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.
Cam. Sir, my lord,
I could do this ; and that with no rash* potion,
But with a lingering dram, that should not work
Maliciously f like poison : But I cannot
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress,
So sovereignly being honourable.
I have loved thee,
Leon. Make't thy question, and go rot !
Host 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 ?J
Cam. I must believe you, Sir ;
I do ; and will fetch off Bohemia fort :
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.
Leon. Thou dost advise me,
Even so as I mine own course have set down :
I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
' Cam. 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.
Leon. This is all :
Ho't, and thou hast one-half of my heart ;
Do't not, thou split'st thine own.
Cam. I'll do't, my lord.
Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me. [Exit.
* Hasty. t Effects openly hurtful. t Start off, shrink.
SCENE II.] WINTER'S TALE. 129
Cam. 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'd 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.
EtUer POLIXENES.
Pol. This is strange ! methinks,
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak ? —
Good-day, Camillo.
Cam. Hail, most royal Sir !
Pol. What is the news i' the court ?
Cam. None rare, my lord.
Pol. 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,
Watting his eyes to the contrary, and falling
A lip or much contempt, speeds from me ; and
So leaves me, to consider what is breeding,
That changes thus his manners.
Cam. I dare not know, my lord.
Pol. 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,
Tour 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 altered with it.
Cam. 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.
Pol. 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,
* Succession. t Well born.
TOL. IL K
ISO "WINTER'S tale. [act I.
If you know aught which does behove my knowledge
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not
In ignorant concealment.
Cam. I may not answer.
Pol. 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 barm
Is creeping toward me ; how far off, how near ;
Which way to be prevented, if to be ;
If not, how best to bear it.
Cam. Sir, I'll 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.
Pol. On, good Camillo.
Cam. I am appointed him to murder you.
Pol. By whom, Camillo ?
Cam. By the king.
Pol. For what?
Cam. 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
Porbiddenly.
Pol. O, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly ; and my name
Be yoked with his, that did betray the best !f
Turn then my freshest reputation to
A savour, that may strike the dullest nostril
Where I arrive ; and my approach be sbunn'd,
Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection
That e'er was heard, or read !
Cam. 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.
Pol. How should this grow ?
Cam. 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 inclosed in this trunk, which you
Shall bear along impawn'd, — away to-night.
Your followers I will whisper to the business,
* Advise. t I.e. with that of Judas. j Settled belief.
8CEXE II.] "WINTER'S TALE. 131
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
Is execution sworn.
Pol. I do believe thee :
I saw his heart in his 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. I ear 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, Camlllo;
I will respect thee as a father, if
Thou bear'st my life off hence : Let us avoid.
Cam. 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.
ACT H.
SCENE I.—The same.
Enter Heemione, Mamillics, and LADIES.
Her. Take the boy to you : he so troubles me,
'Tis past enduring.
1 Lady. Come, my gracious lord,
Shall I be your playfellow ?
Mam. No, I'll none of you.
1 Lady. Why. my sweet lord ?
Mam. You'll kiss me hard ; and speak to me as if
I were a baby still. — I love you better.
2 Lady. And why so, my good lord ?
Mam. 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 half-moon made with a pen.
2 Lady. Who taught you this ?
El
132 winteh's tale. [act II.
Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces. — Pray now
"What colour are your eyebrows ?
1 Lady. Blue, my lord.
Mam. Nay, that's a mock : I have seen a lady's nose
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
2 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'd wanton with us,
If we would have you.
1 Lady. She is spread of late
Into a goodly bulk : Good time encounter her !
Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you ? Come, Sir, now
I am for you again : Pray you, sit by us,
And tell's a tale.
Mam. Merry, or sad, shan't be ?
Her. As merry as you will.
Mam. A sad tale 's best for winter :
I have one of sprites and goblins.
Her. Let's have that, Sir.
Come on, sit down : Come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites : you're powerful at it.
Mam. There was a man,
Her. Nay, come, sit down ; then on.
Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard ; I will tell it softly ;
Yon crickets shall not hear it.
Her. Come on then,
And give't me in mine ear.
Enter Leontes, ANTIGONUS, Loeds, and others.
Leon. Was he met there ? his train ? Camillo with him ?
1 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.
Leon. How bless'd 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 :f — 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 discovered my design, and I
Eemain a pinch'd thing ;J yea, a very trick
* Judgment. t Heavings. t A puppet.
SCENE 1.] WINTER'S TALE. 133
For them to play at will : — How came the pasterns
So easily open ?
1 Lord. By his great authority ;
Which often hath no less prevail'd than so,
On your command.
Leon. 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.
Her. What is this ? sport ?
Leon. 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.
Her. But I'd say, he had not,
And I'll be sworn, you would believe my saying,
Howe'er you lean to the nayward.
Leon. You, my lords,
Look on her, mark her well ; be but about
To say, she is a goodly lady, and
The justice of your hearts 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 pretty 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 it known,
Prom him that has most cause to grieve it should be,
She's an adultress.
Her. Should a villain say so,
The most replenish'd villain in the world.
He were as much more villain : you, my lord,
Ho but mistake.
Leon. 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 adultress ; I have said with whom :
More, she's a traitor ; and Camillo is
A federary with her ; and one that knows
What she would shame to know herself,
Butf with her most vile principal, that she's
A bed-swerver, even as bad as those
That vult^ars give bold titles ; ay, and privy
To this their late escape.
* Brand. f OiJy.
134 winter's tale. [act ir.
Her. 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 puhlish'd me ? Gentle, my lord,
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say
You did mistake.
Leon. No, 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.f
Her. 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 !
Leon. Shall I be heard? \_To the Guards.
Her. 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.
Leon. Go, do our bidding ; hence.
[Exeunt Queen and LADIES.
1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the queen again.
Ant. Be certain what you do. Sir ; lest your justice
Prove violence ; in the which three great ones suffer,
Yourself, your queen, your son.
1 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.
Ant. 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 1 feel, and see her, no further trust her ;
Por every inch of woman in the world.
Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false,
If she be.
* Remotely jjuilty. t In merely speaking.
SCENE I.] WINTEE'S TALE. 135
Leon. Hold your peaces.
1 Lord. Good my lord, —
Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves :
You are abused, and by some putter-on*
That will be damn'd fort ; would I knew the villain,
I would land-damn himt : 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 them 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.
Leon. Cease ; no more.
You smell this business with a sense as cold
As is a dead man's nose : I see't and feel't,
As you feel doing thus ; and see withal
The instruments that feel
Ant. 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.
Leon. "What ! lack I credit ?
1 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.
Leon. 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 stupified,
Or seeming so in skill) cannot, or will not,
Polish as 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.
Ant. And I wish, my liege,
You had only in your silent judgment tried it,
Without more overture.
Leon. 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 coniecture,
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
* Instigator.
t Damn him from the land. Landam him ; Gloucestershire word for
rate soundly, (.halliwtll.) t Proof.
136 winteb's tale. [act ii.
(For, in an act of this importance, 'twere
Most piteous to be wild), I have despatch'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 ?
1 Lord. "Well done, my lord.
Leon. 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.
Ant. [Aside.] To laughter, as I take it,
If the good truth were known. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The same. The outer Room of a Prison.
Enter Pat/LINA and Attendants
Paul. The keeper of the prison, — call to him ;
[Exit an Attendant.
Let him have knowledge who I am. — Good lady !
No court in Europe is too good for thee,
What dost thou then in prison ? — Now, good Sir,
Re-enter Attendant with the KEEPEE.
You know me, do you not ?
Keep. For a worthy lady,
And one whom much I honour.
Paul. Pray you, then,
Conduct me to the queen.
Keep. I may not, Madam ; to the contrary
I have express commandment.
Paul. Here's ado,
To lock up honesty and honour from
The access of gentle visitors ! Is it lawful, *
Pray you, to see her women ? any of them ?
Emilia ?
Keep. So please you, Madam, to put
Apart these your attendants, I shall bring
Emilia forth.
Paul. I pray now, call her.
Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt Attend.
Keep. And, Madam,
I must be present at your conference.
* Of abilities more than sufficient.
scene n.] wtnteb's tale. 137
Paul. Well, be it so, pr'ythee. {Exit KEErEB.
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain,
As passes colouring.
Re-enter KEEPEB, with Emilia.
Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady ?
Until. As well as one so great, and so forlorn,
May hold together : On her frights, and griefs
(Which never tender lady hath borne greater),
She is, something before her time, delivered.
Paul. A boy?
Umil. 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.
Paul. I dare be sworn. —
These dangerous unsafe lunes* o'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 th' loudest : We do not know
How he may soften at the sight o' the child ;
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.
Emil. 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.
Paul. Tell her, Emilia,
111 use that tongue I have : if wit flow from it,
As boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted
I shall do good.
Emil. Now be you bless'd for it !
I'll to the queen : Please you, come something nearer.
Keep. Madam, ift please the queen to send the babe,
I know not what I shall incur to pass it,
Having no warrant.
Paul. You need not fear it, Sir :
The child was prisoner to the womb ; and is,
133 winter's tale. [act ii.
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.
Keep. I do believe it.
Paul. Do not you fear : upon
Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and danger. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Leontes, Antioonus, Lords, and other Attendants.
Leon. 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 adultress ; — 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 ?
1 Atten. My lord ? [Advancing.
Leon. How does the boy ?
1 Atten. He took good rest to-night ;
'Tis hoped, his sickness is discharged.
Leon. 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 :f — go,
See how he fares. [Exit Attend.] — Fie, fie ! no thought of him ;
The very 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, unth a Child.
1 Lord. You must not enter.
Paul. 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.
Ant. That's enough.
1 Atten. Madam, he hath not slept to-night ; commanded
None should come at him.
* Aim. t Alone.
SCENE III.] WINTEB'S TALE. 139
Paul. 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 med'cinal as true ;
Honest, as either ; to purge him of that humour,
That presses him from sleep.
Leon. What noise there, ho ?
Paul. No noise, my lord; but needful conference,
About some gossips for your highness.
Leon. How? —
Away with that audacious lady : Antigonus,
I charged thee, that she should not come about me ;
I knew, she would.
Ant. I told her so, my lord,
On your displeasure's peril, and on mine,
She should not visit you.
Leon. What, canst not rule her ?
Paul. Prom all dishonesty, he can : in this
fUnless he take the course that you have done,
Commit me, for committing honour), trust it,
He shall not rule me.
Ant. Lo you now ; you hear !
When she will take the rein, I let her run ;
But she'll not stumble.
Paul. 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 seems yours : — I say, I come
Prom your good queen.
Leon. Good queen !
Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen : I sny, good queen ,
And would by combat make her good, so were I
A man, the worstf about you.
Leon. Force her hence.
Paul. 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. [Lai/iny dovm the Child.
Leon. Out !
A mankind X witch ! Hence with her, out o' door :
A most intelligencing bawd !
Paul. 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.
* Abetting. t Weakest. i Masculine.
140 winter's tale. [act II.
Leon. Traitors !
"Will you not push her out ? Give her the bastard : —
Thou, dotard [To Antigonus], thou art woman-tired* un-
roosted
By thy dame Partlet here, — take up the bastard ;
Take't up, I say ; give't to thy crone.
Paul. For ever
Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou
Tak'st up the princess, by that forcedf baseness
Which he has put upon't !
Leon. He dreads his wife.
Paul. So, I would, you did ; then, 'twere past all doubt,
You'd call your children yours.
Leon. A nest of traitors !
Ant. I am none, by this good light.
Paul. 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.
L,eon. A callet,+
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.
Paul. 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 his 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 nast made it
So like to him that got it. if thou hast
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours
No yellow§ m't ; lest she suspect, as he does,
Her children not her husband's !
Leon. A gross hag ! —
And, lozel,|| thou art worthy to be hang'd,
That wilt not stay her tongue.
Ant. Hang all the husbands.
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself
Hardly one subject.
Leon. Once more, take her hence.
* Hen-pecked. t False. t Scold.
| The colour of jealousy. || Lozel; «'. e. rascal.
8CEXEIII.] WINTEB's TALE. 141
Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord
Can do no more.
Leon. I'll have thee burn'd.
Paul. I care not :
It is a heretic, that makes the fire,
Not she, which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant ;
But this most cruel usage of your <jueen
(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.
Leon. On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her. "Were I a tyrant,
Where were her life ? she durst Dot call me so,.
If she did know me one. Away with her.
Paul. I pray you do not pusn me ; I'll be gone.
Look to your babe, my lord ; 'tis yours : Jove send her
A better guiding spirit ! — What need 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
Leon. 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 sett'st on thy wife.
Ant. I did not, Sir :
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please,
Can clear me in't.
1 Lord. We can ; my royal lie^e.
He is not guilty of her coming hither.
Leon. You are liars all.
1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit :
We have always truly served you ; and beseech
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.
Leon. 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 :
[To AxTiGONua
You, that have been so tenderly officious
142 "YVINTEB'S tale. [act II.
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 ?
Ant. Anything, 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: anything possible.
Leon. It shall be possible : Swear by this sword
Thou wilt perform my bidding.
Ant. I will, my lord.
Leon. Mark, and perform it (seest 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 liegeman to us, that thou carry
This female bastard hence ; and that thou bear it
To some remote and desert place, quite out
Of our dominions ; and that there thou leave it,
Without more mercy, to 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.
Ant. 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 ooth require ! and blessing,
Against this cruelty, fight on thy side,
Poor thing, condemn'd to loss ! [Exit, ivith the child.
Leon. No, I'll not rear
Another's issue.
1 Atten. 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.
1 Lord. So please you, Sir, their speed
Hath been beyond account.
Leon. 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
* J. e. commit it to some place, as a stranger.
SCENE III.] WINTER'S TALE. 143
A just and open trial. While she lives, ~
My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me ;
And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt
ACT III.
SCENE I. — The same. A Street in some Town.
Enter Clec-MENES and DlON.
Cleo. 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 !
Cleo. 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 wortb the use on't.
Cleo. 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.
SCENE II— The same. A Court of Justice.
LEONTES, Lohds, and OFFICERS, appear properly seated.
Leon. 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.
* Indifferent.
144 winter's tale. [act III.
Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen
Appear in person here in court. — Silence !
HEEMIONE is brought in guarded ; PAULINA and LADIES,
attending.
Leon. Read the indictment.
Offi. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, Icing of Sicilia,
thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in com-
mitting adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia; and con-
spiring with, Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord
the king, thy royal husband ; the pretence* whereof being by cir-
cumstances 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.
Her. 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
Palse 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 owef
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. Por 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, Pie upon my grave !
Leon. I ne'er heard yet,
That any of these bolder vices wanted
Less impudence to gainsay what they did,
Than to perform it first.
* Scheme laid. t Own, possess.
SCEXEII.] WINTER'S TALK. 145
Her. That's true enough ;
Though 'tis a saying, Sir, not due to me,
Leon. You will not own it.
Her. More than mistress of,
"Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not
At all acknowledge. For Polixenes
(W r ith 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 :
\V Inch 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 now 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.
Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know
"What you have underta'en to do in his absence.
Her. Sir,
You speak a language that I understand not :
My life stands in the level* of your dreams,
Which I lay down.
Leon. 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 factf are so), so past ail 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.
Her. 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
Proclaim'd a strumpet : With immodest hatred,
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
* The aim. t They who have done like you. t Ill-starred.
VOL. II. L
146 WINTER'S TALE. [ACT IIL
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 rigour and not law. — Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle ;
Apollo be my judge.
1 Lord. This your request
Is altogether just : therefore, bring forth,
And in Apollo's name, his oracle. [Exeunt certain OFFICERS.
Her. 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.
Offl. You here shall swear upon this sword of justice,
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have
Been both at Delphos ; and from thence have brought
This seal'd-up oracle ; by the hand deliver'd
Of great Apollo's priest ; and that, since then,
You have not dared to break the holy seal,
Nor read the secrets in't.
Cleo. Dion. All this we swear.
Leon. Break up the seals, and read.
Offi. [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 !
Her. Praised !
Leon. Hast thou read truth ?
Offi. Ay, my lord ; even so
As it is here set down.
Leon. There is no truth at all i' the oracle :
The sessions shall proceed : this is mere falsehood.
Enter a Servant, hastily.
Serv. My lord the king, the king !
Leon. What is the business ?
Serv. 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.
* Strength to come out after her late child-bearing. t Fate.
8CE*E II.J winteb's talb. 147
Leon. How! gone?
Serv. Is dead.
Leon. Apollo 's angry ; and the heavens themselves
Do strike at my injustice. [Hebmione faints^ How now there?
Paul. This news is mortal to the queen : — Look down
And see what death is doing.
Leon. 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. — Apollo, pardon
[ Exeunt Pattlina and LiDIES, with HERM.
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 thougnts 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
Beward, did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done : he, most humane,
And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest
Unclasp'd my practice ; quit his fortunes here,
Which you knew great ; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended,*
No richer than his honour : — How he glisters
Thorough my rust ! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker !
Ee-enter PAULINA.
Paul. Woe the while !
O, cut my lace ; lest my heart, cracking it,
Break too !
1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady ?
Paul. 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 ungrateful : nor was't much,
Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour,
* Committed.
L 2
148 ' winter's tale. [act III.
To have hiui 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 * don'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 sweetest, dearest, creature 's dead ; and vengeance foi^t
Not dropp'd down yet.
Lord. The higher powers forbid !
Paul. 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.
Leon. Go on, go on :
Thou canst not speak too much ; I have deserved
All tongues to talk their bitterest.
1 Lord. Say no more ; .
Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault
I' the boldness of your speech.
Paul. 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 pumsh'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 rememberyou of my own lord,
Who is lost too : Take your patience to you,
And I'll say nothing.
Leon. Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth ; which I receive much better
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, bring me
* (He had.''
SCEXE in.] WINTEB'S TALE. 149
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 he ; 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 to these sorrows. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — Bohemia. A desert Country near the Sea.
Enter ANTIGONUS, with the Child; and a Mabineb.
Ant. Thou art perfect* then, our ship hath touch'd upon
The deserts of Bohemia ?
Mar. 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 us.
Ant. Their sacred wills be done ! — Go, get aboard ;
Look to thy bark ; I'll not be long, before
I call upon thee.
Mar. 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.
Ant. Go thou away :
I'll follow instantly.
Mar. I am glad at heart
To be so rid o' the business. [ Txit.
Ant. Come, poor babe : —
I have heard, (but not believed,) the spirits of 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,
JIath 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,
Ipr'ylhee, calTt ; for this ungentle business,
* Well-assured.
150 winter's tale. Tact hi.
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 !
[Laying down the Child.
There lie ; and there thy character :* there these ;
[Laying down a bundle.
9df
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 art like to have
A lullaby too rough : 1 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 an old Shepherd.
Shep. I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-
twenty ; or that youth would sleep out the rest : for there is
nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging
the ancientry, stealing, fighting.— 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 sea side, browzing on ivy. Good
luck, an't be thy will! what have we here? [Taking up the
Child.] Mercy on's, a barne ;f a very pretty barne ! A boy, or a
child,t I wonder ? A pretty one ; a very pretty one : Sure, some
scape : though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting gentle-
woman 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 eome ; he halloed but even now. Whoa, ho
hoa!
Enter CLOWN.
Clo. Hiloa, loa !
Shep. 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?
* Description. t Child. t Female infant.
8CEKKIII.] TTINTEB'S TALK. 151
Clo. I have seen two such sights, hy sea, and hy 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.
Shep. Why, boy, how is it ?
Clo. I would, you did but see how it chases, how it rages, how
it takes up the shore ! but that's not to 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'd 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.
Shep. 'Name of mercy, when was this, boy ?
Clo. 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.
Shep. "Would I had been by, to have helped the old man !
Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her ;
there your charity would have lacked footing. [Aside.
Shep. Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! but look thee here. boy.
Now bless thyself; thou mefst with things dying, I with things
new born. Here's a sight for thee ; look thee, a bearing-clothf
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: J open't: What's within, boy ?
Clo. You're a made old man ; if the sins of your youth are
forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold ! all gold !
Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so : up with it,
keep it close ; home, home, the next§ way. We are lucky, boy ;
and to be so still, requires nothing but secresy. — Let my sheep
go : — Come, good boy, the next way nome.
Clo. 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,|| out when they are hungry : if there be
any of him left, I'll bury it.
Shep. That's a good deed: If thou may'st discern by that
which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to the sight of him.
Clo. Marry, will I ; and you shall help to put him i' the
ground.
Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy; and we'll do good deeds on't.
[Exeunt.
* Swallowed.
t The mantle in which a child is carried to be baptized.
t Some child left behind by fairies, in the room of one they have stolen.
i Nearest. I Mischievous.
152 winter's tale. [act IV.
ACT IV.
Enter Time, as Chorus.
Time. I, — that please some, try all ; both joy, and terror,
Of good and bad ; that make, and unfold 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 j 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 snuts up himself; imagine me,f
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 wond'ring : 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.
SCENE I. —The same. A Room in the Palace of Polixenes.
Enter POLIXENES and Camillo.
Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate : 'tis
a sickness, denying thee anything ; a death, to grant this.
Cam. 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.
Pol. As thou lovest nie, 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, tnan thus to
* Progress unexamined. t Imagine for me.
t Subject. & Approve. I Think too highly.
SCENE II.] WTNTEB'S TALE. 153
want thee ; thou, having made me businesses, which none, with-
out 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, pr'ythee speak no more : whose very naming punishes me
whh the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call st him, and
reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious
queen, and children, are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to
me, when saVst thou the prince Florizel my son ? Kings are no
less unhappy, their issue not been gracious, than they are in
losing them, when they have approved their virtues.
Cam. Sir, it is three days, since I saw the prince : What his
happier affairs may be, are to me unknown : but I have, missingly
notedf he is of late much retired from court ; and is less frequent
to his princely exercises, than formerly he hath appeared.
Pol. 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.
Cam. 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.
Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. But, I fear the
angel 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. Pr'ythee,
be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts
of Sicilia.
Cam. I willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo ! — We must disguise ourselves.
{Exeunt,
SCENE II.— The same. A road near the Shephebd's Cottage,
Enter AUTOLYCT/S, singing.
When daffodils begin to peer,
With, heigh ! the doxy over the dale, —
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year ;
For the red blood reigns in the tvinter's pale. §
T/te white sheet bleaching on the hedge, —
With, hey ! the sweet birds, O, how they sing !
Doth set my pv.gging\\ tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
* Friendly offices. t Observed at intervals. 1 Talk.
♦ I. e. the spring blood reigns pver the parts lately under the dominion
of winter. | Thievish.
154 winter's tale. [act IV.
The lark, tirra-lirra chants, —
With, hey ! with, hey ! the thrush and tlie 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 ;f
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.
Clo. Let me see; — Every 'leven wether ||— tods; every tod
yields— pound and odd shilling : fifteen hundred shorn, — What
comes the wool to ?
Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. [Aside.
Clo. 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 nosegays for
the shearers : three-man-song men*i[ all, and very good ones ;
but they are most of them means** and bases : but one Puritan
amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. I must have
saffron, to colour the wardenft 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.
Aut. O, that ever I was born ! [ Grovelling on the ground.
Clo. V the name of me,
Aut. O, help me, help me ! pluck but off these rags ; and then,
death, death !
Clo. Alack, poor soul ! thou hast need of more rags to lay on
thee, rather than have these off.
Aut 0, Sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than
the stripes I have received ; which are mighty ones and millions.
* Pale or loose women. t Best velvet.
t By gambling and women. 5 Picking pockets. || (Yields.)
% Singers of catches in three parts. ** Tenors. tt Pear.
8CENE II.] WINTER'S TALE. 155
Clo. Alas, poor man ! a million of beating may come to a great
matter.
Aut. I am robbed, Sir, and beaten ; my money and apparel
ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.
Clo. "What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man ?
Aut. A foot-man, sweet Sir, a foot-man.
Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man* by the garments he hath
left with thee ; If this be a horse-man's coat, it hath seen very
hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee : come, lend me
thy hand. [Helping him up.
Aut. O ! good Sir, tenderly, oh !
Clo. Alas, poor soul.
Aut. O, good Sir, softly, good Sir : I fear, Sir, my shoulder-
blade is out.
Clo. How now ? canst stand ?
Aut. Softly, dear Sir [Picks his pocket] ; good Sir, softly ; you
ha' done me a charitable office.
Clo. Dost lack any money ? I have a little money for thee.
Aut. 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 nave money, or anything I want: Otfer
me no money, I pray you ; that kills my heart.
Clo. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ?
Aut. A fellow, Sir, that I have known to go about with trol-
mv-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.
Clo. 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.f
Aut. Vices I would say, Sir. I know this man well : he hath
been since an ape-bearer ; then a process-server, a bailifl" ; then
he compassed a motiont 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.
Clo. Out upon him ! Prig,§ for my life, prig : he haunts wakes,
fairs, and bear-baitings.
Aut. Very true, Sir ; he, Sir, he ; that's the rogue, that put me
into this appareL
Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia ; if you had
but looked big, and spit at him, ne'd have run.
Aut. I must confess to you. Sir, I am no fighter : I am false of
heart that way ; and that he knew, I warrant him.
Clo. How do you now ?
Aut. 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.
Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way ?
Aut. No, good-faced Sir ; no, sweet Sir.
* The machine used in the game of pig«on-holes.
t Sojourn. t Procured a puppet-sb^w. $ Thief.
156 winter's tale. [act IV.
Clo. Then fare thee well ; I must go buy spices for our sheep-
shearing.
Aut. 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 !
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.
SCENE III.— The same. A Shepherd's Cottage.
Enter Flobizel and Peedita.
Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you
Do give a life : no shepherdess ; but Mora,
Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing
Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
And you the queen on t.
Per. Sir, my gracious lord,
To chide at your extremes,! it not becomes me ;
O, pardon, that I name them : your high self,
The gracious markj 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.
Flo. I bless the time,
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father's ground.
Per. 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 ?
Flo. 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,
* Take hold of. t Extravagancies. t Object of observation.
§ Dressed up. U /. e. of station.
SCENE in."! winter's tale. 157
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.
Per. O but, dear Sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Opposed, as it must be, by the power o' the king :
One of these two must be necessities,
"Which then will speak ; that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life.
Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,
"With these forced thoughts, I pr'ythee, 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 anything 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 anything
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.
Per. O lady fortune,
Stand you auspicious !
Enter SHEPHEBD, with POLTXENES, and CAMILLO, disguised;
Clown, Mopsa, Doecas, and others.
Flo. See, your guests approach :
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.
Shep. 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, A
As if you were a feasted one, and not
The hostess of the meeting : Pray you, bid
These unknown friends to us 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.
Per. Welcome, Sir ! [^oPol.
It is my father's will, I should take on me
The hostesship o' the day : — You're welcome, Sir ! [To Camillo.
Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. — Reverend Sirs,
For you there's rosemary, and rue ; these keep
Seeming, and savour, all the winter long :
158 WINTEB'S TALE. [A.CT IV.
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both,
And welcome to our shearing !
Pol. Shepherdess,
(A fair one are you), well you fit our ages
"With flowers of winter.
Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, —
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birtn
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.
Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,
Do you neglect them ?
Per. Fort I have heard it said,
There is an art, which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature.^
Pol. Say, there be ;
Tet nature is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean : so, o'er 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.
Per. So it is.
Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly-flowers,
And do not call them bastards.
Per. 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, savory, marjoram ;
The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,
And Avith him rises weeping ; these are flowers
Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given
To men of middle age : You are very welcome.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock,
And only living by gazing.
Per. Out, alas !
You'd be so lean, that blasts of January
Would blow you through and through. — Now, my fairest 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
* Gillyflowers. + Because.
X I- e. they are not wholly natural, but owe their streaks to the gar-
dener's art.
SCENE III.] -WINTEB'S TALE. 159
From Dis*s waggon ! daffodils,'
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady
Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and
The crown-imperial ; lilies of all kinds,
The 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.
Flo. What ? like a corse ?
Per. 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.
Flo. "What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,
I'd have you do it ever : when you sing,
I'd 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 deeds,
That all your acts are queens.
Per. O Doricles,
Your praises are too large : but that your youth,
And the true blood, which fairly peeps through it,
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd ;
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles,
You woo'd me the false way.
Flo. I think, you have
As little skillt 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.
Per. I'll swear for em.
Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that ever
Ban on the green-sward :t nothing she does, or seems,
But smacks of something greater than herself ;
Too noble for this place.
Cam. He tells her something,
That makes her blood look out : Good sooth she is
The queen of curds and cream.
Clo. Come on, strike up.
* Living. t Reason. t Green tun.
160 winter's tale. L a ct it.
Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress : marry, garlic,
To mend her kissing with. —
Mop. Now, in good time !
Clo. Not a word, a word ; we stand upon our manners. —
Come, strike up. [Music.
Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what
Pair swain is this, •which dances with your daughter ?
Shep. They call him Doricles, and he boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding :* but I have it
Upon his own report, and I believe it ;
He looks like sooth :f 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.
Pol. She dances featly.J
Shep. So she does anything ; 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 a SERVANT.
Serv. O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you
would never dance again after a tabor 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 their tunes.
Clo. 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.
Serv. He hath songs, for man, or woman, of all sizes ; no milli-
ner can so fit his customers with gloves : he has the prettiest
love-songs for maids ; so without bawdry, which is strange ; with
such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings ; jump her and thump
her ; and where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, as it were,
mean mischief, and break a foul gap in 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.
Pol. This is a brave fellow.
Clo. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow.
Has he any unbraided wares ?§
Serv. He hath ribands of all 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, || cadisses,^" cam-
brics, lawns : why, he sings them over, as they were gods or god-
desses ; you would think, a smock were a she-angel ; he so chants
to the sleeve-hand,** and all the work about the square on't.ft
* Pasturage. + Truth. t Neatly.
$ Plain goods. 'J Worsted galloon. 1f A kind of riband.
** The cuffs. tt The work about the bosom.
SCENE III.] WINTER'S TALE. 161
Clo. Pr'ythee, bring him in ; and let him approach singing.
Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scurrilous words in his
tunes.
Clo. You have of these pedlers, that have more in 'em than
you'd think, sister.
Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing.
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 my 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, S(c.
Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no
money of me ; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the
bondage of certain ribands and gloves.
Mop. I was promised them against the feast ; but they come
not too late now.
Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.
Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you ; may be, he has
paid you more ; which will shame you to give him again.
Clo. Is there no manners left among maids ? will they wear
their placketst 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 : Clam your tongues, § and
not a word more.
Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry lace,||
and a pair of sweet gloves.
Clo. Have I told thee how I was cozened by the way, and lost
all my money ?
Aut. And, indeed, Sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it
behoves men to be wary.
Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here.
Aut. I hope so, Sir; for I have about me many parcels of
ctiiir rr 6
Clo. 'What hast here ? ballads ?
Mop. Pray now, buy some : I love a ballad in print, a'-Ufe ;
for then we are sure they are true.
* Steel ruff stiffeners. t Special pockets.
t Fire-place for drying malt ; still a noted gossiping-place.
§ Glue your tongue to your mouth, and have done with it.
I A necklace.
TOL. II. M
162 winter's tale. [act IV.
Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a usurer's wife
was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden ; and bow
she longed to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonadoed.
Mop. Is it true, think you ?
Aut. Very true ; and but a month old.
Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer !
Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress Taleporter :
and five or six honest wives that were present : Why should I
carry lies abroad ?
Mop. 'Pray you now, buy it.
Clo. Come on, lay it by : And let's first see more ballads ; we'll
buy the other things anon.
Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish that appeared upon the
coast, on "Wednesday, the fourscore 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.
Dor. Is it true too, think you ?
Aut. Five justices' hands at it ; and witnesses, more than my
pack will hold.
Clo. Lay it by too : Another.
Aut. This is a merry ballad ; but a very pretty one.
Mop. Let's have some merry ones.
Aut. 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.
Mop. We can both sing it ; if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt
hear ; 'tis in three parts.
Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago.
Aut. I can bear my part ; you must know, 'tis my occupation :
have at it with you.
Song.
A. Get you hence, for I must go ;
Where, it Jits not you to hnow.
L\ Whither 1 M. O, whither ? D. Whither?
M. It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell :
D. Me too, let me go thither.
M. Or thou go'st to the grange, or mill :
D. If to either, thou dost ill.
A. Neither. I). What, neither ? A. Neither.
D. Thou hast sworn my love to be ;
M. Thou hast sworn it more to me :
Then, whither go'st ? say, whither ?
Clo. We'll have this song out anon by ourselves ; My father
and the gentleman are in sad* talk, and we'll not trouble them :
Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you
both :— Pedler, let's have the first choice.— Follow me, girls.
Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. lAside.
* Serious.
scene in.] winter's tale. 163
Will you buy any tape,
Or lace for your cape,
My dainty duck, my dear-a 1
Any silk, any thread,
Any toys for your head,
Of the new'st, and Jin'st, Jin'st wear-a ?
Come to the pedler ;
Money 's a meddler,
That doth utter* all men's wear-a.
{Exeunt Clown, Atjtolycus, Doecas, and Mopsa.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three
neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all
men of hair;t they call themselves sal tiers: J and they have a
dance which the wenches say is gallimaufry § of gambols, be-
cause 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.
Shep. Away ! we'll none on't ; here has been too much hum-
ble foolery already : — I know, Sir, we weary you.
Pol. You weary those that refresh us : Fray, let's see these
four threes of herdsmen.
Serv. 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 squire. ||
Step. Leave your prating : since these good men are pleased,
let them come in ; but quickly now.
Serv. Why, they stay at door, Sir. {Exit.
Re-enter SERVANT, with twelve Rustics habited like Satyrs. TJiey
dance, and then exeunt.
Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. —
Is it not too far gone ? — 'Tis time to part them. —
He's simple, and tells much. [Aside. J— 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 pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it
To her acceptance ; you have let him go,
And nothing martedi 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
no'"
Of happy holding her.
Flo. Old Sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are :
* Vend. t Dressed themselves in hahits imitating hair.
1 Satyrs. S Medley. Square.
If Trafficked. ** Put to difficulties.
H 2
1(54 winter's tale. [act rv.
The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd
Up in my heart; which I have given already
Bub not deliver'd. — O, hear my breath 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.
Pol. What follows this ?—
How prettily the young swain seems to wash
The hand, was fair before ! — I've put you out : —
But to your protestation ; let me hear
What you profess.
Flo. Do, and be witness to't.
Pol. And this my neighbour too ?
Flo. 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.
Pol. Fairly offerU
Cam. This shows a sound affection.
Shep. But, my daughter,
Say you the like to him ?
Per. 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.
Shep. 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.
Flo. 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.
Shep. Come, your hand ;
And, daughter, yours.
Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you ;
Have you a father ?
Flo. I have : But what of him ?
Pol. Knows he of this ?
Flo. He neither does, nor shall.
Pol. Methinks a father
Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more ;
* Sifted.
6CENEIII.] WINTEE'S TALE. 165
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 ?
Flo. No, good Sir ;
He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed,
Than most have of his age.
Pol. By my white beard,
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong
Something unfilial : Eeason, 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.
Flo. 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.
Pol. Let him know^t.
Flo. He shall not.
Pol. Pry'thee, let him.
Flo. No, he must not.
Shep. Let him, my son ; he shall not need to grieve
At knowing of thy choice.
Flo. Come, come, he must not : —
Mark our contract.
Pol. 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 cop'st with ;
Shep. O, my heart !
Pol. 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.
Farf 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,
* Discuss his own affairs* t Further. X Doors.
166 winter's tale. [act IV.
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces,
I will devise a death as cruel for thee,
As thou art tender to't. [Exit.
Per. 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 ?
[To Elorizel.
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 further,
But milk my ewes, and weep.
Cam. Why, how now, father ?
Speak, ere thou diest.
Shep. I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know. — 0, Sir, [ To Floeizel.
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 !
[To Peedita.
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've lived
To die when I desire. [Exit.
Flo. 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.
Cam. 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.
Flo. 1 not purpose it.
I think, Camillo.
Cam. Even he, my lord.
Per. How often have I told you 'twould bo thus ?
How often said, my dignity would last
But till 'twere known ?
Flo. 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 : —
* A leading-string.
SCENE III. J WINTER'S TALE. 167
From my succession wipe me, father ! I
Am heir to my affection.
Cam. Be advised.
Flo. 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.
Cam. This is desperate, Sir.
Flo. 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 seas hide
In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath
To this my fair belov'd : Therefore, I pray you,
As you have e'er been my father's honourd 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.
Cam. O, my lord,
I would your spirit were easier for advice,
Or stronger for your need.
Flo. Hark, Perdita. [Takes her aside.
I'll hear you by and by. [To Camillo.
Cam. 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.
Flo. Now, good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious business, that
I leave out ceremony. [Going.
Cam. Sir, I think,
Tou have heard of my poor services, i' the love
That I have borne your father ?
Flo. 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.
Cam. Well, my lord.
If you may please to think I love the king ;
♦ Love.
168 winter's tale. [act IV.
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.
Flo. How, Camillo,
May this, almost a miracle, be done ?
That I may call thee something more than man
And, after that, trust to thee.
Cam. Have you thought on
A place, whereto you'll go ?
Flo. 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.
Cam. 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.
Flo. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my visitation shall I
Hold up before him ?
Cam. 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.
Flo. I am bound to you :
There is some sap in this.
* Discontented. t Coundl sittings.
SCENE III.] , -WINTER'S TALE. 1S9
Cam. A course 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.
Per. One of these is true :
I think affliction may subdue the cheek,
But not take in* the mind.
Cam. Yea, say you so ?
There shall not, at your father's house, these seven years,
Be born another such.
Flo. My good Camillo.
She is as forward of her breeding, as
I' the rear of birth.
Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pity
She lacks instructions ; for she seems a mistress
To most that teach.
Per. Your pardon, Sir, for this ;
I'll blush you thanks.
Flo. 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.
Cam. My lord,
Fear none of this : I think, you know my fortunes
T)o all lie there : it shall be so my care
To have you royally appointed, as if
The scene you play, were mine. Por instance, Sir,
That you may know you shall not want, — one word.
{They talk aside.
Enter AXJTOLTCTJS.
Aut. 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 riband, glass, pomander.f brooch,
table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tye, 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
jettitoes till he had both tune and words; which so drew the
* Conquer. t Scent-bag.
170 wintee's tale. [act IV.
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 would 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 whoobub 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, Floeizel, and Peedita, come forward.
Cam. Nay, but my letters by this means being there
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
Flo. And those that you'll procure from King Leontes,
Cam. Shall satisfy your father.
Fer. Happy be you !
All, that you speak, shows fair.
Cam. Who have we here ? [Seeing Autoltcus.
We'll make an instrument of this ; omit
Nothing, may give us aid.
Aut. If they have overheard me now, — why hanging. [Aside.
Cam. How now, good fellow ? Why shakest thou so ? Fear not,
man ; here's no harm intended to thee.
Aut. I am a poor fellow, Sir.
Cam. 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 disease thee instantly (thou must think there's neces-
sity in't), and change garments with this gentleman : Though
the pennyworth, on his side, be the worst, yet hold thee, there's
some boot.f
Aut. I am a poor fellow, Sir : — I know ye well enough. [Aside.
Cam. Nay, pr'ythee, despatch : the gentleman is half flayed!
already.
Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir ?— I smell the trick of it.—
[Aside.
Flo. Despatch, I pr'ythee.
Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest ; but I cannot with conscience
take it.
Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. —
[Flo. and Axjtol. exchange garments.
Fortunate mistress, — let my prophecy
Come home to you ! 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 you), to shipboard
Get undescried.
Per. I see, the play so lies,
That I must bear a part.
Cam- No remedy. —
Have you done there ?
* Birds. t Something to boot j over and above. t Stripped.
SCENE III.] WINTER'S TALE. 171
Flo. Should I now meet my father,
He would not call me son.
Cam. Nay, you shall have
No hat : — Come, lady, come. — Farewell, my friend.
Aut. Adieu, Sir.
Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain forgot ?
Pray you, a word. [They converse apart.
Cam. What I do next, shall be to tell the king [Aside.
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.
Flo. Fortune speed ua ! —
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
Cam. The swifter speed, the better.
[Exeunt Flobizel, Perdita, and Camillo.
Aut. 1 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 anything extempore. The prince himself is
about a piece of ininuity ; stealing away from his father, with his
clog at his heels : Ir I thought it were not a piece of honesty to
acquaint the king withal, I would do't : I hold it the more
knavery to conceal it: and therein am I constant to my pro-
fession.
Enter Clown and Shepheed.
Aside, aside ; — here is more matter for a hot brain : Every lane's
end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man
work.
Clo. See, see : what a man you are now ! there is no other way,
but to tell the king she's a changeling, and none of your flesh
and blood.
Shep. Nay, but hear me.
Clo. Nay, but hear me.
Shep. Go to then.
Clo. 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. Snow those things you found about
her ; those sacred things, all but what she has with her : This
being done, let the law go whistle ; I warrant you.
Shep. 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.
Clo. Indeed, brother-in-law was the furthest off you could
have been to him ; and then your blood had been the dearer, by
I know how much an ounce.
Aut. Very wisely ; puppies ! [Aside.
172 winter's tale. [act it.
Shep. "Well ; let us to the king ; there is that in this fardel *
will make him scratch his beard.
Aut. I know not what impediment this complaint may be
to the flight of my master.
Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at palace.
Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by
chance : Let me pocket up my pedler's excrement.f — [Takes off
his false beard.'] How now, rustics ? whither are you bound ?
Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship.
Aut. 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 anything that is fitting to be
known, discover.
Clo. We are but plain fellows, Sir.
Aut. A lie ; you are rough and hairy : Let me have no lying ;
it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often gives us soldiers
the lie : but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing
steel ; therefore they do not give us the lie.
Clo. Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had
not taken yourself with the manner.§
Shep. Are you a courtier, an't like you, Sir ?
Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a courtier. See'st thou
not the air of the court, in tnese enfoldings ? hath not my gait in
it the measure of the court ? || receives not thy nose court-
odour from me ? reflect I not on thy baseness, court-contempt ?
Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze^[ from thee thy busi-
ness, I am therefore no courtier ? I am courtier, cap-a-pee ; and
one that will either push on, or pluck back thy business there :
whereupon I command thee to open thy affair.
Shep. My business, Sir, is to the king.
Aut. What advocate hast thou to him ?
Shep. I know not ; an't like you.
Clo. Advocate 's the court-word for a pheasant ; say, you have
none.
Shep. None, Sir ? I have no pheasant, cock, nor hen.
Aut. How bless'd are we, that are not simple men !
Yet nature might have made me as these are,
Therefore I'll not disdain.
do. This cannot be but a great courtier.
Shep. His garments are rich, but he! wears them not hand-
somely.
Clo. He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical ; a
great man, I'll warrant ; I know by the picking on's teeth.
Aut. The fardel there ? what's i' the fardel ? Wherefore that
box?
Shep. 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.
Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour.
Shep. Why, Sir?
* Bundle, parcel. + Beard. t Estate, property.
♦ In the fact. | The stately tread of courtiers. f Force.
8CENEIII.] WINTEB'S TALE. 173
Aut. The king is not at the palace ; he is gone al>oard a new
ship to purge melancholy, and air himself: For, if thou be'st
capable of things serious, thou must know, the king is full of
grief.
Shep. So 'tis said, Sir ; about his son, that should have mar-
ried a shepherd's daughter.
Aut. 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.
Clo. Think you so, Sir?
Aut. 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.
Clo. Has the old man e'er a son, Sir, do you hear, an't like
you, Sir ?
Aut. 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 he 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 some-
thing 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.
Clo. 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 : Uemember stoned, and
flayed alive.
Shep. An't please you, Sir. to undertake the business for us
nere is that gold I have : I'll make it as much more ; and leave
this young man in pawn, till I bring it you.
Aut. Alter I have done what I promised ?
Shep. Ay, Sir.
Aut. Well give me the moiety: — Are you a party in this
business ?
Clo. In some sort, Sir : but though my case be a pitiful one, 1
hope I shall not be flayed out of it.
Aut. O, that's the case of the shepherd's son : — Hang him, he'll
be made an example.
Clo. Comfort, good comfort : we must to the king, and show
* Related. t The hottest day foretold in the almanack
174 winter's tale. [act v.
our strange sights ; lie 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.
Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side ; go
on the right hand ; I will look upon the hedge, and follow you.
Clo. We are blessed in this man, as I may say, even blessed.
Shep. Let's before, as he bids us : he was provided to do us
good. [Exeunt Shepherd and Clown.
Aut. 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 thmk 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 pre-
sent them, there maybe matter in it. [Exit.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Sicilia. A Room in the Palace o/Leontes.
Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, and others.
Cleo. 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.
Leon. 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.
Paul. 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.
Leon. I think so. Kill'd !
She I kill'd ? I did so : but thou strik'st me
Sorely, to say I did ; it is as bitter
Upon my tongue, as in my thought : Now, good now,
Say so but seldom.
Cleo. Not at all, good lady :
You might have spoken a thousand things that would
SCENE I.j winteb's tale. 175
Have done the time more benefit, and graced
Your kindness better.
Paul. 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 dame ; 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 ?
Paul. 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,
ls't not the tenour of his oracle,
That king Leontes shall not have an heh\
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. — Care not for issue ; [To LEONTES.
The crown will find an heir : — Great Alexander
Left his to the worthiest ; so his successor
Was like to be the best.
Leon. Good Paulina, —
Who hast the memory of Hermione,
I know, in honour, — 0, 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 pleasure from her lips,
Paul. And left them,
More rich, for what they yielded.
Leon. Thou speak'st truth.
No more such wives ; therefore no wife : one worse,
And better used, would make her sainted spirit
Again possess her corps ; and, on this stage,
(Where we offenders now appear,) soul-vex'd,
Begin, And why tome?
Paul. Had she such power,
She had just cause.
Leon. She had ; and would incense* me
To murder her I married.
Paul. I should so :
Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark
* Instigate.
176 winter's tale. [ACT V
Her eye ; and tell me, for what dull part in't
You chose her : then I'd shriek, that even your ears
Should rift* to hear me ; and the words that followed
Should be, Remember mine.
Leon. Stars, very stars,
And all eyes else dead coals ! — fear thou no wife,
I'll have no wife, Paulina.
Paul. Will you swear
Never to marry, but by my free leave ?
Leon. Never, Paulina ; so be bless'd my spirit !
Paul. Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.
Cleo. You tempt him over-much.
Paul. Unless another,
As like Hermione as is her picture,
Affront f his eye.
Cleo. Good madam, —
Paul. 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 : but she shall not be so young
As was your former ; tout she shall be such.
As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy
To see her in your arms.
Leon. My true Paulina,
"We shall not marry, till thou bidd'st us.
Pawl. That
Shall be. when your first queen 's again in breath ;
Never till then.
'Enter a GENTLEMAN.
Gent. One that gives out himself prince Plorizel,
Son of Polixenes, with his princess (she
The fairest I have yet beheld), desires access
To your high presence.
Leon. 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 ?
Gent. But few,
And those but mean.
Leon. His princess, say you, with him ?
Gent. Ay ; the most peerless piece of earth, I think,
That e'er the sun shone bright on.
Paul. 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
* Split. * Meet. X I. e. the body of Hermione.
8CE5E I.] WINTER'S TALE. 177
Flow'd with her beauty once ; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd,
To say, you have seen a better.
Gent. 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 such a creature,
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
Of all professors else : make proselytes
Of who she but bid follow.
Paul. How ? not women ?
Gent. Women will love her, that she is a woman
More worth than any man ; men, that she is
The rarest of all women.
Leon. Go, Cleomenes ;
Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends,
Bring them to our embracement. — Still, 'tis strange,
[Exeunt CLEOMENES, LOBDS, and GenTLEMEX.
He thus should steal upon us.
Paul. 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.
Leon. Pr'ythee, no more ; 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, with Flobizel, Pebdita, and
Attendants.
Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince ■
For she did print your royal father off,
Conceiving you : Were I hut twenty-one,
Your fathers 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 you 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 upon.
Flo. By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia ; and from him
Give you all greetings that a king, a 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
VOL. II. N
178 winter's tale. [act v.
Measured, to look upon you, whom he loves
(He bade me say so) more than all the sceptres,
And those that bear them, living.
Leon. 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 ?
Flo. Good my lorn",
She came from Libya.
Leon. Where the warlike Smalus,
That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd, and loved ?
Flo. 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.
Leon. 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 bless'd
(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 LoED.
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 attachf his son : who has
(His dignity and duty both cast off)
Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with
A shepherd's daughter.
Leon. Where's Bohemia ? speak.
* Full of grace and virtue. t Seize, arrest.
8CENE I.J WINTER'S TALE. 179
Lord. Here in the 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.
Flo. Camillo has betrayM 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.
Leon. 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 bis ears, and threatens them
With divers deaths in death.
Per. Oh, my poor father ! —
The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have
Our contract celebrated.
Leon. You are married ?
Flo. 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.!
Leon. My lord,
Is this the daughter of a king ?
Flo. She is.
When once she is my wife.
Leon. 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 worthj as beauty,
That you might well enjoy her.
Flo. 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.
Leon. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress,
Which he counts but a trifle.
Paul. Sir, my liege,
Your eye hath too much youth in't : not a month
♦ Conversation. t A qnibble on the false dice so called*
t Descent, or wealth.
N2
180 winter's tale. [act v.
'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes
Than what you look on now.
Leon. I thought of her,
Even in these looks I made.— But your petition [To Floeizel.
Is yet unanswered ; I will to your father ;
Your honour not o erthrown by your desires,
I am a 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.
SCENE II.— The same. Before the Palace.
Enter Aittoltcus and a Gentleman.
Aut. 'Beseech you, Sir, were you present at this relation ?
1 Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old
shepherd deliver the manner how lie found it : whereupon, after
a little amazedness, we were all commauded out of the chamber :
only this, methought I heard the shepherd say, he found the
child.
Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it.
1 Gent. 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 at 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, happily, knows more :
The news, Rogero ?
2 Gent. 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 ?
3 Gent. Most true ; if ever truth were pregnant by circum-
stance : that which you hear you'll swear you see, there is such
unity in the proofs. The mantle of queen Hermione ; — 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 noble-
ness, which nature shows above her breeding, — and many other
* The thing imported. t Disposition or quality.
SCENE II.l WINTER'S TALB. 181
evidences, proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the king's
daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings ?
2 Gent. No.
3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, can-
not 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 countenance 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.
2 Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried
hence the child ?
3 Gent. 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.
1 Gent. What became of his bark and his followers ?
3 Gent. 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.
1 Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings
and princes ; for by such was* it acted.
3 Gent. 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 it (bravely confessed, and lamented by the kinsj),
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 it, the woe had been universal.
1 Gent. Are they returned to the court ?
3 Gent. 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
* Countenance, features. t Embracing.
182 winter's tale. [act v.
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.
2 Gent. 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 ?
1 Gent. 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.
[JSxeunt Gentlemen.
Aut. 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 him talk of a fardel,
and I know not what: but he at that time, over-fond 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 Shephebd and Clown.
Here come those I have done good to against my will, and
already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.
Shep. Come, boy ; I am past more children ; but thy sons and
daughters will be all gentlemen born.
Clo. 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 gentleman born.
Give me the lie ; do ; and try whether I am not now a gentleman
bom.
Aut. I know, you are now, Sir, a gentleman born.
Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these four hours.
Shep. And so have I, boy.
Clo. 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.
Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more.
Clo. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous
estate as we are.
Aut. 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.
SCENE III.] WINTEB's TALE. 1&3
Shep. Pr'ythee, son, do ; for we must be gentle, now we are
gentlemen.
Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life ?
Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship.
Clo. Give me thy hand : I will swear to the prince, thou art
as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.
Shep. You may say it, but not swear it.
Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and
franklins* say it, I'll swear it.
Shep. How if it be false, son ?
Clo. 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 tallf 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.
Aut. I will prove so, Sir, to my power.
Clo. 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.
SCENE III. — The same. A Room in Paulina's Souse.
Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Plobizel, Pebdita, Camillo,
Paulina, Lords and Attendants.
Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort
That I have had of thee !
Paul. 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.
Leon. 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.
Paul. 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
* Yeomen. t Stout.
184 winter's tale. [actt.
Still sleep mock'd death : behold ; and say 'tis well.
[Paulina undraws a curtain, and discovers a statue.
I like your silence, it the more shows off
Tour wonder : But yet speak ;— first, you, my liege,
Comes it not something near ?
Leon. 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.
Pol. O, not by much.
Paul. So much the more our carver's excellence ;
Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her
As she lived now.
Leon. 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,
Por being more stone than it ? — O, royal piece,
There's magic in thy majesty ; which has
My evils conjured to remembrance ; and
Prom thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee !
Per. 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.
Paul. O, patience,
The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's
Not dry.
Cam. 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.
Pol. 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.
Paul. Indeed, my lord.
If I had thought, the sight of my poor image
Would thus have wrought* you (for the stone is mine),
I'd not have show'd it.
Leon. Do not draw the curtain.
Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't ; lest your fancy
May think anon it moves.
* Agitated.
SCENE III.] WINTER'S TALE. 165
Leon. 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 ?
Pol. Masterly done :
The very life seems warm upon her Up.
Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in't
As* we are mock'd with art.
Paul. I'll draw the curtain ;
My lord 's almost so far transported, that
He'll think anon, it lives.
Leon. O sweet Paulina,
Make me to think so twenty years together ;
No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness. Left alone.
Paul. I am sorry, Sir, I have thus far stirr'd you : but
I could afflict you further.
Leon. 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.
Paul. Good my lord, forbear :
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet ;
You'll mar itj if you kiss it ; stain your own
With oilv painting : Shall I draw the curtain ?
Leon. No, not these twenty years.
Per. So long could I
Stand by, a looker on.
Paul. 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) 1 am assisted
By wicked powers.
Leon. 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.
Paul. It is required,
You do awake your faith : Then, all stand still ;
Or those, that think it is unlawful business
I am about, let them depart.
Leon. Proceed;
No foot shall stir.
Paul. Music ; awake her : strike. — [ Untie.
Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more : approach ;
Strike all that look upon with marveL Come ;
* Asif.
136 winter's tale. [act v.
I'll lill your grave up : stir ; nay, come away ;
Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
Dear life redeems you. — You perceive, she stirs :
[Heemione comes down from the pedestal.
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.
Leon. O, she's warm ! [Embracing her.
If this be magic, let it be an art
Lawful as eating.
Pol. She embraces him.
Cam. She hangs about his neck ;
If she pertain to life, let her speak too.
Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived,
Or, how stol'n from the dead ?
Paul. 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.
[Presenting PEEDITA, who kneels to H.EBMIONE.
Her. You gods, look down,
And from your secret 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.
Paul. 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 !
Leon. 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, 1 partly know his mind) to find thee
An honourable husband : Come, Camillo,
* Participate.
SCENE III. J winter's talb. 187
And take her by the hand : whose worth, and honesty,
Is richly noted ; and here justihed
l>y us, a pair or kings. — Let's from this place. —
AVliat ?— Look upon my brother ! — both your pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion. — This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king (whom heavens directing),
Is troth-plight to your daughter. — Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence ; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
J'erform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd : Hastily lead away. \JExewai.
COMEDY OF ERRORS.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
SOLINUS, Duke of Ephesus.
^KGEON, a Merchant of Syracuse.
ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, \ Twin
ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, J Bro-
thers, and Sons to JEgeon and
JEmilia, but unknown to each
other.
DROMIO of Ephesus, yTwinBro-
DROMIO of Syracuse, 5 thers, and
Attendants on the two Antipho-
lus's.
BALTHAZAR, a Merchant.
ANGELO, a Goldsmith.
A MERCHANT, Friend to Antipho-
lus of Syracuse.
PINCH, a Schoolmaster and a Con-
jurer.
EMILIA, Wife to Mgeon, an Abbess
at Ephesus.
ADRIANA, Wife to Antipholus of
Ephesus.
LUCTANA, her Sister.
LUCE, her Servant.
A COURTEZAN.
Jailer, Officers, and other At-
tendants.
Scene.— Ephesus
ACT I.
SCENE I.—A Rail in Hie Duke's Palace.
Enter Duke, HoEON, Jailer, Officer, and other Attendants.
jEge. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall.
And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more ;
I am not partial, to infringe our laws :
The enmity and discord, which of late
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, —
"Who, wanting gilders* to redeem their lives,
Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods, —
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks.
Eor, since the mortal and intestine jars
'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us,
It hath in solemn synods been decreed,
Both by the Syracusans and ourselves,
* Name of a coin.
fCEJTEI.J COMEDY OF EEKOR8 189
To admit no traffic to our adverse towns :
Nay, more,
If any, born at Ephesus, be seen
At any Syracusan marts* and fairs,
Again, If any, Syracusan born,
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies,
His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose ;
Unless a thousand marks be levied,
To quit the penalty, and to ransom him.
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate,
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ;
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'd to die.
Mge. Yet this my comfort ; when your words are done,
My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
Duke, Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the cause
Why thou departedst from thy native home ;;
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus.
JEge. A heavier task could not have been imposed,
Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable :
ret, that the world may witness, that my end
Was wrought by nature,t not by vile offence,
I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born ; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I lived in joy ; our wealth increased,
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, till my factor's death ;
And he (great care of goods at random left)
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse :
Erom whom my absence was not six months old,
Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was.
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons ;
And, which was strange, the one so like the other,
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike :
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return :
Unwilling I agreed ; alas, too soon.
We came aboard :
A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd,
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Oa\e any tragic instance of our harm :
* Markets. t Natural affection.
190 COMEDY OF EEEOES. [ACT I.
But longer did we not retain much hope ;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death ;
Which, though myself would gladly have embraced,
Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear,
Forced me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was, — for other means was none. —
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us :
My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as seafaring men provide for storms ;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus disposed, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast ;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us ;
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light.
The seas wax'd calm, and we discoverid
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this :
But ere they came, — O, let me say no more !
Gather the sequel by what went before.
Jbuke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so;
For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
JZge. O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us !
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues,
We were encounter'd by a mighty rock ;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst,
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul ! seeming as burden'd
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind ;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seiz'd on us ;
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests ;
And would have reft* the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
* Deprived.
SCENE II. J COMEDY OF EEBOES. 191
And therefore homeward did they hend their course. —
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss ;
That by misfortunes was my life prolonged,
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.
Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,
Do me the favour to dilate at full
"What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Mge. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care,
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother ; and impdrtuned me,
That his attendant (for his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name)
Might bear him company in the quest of him :
Whom whilst I labouru of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved.
Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming clean* through the bounds of Asia,
And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ;
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought,
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life ;
And happy were I in my timely death.
Could all my travels warrant me they live.
Duke. Hapless ^Egeon, whom the fates have mark'd
To bear the extremity of dire mishap !
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
And passed sentence may not be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can :
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help :
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live ; if not, then thou art doom'd to die s—
Jailer, take him to thy custody.
Jail. I will, my lord.
Mge. Hopeless, and helpless, doth JSgeon wend,f
But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt.
SCENE II— A public Place.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and Deomio of Syracuse, and a
Meechant.
Mer. Therefore give out, you are of Epidamnum,
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day, a Syracusan merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here ;
* Clear, completely. t Go.
192 COMEDY OF EEKOUS. [ACT I.
And, not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.
Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur,* where we host,
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time :
Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
And then return, and sleep within mine inn
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
Get thee away.
Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word,
And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit Deo. S
Ant. S. A trusty vifiain,t Sir ; that very oft,
When I am dull with care and melancholy,
Lightens my humour with his merry jests.
What, will you walk with me about the town,
And then go to my inn, and dine with me ?
Mer. I am invited, Sir, to certain merchants,
Of whom I hope to make much benefit ;
I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock,
Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,J
And afterwards consort you till bed-time :
My present business calls me from you now.
Ant. 8. Farewell till then : I will go lose myself,
And wander up and down, to view the city.
Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own content.
[Exit Meechant.
Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own content,
Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
I to the world am like a drop of water,
That in the ocean seeks another drop ;
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth,
Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself:
So I, to find a mother, and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.
Enter Deomio of Ephesus.
Here comes the almanack of my true date, —
What now ? How chance, thou art return'd so soon ?
Dro. E. Peturn'd so soon ! rather approach'd too late :
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit ;
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell,
My mistress made it one upon my cheek :
She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home ;
You come not home, because you have no stomach ;
You have no stomacn, having broke your fast ;
* The sifjn of their hotel. t I. e. servant.
J Exchange, market-place.
SCENE II.] COMEDY OF ERRORS. 193
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir ; tell me this, I pray ;
Where have you left the money that I gave you ?
Dro. E. O, — sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last,
To pay the saddbr for my mistress' crupper; —
The saddler had it, Sir, I kept it not.
Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now :
Tell me, and dally not, where is the money ?
We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust
So great a charge from thine own custody ?
Dro. E. I pray you, jest, Sir, as you sit at dinner :
I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed ;
For she will score your fault upon my pate.
Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock,
And strike you home without a messenger.
Ant. S. Come. Bromio ; come, these jests are out of season ;
Reserve them till a merrier hour than this :
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee ?
Dro. E. To me, Sir, why you gave no gold to me.
Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,
And tell me, how thou hast disposed thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from the mart
Home to your house, the Phoenix, Sir, to dinner;
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer me,
In what safe place you have bestow'd my money ;
Or I will break that merry sconce of yours,
That stands on tricks when I am indisposed :
Where are the thousand marks thou hadst of me ?
Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon my pate,
Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders,
But not a thousand marks between you both. —
If I should pay your worship those again,
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently.
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks ! what mistress, slave, hast thou ?
Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix ;
She that doth fast, till you come home to dinner,
And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.
Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,
Being forbid ? There, take you that, sir knave.
Dro.E. What mean you, Sir? for God's sake, hold your hands:
Nay, an you will not. Sir, I'll take my heels. [Exit Dbomio Ji
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or other,
The villain is o'er-raught* of all my money.
They say, this town is full of cozenage ;
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye ;
Bark-working sorcerers, that change the mind;
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body ;
* Over-reached.
VOL. II. O
194 COMEDY OF EKEOBS.
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin :*
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner.
I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave ;
I greatly fear my money is not safe.
[act II.
{Exit
ACT II.
SCENE I.—A public Place.
Enter Adeiana and Luciana.
Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave return'd,
That in such haste I sent to seek his master ;
Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.
Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him,
And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner.
Good sister, let us dine, and never fret :
A man is master of his liberty :
Time is their master ; and, when they see time,
They'll go, or come : If so, be patient, sister.
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be more ?
Luc. Because their business still lies out o' door.
Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ilL
Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will.
Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled so.
Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe.
There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky :
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Are their males' subject, and at their controls :
Men, more divine, and masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords :
Then let your will attend on their accords.
Adr. This servitude makes you to keep unwed.
Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.
Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway.
Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey.
Adr. How if your husband start some other where ?
Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.
Adr. Patience, unmoved, no marvel though she pause ;
They can be meek, that have no otber cause.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
"We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry ;
But were we burthen'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain :
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me :
* Licensed offenders.
SCENE I.] COMEDY OF EBROBS. 196
But, if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left.
Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try ; —
Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.
Enter Dbomio ofEphesus.
Adr. Say is your tardy master now at hand ?
Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and that my two
ears can witness.
Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?
Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear :
Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it.
Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his mean-
ing?
Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his
blows ; and withal so doubtfully, that I could scarce understand*
tbem.
Adr. But say, I pr'ythee, is he coming home ? It seems, he
hath great care to please his wife.
Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad.
Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain ?
Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ; but, sure, he's stark mad :
When I desired him to come home to dinner,
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold :
' Tis dinner-time, quoth I ; My gold, quoth he :
Your meat doth burn, quoth I : My gold, quoth he :
W 'ill you come home ! quoth I ; My gold, quoth he :
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?
The pig, quoth I, is burn'd ; My gold, quoth he :
§ My mistress, Sir, quoth I ; Hang up thy mistress ;
I know not thy mistress ; out on thy mistress!
Luc. Quoth who ?
Dro. E. Quoth my master :
I know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistress; —
So that my errand, due unto my tongue,
I thank him, I bear home upon my shoulders ;
For, in conclusion, he did beat me there.
Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home.
Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten home ?
For God's sake, send some other messenger.
Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across.
Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with other beating :
Between you I shall have a holy head.
Adr. Hence, prating peasant ; fetch thy master home.
Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you with me,
That like a football do you spurn me thus ?
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither :
If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. [Exit.
Luc. Fie, how impatience lowereth in your face.
Adr. His company must do his minions grace,
Whilst I at home starve for a merry look.
* 7. *. stand under.
Ol
196 COMEDY OF ERRORS. [ACT II.
Hath homely age the alluring beauty took
From my poor cheek ? then he hath wasted it :
Are my discourses dull ? barren my wit ?
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd,
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard.
Do their gay vestments his affections bait ?
That's not my fault, he's master of my state :
"What ruins are in me, that can be found
By him not ruin'd ? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures :* My decayed fairt
A sunny look of his would soon repair :
But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale,
And feeds from home ; poor I am but his stale.
Imc. Self-arming jealousy ! — fie, beat it hence.
Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense.
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere ;
Or else, what lets X it but he would be here ?
Sister, you know, he promised me a chain ; —
Would that alone alone he would detain,
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed !
I see the jewel, best enamelled,
Will lose his beauty ; and though gold 'bides still,
That others touch, yet often touching will
Wear gold : and so no man, that hath a name,
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame.
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye,
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. >
Imc. How many fond fools serve mad jealousy ! J
• [Exeunt.
SCENE II— The same.
Enter AntiphOLTJS of Syracuse.
Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio, is laid up
Safe at the Centaur ; and the heedful slave
Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out.
By computation, and mine host's report,
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first
I sent him from the mart : See here he comes.
Enter DROMIO of Syracuse.
How now, Sir, is your merry humour alter'd ?
As you love strokes, so jest with me again.
You know no Centaur ? you received no gold ?
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner ?
My house was at the Phcpnix ? Wast thou mad,
That thus so madly thou didst answer me ?
Dro. S. What answer, Sir? when spake I such a word ?
Ant. S. Even now, even here, not hah an hour since.
* Alteration of features. t Fairness. t Hinders.
SCENE II. J COMEDY OF EBBOBS. 197
Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me hence,
Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me.
Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt ;
And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner ;
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeased.
Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merry vein :
What means this jest ? I pray you, master, tell me.
Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me in the teeth ?
Think'st thou, I jest ? Hold, take thou that, and that
[Beating him.
Dro. S. Hold, Sir, for God's sake : now your jest is earnest :
Upon what bargain do you give it me?
Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you,
Your sauciness will jest upon my love,
And make a common of my serious hours *
When the sun shines, let foolish gnats make sport,
But creep in crannies, when he hides his beams.
If you will jest with me, know my aspect,!
And fashion your demeanour to my looks,
Or I will beat this method in your sconce.
Dro. S. Sconce, call you it ? so you would leave battering, I
had rather have it a head : an you use these blows long, I must
get a sconce for my head, and insconce£ it too : or else I shall
seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I pray, Sir, why am I
beaten?
Ant. S. Host thou not know ?
Dro. S. Nothing, Sir ; but that I am beaten.
Ant. S. Shall I tell you why ?
Dro. S. Ay, Sir, and wherefore ; for, they say, every why hath
a wherefore.
Ant. S. Why, first,— for flouting me ; and than, wherefore, —
For urging it the second time to me.
Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season ?
When, in the why, and the wherefore, is neither rhyme nor
reason ? —
Well Sir, I thank you.
Ant. S. Thank me, Sir ! for what ?
Dro. S. Marry, Sir, for this something that you gave me for
nothing.
Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for
something. But say. Sir, is it dinner-time ?
Dro. S. No, Sir; I think, the meat wants that I have.
Ant. S. In good time, Sir, what's that ?
Dro. S. Basting.
Ant. S. Well, Sir, then 'twill be dry.
Dro. S. If it be, Sir, I pray you eat none of it.
Ant. S. Your reason ?
Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and purchase me another
dry basting.
* I. e. intrude on them when you please.
t Study my countenance.
t Fortify.
198 COMEDY OF ERRORS. [ACT II.
Ant. S. Well, Sir, learn to jest in good time ;
There's a time for all things.
Dro. S. I durst have denied that, hefore you were so choleric.
Ant. S. By what rule. Sir ?
Dro. S. Marry, Sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald pate of
father Time himself.
Ant. S. Let's hear it.
Dro. S. There's no time for a man to recover his hair, that
grows bald by nature.
Ant. S. May he not do it by fine and recovery ?
Dro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, and recover the lost
hair of another man.
Ant. S. Why is time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so
plentiful an excrement ?
Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts : and
what he bath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.
Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit.
Dro. S. Not a man of those, but he hath the wit to lose his
hair.
Ant. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers
without wit.
Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost : Yet he loseth it in
a kind of jollity
Ant. S. For what reason ?
Dro. S. For two ; and sound ones too.
Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you.
Dro. S. Sure ones then.
Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing.
Dro. S. Certain ones then.
Ant. S. Name them.
Dro. S. The one, to save the money that he spends in tiring ;
the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porridge.
Ant. S. You would all this time have proved, there is no time
for all things.
Dro. S. Marry, and did, Sir ; namely, no time to recover hair
lost by nature.
Ant. S. But your reason was not substantial, why there is no
time to recover.
Dro. S. Thus I mend it : Time himself is bald, and therefore,
to tbe world's end, will have bald followers.
Ant. S. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion •
But soft ! who wafts * us yonder ?
"Enter ADRIANA and, LtrciANA.
Adr. Ay, ay ; Antipholus, look strange, and frown ;
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects,
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife.
The time was once, when thou unurged wouldst vow
That never words were music to thine ear,
That never object pleasing in thine eye,
* Beckons.
SCENE II.] COMEBT OF EBBOES. 199
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand,
That never meat sweet-savour'd in thy taste,
Unless I spake, look'd, touch'd, or carved to thee.
How comes it now, my husband, oh, how comes it,
That thou art then estranged from thyself?
Thyself I call it, being strange to me,
That, undividable, incorporate,
Am better than thy dear self s better part.
Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ;
For know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall*
A drop of water in the breaking gulf,
And take unmingled thence that drop again,
Without addition or diminishing,
As take from me thyself, and not me too.
How dearly would it touch thee to the quick,
Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious ?
And that this body, consecrate to thee,
By ruffian lust should be contaminate ?
Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at me,
And hurl the name of husband in my face,
And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot brow,
And from my false hand cut the wedding ring,
And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ?
I know thou canst ; and therefore, see, thou do it.
I am possess'd with an adulterate blot ;
My blood is mingled with the crime of lust :
For, if we two be one, and thou play false,
I do digest the poison of thy flesh,
Being strumpeted by thy contagion
Keep then fair league and truce with thy true bed ;
1 live unstain'd, thou undishonourM.
Ant. S. Plead you to me, fair dame ? I know you not :
In Ephesus I am but two hours old,
As strange unto your town, as to your talk ;
Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd,
Want wit in all one word to understand.
Luc. Fie, brother ! how the world is changed with you :
When were you wont to use my sister thus ?
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner.
Ant. S. By Dromio ?
Dro. 8. By me ?
Adr. By thee : and this thou didst return from him, —
That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows
Denied my house for his, me for his wife.
Ant. S. Did you converse. Sir, with this gentlewoman ?
What is the course and drift of your compact ?
Dro. S. L Sir ? I never saw her till this time.
Ant. S. Villain, thou liest ; for even her very words
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart.
Dro. S. I never spake with her in all my life.
Ant. S. How can she thus then call us by our names,
Unless it be by inspiration ?
* Let fall.
200 COMEDY OF ERRORS. [ACT II.
Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity,
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave,
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ?
Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt,*
But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine :
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine ;
Whose weakness, married to my stronger state,
Makes me with thy strength to communicate :
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss ;
"Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion.
Ant. S. To me she speaks ; she moves me for her theme :
"What, was I married to her in my dream ?
Or sleep I now, and think I hear all this ?
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss ?
Until I know this sure uncertainty,
I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy.
Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner.
Dro. 8. O, for my beads ! I cross me for a sinner.
This is the fairy land ; — O, spite of spites ! —
We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites ! —
If we obey them not, this will ensue,
They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue.
Luc. Why prat'st thou to thyself and answer'st not ?
Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot !
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I ?
Ant. S. I think thou art, in mind, and so am I.
Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my shape.
Ant . 8. Thou hast thine own form.
Dro. S. No, I am an ape.
Luc. If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an ass.
Dro. S. 'Tis true ; she rides me, and I long for grass.
Tis so, I am an ass • else it could never be,
But I should know her as well as she knows me.
Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool,
To put the finger in the eye and weep,
Whilst man and master, laugb my woes to scorn.—
Come, Sir, to dinner ; Dromio, keep the gate : —
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day,
And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master,
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. —
Come sister : — Dromio play the porter well.
Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell ?
Sleeping or waking ? mad, or well-advised ?
Known unto these, and to myself disguised !
I'll say as they say, and persever so,
And in this mist at all adventures go.
* Above my authoiity.
SCENE II.] COMEDY OF EEEOES. 201
Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate ?
Adr. Ay ; and let none enter, lest I break your pate.
Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. [Exeunt.
ACT ni.
SCENE I.— The same.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephems, Dromio of Ephesus, AtfGELO,
and Balthazar.
Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us all ;
My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours:
Say, that I linger'd with you at your shop
To see the making of her carkanet,*
And that to-morrow you will bring it home.
But here's a villain, that would face me down
He met me on the mart ; and that I beat him,
And charged him with a thousand marks in gold ;
And that I did deny my wife and house : —
Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this ?
Dro. E. Say what you will, Sir, but I know what I know
That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show :
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink,
Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass.
Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear
By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear.
I should kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that pass,
You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass.
Ant. E. You are sad, signior Balthazar : 'Pray God, our cheer
May answer my good will, and your good welcome here.
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, Sir, and your welcome dear.
Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish,
A table full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish.
Bal. Good meat. Sir, is common ; that every churl affords.
Ant. E. And welcome more common ; for that's nothing but
words.
Bal. Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast.
Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest :
But though my catest be mean, take them in good part ;
Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart.
But, soft; my door is lock'a; Go bid them let us in.
Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jen' !
Dro. S. [ Within.'} Mome,J malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot,
patch !§
Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch :
J)ost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st for such store
"When one is one too many ? Go, get thee from the door
* A necklace. t Dishes of meat.
t Dull blockhead. i Fool.
202 COMEDY OF ERHOSS. [ACT III.
Dro. E. "What patch is made our porter ? My master stays in
the street.
Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold
on's feet.
Ant. E. Who talks within there ? ho, open the door.
Dro. S. Eight, Sir, I'll tell you when, an you'll tell me where-
fore.
Ant. E. Wherefore ? for my dinner; I have not dined to-day.
Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not ; come again when you
may.
Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I
owe?*
Dro. S. The porter for this time Sir, and my name is Dromio.
Dro. E. O, villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my
name;
The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.
If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place,
Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name, or thy name for
an ass.
Luce. [Within.'] What a coilf is there? Dromio, who are
those at the gate ?
Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce.
Luce. Faith no ; he comes too late :
And so tell your master.
Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh : —
Have at you with a proverb. — Shall I set in my staff?
Luce. Have at you with another : that's, — When ? can you
tell?
Dro. S. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, thou hast answer'd
him well.
Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion ? you'll let us in, I hope ?
Luce. I thought to have ask'd you.
Dro. S. And you said, no.
Dro. E. So, come, help ; well struck ; there was blow for blow.
Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in.
Luce. Can you tell for whose sake ?
Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard.
Luce. Let him knock till it ake.
Ant. E. You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down.
Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town ?
Adr. [Within.] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this
noise ?
Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys.
Ant. E. Are you there, wife ? you might have come before.
Adr. Your wife, Sir knave ! go, get you from the door.
Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go
sore.
Ang. Here is neither cheer, Sir, nor welcome ; we would fain
have either.
Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part J with neither.
* I own. t Bustle, tumult. t Depart.
8CEXEI.] COMEDY OF EEBOBS. 203
]>ro. E. They stand at the door, master, bid them welcome
hither.
Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in.
Dro. E. You would say so, master, ii your garments were
thin.
Tour cake here is warm within ; you stand here in the cold :
It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.
Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break ope the gate.
Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll break your knave's
pate.
Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, Sir ; and words
are but wind ;
Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind.
Dro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking; Out upon thee,
hind!
Dro. E. Here's too much, out upon thee ! I pray thee, let me
in.
Dro. S. Ay, when fowls have no feathers, and fish have no fin,
Ant. E. Well, I'll break in ; Go borrow me a crow.
Dro. E. A crow without a feather ; master, mean you so ?
For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather •
If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together.
Ant. E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron crow.
Bal. Have patience, Sir ; O, let it not be so ;
Herein you war against your reputation,
And draw within the compass of suspect
The unviolated honour of your wife,
Once this* Your long experience of her wisdom,
Her sober virtue, years, and modesty,
Plead on her part some cause to you unknown ;
And doubt not, Sir, but she will well excuse
Why at this time the doors are madef against you.
Be ruled by me ; depart in patience,
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner :
And, about evening, come yourself alone,
To know the reason of this strange restraint.
If by strong hand you offer to break in,
Now in the stirring passage of the day,
A vulgar comment will be made on it ;
And that supposed by the common rou
Against your yet ungalled estimation,
That may with foul intrusion enter in,
And dwell upon your grave when you are dead :
For slander fives upon succession ;
For ever housed, where it once gets possession.
Ant. E. You have prevail'd; I will depart in quiet,
And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry.
I know a wench of excellent discourse, —
Pretty and witty ; wild, and, yet too, gentle ; —
There will we dine : this woman that I mean,
* (Is done.) t I. e. (fast).
204 COMEDY OF EBBOES. [ACT III.
My wife (but, I protest, without desert)
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal ;
To her will we to dinner. — Get you home,
And fetch the chain ; by this,* 1 know, 'tis made :
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine ;t
For there's the house ; that chain will 1 bestow
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife)
TTpon mine hostess there : good Sir, make haste :
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me,
I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me.
Ang. I'll meet you at that place, some hour hence.
Ant. E. Do so ; This jest shall cost me some expense.
SCENE II— The same.
EnterliUClAXA, and ANTIPHOLT7S of Syracuse.
Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot
A husband's office ? shall, Antipholus, hate,
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs X rot :
Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate ?
If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindness :
Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness :
Let not my sister read it in your eye ;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator ;
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty ;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger :
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ;
Be secret-false : What need she be acquainted ?
"What simple thief brags of his own attaint ?
5 Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed,
And let her read it in thy looks at board :
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ;
111 deeds are doubled with an evil word.
Alas, poor women ! make us but believe,
Being compact of credit,§ that you love us ;
Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve ;
We in your motion turn, and you may move us.
Then, gentle brother, get you in again ;
Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife :
'Tis holy sport, to be a little vain,||
When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife.
Ant. S. Sweet mistress (what your name is else, I know not,
Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine),
Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show not,
Than our earth's wonder ; more than earth divine.
* By this time. t An old form of porcupine. t Shoots.
$ I. e. being made altogether of credulity. I Light of tongue.
SCENE II. J COMEDY OF EBROES. 205
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak ;
Lay open to my earthy gross conceit,
Smothefd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak,
The folded meaning of your words' deceit.
Against my soul's pure truth why labour you,
To make it wander in an unknown field ?
Are you a god ? would you create me new ?
Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield.
But if that I am I, then well I know,
Your weeping sister is no wife of mine,
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe ;
Far more, far more, to you do I decline,
O, train me not, sweet mermaid,* with thy note,
To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears;
Sing, syren, for thyself, and I will dote :
Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,
And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie ;
And, in that glorious supposition, think
He gains by death, that hath such means to die ; —
Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink !
Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so ?
Ant. S. Not mad, but mated ; how, I do not know.
Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eye.
Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by.
Luc. Graze where you should, and that will clear your sight.
Ant. 8. As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night.
Luc. Why call you me love ? call my sister so.
Ant. S. Thy sister's sister
Luc. That's my sister.
Ant. S. No ;
It is thyself, mine own selfs better part;
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart ;
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim,
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.t
Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be.
Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee :
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life ;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife :
Give me thy hand.
Luc. O soft, Sir, hold you still ;
I'll fetch my sister, to get her good wilL [Exit Lrc.
Enter from the house of Antipholus of Ephesus, Dbomio of
Syracuse.
Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio ? where run'st thou so fast ?
L>ro. S. Do you know me, Sir ? am I Dromio ? ami your
man ? am I myself ?
Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself.
Lh-o. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself.
Ant. S. What woman's man ? and how besides thyself ?
* Syren. t Request of Heaven.
203 COMEDY OF ERRORS. [ACT III.
Dro. S. Marry, Sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman ; ono
that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me.
Ant. 8. "What claim lays she to thee ?
Dro. S. Marry, Sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse ;
and she would have me as a beast ; not that, I being a beast, she
would have me; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays
claim to me.
Ant. S. What is she ?
Dro. S. A very reverent body ; ay, such a one as a man may
not speak of, without he say, sir-reverence : I have but lean luck
in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage.
Ant. 8. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage ?
Dro. S. Marry, Sir, she's the kitchen-wench, and all grease :
and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of
her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags,
and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland" winter : if she lives
till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Ant. S. What complexion is she of ?
Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing like so clean
kept ; For why ? she sweats, a man may go over shoes in the
grime of it.
Ant. 8. That's a fault that water will mend.
Dro. S. No, Sir, 'tis in grain ; Noah's flood could not do it.
Ant. 8. What's her name ?
Dro. S. Nell, Sir ;— but her name and three-quarters, that is,
an ell and three-quarters, will hot measure her from hip to hip.
Ant. 8. Then she bears some breadth ?
Dro. 8. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip :
she is spherical, like a globe ; I could find out countries in her.
Ant. 8. In what part of her body stands Ireland ?
Dro. S. Marry, Sir, in her buttocks ; I found it out by the
bogs.
Ant. S. Where Scotland ?
Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness : hard, in the palm of the
hand.
Ant. S. Where Prance ?
Dro. S. In her forehead; arm'd and reverted, making war
against her hair.
Ant. 8. Where England ?
Dro. S. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no white-
ness in them : but I guess, it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum
that ran between France and it.
Ant. S. Where Spain ?
Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not ; but I felt it, hot in her breath.
Ant. S. Where America, the Indies ?
Dro. S. O, Sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies,
carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath
of Spain ; who sent whole armadas of carracks* to be ballast to
her nose.
Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ?
* Large ships.
SCENE II.] COMEDY OF EEEOES. 207
Dro. S. O, Sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge,
or diviner, laid claim to me; called me Dromio ; swore, I was
assured* to her ; told me what privy marks I had about me ; as
the mark on my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart
on my left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a witch : and, I
think, if my breast had not been made of faith, and my heart of
steel, she had transformed me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn
i' the wheel.t
Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road;
And if the wind blow any way from shore,
I will not harbour in this town to-night.
If any bark put forth, come to the mart,
"Where I will walk till thou return to me.
If every one know us, and we know none,
'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone.
Dro. S. As from bear a man would run lor life,
So fly I from her that would be my wife. [Exit.
Ant. S. There's none but witches do inhabit here ;
And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence.
She, that doth call me husband, even my soul
Doth for a wife abhor : but her fair sister,
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace,
Of such enchanting presence and discourse,
Hath almost made me traitor to myself :
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song.
Enter ANGELO.
Ang. Master Antipholus ?
Ant. S. Ay, that's my name.
Ang. I know it well, Sir : Lo, here is the chain ;
I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine :
The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long.
Ant. S. What is your will, that I should do with this ?
Ang. What please yourself, Sir ; I have made it for you.
Ant. S. Made it for me, Sir ! I bespoke it not.
Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have:
Go home with it, and please your wife withal ;
And soon at supper-time I'll visit you.
And then receive my money for the chain.
Ant. S. I pray you, Sir, receive the money now,
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more.
Ang. You are a merry man, Sir ; fare you well. [Exit.
Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell ;
But this I think, there's no man is so vain,
That would refuse so fair an ofler'd chain.
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts,
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts.
I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay ;
If any ship put out, then straight away. " [Exit.
* Affianced. f A turn-spit.
208 COMEDY OF EBEOBS. |~ACT IV.
ACT IV.
SCENE I— The same.
Enter a MEBCHXNT, Angelo, and an OFFICE ft.
Mer. You know, since pentecost the sum is due,
And since I have not much importuned you;
Nor now I had not, hut that I am bound
To Persia, and want gilders for my voyage :
Therefore make present satisfaction,
Or I'll attach you by this officer.
Ang. Even just the sum, that I do owe to you,
Is growing* to me by Antipholus ;
And, in the instant that I met with you,
He had of me a chain ; at five o'clock,
I shall receive the money for the same :
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house,
I will discharge my bond, and thank you too.
Enter AiSTiPHOLtrs of Ephesus, and Deomio of Ephesus.
Offi. That labour may you save ; see where he comes.
Ant. E. "While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou
And buy a rope's end ; that will I bestow
Among my wife and her confederates,
For locking me out of my doors by day, —
But soft, I see the goldsmith : — get thee gone ;
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to mo.
J)ro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year ! I buy a rope !
[Exit Deomio.
Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to you :
[ promised your presence, and the chain ;
But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me :
Belike, you thought our love would last too long,
If it were chain'd together ; and therefore came not.
Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's the note,
How much your chain weighs to the utmost carrat ;
The fineness of the gold, and chargeful fashion;
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more
Than I stand debted to this gentleman ;
I pray you, see him presently discharged,
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it.
Ant. E. I am not furnished with the present money :
Besides, I have some business in the town :
Good signior, take the stranger to my house.
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof ;
Perchance, I will be there as soon as you.
Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her yourself ?
Ant. E. No ; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough.
* Accruing.
SCENX I.] COMEDY OF EttltOKS. 200
Ang. "Well, Sir, I will : Have you the chain about you ?
Ant. E. An if I have not, Sir, I hope you have ;
Or else you may return without your money.
Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, Sir, give me the chain ;
Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman,
And I, to blame, have held him here too long.
Ant. E. Good lord, you use this dalliance, to excuse
Your breach of promise to the Porpentine :
I should have chid you for not bringing it,
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl.
Mer. The hour steals on ; I pray you, Sir, despatch.
Ang. You hear, how he importunes me ; the chain
Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch your money.
Ang. Come, come, you know, I gave it you even now ;
Either send the chain, or send me by some token.
Ant. E. Fie ! now you run this humour out of breath :
Come, where's the chain ? I pray you let me see it.
Mer. My business cannot brook this dalliance ;
Good Sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no;
If not, I'll leave him to the officer.
Ant. E. I answer you ! "What should I answer you ?
Ang. The money, that you owe me for the chain.
Ant. E. I owe you none, till I receive the chain.
Ang. You know I gave it you half an hour since.
Ant. E. You gave me none ; you wrong me much to say so.
Ang. You wrong me more, Sir, in denying it ;
Consider, how it stands upon my credit.
Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit
Offi. I do ; and charge you, in the duke's name, to obey me.
Ang. This touches me in reputation : —
Either consent to pay this sum for me,
Or I attach you by this officer.
Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had !
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st.
Ang. Here is thy fee, arrest him, officer ;
I would not spare my brother in this case,
If he should scorn me so apparently.
Offi. I do arrest you, Sir j you hear the suit.
Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail : —
But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear
As all the metal in your shop will answer.
Ang. Sir, Sir, I shall have law in Ephesus,
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not.
Enter DBOMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum,
That stays but till her owner comes aboard,
And then, Sir, bears away : our fraughtage,* Sir,
I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought
The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitse.
* Freight, cargo.
VOL. II. P
210 COMEDY OF ERRORS. [ACT IV.
The ship is in her trim ; the merry wind
Blows fair from land : they stay for nought at all,
But for their owner, master, and yourself.
Ant. E. How now ! a madman ! Why thou peevish* sheep,
"What ship of Epidamnum stays for me ?
Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage.
Ant. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope ;
And told thee to what purpose and what end.
Dro. S. You sent me, Sir, for a rope's end as soon :
You sent me to the bay, Sir, for a bark.
Ant. E. I will debate this matter at more leisure,
And teach your ears to listen with more heed.
To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight :
Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk
That's covered o'er with Turkish tapestry,
There is a purse of ducats : let her send it ;
Tell her, I am arrested in the street,
And that shall bail me : hie thee, slave ; begone.
On, officer, to prison till it come.
[Exeunt Merchant, Angelo, Officer, and Ant. E.
Dro. S. To Adriana ! that is where he dined,
"Where Bowsabel did claim me for her husband :
She is too big, I hope, for me to compass.
Thither I must, although against my will,
For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. [ Exit.
SCENE II— The same.
Enter Adriana and Lttciana.
Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so ?
Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye
That he did plead in earnest, yea or no ?
Look'd he or red, or pale ; or sad, or merrily ?
"What observation mad'st thou in this case,
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face ?
Due. First, he denied you had in him no right.
Adr. He meant he did me none ; the more my spite.
Duo. Then swore he that he was a stranger here.
Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were.
Due. Then pleaded I for you.
Adr. And what said he ?
Due. That love I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me.
Adr. "With what persuasion did he tempt thy love ?
Due. "With words, that in an honest suit might move.
First he did praise my beauty ; then, my speech.
Adr. Didst speak him fair ?
Due. Have patience, I beseech.
Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
He is deform'd, crooked, old, and sere,f
Ill-faced, worse-bodied, shapeless everywhere ;
* Silly, t Dry, withered.
SCENE n.] COMEDY OF EEBOBS. 211
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind ;
Stigmatical in making,* worse in mind.
Luc. Who would be jealous, then, of such a one ?
No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone.
Adr. Ah ! but I think him better than I say,
And yet would herein others' eyes were worse :
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away ;
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.
'Enter DBOMIO of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Here, go ; the desk, the purse ; sweet now, make haste.
Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath ?
Dro. S. By running fast.
Adr. Where is thy master, Dromio ? is he well ?
Dro. S. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell :
A devil in an everlasting garmentf hath him,
One, whose hard heart is button'd up with steel ;
A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ;
A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff;
A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that countermands
The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands ;
A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well ;
One that, before the judgment, carries poor souls to helLJ
Adr. Why. man, what is the matter ?
Dro. S. 1 do not know the matter ? he is 'rested on the case.
Adr. What, is he arrested ? tell me, at whose suit.
Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is arrested, well ;
But he's in a suit of buff which 'rested him, that can I tell :
AVill you send him, mistress redemption, the money in the desk ?
Adr. Go fetch it, sister. — This I wonder at, [Exit Luclajj a.
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt :
Tell me, was he arrested on a band ?§
Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing ;
A chain, a chain ; do you not hear it ring ?
Adr. What, the chain ?
Dro. S. No, no, the bell : 'tis time that I were gone.
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one.
Adr. The hours come back ! that did I never hear.
Dro. S. O yes, If any hour meet a sergeant, a' turns back for
very fear.
Adr. As if time were in debt ! how fondly dost thou reason ?
Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he's
worth to season.
Nay, he's a thief, too : Have you not heard men say,
That time comes stealing on by night and day ?
If he be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in the way,
Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ?
* Marked by nature with deformity.
t The sheriff's officers of those days were clad in buff, which was also
a cant expression for a man's skin.
t Hell was the cant term for prison. } Bond.
P 2
212 COMEDY OF EBEOES. [ACT IT.
Re-enter LuciANA.
Adr. Go, Dromio ; there's the money, bear it straight ;
And bring thy master home immediately. —
Come, sister ; I am press'd down with conceit ;*
Conceit, my comfort and my injury. [Exeunt.
SCENE III— The same.
Enter Antipholtts of Syracuse.
Ant. S. There's not a man I meet but doth salute me
As if I were their well-acquainted friend ;
And every one doth call me by my name.
Some tender money to me, some invite me ;
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ;
Some oner me commodities to buy :
Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop,
And show'd me silks that he had bought for me,
And, therewithal took measure of my body.
Sure, these are but imaginary wiles,
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here.
Enter Deomio of Syracuse.
Dro. S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for : What, have
you got the picture of old Adam new apparelled ?
Ant. S. What gold is this ? what Adam dost thou mean ?
Dro. S. Not that Adam that kept the paradise, but that Adam
that keeps the prison : he that goes in the calf's skin that was
killed for the prodigal ; he that came behind you, Sir, like an
evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty.
Ant. S. I understand thee not.
Dro. S. No ? why, 'tis a plain case : he that went like a bass-
viol, in a case of leather ; the man, Sir, that, when gentlemen
are tired, gives them a fob, and 'rests them ; he, Sir, that takes
pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of durance ; he that
sets up his restf to do more exploits with his mace, than a morris-
pike.J
Ant. S. What ! thou mean'st an officer ?
Dro. S. Ay, Sir, the sergeant of the band ; he, that brings any
man to answer it, that breaks his band : one that thinks a man
always going to bed, and says, God give you good rest.
Ant. S. Well, Sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any
ship puts forth to-night ? may we be gone ?
Dro. S. Why. Sir, I brought you word, an hour since, that
the bark Expedition put forth to-night; and then were you
hindered by the sergeant, to tarry for the hoy, Delay : Here are
the angels that you sent for, to deliver you.
Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I ;
And here we wander in illusions :
Some blessed power deliver us from hence !
* Fanciful conception. t Is confident. t Moorish spear.
SCENE 111.1 COMEDY OF EBEOBS. 213
Enter a CouBTEZAN.
Cow. Well mot, well met, master Antipholus,
I see, Sir, you have found the goldsmith now ;
Is that the chain you promised me to-day ?
Ant. S. Satan, avoid ! I charge thee, tempt me not !
Dro. S. Master, is this Mistress Satan ?
Ant. S. It is the devil.
Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam ; and here she
comes in the habit of a light wench ; and thereof comes, that
the wenches say, God damn me, that's as much as to say, God
make me a ligJd tcenck. It is written, thej appear to men like
angels of light : light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn ; ergo,
light wenches will burn ; Come not near her.
Cow. Your man and you are marvellous merry, Sir.
Will you go with me ? We'll mend our dinner here.
J>ro. S. Master, if you do expect spoon-meat, or bespeak a long
spoon.
Ant. S. Why, Dromio ?
Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon, that must eat with
the devil.
Ant. S. Avoid then, fiend, why tell'st thou me of supping ?
Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress :
I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone.
Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner,
Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised ;
And I'll be gone, Sir, and not trouble you.
Dro. S. Some devils ask but the paring of one's nail.
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,
A nut, a cherrystone : but she, more covetous,
Would have a chain.
Master, be wise ; and if you give it her.
The devil will shake her chain and frignt us with it.
Cour. I pray you, Sir, the ring, or else the chain ;
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.
Ant. S. Avaunt, thou wi'.ch ! Come, Dromio, let us go.
Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacock : Mistress, that you know.
[Exeunt ANT. and DEO.
Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad,
Else would he never so demean himself:
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats,
And for the same he promised me a chain !
Both one and other he denies me now.
The reason that I gather he is mad
(Besides this present instance of his rage),
Is a mad tale, he told to-day at dinner,
Of his own doors being shut against his entrance.
Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits.
On purpose shut the doors against his way.
My way is now to hie home to his house,
And tell his wife, that, being lunatic,
He rushed into my house and took perforce
214 COMEDY OF EEEOES. [ACT IV.
My ring away : This course I fittest choose ;
For forty ducats is too much to lose. [Exit.
SCENE IV— The same.
Enter AntipholiTS of Ephesus and an OFFICER.
Ant. E. Fear me not, man, I will not break away ;
I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money
To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for.
My wife is in a wayward mood to day :
And will not lightly trust the messenger,
That I should be attach'd in Ephesus :
I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears. —
Enter DEOMIO of Ephesus with a rope's end.
Here comes my man ; I think he brings the money.
How now, Sir ? have you that I sent you for ?
Bro. E. Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all.
Ant. E. But where's the money ?
Dro. E. Why, Sir, I gave the money for the rope.
Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope ?
Dro. E. I'll serve you, Sir, five hundred at the rate.
Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home ?
Bro. E. To a rope's end, Sir ; and to that end am I return'd.
Ant. E. And to that end, Sir, I will welcome you.
[Beating him.
Offi. Good Sir, be patient.
Bro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient ; I am in adversity.
Offi. Good now, hold thy tongue.
Bro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands.
Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain !
Bro. E. I would I were senseless. Sir, that I might not feel
your blows.
Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an
ass.
Bro. E. I am an ass, indeed ; you may prove it by my long*
ears. I have served him from the hour of nativity to this instant,
and have nothing at his hands for my service, but blows : when
I am cold, he heats me with beating : when I am warm, he cools
me with beating : I am waked with it, when I sleep ; raised with
it, when I sit ; driven out of doors with it, when I go from home ;
welcomed home with it, when I return : nay, I bear it on my
shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat ; and, I think, when he hath
lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door.
Enter ADEIANA, LUCIANA, and tte CoUETEZAN, with PlNCH,
and others.
Ant. E. Come, go along ; my wife is coming yonder.
Bro. E. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end; or rather
the prophecy, like the parrot, Beivare the rope's end.
* J. e. lengthened by pulling-.
SCENE IV.] COMEDY OF EBEOES. 215
Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk ? [Beats him.
Cour. How say you now ? is not your husband mad ?
Adr. His incivility confirms no less. —
Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer;
Establish him in his true sense again,
And I will please you what you will demand.
Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks !
Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy.
Finch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse.
Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel your ear.
Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man,
To yield possesion to my holy prayers,
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight ;
I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven.
Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace, I am not mad.
Adr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul !
Ant. E. You minion you, are these your customers?
Did this companion* with a saffron face
Revel and feast it at my house to-day,
Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut,
And I denied to enter in my house ?
Adr. O, husband, God doth know, you dined at home,
Where 'would you had remained until this time,
Free from these slanders, and this open shame !
Ant. E. I dined at home ! Thou villain, what say'st thou ?
Dro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home.
Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I shut out ?
E-ro. E. Perdy,f your doors were lock'd, and you shut out.
Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there ?
Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself reviled you there.
Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me ?
Dro. E. Certes, she did - } the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you.
Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from thence ?
Dro. E. In verity you did ; — my bones bear witness,
That since have felt the vigour of his rage.
Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries ?
Pinch. It is no shame ; the fellow finds his vein,
And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy.
Ant. E. Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me.
Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem you,
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it.
Dro. E. Money by me ? heart and good-will you might,
But surely^master, not a rag of money.
Ant. E. Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats ?
Adr. He came to me, and I delivered it.
Luc. And I am witness with her, that she did.
Dro. E. God and the rope-maker, bear me witness,
That I was sent for nothing but a rope !
Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is possess'd :
I know it by their pale and deadly looks :
They must be bound, and laid in some dark room.
* Fellow. + I. e. pardieu.
216 COMEDY OF EEKOES. [ACT IT.
Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day,
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold ?
Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth.
Dro. E. And, gentle master, I received no gold ;
But I confess, Sir, that we were lock'd out.
Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both.
Ant. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all ;
And art confederate with a damned pack,
To make a loathsome abject scorn of me :
But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes,
That would behold in me this shameful sport.
[PlNCH and his assistants bind ANT. and DEOMIO.
Adr. O, bind him, bind him, let him not come near me.
Pinch. More company ; — the fiend is strong within him.
Luc. Ah me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks !
Ant. E. What, will you murder me ? Thou jailer, thou,
I am thy prisoner ; wilt thou suffer them
To make a rescue ?
Offi. Masters, let him go ;
He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him.
Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too.
Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish* officer ?
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man
Do outrage and displeasure to himself?
Offi. He is my prisoner ; if I let him go,
The debt he owes will be required of me.
Adr. I will discharge thee, ere I go from thee :
Bear me forthwith unto his creditor.
And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it.
Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd
Home to my house. — O most unhappy day !
Ant. E. O most unhappyt strumpet !
Dro. E. Master, I am here entered in bond for you.
Ant. E. Out on thee, villain ! wherefore dost thou mad me ?
Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing ? be mad,
Good master ; cry, the devil. —
Imc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk !
Adr. Go bear him hence. — Sister, go you with me. —
[ Exeunt PlNCH and assistants with ANT. and Deo.
Say now, whose suit is he arrested at ?
Offi. One Angelo, a goldsmith ; Do you know him ?
Adr. I know the man : What is the sum he owes ?
Offii. Two hundred ducats.
Adr. Say, how grows it due ?
Offi. Due for a chain, your husband had of him.
Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not
Cour. When as your husband, all in rage, to-day
Came to my house, and took away my ring
(The ring I saw upon his finger now),
Straight after, did I meet him with a chain.
Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it : —
* Foolish. t Mischievous.
SCENE IV.] COMEDY OF EEKOES. 217
Come, jailer, bring me where the goldsmith is,
I long to know the truth hereof at large.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, with his rapier drawn, and
DfiOMIO of Syracuse.
Luc. God, for thy mercy ! they are loose again. \
Adr. And come with naked swords ; let's call more help,
To have them bound again.
Offi. Away, they'll kill us. [Exeunt Offices, Ads. and Lire.
Ant. S. I see these witches are afraid of swords.
Dro. S. She, that would be your wife, now ran from you.
Ant. S. Come to the Centaur ; fetch our stuff from thence :
I long, that we were safe and sound aboard.
Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will surely do us no
harm ; you saw. they speak us fair, give us gold : methinks, they
are such a gentle nation, that but for the mountain of mad flesh
that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stay here
still, and turn witch.
Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town ;
Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.— The same.
Enter Mebchant awdANGELO.
Ang. I am sorry. Sir, that I have hinder'd you ;
But, I protest, he had the chain of me,
Though most dishonestly he doth deny it.
Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in the city ?
Ang. Of very reverend reputation, Sir,
Of credit infinite, highly beloved,
Second to none that lives here in the city ;
His word might bear my wealth at any time.
Mer. Speak softly : yonder, as I think, he walks.
Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DBOMIO of Syracuse.
Ang. 'Tis so ; and that self chain about his neck,
Which he forswore, most monstrously, to have.
Good Sir. draw near to me, I'll speak to him. —
Signior Antipholus, I wonder much
That you would put me to this shame and trouble ;
And not without some scandal to yourself,
With circumstance, and oaths, so to deny
This chain, which now you wear so openly :
Besides the charge, the shame, imprisonment,
You have done wrong to this my honest friend ;
Who. but for staying on our controversy,
Had hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day :
This chain you had of me, can you deny it ?
218 COMEDY OF EEEOBS. [ACT V.
Ant. S. I think, I had ; I never did deny it.
Mer. Yes, that you did, Sir ; and forswore it too.
Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it, or forswear it ?
Mer. These ears of mine, thou know'st, did hear thee :
Fie on thee, wretch ! 'tis pity, that thou liv'st
To walk where any honest men resort.
Ant. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me thus :
I'll prove mine honour, and mine honesty
Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand.
Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. {.They draw.
Enter Adeiana, Luciana, Coubtezan, and others.
Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake ; he is mad : —
Some get within him, take his sword away :
Bind Dromio too, and hear them to my house.
Dro. S. Run, master, run ; for God's sake, take* a house.
This is some priory ; — In, or we are spoil'd.
[Exeunt Antiph. and Deomio to the Priory.
Enter the ABBESS.
Ahb. Be quiet, people ; Wherefore throng you hither
Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband hence :
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast,
And bear him home for his recovery.
Ang. I knew, he was not in his perfect wits.
Mer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on him.
Abb. How long hath this possession held the man ?
Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, and sad,
And much, much different from the man he was ;
But, till this afternoon, his passion
Ne'er brake into extremity of rage.
Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck at sea ?
Buried some dear friend ? Hath not else his eye
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love?
A sin, prevailing much in youthful men,
Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing.
Which of these sorrows is he subject to ?
Adr. To none of these, except it be the last ;
Namely, some love, that drew him oft from home.
Abb. You should for that have reprehended him.
Adr. Why, so I did.
Abb. Ay, but not rough enough.
Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let me.
Abb. Haply, in private.
Adr. And in assemblies too.
Abb. Ay, but not enough.
Adr. It was the copyf of our conference :
In bed, he slept not for my urging it ;
At board, he fed not for my urging it ;
Alone, it was the subject of my theme ;
* J. e. go into. * Theme.
SCENE I.] COMEDY OF EEEOBS. 219
In company, I often glanced it ;
Still did I tell him it was Tile and bad.
Abb. And thereof came it, that the man was mad :
The venom clamours of a jealous woman
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing :
And thereof comes it that his head is light.
Thou say'st, his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings :
Unquiet meals make ill digestions,
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ;
And what's a fever but a fit of madness ?
Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls :
Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull melancholy
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair) ;
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ?
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast :
The consequence is then, thy jealous fits
Have scared thy husband from the use of wits.
Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly,
"When ho demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly. —
"Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not ?
Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. —
Good people, enter, and lay hold on him.
Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house.
Adr. Then, let your servants bring my husband forth.
Abb. Neither ; he took this place for sanctuary,
And it shall privilege him from your hands,
Till I have brought him to his wits again,
Or lose my labour in assaying it.
Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse,
Diet his sickness, for it is my office,
And will have no attorney but myself;
And therefore let me have him home with me.
Abb. Be patient ; for I will not let him stir,
Till I have used the approved means I have,
"With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers,
To make of him a formal* man again.
It is a branch and parcel of mine oath,
A charitable duty of my order ;
Therefore depart, and leave him here with me.
Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here ;
And ill it doth beseem your holiness.
To separate the husband and the wife.
Abb. Be quiet, and depart, thou shalt not have him.
[Exit Abbess.
Luc. Complain unto the duke of this indignity.
Adr. Come, go ; I will fall prostrate at his feet,
And never rise until my tears and prayers
* Sane.
220 COMEDY OF EEEOE8. i r ACT V.
Have won his grace to come in person hither,
And take perforce my husband from the abbess.
Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five :
Anon, I am sure, the duke himself in person
Comes this way to the melancholy vale ;
The place of death and sorry execution,
Behind the ditches of the abbey here.
Ang. Upon what cause ?
Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan merchant,
Who put unluckily into this bay
Against the laws and statutes of this town,
Beheaded publicly for his offence.
Ang. See, where they come; we will behold his death.
Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the abbey.
Enter Duke attended; iEGEON bare-headed ; with the Heads-
man and other officers.
Duke. Yet once again proclaim it publicly,
If any friend will pay the sum for him,
He shall not die, so much we tender him.
Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess !
Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady ;
It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong.
Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband, —
Whom I made lord of me and all I had,
At your important* letters, — this ill day
A most outrageous fit of madness took him ;
That desperately he hurried through the street
(With him his bondman, all as mad as he),
Loing displeasure to the citizens
By rushing in their houses, bearing thence
B/ings, jewels, anything his rage did like.
Once did I get him bound, and sent him home,
Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went,
That here and there his fury had committed.
Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,
He broke from those that had the guard of him ;
And, with his mad attendant and himself,
Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords,
Met us again, and, madly bent on us,
Chased us away ; till raising of more aid,
We came again to bind them : then they fled
Into this abbey, whither we pursued them ;
And here the abbess shuts the gates on us,
And will not suffer us to fetch him out.
Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence.
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command,
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help.
Duke. Long since, thy husband served me in my wars :
And I to thee engaged a prince's word,
When thou didst make him master of thy bed,
* Importunate.
SCENE I.] COMEDY OE EEEOES. 221
To do him all the grace and good I could. —
Go, some of you, knock at the ahbey-gate,
And bid the lady abbess come to me ;
I will determine this, before I stir.
Enter a SEEVANT.
Sere. O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself!
My master and his man are both broke loose,
Beaten the maids a-row, # and bound the doctor,
"Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire ;
And ever as it blazed, they threw on him
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair :
My master preaches patience to him, while
His man with scissars nicks himf like a fool :
And, sure, unless you send some present help,
Between them they will kill the conjurer.
Adr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here :
And that is false thou dost report to us.
Serv. Mistress, upon my hie, I tell you true ;
I have not breath'd almost, since I did see it.
He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you,
To scorch your face, and to disfigure you : [ Cry within.
Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress ; fly, be gone.
Duke. Come, stand by me. fear nothing : Guard with halberts.
Adr. Ah me, it is my husband ! Witness you,
That he is borne about invisible :
Even now we housed him in the abbey here ;
And now he's there, past thought of human reason.
Enter ANTIPHOLU8 and DBOMIO ofEphesus.
Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, grant me justice !
Even for the service that long since I did thee,
When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took
Deep scars to save thy life ; even for the blood
That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice.
Mge. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,
I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio.
Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there.
She whom thou gav^st to me to be my wife ;
That hath abused and dishonour'd me,
Even in the strength and height of injury !
Beyond imagination is the wrong,
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me.
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just.
Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me,
While she with harlots£ feasted in my house.
Duke. A grievous fault : Say, woman, didst thou so ?
Adr. No, my good lord ; — myself, he, and my sister,
* J\ e. one after another,
t J. <*. cuts his hair close.
♦ The term once included male cheats
222 COMEDY OF EEEOES. [ACT V.
To-day did dine together : So befall my soul,
As this is false, he burdens me withal !
Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night,
But she tells to your highness simple truth !
Ang. O perjured woman ! They are both forsworn.
In this the madman justly chargeth them.
Ant. JE. My liege, I am advised what I say :
Neither disturb'd with the effect of wine,
Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire,
Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad.
This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner :
That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her,
Could witness it, for he was with me then ;
Who parted with me to go fetch a chain,
Promising to bring it to the Porpentine,
Where Balthazar and I did dine together.
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither,
I went to seek him : in the street I met him ;
And in his company, that gentleman,
There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down,
That I this day of him received the chain,
Which, God he knows, I saw not : for the which,
He did arrest me with an officer.
I did obey ; and sent my peasant home
For certain ducats : he with none return'd.
Then fairly I bespoke the officer,
To go in person with me to my house.
By the way we met
My wife, her sister, and a rabble more
Of vile confederates ; along with them
They brought one Pinch ; a hungry lean-faced villain,
A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller ;
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man : this pernicious slave,
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer;
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse,
And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me,
Cries out, I was possess'd : then altogether
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence ;
And in a dark and dankish vault at home
There left me and my man, both bound together ;
Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder,
I gain'd my freedom, and immediately
Pan hither to your grace ; whom I beseech
To give me ample satisfaction
For these deep shames and great indignities.
Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him ;
That he dined not at home but was lock'd out.
Ihike. But had he such a chain of thee, or no ?
Ang. He had, my lord : and when he ran in here,
These people saw the chain about his neck.
8CENE I.] COMEDY OF EBEOES. 223
Mer. Besides, T will be sworn, these ears of mine
Heard you confess you had the chain of him,
After you first forswore it on the mart,
And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you ;
And then you fled into this abbey here,
From whence, I think you are come by miracle.
Ant. E. I never came within these abbey walls ;
Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me ;
I never saw the chain. So help me heaven !
As this is false you burden me withal.
Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this !
I think, you all have drunk of Circe's cup.
If here you housed bim, here he would have been ;
If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly : —
You say, he dined at home ; the goldsmith here
Denies that saying : — Sirrah, what say you ?
Dro. E. Sir, he dined witn her there, at the Porpentine.
Cow. He did ; and from my finger snatch'd that ring.
Ant. E. 'Tis true, my hege, this ring I had of her.
Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here ?
Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace.
Duke. Why, this is strange : — Go call the abbess hither ;
I think you are all mated,* or stark mad. [Exit an Attendant.
Mge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word :
Haply I see a friend will save my life,
And pay the sum that may deliver me.
Duke. Speak freely, Syracusan, what thou wilt.
Mge. Is not your name, Sir, called Antipholus ?
And is not that your bondman Dromio ?
Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, Sir,
But he, I thank him, guaw'd in two my cords ;
Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound.
Mge. I am sure, you both of you remember me.
Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, Sir, by you ;
For lately we were bound, as you are now.
You are not Pinch's patient, are you, Sir ?
Mge. Why look you strange on me, you know me well.
Ant. E. I never saw you in my life till now.
Mge. Oh ! grief hath changed me since you saw me last ;
And careful hours, with Time's deformedf hand
Have written strange defeatures! in my face :
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ?
Ant. E. Neither.
Mge. Dromio, nor thou ?
Dro. E. No, trust me, Sir, nor I.
Mge. I am sure, thou dost.
Dro. E. Ay, Sir ; but I am sure, I do not ; and whatsoever a
man denies, you are now bound to believe him.
Mge. Not know my voice ! O, time's extremity !
Hast thou so cracked and splitted my poor tongue,
* Confounded. t Deforming. t Disfigurements.
224 COMEDY OF EREOSS. [ACT V.
In seven short years, that here my only son
Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares f •
Though now this grainedf face of mine be hid
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,
And all the conduits of my blood froze up ;
Yet hath my night of life some memory.
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left,
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear :
All these old witnesses (I cannot err),
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus.
Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life.
Mge. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy,
Thou know'st we parted: but perhaps, my son,
Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery.
Ant. E. The Duke, and all that know me in the city,
Can witness with me that it is not so ;
I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life.
Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty years
Have I been patron to Antipholus,
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa :
I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote.
Enter the Abbess, with Antipholus Syracusan, and Deomio
Syracusan.
Abb. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wronged.
[All gather to see him.
Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me.
Duke. One of these men is Genius to the other ;
And so of these : Which is the natural man,
And which the spirit ? Who deciphers them ?
Dro. S. L Sir, am Dromio ; command him away.
Dro. E. L Sir, am Dromio, pray let me stay.
Ant. S. jEgeon, art thou not ? or else his ghost ?
Dro. S. O, my old master ! who hath bound him here ?
Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds,
And gain a husband by his liberty : —
Sneak, old iEgeon, if thou be'st the man
That hadst a wife once called ^Emilia,
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons :
O, if thou be'st the same iEgeon, speak,
And speak unto the same JEmilia !
Mge. If I dream not, thou art JEmilia ;
If thou art she, tell me, where is that son
That floated with thee on the fatal raft ?
Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I,
And the twin Dromio, all were taken up ;
But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth
By force took Dromio and my son from them,
And me they left with those of Epidamnum :
* Voice made feeble by elating cares. t Furrowed.
SCENE I.] COMEDY OF ERRORS. 225
"What then became of them, I cannot tell ;
I, to this fortune that you see me in.
Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right ;*
These two Antipholuses, these two so hke,
And these two Dromios, one in semblance, —
Besides her urging of her wreck at sea, —
These are the parents to these children,
"Which accidentally are met together.
Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first ?
Ant. S. No, Sir, not I ; I came from Syracuse.
Duke. Stay, stand apart ; I know not which is which.
Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord.
Dro E. And I with him.
Ant. E. Brought to this town with that most famous warrior
Duke Menaphon. your most renowned uncle.
Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day ?
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress.
Adr. And are you not my husband ?
Ant. E. No, I say nay to that.
Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so ;
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here,
Did call me brother : — What I told you then,
I hope I shall have leisure to make good;
If this be not a dream, I see, and hear.
Ang. That is the chain, Sir, which you had of me.
Ant. S. I think it be, Sir, I deny it not.
Ant. E. And you, Sir, for this chain arrested me.
Ang. I think I did, Sir ; I deny it not.
Adr. I sent you money, Sir, to be your bail,
By Dromio ; but I think he brought it not.
Dro. E. No, none by me.
Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received from you,
And Dromio my man did bring them me :
I see, we still did meet each other's man,
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me,
And thereupon these Errors are arose.
Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father hera
Duke. It shall not need, thy father hath his life.
Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from you.
Ant. E. There, take it ; and much thanks for my good cheer.
Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains
To go with us into the abbey here,
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes : —
And all that are assembled in this place,
That by this sympathized one day's error
Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company,
And we shall make full satisfaction, —
Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons ; and, till this present hour
* The morning story is what JEgeon tells the Duke in the first scene of
this play.
VOL. II. Q
226 COMEDY OF EEEOES. [ACT V.
My heavy burdens ne'er deliver'd.
The duke, my husband, and my children both,
And you the calendars of their nativity,
Go to a gossip's feast, and go with me ;
After so long grief, such nativity !
Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast.
[Exeunt Duke, Abbess, JEgeon, Cottetezan,
Meechant, ANGELO, and Attendants.
Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard ?
Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd ?
Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, Sir, in the Centaur.
Ant. S. He speaks to me : I am your master, Dromio :
Come, go with us : we'll look to that anon :
Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him.
[Exeunt ANT1PHOLUS S. and E., Al>B. and LXJC.
Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house,
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner ;
She now shall be my sister, not my wife.
Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother ;
I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
Will you walk in to see their gossiping ?
Dro. S. Not I, Sir ; you are my elder.
Dro. E. That's a question : how shall we try it ?
Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior : till then, lead thou
first.
Dro. E. Nay, then thus :
We came into the world, like brother and brother :
And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. [Exeunt*
MACBETH.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
DUNCAN, King of Scotland.
MALCOLM, i.. ~
DONALBAIN, ) hl * Son *-
MACBETH, \ Generals of the King's
BANQUO, 5 Army.
MACDUFF, -*
LENOX,
ROSSE, I Noblemen of Scot-
MENTETH, ( land.
ANGUS,
CATHNESS,-'
FLEANCE, Son to Banquo.
SIW'ARD, Earl of Northumberland,
General of the English Forces.
YOUNG SIWARD, his Son.
SEYTON, an Officer attending on
Macbeth.
Son to Macduff.
An English Doctoe. — A Scotch
Doctor.
A Soldier. — A Porter. — An Old
Man.
LADY MACBETH.
LADY MACDUFF.
Gentlewoman attending on Lady
HECATE, and three Witches.
Lords, Gentlemen, Opficers,
Soldiers, Murderers, Attend-
ants, and Messengers.
The Ghost of Banhuo, and seve-
ral other Apparitions.
Scene, in the end of the fourth act, lies in England ; through
the rest of the play, in Scotland ; and, chiefly, at Macbeth's
Castle.
ACT I.
SCENE I.— An open Place.
Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.
1 Witch. When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain ?
2 Witch. When the hurlyburly 's done,
When the battle 'b lost and won :
3 Witch. That will be ere set of sun.
1 Witch. Where the place ?
2 Witch. Upon the heath :
3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth.
1 Witch. I come, Graymalkin !
228 MACBETH. [ACT I.
All. Paddock* calls :— Anon. —
Fair is foul, and foul is fair :
Hover through the fog and filthy air. [Witches vanish.
SCENE II. — A camp near Fores.
Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain,
LENOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding SOLDIEli.
Dun. What bloody man is that ? He can report,
As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt
The newest state.
Mai. This is the sergeant,
Who, like a good and hardy soldier, fought
'Gainst my captivity : — Hail, brave friend !
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil,
As thou didst leave it.
Sold. Doubtfully it stood ;
As two spent swimmers, that do cling together,
And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald
( Worthy to be a rebel ; for, to that,
The multiplying villanies of nature
Do swarm upon him) from the western isles
Of Kernes and Gallowglassesf is supplied ;
And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling,
Show'd like a rebel's whore : But all's too weak :
For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name),
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,
Which smoked with bloody execution,
Like valour's minion,
Carved out his passage, till he faced the slave ;
And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,
Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,
And fix'd his head upon our battlements.
Dun. O, valiant cousin ! worthy gentleman !
Sold. As whence the sun 'gins his reflection,
Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break ;
So from that spring, whence comfort seem'd to come,
Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark :
No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd,
Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heels;
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage,
With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men,
Began a fresh assault.
Dun Dismay'd not this
Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo ?
Sold. Yes;
As sparrows, eagles ; or the hare, the lion.
If I say sooth, I must report they were
As cannons overcharged with double cracks ;
So they
Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe :
* A toad. t Light and heavy armed troops.
SCENE III.] MACBETH. 229
Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds,
Or memorize* another Golgotha,
I cannot tell :
But I am faint, my gashes cry for help.
Dun. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds ;
They smack of honour both :— Go, get him surgeons.
[Exit Soldieb, attended.
Enter EOSSE.
"Who comes here ?
MaL The worthy thane of Rosse.
Len. What a haste looks through his eyes ! So should he look,
That seems to speak things strange.
Rosse. God save the king !
Dun. "Whence cam'st thou, worthy thane ?
Rosse. From Fife, great king,
"Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky,
And fan our people cold.
Norway himself, with terrible numbers,
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor
The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict :
Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,t
Confronted him with self^compansonSj
Point against point rebellious, arm "gainst arm,
Curbing his lavish spirit : And, to conclude,
The victory fell on us ;
Dun. Great happiness !
Rosse. That now
Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition ;
Nor would we deign him burial of his men,
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes' inch,
Ten thousand dollars to our general use.
Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive
Our bosom interest : — Go, pronounce his death,
And with his former title greet Macbeth.
Rosse. I'll see it done.
Dun. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won. [Exeunt.
SCEXE III— A Heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1 Witch. "Where hast thou been, sister ?
2 Witch. Killing swine.
3 Witch. Sister, where thou?
1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And mounch'd and mounch'd, and mounch'd : — Oive me, quoth I :
Aroint thee,X witch ! the rump-fed ronyon§ cries.
Her husband 's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger :
But in a sieve I'll thither saiL
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
* Make memorable. t Armour. t Avaunt.
S A scurvy woman fed on offals.
230 MACBETH. [ACT I.
2 Witch. I'll give thee a wind.
1 Witch. Thou art kind.
3 Witch. And I another.
1 Witch. I myself have all the other ;
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I 5 the shipman's card*
I will drain him dry as hay :
Sleep shall, neither night nor day,
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid :f
"Weary sev'n-nights, nine times nine,
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine :
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-toss'd.
Look what I have.
2 Witch. Show me, show me.
1 Witch. Here I have a pilot's thumb,
Wreck'd, as homeward he did come. [Drum ivithin.
3 Witch. A drum, a drum ;
Macbeth doth come.
All. The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about ;
Thrice to thine ; and thriceHo mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine :
Peace ! — the charm 's wound up.
Enter Macbeth and Banquo.
Mach. So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores ? — What are these,
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ;
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on't ? Live you ? or are you aught
That man may question ? You seem to understand me,
By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips :— You should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so.
Macb. Speak, if you can ; — What are you ?
1 Witch. AH hail, Macbeth ! hail to thee, thane of Glamis !
2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth ! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor !
3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth ! that shalt be king hereafter.
Ban. Good Sir, why do you start ; and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair ? — I' the name of truth,
Are ye fantastical^ or that indeed
Which outwardly ye show ? My noble partner
You greet with present grace, and great prediction
Of noble having,§ and of royal hope,
* Sailor's chart. t Accursed.
X Creatures of the imagination. S Estate.
•SCENE III.] MACBETH. 231
That he seems rapt withal ; to me you speak not :
If you can look into the seeds of time,
And say, which grain will grow, and which will not ;
Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear,
Your favours, nor your hate.
1 Witch. Hail!
2 Witch. Hail !
3 Witch. Hail !
1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier.
3 Witch. Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none :
So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo !
1 Witch. Banquo, and Macbeth, all hail !
Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more :
By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of Glamis ;
But how of Cawdor ? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman ; and, to be king,
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence ? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting ?— Speak, I charge you.
[Witches vanish.
Ban. The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them : — Whither are they vanish'd ?
Macb. Into the air ; and what seem'd corporal, melted
As breath into the wind. — 'Would they had staid !
Ban. Were such things here, as we do speak about ?
Or have we eaten of the insane root,*
That takes the reason prisoner ?
Macb. Your children shall be kings.
Ban. You shall be king. _
Macb. And thane of Cawdor too : went it not-so ?
Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. Who's here ?
Enter Eosse and ANGUS.
Eosse. The king hath happily received, Macbeth,
The news of thy success : and when he reads
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight,
His wonders and his praises do contend,
Which should be thine, or his : Silenced with that,
In viewing o'er the rest o' the self-same day,
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks,
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make,
Strange images of death. As thick as hail,
Came post with post ; and every one did bear
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence,
And pour'd them down before him.
Ang. We are sent,
To give thee, from our royal master, thanks ;
To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee.
* Henbane.
232 MACBETH. [ACT I.
Bosse. And, for an earnest of a greater honour,
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor
In which addition,* hail, most worthy thane !
For it is thine.
Ban. What, can the devil speak true ?
Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives; Why do you dress me
In borrow'd robes ?
Ang. Who was the thane, lives yet ;
But under heavy judgment bears that life
Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was
Combined with Norway; or did line the rebel
With hidden help and vantage ; or that with both
He labour'd in his country's wreck, 1 know not ;
But treasons capital, confess'd, and proved,
Have overthrown him.
Macb. Glamis, the thane of Cawdor :
The greatest is behind. — Thanks for your pains. —
Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me,
Promised no less to them ?
Ban. That, trusted home,f
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor : But 'tis strange :
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness - tell us truths ;
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence. —
Cousins, a word, I pray you.
Macb. Two truths are told,
As happy prologues to the swelling act
Of the imperial theme. — I thank you, gentlemen. —
This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor :
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion J
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated § heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature ? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings :
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single || state of man, that function
Is smother'd in surmise ; and nothing is,
But what is not.
Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt.
Macb. If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,
Without my stir.
Ban. New honours come upon him
Like our strange garments ; cleave not to their mould,
But with the aid of use.
* Title. t Completely. t Temptation.
{ Firmly fixed. I Weak.
SCENE IT.] MACBETH. 288
Macb. Come what, come may ;
Time and the hour* runs through the roughest day.
Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
Macb. Give me your favour :f — my dull brain was wrought
With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains
Are register'd where every day I turn
The leaf to read them. — Let us toward the king. —
Think upon what hath chanced : and, at more time,
The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak
Our free hearts each to other.
Ban. Very gladly.
Macb. Till then, enough.— Come, friends. [Exeunt.
SCENE IK— Fores. A Room in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox,
and Attendants.
Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor ? Are not
Those in commission yet return'd ?
Mai. My liege,
They are not yet come back. But I have spoke
With one that saw him die : who did report,
That very frankly he confess'd his treasons ;
Implored your highness' pardon ; and set forth
A deep repentance : nothing in his life
Became hinL like the leaving it ; he died
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he owed^
As 'twere a careless trifle.
Dun. There's no art,
To find the mind's construction? in the face :
He was a gentleman on whom I built
An absolute trust. — O worthiest cousin !
Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Eosse, and Angus.
The sin of my ingratitude even now
Was heavy on me ; Thou art so far before,
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less deserved ;
Tliat the proportion both of thanks and payment
Might have been mine ! only I have left to say,
More is thy due than more than all can pay.
Macb. The services and the loyalty I owe.
In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part
Is to receive our duties : and our duties
Are to your throne and state, children, and servants ;
Which do but what they should, by doing everything
Safe toward your love and honour.
* Opportunity. t Pardon.
i Owned. $ Construing.
234 MACBETH. [ACT I.
Dun. Welcome hither :
I have begun to plant thee, and will labour
To make thee full of growing. — Noble Banquo,
That hast no less deserved, nor must be known
No less to have done so, let me infold thee,
And hold thee to my heart.
Ban. There if I grow,
The harvest is your own.
Bun. My plenteous joys,
"Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow. — Sons, kinsmen, thanes,
And you whose places are the nearest, know,
We will establish our estate upon
Our eldest, Malcolm ; whom we name hereafter,
The prince of Cumberland : which honour must
Not, unaccompanied, invest him only.
But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine
On all deservers. — From hence to Inverness,
And bind us further to you.
Macb. The rest is labour, which is not used for you :
I'll be myself the harbinger, and make joyful
The hearing of my wife with your approach ;
So, humbly take my leave.
Dun. My worthy Cawdor !
Macb. The prince of Cumberland ! — That is a step,
On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, [Aside.
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires !
Let not light see my black and deep desires :
The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. [Exit.
Dun. True, worthy Banquo ; he is full so valiant ;*
And in his commendations I am fed ;
It is a banquet to me. Let us after him,
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome :
It is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE Y.— Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's Castle.
Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter.
Lady M. They met me in the day of success ; and I have learned
by the perfectest report^ they have more in them than mortal
knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further,
they made themselves — air, into which they vanished. Whiles I
stood rapt in the ivonder of it, came missives from the king, who
all-hailed me, Thane of Cawdor; by tohich title, before, these
weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of
time, with, Hail, king that shalt be ! This have I thought good to
<H deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness ; that thou mightest
ty not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of tvhat greatness
( | is promised thee. Day it to thy heart, and farewell.
* As described. t The best intelligence.
SCENE T.j MACBETH. 233
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor ; and shalt be , >
What thou art promised: — Yet do I fear thy nature ;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, ' **
To catch the nearest way : Thou wouldst be great ; iC
Art not without ambition ; but without
The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win : thou'dst have, great Glamis,
That which cries, Thus thou must do, if thou have it ;
And that which rather thou dost fear to do.
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither,
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear ;
And chastise with the valour of my tongue
All that impedes thee from the golden round*
Which fate and metaphysicalf aid doth seem
To have thee crown'd withal. What-is your tidings ? Z*
Enter an ATTENDANT.
Attend. The king comes here to-night.
Lady M. Thou'rt mad to say it :
Is not thy master with him ? who, weft so,
Would have inform'd for preparation.
Attend. So please you, it is true ; our thane is coming :
One of my fellows had the speed of him :
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would make up his message.
Lady AT. Give him tending, ,_^
He brings great news. The raven himself is hoarse, » "*
[Exit Attendant.
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits ~g°)
That tend on mortal J thoughts, unsex me here ;
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full
Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood,
Stop up the access and passage to remorse ;§
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
The effect, and it ! Come to my woman's breasts,
And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers,
Wherever in your sightless substances
You wait on nature's mischief ! Come, thick night,
And pall || thee in the dunnest smoke of hell !
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes :
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry, Sold, Mold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor !
Enter Macbeth.
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter !
Thy letters have transported me beyond
* Diadem. t Supernatural. t Fatal, murderous.
» Pity. | Wrap.
236 macbeth. Tact i.
This ignorant present, and I feel now
The future in the instant.
Macb. My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to-night.
Lady M. And when goes hence ?
Macb. To-morrow, — as he purposes.
Lady M. O, never
Shall sun that morrow see !
Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men
May read strange matters : — To beguile the time,
Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it. He that's coming
Must be provided for : and you shall put
This night's great business into my despatch ;
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
Macb. We will speak further.
Lady M. Only look up clear ;
To alter favour* ever is to fear :
Leave all the rest to me. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.— The same. Before the Castle.
Hautboys. — Servants of Macbeth attending.
Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banqtjo, Lenox,
Macduff, Eosse, Angus, and Attendants.
Dun. This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.
Ban. This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath,
Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, buttress.
Nor coigne of 'vantage,! but this bird hath made
His pendent bed. and procreant cradle : Where they
Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air
Is delicate.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
Bun. See, see ! our honour'd hostess :
The love that follows us, sometime is our trouble,
Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you.
How you shall bid God yield J us for your pains,
And thank us for your trouble.
Lady M. All our service
In every point twice done, and then done double,
Were poor and single business, to contend
Against those honours deep and broad, wherewith
Your majesty loads our house : for those of old,
* Countenance. t Convenient corner. . X Reward-
SCENE VII.] MACBETH. 237
And the late dignities heap'd up to them,
"We rest your hermits.*
I)un. "Where's the thane of Cawdor ?
"We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose
To be his purveyor : but he rides well •
And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him
To his home before us : Fair and noble hostess,
"We are your guest to-night.
Lady M. Your servants ever
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt,
To make their audit at your highness' pleasure,
Still to return your own.
Dun. Give me your hand :
Conduct me to mine host ; we love him highly,
And shall continue our graces towards him.
Ey your leave, hostess. [Exeunt.
SCENE VIL—The same. A Room in the Castle.
Hautboys and torches. Enter, and pass over the stage, a Setcer,f
and divers Servants with dishes and service. Then enter
Macbeth.
Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly : If the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
"With his surcease, success ; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here.
Eut here, upon this bank and shoal of time, —
AVe'd jump the life to come. — Eut, in these cases,
We still have judgment here ; that we but teach
Eloody instructions, which, being taught, return
To plague the inventor : This even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips. He's here in double trust :
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed : then, as his host,
"Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties Z so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
"Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-otf :
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless couriers § of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind. — I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'er-ieaps itself,
And falls on the other. — How now, what news ?
* Beadsmen ; prayers. t Dish-placer. t Power. J Winds.
238 MACBETH. [ACT I.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M. He has almost supp'd; "Why have you left the
• chamber ?
Macb. Hath he asked for me ?
Lady M. Know you not, he has ?
Macb. We will proceed no further in this business :
He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people,
"Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,
Not cast aside so soon.
Lady M. Was the hope drunk,
"Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since ?
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale
At what it did so freely ? From this time
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem ;
Letting I dare not wait upon I would,
Like the poor cat i' the adage ?*
Macb. iYythee, peace :
I dare do all that may become a man ;
Who dares do more is none.
Lady M. What beast was it then,
That made you break this enterprize to me ?
When you durst do it, then you were a man ;
And, to be more than what you were, you would
lie so much more the man. Nor time, nor place,
Did then adhere,f and yet you would make both :
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck; and know
How tender 'tis, to love the babe that milks me :
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
Have done to this.
Macb. If we should fail,
Lady M. We fail !
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep
(Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey
Soundly invite him), his two chamberlains
Will I with wine and wassel so convince,!
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume ; and the receipt§ of reason
A limbeck || only: When in swinish sleep
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death,
What cannot you and I perform upon
* " The cat would eat fish, but dare not wet her feet."
t Cohere. t Overpower. $ Receptacle. || Alembic ; funnel.
SCENE VII.] MACBETH. 239
The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon
His spongy officers ; who shall bear the guilt
Of our great quell ?*
Macb. Bring forth men-children only !
For thy undaunted metal should compose
Nothing but males. Will it not be received,
"When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two
Of his own chamber, and used their very daggers,
That they have don't ?
Lady M. Who dares receive it other,
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar
Upon his death ?
Macb. I am settled, and bend up
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
Away, and mock the time with fairest show :
False face must hide what the false heart doth know. [ Exeunt.
ACT II
SCENE I. — The same. Court urithin the Castle.
Enter Banquo and FLEANCE, and a Servant, with a torch before
them.
Ban. How goes the night, boy ?
Fie. The moon is down ; I have not heard the clock.
Ban. And she goes down at twelve.
Fie. I take't, 'tis later, Sir.
Ban. Hold, take my sword : There's husbandryf in heaven,
Their candles are all out. — Take thee that too.
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,
And yet I would not sleep : Merciful powers !
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that nature
Gives way to in repose ! — Give me my sword ; —
Enter Macbeth, and a Servant with a torch.
Who's there ?
Macb. A friend.
Ban. What, Sir, not yet at rest ? The king's a-bed :
He hath been in unusual pleasure, and
Sent forth great largess to your offices ; J
This diamond he greets your wife withal,
By the name of most kind hostess ; and shut up§
In measureless content.
Macb. Being unprepared,
Our will became the servant to defect;
Which else should free have wrought.
* Murder. t Thrift. t Servants' rooms. § Conclude.
240 MACBETH. [ACT II.
Ban. All's well.
I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters :
To you they have show'd some truth.
Macb. I think not of them :
Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve,
"Would spend it in some words upon that business,
If you would grant the time.
Ban. At your kind'st leisure.
Macb. If you shall cleave to my consent, — when 'tis,
It shall make honour for you.
Ban. So I lose none,
In seeking to augment it, but still keep
My bosom franchised, and allegiance clear,
I shall be counsell'd.
Macb. Good repose, the while !
Ban. Thanks, Sir, the like to you ! > [Exit P>ANQUO.
Macb. Go, bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready,
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. [Exit Servant.
Is this a dagger which I see before me.
The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee :
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling, as to sight ? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind ; a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this, which now I draw.
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest : I see thee still ;
And on thy blade, and dudgeon,* gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. — There's no such thing ;
It is the bloody business, which informs
Thus to mine eyes. — Now o'er the one half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep ; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf.
"Whose howl 's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
"With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design,
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. — Whiles I threat, he lives ;
"Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. [A bell rings.
I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell. [Exit.
8CEXEI.] MACBETH. . 341
Enter Lady MACBETH.
Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me
bold:
What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire. — Hark ! — Peace !
It was the owl that shriek'd, the Fatal bellman.
Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it.
The doors are open ; and the surfeited grooms
Do mock their charge with snores : I have drugg'd their possets,
That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live,or die.
Macb. [within] . Who's there ?— what, ho !
Lady M. Alack ! I am afraid they have awaked.
And 'tis not done : — the attempt, and not the deed,
Confounds us : — Hark ! — I laid their daggers ready,
He could not miss them. — Had he not resembled
My father as he slept, I had done 't — My husband ?
Enter MACBETH.
Macb. I have done the deed : — Didst thou not hear a noise ?
Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.
Did you not speak ?
Macb. When ?
Lady M. Now.
Macb. As I descended ?
Lady M. Ay.
Macb. Hark !—
Who lies i' the second chamber ?
Lady M. Donalbain.
Macb. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.
Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried murder !
That they did wake each other ; I stood and heard them :
But they did say their prayers, and address'd them
Again to sleep.
Lady M. There are two lodged together.
Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Amen, the other;
As* they had seen me, with these hangman's hands.
Listening their fear, I could not say, Amen,
When they did say, God bless us.
Lady M. Consider it not so doeDly.
Maeb. But wherefore could not 1 pronounce, Amen ?
I had most need of blessing, and Amen
Stuck in my throat.
Lady M. These deeds must not be thought
After these ways ; so it will make us mad.
Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more !
Macbeth does murder sleep, Vie innocent sleep ;
Sleep, that knits up the racell'd sleave\ of care,
* As if. t Unwrought silk.
VOL.!!. S
242 MACBETH. [ACT II.
Tlte death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast ;
Lady M. What do you mean ?
Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more ! to all the house :
Glamis hath murder d sleep ; and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall sleep no more !
Lady M. Who was it that thus cried ? Why, worthy thane,
Tou do unbend your noble strength, to think
So brainsickly of things : — Go, get some water,
And wash this filthy witness from your hand. —
Why did you bring these daggers from the place ?
They must lie there : Go, carry them ; and smear
The sleepy grooms with blood.
Macb. I'll go no more :
I am afraid to think what I have done ;
Look on't again, 1 dare not.
Lady M. Infirm of purpose !
Give me the daggers : The sleeping, and the dead,
Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood,
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt. [Exit. Knocking ivithin.
Macb. Whence is that knocking ?
How is't with me, when every noise appals me ?
What hands are here ? Ha ! they pluck out mine eyes !
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnardine,*
Making the green— one red.
'Re-enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M. My hands are of your colour ; but I shame
To wear a heart^o white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking
At the south entry : — retire we to our chamber :
A little water clears us of this deed :
How easy is it then ! Your constancy
Hath left you unattended. — [Knocking.] Hark ! more knocking :
Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us,
And show us to be watchers : — Be not lost
So poorly in your thoughts.
Macb. To know my deed, — 'twere best not know myself.
[Knock.
Wake Duncan with thy knocking ! Ay, would thou couldst !
[Exeunt.
Enter a POETEE. — [Knocking within."]
Port. Here's a knocking, indeed ! If a man were porter of hell-
fate, he should have oldf turning the key. [Knocking.] Knock,
nock, knock : Who's there, i' the name of Belzebub ? Here's a
farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty : Come
* Stain of a flesh colour. t Frequent.
SCENE I.] MACBETH. 243
in time ; have napkins* enough about you ; here you'll sweat fort.
[Knocking.! Knock, knock : Who's there, i' the devil's name ?
Taith here s an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales
against either scale ; who committed treason enough for God's
sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven : O, come in, equivoca-
tor. [Knocking.'] Knock, knock, knock: Who's there? 'Faith
here's an English tailor come hither for stealing out of a French
hose : Come in, tailor ; here you may roast your goose. [Knocking.']
Knock, knock : Never at quiet ! What are you ? — But this place
is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further : I had thought
to have let in some of all professions, that go the primrose way to
the everlasting bonfire. [ Knocking.] Anon, anon ; I pray you,
remember the porter. [ Opens the gate.
Enter Macduff and Lenox.
Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed,
That you do lie so late ?
Port. 'Faith, Sir, we were carousing till the second cock :f and
drink, Sir, is a great provoker of three things.
Macd. What three things does drink especially provoke ?
Port. Marry, Sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery,
Sir, it provokes, and unprovokes : it provokes the desire, but it
takes away the performance : Therefore, much drink may be
said to be an equivocator with lechery : it makes him, and it mars
him ; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and
disheartens him ; makes him stand to, and not stand to : in con-
clusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves
him.
Macd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last night.
Port. That it did. Sir, i' the very throat o' me : But I requited
him for his he ; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he
took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him.
Macd. Is thy master stirring ? —
Our knocking has awaked him ; here he comes.
Enter MACBETH.
Len. Good-morrow, noble Sir !
Macb. Good-morrow, both !
Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane ?
Macb. Not yet.
Macd. He aid command me to call timely on him ;
I have almost slipp'd the hour.
Macb. I'll bring you to him.
Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to you ;
But yet, 'tis one.
Macb. The labour we delight in, physics pain.
This is the door.
Macd. I'll make so bold to call,
For 'tis my limited % service. [Exit Macduff.
Len. Goes the king
From hence to-day ?
* Handkerchiefs. t Cockcrowing. t Appointed.
B 2
244 MACBETH. [ACT II.
Macb. He does : — He did appoint it so.
Len. The night has been unruly : Where we lay,
Our chimneys were blown down : and, as they say,
Lamentings heard i' the air ; strange screams of death;
And prophesying, with accents terrible,
Of dire combustion, and confused events.
New hatch' d to the woeful time. The obscure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night : some say, the earth
Was feverous, and did shake.
Macb. 'Twas a rough night.
Len. My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.
% Re-enter Macduff.
Macd. O horror ! horror ! horror ! Tongue, nor heart,
Cannot conceive nor name thee !
Macb. Len. What's the matter ?
Macd. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece !
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The I/ord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building.
Macb. What is't you say ? the life ?
Len. Mean you his majesty ?
Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight
With a new Gorgon : — Do not bid me speak ;
See, and then speak yourselves. — Awake ! awake !—
f Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox.
Ring the alarum-bell : — Murder ! and treason !
Banquo, and Doualbain ! Malcolm! awake!
Shake on' this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself ! — up, up, and see
The great doom's image ? -Malcolm ! Banquo !
As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights,
To countenance this horror ! [Sell rings.
Enter Lady Macbeth.
Lady M. What's the business.
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? speak, speak.
Macd. O, gentle lady,
'Tis not for you to bear what I can speak :
The repetition, in a woman's ear,
Would murder as it fell. O Banquo ! Banquo !
Enter Banquo.
Our royal master's murder'd !
Lady M. Woe, alas !
What, in our house ?
Ban. Toe cruel, anywhere.
Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself,
And say it is not so.
SCKJTE L] MACBETH. 245
He-enter Macbeth and Lenox.
Mac b. Had I but died an hour before this chance,
I had lived a blessed time ; for from this instant,
There's nothing serious in mortality :
All is but toys : renown and grace, is dead ;
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees
Is left this vault to brag of.
Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN.
Don. "What is amiss ?
Macb. You are, and do not know it :
The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood
Is stopp'd : the very source of it is stopp'd.
Macd. Your royal father's murder'a.
Mai. O, by whom ?
Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done't :
Their hands and faces were all badged witn blood
So were their daggers, which unwiped we found
Upon their pillows :
They stared, and were distracted ; no man's life
Was to be trusted with them.
• Macb. O, yet I do repent me of my fury,
That I did kill them.
Macd. Wherefore did you so ?
Macb. Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious,
Loyal and neutral, in a moment ? No man :
The expedition of my violent love
Out-ran the pauser reason. — Here lay Duncan,
His silver skin laced withliis golden blood ;
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature,
For ruin s wasteful entrance : there, the murderers,
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers
Unmannerly breach'd with gore :* Who could refrain,
That had a heart to love, ana in that heart
Courage to make his love known ?
Lady M. Help me hence, ho !
Macd. Look to the lady.
Mai. Why do we hold our tongues.
That most may claim this argument for ours ?
Don. What should be spoken here,
Where our fate, hid within an augre-hole,
May rush, and seize us ? Let's away ; our tears
Are not yet brew'd.
Mai. Nor our strong sorrow on
The foot of motion.
Ban. Look to the lady : — [Lady Macbeth is carried out.
And when we have our naked frailties hid,
That suffer in exposure, let us meet,
And question this most bloody piece of work,
* Covered to their hilt.
246 MACBETH. [ACT IL
To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us :
In the great hand of God I stand ; and, thence
Against the undivulged pretence* I fight
OF treasonous malice.
Macb. And so do I.
All. So all.
Macb. Let's briefly put on manly readiness,
And meet i' the hall together.
All. Well contented. {Exeunt all hut Mal. and DON.
Mai. What will you do ? Let's not consort with them :
To show an unfelt sorrow, is an office
Which the false man does easy : I'll to England.
Don. To Ireland, I ; our separated fortune
Shall keep us both the safer : where we are,
There's daggers in men's smiles : the near in blood,t
The nearer bloody.
Mal. This murderous shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted ; and our safest way
Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse ;
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking,
But shift away : There's warrant in that theft
Which steals itself when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt.
SCENE IL— Without the Castle.
Enter Rosse and an old Man.
Old M. Threescore and ten I can remember well :
Within the volume of which time, I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange ; but this sore night
Hath trifled former knowings.
Eosse. Ah, good father,
Thou see'st the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
Threaten his bloody stage : by the clock, 'tis day,
And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp :
Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame,
That darkness does the face of earth entomb,
When living light should kiss it ?
Old M. 'Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd.
Rosse. And Duncan's horses (a thing most strange and certain),
Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
War with mankind.
Old M. 'Tis said, they eat each other.
Rosse. They did so : to the amazement of mine eyes,
That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff: ■
* Intention, t Macbeth was Duncan's cousin.
SCENE II.] MACBETH. 247
'Enter Macduff.
How goes the world, Sir, now ?
Macd. Why, see you not ?
Eosse. Is't known who did this more than hloody deed ?
Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain.
Eosse. Alas, the day !
What good could they pretend ?*
Macd. They were suborn'd :
Malcolm, and Donalbain, the king's two sons.
Are stol'n away and fled ; which puts upon them
Suspicion of the deed.
Eosse. 'Gainst nature still :
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up
Thine own life's means ! — Then 'tis most like, J
The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth.
Macd. He is already named ; and gone to Scone, /
To be invested. /
Eosse. Where is Duncan's body ? /
Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill ;
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors,
And guardian of their bones.
Eosse. Will you to Scone ?
Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife.
Eosse. Well, I will thither.
Macd. Well, may you see things well done there ; — adieu !— -
Lest our old robes sit easier than our new !
Eosse. Father, farewell.
Old M. God's benison go with you : and with those
That would make good of bad, and friends of foes ! [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCE2n2 1. — Fores. A Eoom in the Palace.
Enter BanQUO.
Ban. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weird women promised : and, I fear,
Thou play'dst most foully fort : yet it was said,
It should not stand in thy posterity ;
But that myself should be the root, and father
Of many kings. If there come truth from them
(As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine),
Why, by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my oracles as well,
And set me up in hope ? But hush ; no more.
* Intend.
248 MACBETH. [ACT III.
Senet sounded. Enter Macbeth, as King ; La by Macbeth,
as Queen ; Lenox, Rosse, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants.
Manb. Here's our chief guest.
Lady M. If he had been forgotten,
It had been as a gap in our great feast,
And all things unbecoming.
Macb. To-night we hold a solemn supper, Sir,
And I'll request your presence.
Ban. Let your highness
Command upon me; to the which, my duties
Are with a most indissoluble tie
"For ever knit.
Macb. Bide you this afternoon ?
Ban. Ay, my good lord.
Matb. We should have else desired your good advice
(Whicx. still hath been both grave and prosperous),
In this clay's council ; but we'll take to-morrow.
Is't far you ride ?
Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the time
'Twixt this ^id supper : go not my horse the better,
I must becomb a borrower of the night,
For a dark hour or twain.
Macb. Pail not our feast.
Ban. My lord, I will not.
Macb. We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd
In England, and in Ireland ; not confessing
Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers
"With strange invention : But of that to-morrow ;
When, therewithal, we shall have cause of state,
Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse : Adieu,
Till you return at night. Goes Meance with you ?
Ban. Ay, my good lord : our time does call upon us.
Macb. I wish your horses swift, and sure of foot;
And so I do commend you to their backs.
Farewell. [Exit Banqtto.
Let every man be master of his time
Till seven at night ; to make society
The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself
Till supper-time alone : while then, God be with you.
[Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, S(c.
Sirrah, a word : Attend those men our pleasure ?
Atten. They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
Macb. Bring them before us. — [Exit Atten. J To be thus is
nothing ;
But to be safely thus : — Our fears in Banquo
Stick deep ; and in his royalty of nature
Keigns that, which would be fear'd : 'Tis much he dares ;
And, to that dauntless temper of his mind,
He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour
To act in safety. There is none, but he
Whose being I do fear : and, under him,
My genius is rebuked; as, it is said,
SCENE I.] MACBETH. 249
Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters,
When first they put the Dame of King upon nie,
And bade them speak to him ; then, prophet like,
They hail'd him father to a line of kings :
Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,
Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding. If it be so.
For Banquo's issue have I 'filed* my miud ;
For them the gracious Duncan have I murder d ;
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace
Only for them ; and mine eternal jewel
Given to the common enemy of man.
To make them kings, the seed of Can quo kings !
Rather than so, come, fate, into the list,
And champion me to the utterance !f — Who's there ? —
Re-enter ATTENDANT with two MufiDEBEBS.
Now to the door, and stay there till we call.
[Exit Attendant.
"Was it not yesterday we spoke together ?
1 Mur. It was, so please your highness.
Macb. "Well then, now
Have you considered of my speeches ? Know,
That it was he, in the times past, which held you
So under fortune; which, you thought, had been
Our innocent self : this I made good to you
In our last conference ; pass'd in probation! with you,
How you were borne in band: § how cross'd: the instruments;
"Who wrought with them ; and all things else, that might,
To half a soul, and a notion crazed,
Say, Thus did Banquo.
1 Mur. You made it known to us.
Macb. I did so ; and went further, which is now
Our point of second meeting. Do you find
Your patience so predominant in your nature.
That you can let this go ? Are you so Gospell'd,
To pray for that good man, and for his issue,
"Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave,
And beggar'd yours for ever ?
1 Mur. "We are men, my liege.
Macb. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men ;
As hounds, and greyhounds mongrels, spaniels, curs,
Shoughs, || water-rugs, aud demi-wolves, are clepedlf
All by the name of dogs : the valued file**
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle,
The house-keeper, the hunter, every one
According to the gift which bounteous nature
Hath in him closed ; whereby he does receive
* Defiled. t Challenge me to extremities.
t Proved to. S Deluded. | Shocks. % Called.
** The enumeration, discriminating valuable sorts.
250 MACBETH. [ACT III.
Particular addition * from the bill
That writes them all alike : and so of men.
Now, if you have a station in the file,
And not in the worst rank of manhood, say it ;
And I will put that business in your bosoms,
Whose execution takes your enemy off;
Grapples you to the heart and love of us,
Who wear our health but sickly in his life,
Which in his death were perfect.
2 Mur. I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incensed, that I am reckless what
I do, to spite the world.
1 Mur. And I another,
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend it, or be rid on't.
Macb. Both of you
Know, Banquo was your enemy.
2 Mur. True, my lord.
Macb. So is he mine : and in such bloody distance^
That every minute of his being thrusts
Against my near'st of life : And though I could
With bare-faced power sweep him from my sight,
And bid my will avouch it ; yet I must not,
PorJ certain friends that are both his and mine,
Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall
Whom I myself struck down : and thence it is,
That I to your assistance do make love ;
Masking the business from the common eye,
For sundry weighty reasons.
2 Mur. We shall, my lord.
Perform what you command us.
1 Mur. Though our lives
Macb. Tour spirits shine through you. Within this hour, at
most,
I will advise you where to plant yourselves ;
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time,
The moment on't ; fort must be done to-night.
And something from the palace : always thought,
That I require a clearness : And with him
(To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work),
Fleance his son, that keeps him company,
Whose absence is no less material tome
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart ;
I'll come to you anon.
2 Mur. We are resolved, my lord.
Macb. I'll call upon you straight ; abide within.
It is concluded : Banquo, thy soul's flight,
If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. [Exeunt.
* Description. t Mortal enmity. t Because of.
SCENE II.] MACBETH. 251
SCENE II.— The same. Another Roam.
Enter LADY MACBETH, and a Sebvant.
Lady M. Is Banquo gone from court ?
Serv. Ay, madam, but returns again to-night.
Lady M. Say to the king, I would attend his leisure
For a few words.
Serv. Madam, I will. [Exit.
Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent,
"Where our desire is got without content :
'Tis safer to be that which we destroy,
Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy.
Enter Macbeth.
How now, my lord ? why do you keep alone,
Of sorriest fancies your companions making ?
Using those thoughts, which should indeed have died
With them they think on ? Things without remedy,
Should be without regard : what's done, is done.
Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it ;
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of her former tooth.
But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer,
Ere we will eat our meal m fear, and sleep
In the affliction of these terrible dreams.
That shake us nightly : Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy .* Duncan is in his grave ;
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well ;
Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further !
Lady M. Come on ;
Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks^ ;
Be bright and jovial 'mong your guests to-night.
Macb. So, shall I, love ; and so, I pray, be you :
Let your remembrance apply to Banquo ;
Present him eminence,! both with eye and tongue:
Unsafe the while, that we
Must lave our honours in these flattering streams ;
And make our faces vizards to our hearts,
Disguising what they are.
Lady M. You must leave this.
Macb. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife !
Thou know'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives.
Lady M. But in them nature's copy's^ not eterne.§
Macb. There's comfort yet ; they are assailable ;
Then be thou jocund : Ere the bat hath flown
* Agony. t Do him high honours.
t Lease. J Eternal.
252 MACBETH. [ACT III.
His cloister'd flight ; ere, to black Hecate's summons,
The shard *-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.
Lady M. What's to be done ?
Macb. Be iDnocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling f night,
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand,
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond
Which keeps me pale ! — Light thickens ; and the crow
Makes wing to the rooky wood:
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ;
Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
Thou marv'llest at my words ; but hold thee still ;
Things bad begun ; make strong themselves by ill :
So, pr'ythee, go with me. [Exeunt
SCENE III. — The same. A Parle or Lawn, with a Gate
leading to the Palace.
Enter Three MCEDEEEKS.
1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us?
3 Mur. Macbeth.
2 Mv/r. He needs not our mistrust ; since he delivers
Our offices, and what we have to do,
To the direction just.
1 Mur. Then stand with us.
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day:
Now spurs the 'lated J traveller apace,
To gain the timely inn ; and near approaches
The subject of our watch.
3 Mur. Hark ! I hear horses.
Ban. [within]. Give us a light there, ho !
2 Mur. Then it is he ; the rest
That are within the note of expectation^ —
Already are i' the court.
1 Mur. His horses go about.
3 Mur. Almost a mile : but he does usually,
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate
Make it their walk.
Enter BANQUO and FLEANCE. a Servant with a torch preceding
them.
2 Mur. A light, a light !
3 Mur. 'Tis he.
1 Mur. Stand to't.
Ban. It will be rain to-night.
* 1 Mur. Let it come down. [Assaults Banqtto.
* Scaly winged. t Blinding. t Belated. § List of guests.
SCENE IV.] MACBETH. 258
Ban. O, treachery ! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly;
Thou may'st revenge. O slave !
[Die*. FLEANCE and Servant escape.
3 Mur. Who did strike out the hght ?
1 Mur. "Was't not the way j*
3 Mur. There's but one down ; the son is fled.
2 Mur. We have lost best half of our affair.
1 Mur. Well, let's away, and say how much is done. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.— A Boom of State in the Palace.
A Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse,
Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.
Macb. You know your own degrees, sit down : at first
And last, the hearty welcome.
Lords. Thanks to your majesty.
Macb. Ourself will mingle with society,
And play the humble host.
Our hostess keeps her state ; but in best time,
We will require her welcome.
Lad-/ M. Pronounce it for me, Sir, to all our friends;
For my heart speaks, they are welcome.
Enter first MuBDEBEB, to the door
Macb. See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks :
Both side? are even : Here I'll sit i' the midst :
Be large in mirth : anon, we'll driuk a measure
The table round.— There's blood upon thy face.
Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then.
Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he within.
Is he despatcb'd ?
Mur. My lord, his throat is cut ; that I did for him.
Macb. Thou art the Dest o' the cut-throats : Yet he's good,
That did the like for Fleance : if thou didst it,
Thou art the nonpareil.
Mur. Most royal Sir,
Fleance is "scaped.
Macb. Then comes my fit a^ain : I had else been perfect ;
Whole as the marble, founded as the rock ;
As broad, and general, as the casing air : _
But now, I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears. But Bancjuo's safe ?
Mur. Ay, my good lord : safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty trenched gashes on his head;
The least a death to nature.
Macb. ThaDks for that :
There the grown serpent lies ; the worm, that's fled,
Hath nature that in time will venom breed,
No teeth for the preseut.— Get thee gone ; to-morrow
We'll hear, ourselves again. [Exit Mubdbbbb.
254 MACBETH. [ACT III.
Lady M. My royal lord,
You do not give the cheer : the feast is sold,
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making,
'Tis given with welcome ;* To feed, were best at home ;
Prom thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony ;
Meeting were bare without it.
Macb. Sweet remembrancer !
Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both !
Len. May it please your highness sit ?
[The Ghost of Banqtjo rises, and sits in Macbeth's place.
Macb. Here had we now our country's honour roof'd,
"Were the graced person of our Eanquo present ;
"Who may I rather challenge for unkindness,
Than pity for mischance !
Rosse. His absence, Sir,
Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your highness
To grace us with your royal company?
Macb. The table 's full.
Len. Here's a place reserved, Sir.
Macb. Where?
Len. Here, my lord. What is't that moves your highness ?
Macb. Which of you have done this ?
Lords. What, my good lord !
Macb. Thou canst not say, I did it : never shake
Thy gory locks at me.
Jtosse. Gentlemen, rise ; his highness is not well.
. Lady M. Sit, worthy friends : — my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth : 'pray you, keep seat;
The fit is momentary ; upon a thoughtf
He will again be well : If much you note him,
You shall offend him, and extend his passion ;X
Peed, and regard him not. — Are you a man ?
Macb. Ay, and a bold one,, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.
Lady M. O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear :
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said,
Led you to Duncan, O, these flawsj and starts
(Impostors to true fear), would well become
A woman's story, at a winter's fire.
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself !
Why do you make such faces, when all's done ?
You look but on a stool.
Macb. Pr'ythee, see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! how say you ?—
Why, what care I ? If thou canst nod, speak too. —
If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send
Those that we bury, back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites. [ Ghost disappears.
* The entertainment seems to be that of a tavern, where the host does
not often assure his guests it is given heartily.
t As quick as thought. X Prolong his suffering. S Gusts.
SCENE IV.] MACBETH. 255
Lady M. What ! quite unmann'd in folly?
Macb. If I stand here, I saw him.
Lady M. Fie, for shame !
Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,
Ere human statute purged the gentle weal ;*
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd
Too terrible for the ear : the times have been,
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end : but now, they rise again,
"With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools : This is more strange
Than such a murder is.
Lady M. My worthy lord,
Tour noble friends do lack you.
Macb. I do forget : —
Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends ;
I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing
To those that know me. Come, love and health to all :
Then I'll sit down : — Give me some wine, fill full :
I drink to the general joy of the whole table,
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss ;
Would he were here ! to all, and him, we thirst,
And allf to all. [Ghost rises.
Lords. Our duties, and the pledge.
Macb. Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee !
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with !
Lady M. Think of this, good peers,
But as a thing of custom : tis no other :
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.
Macb. What man dare, I dare :
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger,
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble : Or, be alive again,
And dare me to the desert with thy sword ;
If trembling I inhibit % thee, protest me
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! [Ghost disappears.
Unreal mockery, hence ! — Why, so ;— being gone,
I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still.
LadyM. You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,
With most admired disorder.
Macb. Can such things be,
And overcome § us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder ? You make me strange
Even to the disposition that I owe.||
When now I think you can behold such sights
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,
When mine are blanch'd with fear.
* Peaceful state. t (Good wishes.) t Forbid.
I Come over. I Possess.
256 MACBETH. [ACT IT.
Bosse. What sights, my lord?
Lady M. I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse and worse ;
Question enrages him : at once, good night : —
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.
Lett. Good night, and better health
Attend his majesty.
Lady M. A kind good night to all !
[Exeunt LOHDS and ATTENDANTS.
Macb. It will have blood ; they say, blood will have blood :
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ;
Augurs, and understood relations, have
By magot-pies,* and choughs, ana rooks, brought forth
The secret'st man of blood. — What is the night ?
Lady M. Almost at odds with morning, which is which.
Macb. How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person,
At our great bidding ?
Lady M. Bid you send to him, Sir ?
Mad. I hear it by the way ; but I will send :
There's not a one of them, but in his house
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow
(Betimes I will) unto the weird sisters :
More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know,
By the worst means, the worst : for mine own good,
All causes shall give way ; I am in blood
Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o'er :
Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ;
"Whica must be acted, ere they may be scann'd.
Lady M. You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
Macb. Come, we'll to sleep : My strange and self-abuse
Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use : —
We are yet but young indeed. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.— The Seath.
Thunder. Enter Hecate, meeting the three WlTCHES.
1 Witch. Why, how now. Hecate ? you look angerly.
Sec. Have I not reason, beldams, as you are,
Saucy, and overbold ? How did you dare
To trade and traffic with Macbeth,
In riddles, and affairs of death ;
And I, the mistress of your charms,
The close contriver of all harms,
Was never cali'd to bear my part,
Or show the glory of our art ?
And, which is worse, all you have done
Hath been but for a wayward son.
Spiteful and wrathful ; who, as others do,
Loves for his own ends, not for you.
* Magpies. ,
SCENE VI.] MACBETH. 257
But make amends now : Get you gone,
And at the pit of Acheron,
Meet me i' the morning ; thither he
Will come to know his destiny.
Your vessels, and your spells, provide,
Your charms, and everything, beside :
I am for the air ; this night I'll spend
Unto a dismal -fatal end.
Great business must be wrought ere noon :
Upon the corner of the moon
There hangs a vaporous drop profound;*
I'll catch it ere it come to ground :
And that, distilPd by magic slights,t
Shall raise such artificial sprights,
As, by the strength of then: illusion,
Shall draw him on to his confusion :
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear
His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear :
And you all know, security
Is mortal's chiefest enemy.
Song. [ Within.] Come away, come away, §c.
Hark, I am call'd ; my little spirit, see,
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. {Exit.
1 Witch. Come, let's make haste ; she'll soon be back again.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.— Fores. A room in the Palace.
Enter LENOX and another LoBD.
Len. My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,
Which can interpret further : only I say,
Things have been strangely borne : The gracious Duncan
Was pitied of Macbeth : — marry, he was dead : —
And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late ;
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain,
To kill their gracious father ? damned fact !
How it did grieve Macbeth ! did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear.
That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep ?
Was not that nobly done ? Ay, and wisely too ;
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive,
To hear the men deny it. So that, I say.
He has borne all things well : and I do think,
That, had he Duncan's sons under his key
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not), they should find
What 'twere to kill a father ; so should Fleance.
But, peace ! — for from broad words, and 'cause he fail'd
His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear,
* /. e. with deep or hidden qualities. t Arts, subtle practices.
VOL. II. 8
258 MACBETH. [ACT IV.
Macduff lives in disgrace : Sir, can you tell
"Where he bestows himself ?
Lord. The son of Duncan,
From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth,
Lives in the English court ; and is received
Of the most pious Edward with such grace,
That the malevolence of fortune nothing
Takes from his high respect : Thither Macduff
Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid
To wake Northumberland, and warlike Siward :
That, by the help of these (with Him above
To ratify the work), we may again
Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights ;
Eree from our feasts and banquets bloody knives ;
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours.
All which we pine for now : And this report
Hath so exasperate the king, that he
Prepares for some attempt of war.
Len. Sent he to Macduff ?
Lord. He did : and with an absolute, Sir, not I,
The cloudy messenger turns me Ms back,
And hums ; as who should say, You'll rue the time
That clogs me with this answer. ,
Len. And that well might
Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance
His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel
Ely to the court of England, and unfold
His message ere he come ; that a swift blessing
May soon return to this our suffering country
Under a hand accursed !
Lord. My prayers with him ! [Exeunt .
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — A dark Cave. Tn the middle a Cauldron boiling.
Thunder. Enter the three Witches.
1 Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
2 Witch. Thrice ; and once the hedge-pig whined.
3 Witch. Harper cries : — 5 Tis time, 'tis time.
1 Witch. Round about the cauldron go ;
In the poison'd entrails throw,
Toad, that under coldest stone.
Days and nights hast thirty-one,
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot !
All. Double, double, toil and trouble ;
Fire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble.
2 Witch. Eillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake :
SCENE I. J MACBETH.
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing.
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble ;
Fire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble.
3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf-
Witches' mummy ; maw, and gulf,*
Of the ravin'df salt-sea shark ;
Boot of hemlock digg'd i' the dark ;
Liver of blaspheming Jew ;
Gall of goat and slips of yew,
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse ; J
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips ;
Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Bitch-deliver'd by a drab.
Make the gruel thick and slab :
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,S
For the ingredients of our cauldron.
All. Double, double, toil and trouble ;
Fire, burn ; and, cauldron, bubble.
2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.
Enter HECATE and the other three WITCHES.
Hec. O, well done ! I commend your pains;
And every one shall share i' the gains.
And now about the cauldron sing,
Like elves and fairies in a ring,
Enchanting all that you put in.
Song.
Slack spirits and white,
Red spirits and grey ;
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.
2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes :
Open, locks, whoever knocks.
Enter Macbeth.
Macb. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags ?
What is't you do ?
All. A deed without a name.
Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess
(Howe'er you come to know it), answer me :
* Throat. ♦ Ravenous.
t Cut when the moon's under a cloud. i Entrails.
8 2
260 MACBETH. [ACT IV,
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches ; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up ;
Though bladed corn be lodged* and trees blown down ;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads ;
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope
Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure
Of nature's germinsf tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken, answer me
To what I ask you.
1 Witch. Speak.
2 Witch. Demand.
3 Witch. We'll answer.
1 Witch. Say, if thoud'st rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters' ?
Macb. Call them, let me see them.
1 Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten
Her nine farrow ; grease, that's sweaten
From the murderer's gibbet, throw
Into the flame.
All. Come, high, or low ;
Thyself, and office, deftly J show.
Thunder. — An Appaeition of an Armed Head rises.
Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power,
1 Witch. He knows thy thought ;
Hear his speech, but say thou nought.
App. Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth ! beware Macduff;
Beware the thane of Fife.— Dismiss me : — Enough. [Descends.
Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution thanks ;
Thou hast harp'd my fear aright : But one word more : —
1 Witch. He will not be commanded : Here's another,
More potent than the first.
Thunder. — An Appaeition of a Bloody Child rises.
App. Macbeth ! Macbeth ! Macbeth !
Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee.
App. Be bloody, bold,
And resolute : laugh to scorn the power of man,
For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. [Descends.
Macb. Then live, Macduff; What need I fear of thee ?
But yet I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live ;
That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,
And sleep in spite of thunder. What is this,
Thunder. — An APPAEITION of a Child Crowned, with a Tree in,
his Hand, rises.
That rises like the issue of a king ;
* Laid flat. t Seeds germinating. t Adroitly.
SCENE I.] MACBETH. 261
And wears upon his baby brow the round
And top of sovereignty ?*
All. Listen, but speak not.
App. Be lion-mettled, proud ; and take no care
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are :
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until
Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill
Shall come against him. [Descends.
Macb. That will never be ;
Who can impress the forest ;t bid the tree
Unfix his earth-bound root ? sweet bodement ! good !
Eebellious head, rise never, till the wood
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath
To time, and mortal custom. — Yet my heart
Throbs to know one thing ; Tell me (if your art
Can tell so much), shall Banquo's issue ever
Beign in this kingdom ?
All. Seek to know no more.
Macb. I will be satisfied : deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you ! Let me know : —
Why sinks that cauldron ? and what noise is this ? [Hautboys.
1 Witch. Show ! 2 Witch. Show ! 3 Witch. Show !
All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart ;
Come like shadows, so depart.
Eight Kings appear, and pass over the Stage in order ; the last
with a Glass in his hand; BANQUO following.
Macb. Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo ; down !
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls : — And thy hair,
Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first : —
A third is like the former : — Filthy hags !
Why do you show me this ? — A fourth ? — Start, eyes !
What ! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom ?X
Another yet ? — A seventh ? — I'll see no more : —
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,
Which shows me many more : and some I see,
That twofold balls and treble sceptres carry :
Horrible sight ! — Ay, now, I see 'tis true ;
For the blood-bolter'd§ Banquo smiles upon me,
And points at them for his. — What, is this so ?
1 Witch. Ay, Sir, all this is so : — But why
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly ? —
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprighte,||
And show the best of our delights ;
I'll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform the antique round :
* The round is that part of a crown which encircles the head : the top
the ornament which rises above it.
+ Command the forest to serve him like a soldier impressed.
X Dissolution of nature. J Besmeared. I J. e. spirits.
262 MACBETH. |> CT lvr -
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.
[ Music. The WlTCHES dance, and vanish.
Macb. "Where are they ? Gone ? — Let this pernicious hour
Stand aye accursed in the calendar ! —
Come in, without there !
Enter Lenox.
Zen. "What's your grace's will ?
Macb. Saw you the weird sisters ?
Len. No, my lord.
Macb. Came they not by you ?
Len. No, indeed, my lord.
Macb. Infected be the air whereon they ride ;
And damn'd all those that trust them ! — I did hear
The galloping of horse : Who was't came by ?
Len. 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word,
Macduff is fled to England.
Macb. Fled to England ?
Len. Ay, my good lord.
Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st* my dread exploits :
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,
Unless the deed go with it : From this moment,
The very firstlings of my heart shall be
The firstlings of my hand. And even now
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done :
The castle of Macduff I will surprise ;
Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge o' the sword
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
That trace t his line. No boasting like a fool ;
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool :
But no more sights ! — Where are these gentlemen ?
Come, bring me where they are. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle.
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and Eosse.
L. Macd. What had he done, to make him fly the land ?
Rosse. You must have patience, Madam.
L. Macd. He had none :
His flight was madness : When our actions do not,
Our fears do make us traitors.
Rosse. You know not.
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
L. Macd. Wisdom ! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly ? He loves us not ;
He wants the natural touch :J for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,§
Her young ones in the nest, against the owl.
■ Preventest. t Follow.
t Natural affection. § (For.)
SCENE II.J MACBETH. 26S
All is the fear, and nothing is the love ;
As little is the wisdom, where the flight
So runs against all reason.
Sosse. My dearest coz,
Ipray you, school yourself: But, for your husband,
He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows
The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further :
But cruel are the times, when we are traitors,
And do not know ourselves ; when we hold rumour
From what we fear, yet know not what we fear ;
But float upon a wild and violent sea,
Each way, and move. — I take my leave of you:
Shall not be long but I'll be here again :
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward
To what they were before. — My pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you !
L. Macd. Father'd he is. and yet he's fatherless.
Rosse. I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,
It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort :
I take my leave at once. \_JExit Bosse.
L. Macd. Sirrah, your father's dead ;
And what will you do now ? How will you live ?
Son. As birds do, mother.
L. Macd. What, with worms and flies ?
Son. With what I get, I mean ; and so do they.
L. Macd. Poor bird ! thoud'st never fear the net, nor line,
The pit-fall, nor the gin.
Son. Why should I, mother ? Poor birds they are not set for.
My father is not dead, for all your saying.
L. Macd. Yes, he is dead ; now wilt thou do for a father ?
Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband ?
L. Macd. Why. I can buy me twenty at any market.
Son. Thenyou'll buy 'em to sell again.
L. Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit ; and yet i' faith,
With wit enough for thee.
Son. Was my father a traitor, mother ?
L. Macd. Ay, that he was.
Son. What is a traitor ?
L. Macd. Why, one that swears and lies.
Son. And be all traitors, that do so ?
L. Macd. Every one that does so, is a traitor, and must be
hanged.
Son. And must they all be hanged, that swear and lie ?
L. Macd. Every one.
Son. Who must hang them ?
L. Macd. Why, the honest men.
Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools : for there are liars
and swearers enough to beat the honest men and hang up them.
L. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor monkey ! But how wilt
thou do for a father ?
Son. If he were dead, you'd weep for him : if you would not,
it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father.
L. Macd. Poor prattler ! how thou talk'st.
264 MACBETH. [ACT IV.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Bless you, fair dame ! I am not to you known,
Though in your state of honour I am perfect.*
I doubt some danger does approach you nearly :
If you will take a homely man's advice,
Be not found here ; hence, with your little ones.
To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage ;
To do worse to you, were fell cruelty,
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you !
I dare abide no longer. [Exit Messengeb.
L. Macd. Whither should I fly ?
I have done no harm. But I remember now
I am in this earthy world ; where, to do harm,
Is often laudable : to do good, sometime,
Accounted dangerous folly : Why then, alas !
Do I put up that womanly defence,
To say I have done no harm ? What are these faces ?
Enter Muedeeehs.
Mur. Where is your husband ?
L. Macd. I hope, in no place so unsanctified,
Where such as thou mayst find him.
Mur. He's a traitor. *
Son. Thou ly'st, thou shag-hair'd villain.
Mur. What, you egg ? [Stabbing him.
Young fry of treachery ?
Son. He has killed me, mother ;
Eun away, I pray you. [Dies.
[Exit Lady Macdttfe, crying murder, and pursued
by the MUBDEBEBS.
SCENE III. — England. A Room in the King's Palace.
Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF.
Mai. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there
Weep our sad bosoms empty.
Macd. Let us rather
Hold fast the mortal sword ; and like good men,
Bestride our downfall'n birthdom :f Each new morn,
New widows howl ; new orphans cry ; new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllable of dolour.
Mai. What I believe, I'll wail ;
What know, believe ; and, what I can redress,
As I shall find the time to 'friend, I will.
What you have spoke, it may be so, perchance,
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest : you have loved him well ;
* I am perfectly acquainted with your rank. t Birthright.
SCEXE III.] MACBETH. 265
He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young ; but something
You may deserve of him through me ; and wisdom
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb,
To appease an angry god.
Macd. I am not treacherous.
Mai. But Macbeth is.
A good and virtuous nature may recoil,
In an imperial charge* But crave your pardon ;
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose :
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell :
Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
Yet grace must still look so.
Macd. I have lost my hopes.
Mai. Perchance, even there, where I did find my doubts.
Why in that rawnessf left you wife, and child
(Those precious motives, those strong knots of love),
Without leave-taking ? — I pray you,
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours,
But mine own safeties :— -You may be rightly just,
Whatever I shall think.
Macd. Bleed, bleed, poor country !
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dares not check thee ! wear thou thy wrongs,
Thy title is affeer'dj — Fare thee well, lord :
I would not be the villain that thou think'st
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp,
And the rich east to boot.
Mai. Be not offended :
I speak not as in an absolute fear of you.
I think, our country sinks beneath the yoke ;
It weeps, it bleeds ; and each new day a gash
Is added to our wounds : I think, withal.
There would be hands uplifted in my right ;
And here, from gracious England, have I offer
Of goodly thousands : But, for all this.
When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head,
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country
Shall have more vices than it had before ;
More suffer and more sundry ways than ever,
By him that shall succeed.
Macd. What should he be ?
Mai. It is myself I mean : in whom I know
All the particulars of vice so grafted,
That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth
Will seem as pure as snow ; and the poor state
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared
With my confineless harms.
Macd. Not in the legions
Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd
In evils, to top Macbeth.
Mai. I grant him bloody.
* Commission. t Bareness. t Confirmed.
266 MACBETH. [ACT IV.
Luxurious,* avaricious, false, deceitful,
Sudden.t malicious, smacking of every sin
That has a name : But there's no bottom, none,
In my voluptuousness : your wives, your daughters,
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill up
The cistern of my lust ; and my desire
All continent impediments would o'er-bear,
That did oppose my will : Better Macbeth,
Than such a one to reign.
Macd. Boundless intemperance
In nature is a tyranny ; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet
To take upon you what is yours : you may
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty,
And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink.
We have willing dames enough ; there cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many
As will to greatness dedicate themselves,
Finding it so inclined.
Mai. With this, there grows.
In my most ill-composed affection, such
A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands ;
Desire his jewels, and this other's house :
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more ; that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
Macd. This avarice
Sticks deeper ; grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeding^ lust : and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings : Yet do not fear ;
Scotland hath foysonsS to fill up your will,
Of your mere own : All these are portable, ||
With other graces weigh'd.
Mai. But I have none: The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them; but abound
In the division of each several crime,
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
AU unity on earth.
Macd. O Scotland ! Scotland !
Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak :
I am as I have spoken.
Macd. Fit to govern !
* Lascivious. t Passionate. t Seeded, as an annual.
§ Plenty. I Endurable.
SCENE III.] MACBETH. 2C7
No, not to live. — O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again ?
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed,
And does blaspheme his breed ? — Thy royal father
Was a most sainted king ; the queen that bore thee,
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet.
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well !
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself,
Have banish'd me from Scotland. — O, my breast,
Thy hope ends here !
Mai. Macduff, this noble passion,
Child of integrity, hath from my soul
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts
To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth
By many of these trains hath sought to win me
Into his power ; and modest wisdom plucks me
From over-credulous haste :* But God above
Deal between thee and me ! for even now
I put myself to thy direction, and
Unspeak mine own detraction : here abjure
The taints and blames I laid upon myself,
For strangers to my nature. I am yet
Unknown to woman ; never was forsworn ;
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own ;
At no time broke my faith ; would not betray
The devil to his fellow 5 and delight
No less in truth than hfe : my first false-speaking ,
Was this upon myself : What I am truly,
Is thine and my poor country's, to command
Whither, indeed, before thy here-approach,
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,
All ready at a point, was setting forth:
Now we 11 together ; and the chance, of goodness,
Be like our warranted quarrel ! Why are you silent ?
Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things at once,
'Tis hard to reconcile.
Enter a Doctob.
Mai. Well ; more anon.— Comes the king forth, I pray you ?
Doct. Ay, Sir : there are a crew of wretched souls,
That stay his cure : their malady convincesf
The great assay of art ; but, at his touch,
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
They presently amend.
Mai. I thank you, doctor. [Exit DoCTOB.
Macd. What is the disease he means ?
Mai. 'Tis call'd the evil :
A most miraculous work in this good king ;
Which often, since my here-remain in England,
* Over-hasty credulity. t Overpowers, subdues.
268 MACBETH. [ACT IV.
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
Himself best knows : but strangely-visited people,
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ;
Hanging a golden stamp* about their necks,
Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken,
To the succeeding royalty he leaves
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue,
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ;
And sundry blessings hang about his throne,
That speak him full of grace.
Macd. See, who comes here ?
Mai. My countryman ; but yet I know him not.
.EV^er Rosse.
Maed. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither.
Mai. I know him now : Good God, betimes remove
The means that make us strangers !
Rosse. Sir, Amen.
Macd. Stands Scotland where it did ?
Rosse. Alas, poor country ;
Almost afraid to know itself ! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave : where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile ;
Where sighs and groans, and shrieks that rend the air,
Are made, not mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstasy ;f the dead man's knell
Is there scarce ask'd, for who ; and good men's lives,
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken.
Macd. O, relation,
Too nice, and yet too true !
Mai. What is the newest grief?
Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker ;
Each minute teems a new one.
Macd. How does my wife ?
Rosse. Why, well.
Macd. And all my children ?
Rosse. Well too.
Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace ?
Rosse. No ; they were well at peace, when I did leave them.
Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech ; How goes it ?
Rosse. When I came hither to transport the tidings,
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour
Of many worthy fellows that were out ;
Which was to my belief witness'd tbe rather,
For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot :
Now is the time of help ; your eye in Scotland
Would create soldiers, make our women fight,
To doff their dire distresses.
* The coin called an angel. t Common distress.
SCENE III.] MACBETH.
Mai. Be it their comfort,
We are coming thither : gracious England hath
Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men ;
An older, and a better soldier, none
That Christendom gives out.
Rosse. 'Would I could answer
This comfort with the like ! But I have words,
That would be howl'd out in the desert air,
Where hearing should not latch* them.
Macd. What concern they ?
The general cause ? or is it a fee-grief,
Due to some single breast ?
Rosse. No mind, that's honest,
But in it shares some woe ; though the main part
Pertains to you alone.
Macd. If it be mine,
Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it.
Rosse. Let not ycur ears despise my tongue for ever,
Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound,
That ever yet they heard.
Macd. Humph ! I guess at it.
Rosse. Your castle is surprised : your wife, and babes,
Savagely slaughter'd : to relate the manner,
Were, on the quarryf of these murder'd deer,
To add the death of you.
Mai. Merciful heaven ! —
What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows ;
Give sorrow words : the grief that does not speak.
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
Macd. My children too ?
Rosse. }\ ife, children, servants, all
That could be found.
Macd. And I must be from thence !
My wife kill'd too ?
Rosse. I have said.
Mai. Be comforted :
Let's make us med'cines of our great revenge,
To cure this deadly grief.
Macd. He has no children.— All my pretty ones ?
Did you say, all ?— O, hell-kite !— All ?
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop ?
Mai. Dispute it like a man.
Macd. I shall do so ;
But I must also feel it as a man :
I cannot but remember such things were,
That were not precious to me. — Did heaven look on,
And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff,
They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am,
Not for their own demerits, but for mine,
Fell slaughter on their souls : Heaven rest them now !
* Catch. + The game after it is killed.
270 macbeth. Tact t
Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword : let grief
Convert to anger ; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle heaven,
Cut short all intermission ;* front to front,
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself:
Within my sword's length set him ; if he 'scape,
Heaven forgive him too !
Mai. This tune goes manly.
Come, go we to the king ; our power is ready ;
Our lack is nothing but our leave : Macbeth
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above
Put on their instruments. Keceive what cheer you may ;
The night is long, that never finds the day. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Dunsinane. A Boom in the Castle.
Enter a Dc-CTOE of Physic, and a waiting GENTLEWOMAN.
Boot. I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive
no truth in your report. When was it she last walked ?
Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her
rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her
closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards
seal it, and again return to bed ; yet all this while in a most fast
sleep.
Boot. A great perturbation in nature ! to receive at once the
benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. — In this slumbry
agitation, besides her walking, and other actual performances,
what, at any time, have you heard her say ?
Gent. That, Sir, which I will not report after her.
Doct. You may, to me ; and 'tis most meet you should.
Gent. Neither to you, nor any one ; having no witness to
confirm my speech.
Enter Lady Macbeth with a Taper.
Lo you, here she comes ! This is her very guise ; and upon my
life, fast asleep. Observe her ; stand close.
Doct. How came she by that light ?
Gent. Why, it stood by her : she has light by her continually ;
'tis her command.
Doct. You see, her eyes are open.
Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut.
Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her
hands.
* Pause.
SCENE I.] MACBETH. 271
Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus wash-
ing her hands ; I have known her continue in this a quarter of
an hour.
Lady M. Yet here's a spot.
JDoct. Hark, she speaks : I will set down what comes from her,
to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly.
Lady M. Out, damned spot ! out, I say ! — One ; Two ; Why,
then 'tis time todo't: Hell is murky! Fie, my lord, fie! a
soldier, and afear'd ? What need we fear who knows it, when
none can call our power to account ! — Yet who would have
thought the old man to have had so much" blood in him?
Loct. Do you mark that ?
Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife, Where is she now ?
What, will these hands ne'er be clean ? — No more o' that, my
lord, no more o' that : you mar all with this starting.
Loct. Go to, go to ; you have known what you should not.
Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that :
Heaven knows what she has known.
Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still : all the perfumes
of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh ! oh ! on !
Loct. What a sight is there ! The heart is sorely charged.
Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the
dignity of the whole body.
Loct. Well, well, well,—
Gent. 'Pray God, it be, Sir.
Loct. This disease is beyond my practice : Yet I have known
those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in
their beds.
Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown ; look
not so pale : I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot
come out of his grave.
Loct. Even so ?
Lady M. To bed, to bed ; there's knocking at the gate. Come,
come, come, come, give me your hand ; What's done, cannot be
undone : To bed, to bed, to bed. [Exit Lady Macbeth.
Loct. Will she go now to bed ?
Gent. Directly.
Loct. Foul whisperings are abroad : Unnatural deeds
Do breed unnatural troubles : Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
More needs she the divine, than the physician. —
God, God, forgive us all ! Look after her ;
llemove from her the means of all annoyance,
And still keep eyes upon her : — So, good night :
My mind she has mated* and amazed my sight :
I think, hut dare not speak.
Gent. Good night, good doctor. [Exeunt.
* Confounded.
272 MACBETH. [ACT V.
SCENE II. — The Country near Dunsinane.
Enter, with Brum and Colours, Menteth, Cathness, Angus,
Lenox, and Soldiers.
Merit. The English power is near, led on by Malcolm,
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduff.
Revenges burn in them ; for their dear causes
Would, to the bleeding, and the grim alarm,
Excite the mortified man.*
Ang. Near Birnam wood
Shall we well meet them ; that way are they coming.
Cath. Who knows, if Donalbain be with his brother ?
Len. For certain, Sir, he is not : I have a file
Of all the gentry; there is Siward's son,
And many uurough youths, that even now
Protest their first of manhood.
Ment. What does the tyrant ?
Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies :
Some say, he's mad ; others, that lesser hate him,
Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain,
He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause
Within the belt of rule.
Ang. Now does he feel
His secret murders sticking on his hands :
Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach ;
Those he commands, move only in command,
Nothing in love : now does he feel the title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.
Merit. Who then shall blame
His pester'd senses to recoil, and start,
When all that is within him does condemn
Itself, for being there ?
Cath. Well, march we on,
To give obedience where 'tis truly owed :
Meet we the medecinf of the sickly weal ;
And with him pour we, in our country's purge,
Each drop of us.
Len. Or so much as it needs,
To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the weeds.
Make we our march towards Birnam. [Exeunt, marching.
SCENE III. — Dunsinane. A Room in the Castle.
Enter Macbeth, Doctob, and Attendants.
Macb. Bring me no more reports ; let them fly all ;
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm !
Was he not born of woman ? The spirits that know
* Ascetic. t The physician.
SCENE III.] MACBETH. 273
All mortal consequents, pronounced me thus
Fear not, Macbeth ; no man, that's born of woman,
Shall e'er have power on thee. Then fly, false thanes,
And mingle with the English epicures :
The mind I sway by. and the heart I bear,
Shall never sag * with doubt, nor shake with fear.
Enter a SERVANT.
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon !
Where got'st thou that goose look ?
Serv. There is ten thousand
Macb. Geese, villain ?
Serv. Soldiers, Sir.
Macb. Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear,
Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch ?f
Death of thy soul ! those linen cheeks of thine
Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face ?
Serv. The English force, so please you.
Macb. Take thy face hence. — Seyton ! — I am sick at heart,
When I behold— Seyton, I say ! — This push
Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
I have lived long enough : my way of life
Is fall'n into the sear,X the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age.
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have ; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not.
Seyton !
Enter Seyton.
Sey. What is your gracious pleasure ?
Macb. What news more ?
Sey. All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported.
Macb. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hack'd.
Give me my armour.
Sey. "Tis not needed yet.
Macb. I'll put it on.
Send out more horses, skirr§ the country round ;
Hang those that talk of fear. — Give me mine armour. —
How does your patient, doctor ?
Doct. Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.
Macb. Cure her of that :
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart '(
* Sink. t Clown. t Dry. J Scour.
VOL. II. T
274 MACBETH. [ACT V.
Doct. Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
Macb. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. —
Come, put mine armour on ; give me my staff: —
Seyton, send out.— Doctor, the thanes fly from me : —
Come, Sir, despatch : — If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water* of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.— Pull't ofl) I say.—
What rhubarb, senna, or what purgative drug,
"Would scour these English hence ! Hearest thou of them ?
Boot. Ay, my good lord ; your royal preparation
Makes us hear something.
Macb. Bring it after me.
I will not be afraid of death and bane,
Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. [Exit.
Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,
Profit again should hardly draw me here. [Exit.
SCENE IV. — Country near Dunsinane : A Wood in view.
Enter, with Drum and Colours, MALCOLM, old SlWABD and his
Son, Macduff, Menteth, Cathness, Angus, Lenox,
E/OSSE, and Soldiers, marching.
Mai. Cousins, I hope, the days are near at hand
That chambers will be safe.
Ment. We doubt it nothing.
Siw. What wood is this before us ?
Ment. The wood of Birnam.
Mai. Let every soldier hew him down a bough,
And bear't before him ; thereby shall we shadow
The numbers of our host, and make discovery
Err in report of us.
Sold. It shall be done.
Siw. We learn no other, but the confident tyrant *
Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure
Our setting down befor't.
Mai. 'Tis his main hope :
For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more and lesst have given him the revolt ;
And none serve with him, but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.
Macd. Let our just censures
Attend the true event, and put we on
Industrious soldiership.
Siw. The time approaches,
That will with due decision make us know
What we shall say we have, and what we owe,
* I. e. inspect her urine. + High and low.
SCENE V.] MACBETH. 275
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate;
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate :*
Towards which, advance the war. [Exeunt, marching.
SCENE V.—Dunsinane. Within the Castle.
Enter, vMh Drums and Colours, MACBETH, Seytox, and Soldiers.
Macl. Hang out our banners on the outward walls ;
The cry is still, They come : Our castle's strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie,
Till famine, and the ague, eat them up :
Were they not forced with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home. What is that noise ?
[A cry within, of Women.
Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears :
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek ; and my fellt of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't : I have supp'd full with horrors ;
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry?
Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead.
Macb. She should have died hereafter ;
There would have been a time for such a word. —
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time ;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle !
Life 's but a walking shadow ; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more : it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Enter a ME8SENGEB.
Thou com'st to use thy tongue ; thy story quickly.
Mess. Gracious my lord,
I should report that which I say I saw,
But know not how to do it.
Macb. WelL say, Sir.
Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill,
I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,
The wood began to move.
Macb. Liar, and slave ! [Striking him.
Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if t be not so :
Within this three mile may you see it coming ;
I say, a moving grove.
* Determine. t Skin.
T 2
276 MACBETH. [ACT V.
Mach. If thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Till famine cling* thee: if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much. —
I pull in resolution ; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth : Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane ; — and now a wood
Comes toward Dunsinane. — Arm, arm, and out !
If this, which he avouches, does appear,
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here.
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. —
Ring the alarum bell :— Blow, wind ! come, wrack !
At least we'll die with harnessf on our back. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI — The same. A plain before the Castle.
Enter, with Drums and Colours, MALCOLM, old SlWARD,
MaCDUFF, <^"c, and their Army, with Boughs.
Mai. Now near enough ; your leavy screens throw down,
And show like those you are : — You, worthy uncle,
Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son,
Lead our first battle : worthy Macduff, and we,
Shall take upon us what else remains to do,
According to our order.
Siw. Fare you well. —
Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
Macd. Make all our trumpets speak ; give them all breath,
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death.
[Exeunt. Alarums continued.
SCENE VII. — The same. Another part of the Plain.
Enter Macbeth.
Mach. They have tied me to a stake ; I cannot fly,
But, bear-like I must fight the course. — What's he,
That was not born of woman ? Such a one
Am I to fear, or none.
Enter young SlWAED.
Yo. Siw. What is thy name ?
Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it.
Yo. Siw. No ; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name
Than any is in hell.
Macb. My name 's Macbeth.
Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pronounce a title
More hateful to mine ear.
Macb. No, nor more fearful.
* Shrivel. t Armour.
SCENE VII.] MACBETH. 277
To. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant ; with my sword
I'll prove the he thou speak'st.
{They fight, and young SlWABD is slain.
Macb. Thou wast born of woman. —
But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,
Brandish d by man that's of a woman born. {Exit.
Alarums. Enter Macduff.
Macd. That way the noise is : — Tyrant, show thy face :
If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine,
My wife and children's ghost will haunt me still.
I cannot strike at wretched kernes* whose arms
Are hired to bear their staves ; either thou, Macbeth,
Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge,
I sheathe again undeeded There thou shouldst be ;
By this great clatter, one of greatest note
Seems bruited :f Let me find him, fortune !
And more I beg not. {Exit. Alarum.
Enter MALCOLM and SlWABD.
Siw. This way, my lord ; — The castle 's gently render'd :
The tyrant's people on both sides do fight ;
The noble thanes do bravely in the war ;
The day almost itself professes yours,
And little is to do.
Mai. We have met with foes
That strike beside us.
Siw. Enter, Sir, the castle. {Exeunt. Alarum.
Re-enter MACBETH.
Macb. Why should I play the Boman fool, and die
On mine own sword ? whiles I see hves, the gashes
Do better upon them.
He-enter MACDUFF.
Macd. Turn, hell-hound, turn.
Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee :
But get thee back, my soul is too much charged
With blood of thine already.
Macd. I have no words,
My voice is in my sword ; thou bloodier villain
Than terms can give thee. out ! {TheyfigM.
Macb. Thou losest labour :
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air£
With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed :
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests ;
I bear a charmed Ufe, which must not yield
To one of woman born.
* Light troops. t Announced with clamour.
t Air which cannot be cut.
278 MACBETH. [ACT V.
Macd. Despair thy charm ;
And let the angel, whom thou still hast served,
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.
Maeb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so,
For it hath cow'd my better part of man !
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense ;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope. — I'll not fight with thee.
Macd. Than yield thee, coward,
And live to be the show and gaze o' the time.
"We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are,
Painted upon a pole ; and underwrit,
Sere may you see the tyrant.
Maeb. I'll not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last : Before my body
I throw my warlike shield : lay on Macduff;
And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough.
[Exeunt, fighting.
Retreat. Flourish. He-enter, with Drum and Colours, Mal-
colm, old Siwabd, Eosse, Lenox, Angus, Cathness, Men-
TETH, and Soldiers.
Mai. I would, the friends we miss were safe arrived.
Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I see,
So great a day as this is cheaply bought.
Mai. Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
Bosse. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt :
He only lived but till he was a man ;
The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd
In the unshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he died.
Siw. Then he is dead ?
Eosse. Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow
Must not be measured hy his worth, for then
It hath no end.
Siw. Had he his hurts before ?
Hosse. Ay, on the front.
Siw. Why then, God's soldier be he !
Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death :
And so his knell is knoll'd.
Mai. He's worth more sorrow,
And that I'll spend for him.
Siw. He's worth no more ;
They say, he parted well.and paid his score :
So, God be with him ! — Here comes newer comfort.
SCENE VII.J MACBETH. 279
Re-enter Macdutf, with MacbETH's Head on a Pole.
Macd. Hail, king ! for so thou art : Behold, where stands
The usurper's cursed head : the time is free :
I see thee compassM with thy kingdom's pearl,*
That speak my salutation in their minds ;
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine, —
Hail, king of Scotland !
All. King of Scotland, hail ! [Flourish.
Mai. We shall not spend a large expense of time,
Before we reckon with your several loves,
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland
In such an honour named. What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time, —
As calling home our exiled friends abroad ;
That fled the snares of watehful tyranny ;
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen ;
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life ; — This, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by tne grace of Grace.
We will perform in measure, time, and place :
So thanks to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
* Wealth, ornament.
KING JOHN.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING JOHN.
PRINCE HENRY, his Sons after-
wards King Henry III.
ARTHUR, Duke of Bretagne, Son
of Geffrey, late Duke of Bretagne,
the elder Brother of King John.
WILLIAM MARESHALL, Earl of
Pembroke.
GEFFREY FITZ-PETER, Earl of
Essex, Chief Justiciary of England.
WILLIAM LONGSWORD, Earl of
Salisbury.
ROBERT BIGOT, Earl of Norfolk.
HUBERT DE BURGH, Chamber-
lain to the King.
ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, Son
of Sir Robert Faulconbridge.
PHILIP FAULCONBRIDGE, his
Half-brother, bastard Son to King
Richard the First.
JAMES GURNEY, Servant to Lady
Faulconbridge.
PETER of Pomfret, a Prophet.
PHILIP, King of France.
LEWIS, the Dauphin.
ARCH-DUKE of Austria.
CARDINAL PANDULPH, thePope's
Legate.
MELUN, a Frew:h Lord.
CHATILLON, Ambassador from
France to King John.
ELINOR, the Widow of King Henry
II. and Mother of King John.
CONSTANCE, Mother to Arthur.
BLANCH, Daughter to Aiphonso,
King of Castile, and Niece to King
John.
LADY FAULCONBRIDGE, Mother
to the Bastard and Robert Faul-
conbridge.
Lords, Ladies, Citizens of An-
giers, Sheriff, Heralds, Offi-
cers, Soldiers, Messengers,
and other Attendants.
Scene. — Sometimes in England, and sometimes in France.
ACT I.
SCENE I.— Northampton. A Boom of State in the Palace.
Enter King John Queen Elinor, Pembroke, Essex, Salis-
BRUY, and others, with Chatillon.
JT. John. Now. say, Chatillon, what would France with us ?
Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king of France,
In my behaviour,* to the majesty,
The borrowed majesty of England here.
Eli. A strange beginning ; — borrow'd majesty !
K. John. Silence, good mother ; hear the embassy.
* I.e. person and manner.
SCENE I.] KING JOHN. 281
Chat. Philip of Prance; in right and true behalf
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son,
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim
To this fair island, and the territories ;
To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine :
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword,
"Which sways usurpingly these several titles :
And put the same into young Arthur's hand,
Thy nepheWjand right royal sovereign.
K. John. What follows, if we disallow of this ?
Chat. The proud control of fierce and bloody war,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.
K. John. Here have we war for war, and blood for blood,
Controlment for controlment : so answer France.
Chat. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth,
The furthest limit of my embassy.
K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace :
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France;
For ere thou canst report I will be there,
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard :
So, hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath,
And sullen presage of your own decay. —
An honourable conduct let him have. —
Pembroke, look to't : Farewell, Chatillon.
[Exeunt CHATILLON and PembboKE.
Eli. "What now, my son ? have I not ever said,
How that ambitious Constance would not cease,
Till she had kindled France, and all the world,
Upon the rigbt and party 01 her son ?
This might have been prevented, and made whole,
"With very easy arguments of love ;
"Which now the manage* of two kingdoms must
"With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.
K. John. Our strong possession, and our right, for us.
Eli. Your strong possession, much more than your right ;
Or else it must go wrong with you, and me :
So much my conscience whispers in your ear ;
Which none but heaven, and you, and I, shall hear.
Enter the SHEEIFF of Northamptonshire, who whispers Essex.
Essex. My liege, here is the strangest controversy,
Come from the country to be judged by you,
That ere I heard : Shall I produce the men ?
K. John. Let them approach. — [Exit Shebiff.
Our abbeys, and our priories, shall pay
Re-enter Sheriff, with Bobebt Faulconbbidge, and PHILIP,
Aw bastard Brother.
This expedition's charge. — "What men are you ?
Bast. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman,
Born in Northamptonshire ; and eldest son,
* Conduct.
282 KING JOHN'. [ACT I.
As I suppose, to Eobert Faulconbridge ;
A soldier, by tbe honour-giving hand
Of Cceur-de-lion knighted in the field.
K. John. What art thou? .
Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge.
K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir ?
You came not of one mother then, it seems.
Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty king,
That is well known ; and as I think, one father :
But, for the certain knowledge of that truth,
I put you o'er to heaven, and to my mother ;
Of that I doubt, as all men's children may.
Eli. Out on thee, rude man ! thou dost shame thy mother,
And wound her honour with this diffidence.
Bast. I, Madam ? no, I have no reason for it ;
That is my brother's plea, and none of mine ;
The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out
At least from fair five hundred pound a year :
Heaven guard my mother's honour, and my land !
K. John. A good blunt fellow : — Why, being younger born,
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ?
Bast. I know not why, except to get the land
But once he slander'd me with bastardy :
But whe'r I be as true-begot, or no,
That still I lay upon my mother's head ;
But, that I am as well-begot, my liege,
(Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me !)
Compare our faces, and be judge yourself.
If old Sir Eobert did beget us both.
And were our father, and this son like him ;—
old Sir Eobert, father, on my knee
1 give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee.
K. John. Why, what a mad-cap hath heaven lent us here !
Eli. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face,
The accent of his tongue affecteth him :
Do you not read some tokens of my son
In the large composition of this man ?
K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And finds them perfect Eichard. Sirrah, speak,
What doth move you to claim your brother's land ?
Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my father ;
With that half-face would he have all my land :
A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year !
Bob. My gracious liege, when that my father lived,
Tour brother did employ my father much ; —
Bast. Well, Sir, by this you cannot get my land ;
Your tale must be, now he employ'd my mother.
Rob. And once despatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there, with the emperor,
To treat of high affairs touching that time :
The advantage of his absence took the king,
And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's ;
Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak :
SCENE I.] KING JOHN.
But truth is truth ; large lengths of seas and shores
Between my father and my mother lay
(As I have heard my father speak himself),
When this same lusty gentleman was got.
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeathed
His lands to me ; and took it,* on his death,
That this, my mother's son, was none of his ;
And, if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time.
Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine,
My father's land, as was my father's will.
K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate ;
Your father's wife aid after wedlock bear him :
And, if she did play false, the fault was hers ;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son,
Had of your father claim'd this son for his ?
In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept
This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world j
In sooth, he might : then, if he were my brother's,
My brother mignt not claim him: nor your father,
Being none of his, refuse him : This concludes, —
My mother's son did get your father's heir ;
Your father's heir must have your father's land.
Bob. Shall then my father's will be of no force,
To dispossess that child which is not his ?
Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, Sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think.
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather, — be a Faulconbridge,
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land ;
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence ? t and no land beside ?
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, Sir Bobert his, like him •
And if my legs were two such riding-rods,
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd ; my face so thin,
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose.
Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthingsj goes !
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
'Would I might never stir from off this place,
I'd give it every foot to have this face ;
I would not be Sir Nob§ in any case.
Eli. I like thee well ; Wilt thou forsake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me ?
I am a soldier, and now bound to France.
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance :,
Your face hath got five hundred pound a year ;
Yet sell your face for fivepence, and 'tis dear. —
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.
* Was convinced. t Appearance.
X In allusion to the money-pieces so called. S Robert.
284 KING JOHN. [ACT I.
Mi. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
Bast. Our country manners give our betters way.
K. John. What is thy name ?
Bast. Philip, my liege ; so is my name begun ;
Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son.
K. John. Prom henceforth bear his name whose form thou
bear'st:
Kneel thou down Philip, but arise more great :
Arise Sir Pichard and Pfantagenet.
Bast. Brother, by the mother's side, give me your hand ;
My father gave me honour, yours gave land :
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, Sir Robert was away.
Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet ! —
I am thy grandame, Pichard ; call me so.
Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth : What though ?
Something about, a little from the right,*
In at the window, or else o'er the hatch :
Who dares not stir by day, must walk by night ;
And have is have, however men do catch :
Near or far off, well won is still well shot ;
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.
K. John. Go, Paulconbridge ; now hast thou thy desire,
A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. —
Come. Madam, and come, Pichard ; we must speed
Por France, for Prance ; for it is more than need.
Bast. Brother, adieu ; Good fortune come to thee !
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty.
[Exeunt all but the BASTARD.
A foot of honour better than I was;
But many a foot of land the worse.
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady :
Goodden,\ SirRichard, — God-a-mercy, fellow ; —
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter :
For new-made honour doth forget men's names ;
'Tis too respective,! and too sociable,
For your conversion.§ Now your traveller, —
He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess ;
And when my knightly stomach is sufficed,
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countries :|| My dear Sir
(Thus leaning on my elbows, I begin),
I shall beseech you — That is question now;
And then comes answer like an ABC-book :
O Sir, says answer, at your best command ;
At your employment, at your service, Sir :
No, Sir, says question, I sweet Sir, at yours :
And so, ere answer knows what question would
(Saving in dialogue of compliment ;
And talking of the Alps, and Apennines,
* J. e. not quite regularly. t Good erening. J Respectful.
} Changed condition. I My travelled fop.
SCENE I.] KING JOHN. 285
The Pyrenean, and the river Po),
It draws toward supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipful society.
And fits the mounting spirit, like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation
(And so am I, whether I smack, or no) ;
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement ;
Hut from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth :
AVhich, though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn ;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. —
But who comes in such haste, in riding robes ?
What woman-post is this ? hath she no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her ?
Enter Lady Patjlconbridge and James Gubney.
me ! it is my mother :— How now, good lady !
What brings you here to court so hastily ?
Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother, where is he ?
That holds in chase mine honour up and down ?
Bast. Mv brother Robert ? old Sir Bobert's son ?
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man ?
Is it Sir Robert's son, that you seek so ?
Lady F. Sir Robert's son ! Ay, thou unreverend boy,
Sir Robert's son : Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert ?
He is Sir Robert's son ; and so art thou.
Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while ?
Our. Good leave, good Philip.
Bast. Philip ? — sparrow ! — James,
There's toys abroad ;* anon I'll tell thee more. [Exit Guenet.
Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son ;
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good-friday. and ne'er broke his fast :
Sir Robert could do well ; Marry (to confess !)
Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it ;
We know his handy-work : — Therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs ?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.
Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour !
What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave ?
Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, — Basilisco-like rf
What ! I am dubb'd ; I have it on my shoulder.
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son ;
1 have disclaim'd Sir Robert, and my land ;
Legitimation, name, and all is gone :
Then, good my mother, let me know my father ;
Some proper man, I hope; Who was it, mother?
* Idle reports.
t A character in an old drama called Soliman and Perseda.
286 KING JOHK, [ACT II.
Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Eaulconbridge ?
Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil.
Lady F. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father ;
By long and vehement suit I was seduced
To make room for him in my husband's bed : —
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge !
Thou art the issue of my dear offence,
"Which was so strongly urged, past my defence.
Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father.
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly :
Need must you lay your heart at his dispose, —
Subjected tribute to commanding love, —
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The aweless lion could not wage the fight.
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother,
"With all my heart, I thank thee for my father !
Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well
When I was gotj I'll send his soul to hell.
Come, lady, Twill show thee to my kin ;
And they shall say, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin :
Who says it was, he lies ; I say, 'twas not. [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCFNF I.— France. Before the Walls of Anglers.
Fnter on one side, the AECHDUKE of Austria, and Forces ; on
the other, PHILIP, King of France, and Forces; LEWIS, Cc-K-
STANCE, AETHUE, and Attendants.
Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. —
Arthur, that great fore-runner of thy blood,
Richard that robb'd the lion of his heart,
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave :
And for amends to his posterity,
At our importance,* hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John :
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Arth. God shall forgive you Cceur-de-lion's death,
The rather that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war :
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstain'd love :
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.
* Importunity.
SCENE t] KING JOHN. 287
Lew. A noble boy ! "Who would not do thee right ?
Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love ;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-faced shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedegd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king : till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
Const. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength,
To make a more requital to your love.
Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift their swords |
In such a just and charitable war.
K. Phi. Well then, to work; our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town.
Call for our chiefest men of discipline,
To cull the plots of best advantages :*
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy.
Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy.
Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood :
My lord Chatillon may from England bring
That right in peace, which here we urge in war ;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood,
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.
Enter CHATILLON.
K. Phi. A wonder, lady ! — lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arrived. —
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord,
We coldly pause for thee ; Chatillon, speak. f
Chat. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms : the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have stayed, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I :
His marches are expedientf to this town,
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife:
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain ;
With them a bastard of the king deceas'd :
And all the unsettled humours of the land,
* Best stations to overawe the town. + Expeditions.
288 KING JOHN. [ACT II.
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens, —
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath* in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums [Drums beat.
Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand,
To parley, or to fight ; therefore, prepare.
K. Phi. How much unlook'd for is this expedition !
Aust. By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence ;
For courage mounteth with occasion :
Let them be welcome then, we are prepared.
'Enter King John, Elinob, Blanch, the Bastakd,
Pembroke, and Forces.
K. John. Peace be to France : if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own !
If not ; bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven !
Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct
Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven.
K. Phi. Peace be to England ; if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace !
England we love ; and for that England's sake,
With burden of our armour here we sweat :
This toil of ours should be a work of thine ;
But thou from loving England art so far,
That thou hast under- wrought! his lawful king,
Cut off the sequence^ of posterity,
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face ; —
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his :
This little abstract doth contain that large,
Which died in Geffrey ; and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief § into as huge a volume.
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son j England was Geffrey's right,
And this is Geffrey's : In the name of God,
How comes it then, that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest ?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles ?
K. Phi. From that supernal || judge, that stirs good thoughts
In any breast of strong authority,
* Mischief. + Undermined. t Succession.
§ Short writing. 1 Celestial.
SCENE I.j KING JOHN. 289
To look into the blots and stains of right.
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy :
Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong ;
And, by whose help, I mean to chastise it.
K. John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phi. Excuse ; it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France ?
Const. Let me make answer ; thy usurping son.
Eli. Out, insolent ! thy bastard shall be king ;
That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world !
Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true,
As thine was to thy husband : and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey,
Than thou and John in manners ; being as like,
As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
My boy a bastard ! By my soul, 1 think,
His father never was so true begot ;
It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother.
Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.
Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.
Aust. Peace!
Bast. Hear the crier.
Aust. What the devil art thou ?
Bast. One that will play the devil, Sir, with you,
An 'a may catch your hide* and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard !
I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right ;
Sirrah, look to't ! i' faith, I will, i' faith.
Blanch. O, well did he become that lion's robe,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe !
Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him,
As great Amides' shoes upon an ass :
But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back ;
Or lay on that, shall make your shoulders crack.
Aust. What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath ?
K. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall do straight.
Lew. Women and fools, break off your conference. —
King John, this is the very sum of all, —
England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee :
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms ?
K. John. My life as soon : — I do defy thee, France.
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand ;
And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win :
Submit thee, boy.
Eli. Come to thy grandam, child.
Const. Do, child, go to it' grandam, child ;
* The Duke of Austria wore a lion's skin, in memory of his having
taken Richard Cceur-de-Lion.
VOL. n. V
290 KINO JOHN. [ACT II.
Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a tig :
There's a good grandam.
' Art h. Good my mother, peace !
I would, that I were low laid in my grave ;
I am not worth this coil thaf s made for me.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.
Const. Now shame upon you, whe'r she does, or no !
His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames,
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ;
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed
To do him justice, and revenge on you.
Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth !
Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth !
Call not me slanderer ; thou, and thine usurp
The dominations, royalties, and rights,
Of this oppressed boy : this is thy eldest son's son,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee ;
Thy sins are visited in this poor child ;
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
K. John. Bedlam, have done.
Const. I have but this to say, —
That he's not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagued for her,
And with her plague, her sin ; his injury
Her injury,— the beadle to her sin,
All punish'd in the person of this child,
And all for her ; a plague upon her !
Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will, that bars the title of thy son.
Const. Ay, who doubts that ? a will ! a wicked will ;
A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will !
K. Phi. Peace, lady ; pause, or be more temperate :
It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim*
To these ill-tuned repetitions. —
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers ; let us hear them speak,
Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's.
Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the walls.
1 Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls ?
K. Phi. 'Tis France, for England.
K. John. England, for itseli :
Tou men of Angiers, and my loving subjects, —
K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle.
* To encourage.
SCENE I.] KINO JOHN. 291
K. John. For our advantage, therefore hear us first.
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march d to your endamagement :
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ;
And ready mounted are they, to spit forth
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls :
All preparation for a bloody siege,
Ana merciless proceeding by these French,
Confront your city's eyes, your winking* gates ;
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist do girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordnance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,
Who painfully, with much expedient march,
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks, —
Behold, the French, amazed, vouchsafe a parle" :
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears :
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in ? your king ; whose labour'd spirits,
Forweariedf in this action of swift speed,
Crave harbourage within your city walls.
K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us both.
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet ;
Son to the elder brother of this man,
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys :
For this down-trodden equity we tread
In warlike march these greens before your town ;
Being no further enemy to you,
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
Eeligiously provokes. Be pleased then
To pay that duty, which you truly owe,
To him that owest it ; namely, this young prince :
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up ;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven ;
And. with a blessed and unvex'd retire.
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruised,
We will bear home that lusty blood again,
Which here we came to spout against your town,
* Half-closed. t Worn out. t Owns.
U2
292 KING JOHN. [ACT TI.
And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.
But if you fondly pass our proifer'd oner,
'Tis not the roundure* of your old-faced walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war ;
Though all these English, and their discipline,
"Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us. shall your city call us lord.
In that behalf which we have challenged it ?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession ?
1 Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's subjects ;
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in.
1 Cit. That can we not : but he that proves the king,
To him will we prove loyal ; till that time,
Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world.
K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove the king ?
And, if not that, I bring you witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,
Bast. Bastards, and else.
K. John. To verify our title with their lives.
K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as those,
Bast. Some bastards too.
K. Phi. Stand in his face, to contradict his claim.
1 Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both.
K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls,
That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king !
K. Phi. Amen, Amen ! — Mount, chevaliers, to arms !
Bast. St. George,— that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since,
Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door,
Teach us some fence ! — Sirrah, were I at home.
At your den, sirrah [To AustbiaJ, with your lioness,
I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster of you.
Aust. Peace ; no more.
Bast. O, tremble ; for you hear the lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plain ; where we'll set forth,
In best appointment, all our regiments.
Bast. Speed, then, to take advantage of the field.
K. Phi. It shall be so [ To Lewis] ; and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand. — God, and our right ! [Exeunt.
SCENE IL—The same.
Alarums and Excursions; then a Betreat. Enter a French
HEBALD, with trumpets, to the gates.
F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in ;
* Circuit.
SCENE IL KING JOHN. 293
"Who, by the hand of Prance, this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground :
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth ;
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French ;
"Who are at hand, triumphantly displayM,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours.
Enter an English HEBALD, with trumpets.
E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells,
King John, your king and England's, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day !
Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood ;
There stuck no plume in any English crest,
That is removed by a staff or France ;
Our colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march'd forth ;
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes :
Open your Rates, and give the victors way.
Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies ; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured :•
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows ;
Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power :
Both are alike ; and both alike we like.
One must prove greatest : while they weigh so even,
"We hold our town for neither ; yet for both.
Enter, at one side, KlNG JOHN, with his power; ELINOR,
Blanch, and the Bastard,- at the other, King Philip,
Lewis, Austria, and Forces.
K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away ?
Say, shall the current of our right run on ?
"Whose passage, vexM with thy impediment.
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores,
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress in the ocean.
K. Phi. England, thou hast not saved one drop of blood,
In this hot trial, more than we of France ;
Rather, lost more : And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks, —
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear,
* Judged, determined.
294 KING JOHN. [ACT It.
Or add a royal number to the dead ;
Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
Bast. Ha, majesty ! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire !
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel ;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, nis fangs ;
And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men,
In undetermined differences of kings. —
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ?
Cry, havoc, kings ! back to the stained field,
You equal potents,* fiery-kindled spirits !
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The others peace ; till then, blows, blood, and death !
K. John. Who's party do the townsmen yet admit ?
K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England ; who's your king ?
1 Cit. The king of England, when we know the king.
K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here ;
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.
1 Cit. A greater power than we denies all this ;
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates :
King'd of our fears ;f until our fears, resolved,
Be by some certain king purged and deposed.
Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings ;
And stand securely on their battlements.
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be ruled by me ;
Do like the mutinesj of Jerusalem,
Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town :
By east and west let Prance and England mount
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths ;
Till their soul-fearing § clamours have brawl'd down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city :
I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again ;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point :
Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion :
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states ?
Smacks it not something of the policy ?
K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
* Potentates. t Ruled by. t Mutineers. § Alarming.
SCENE II.] KING JOHN. 295
I like it well ; — France, shall we knit our powers,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground ;
Then, after, fight who shall be king of it ?
Bast. And if thou hast the mettle of a king, —
Being wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish town, —
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,
As we will ours, against these saucy walls :
And when that we have dash'd them to the ground.
Why, then defy each other ; and, pell-melL
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell.
K. Phi. Let it be so :— Say, where will you assault ?
K. John. We from the west will send destruction
Into this city's bosom.
Aust . I from the north.
K. Phi. Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.
Bast. O prudent discipline ! Prom north to south,
Austria and Prance shoot in each other's mouth : [Aside.
I'll stir them to it : — Come, away, away !
1 Cit. Hear us, great kings : vouchsafe a while to stay,
And I shall show you peace, and fair-faced league ;
Win you this city without stroke or wound ;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field :
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.
K. John. Speak on, with favour ; we are bent to hear.
1 Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch,
Is near to England : Look upon the years
Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid :
If lusty love should go ip quest of beauty.
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ?
If zealous* love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch ?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch ?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete :
If not complete, O say, he is not she ;
And she again wants nothing to name want,
If want it be not, that she is not he :
He is tbe half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such a she ;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in :
Ana two such shores to two such streams made one,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them.
This union shall do more than battery can,
To our fast-closed gates ; for, at this match,
* Pious.
296 KING JOHN. [ACT II.
With swifter spleen* than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance ; but, without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion ; no, not death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.
Bast. Here's a stay,
That shakes the rotten carcase of old death
Out of his rags ! Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas ;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions.
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs !
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?
He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce ;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue j
Our ears are cudgell'd ; not a word of his,
But buffets better than a fist of France :
Zounds, I was never so bethump'd with words,
Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad.
Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match ;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough :
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsured assurance to the crown,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France ;
Mark, how they whisper : urge them, while their souls
Are capable of this ambition :
Lest zeal, now melted, by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
1 Cit. Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town ?
K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city : What say you ?
K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son,
Can in this book of beauty read ; I love,
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen :
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers,
And all that we upon this side the sea
(Except this city now by us besieged)
Find liable to our crown and dignity.
Shall gild her bridal bed ; and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood.
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy ? look in the lady's face.
Lew. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
* Vehemence.
SCENE II.] KING JOHN. 297
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ;
"Which, heing but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow :
I do protest, I never loved myself,
Till now infixed I beheld myself.
Drawn in the flattering table* or her eye.
r Whispers with BLANCH.
Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye ! —
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow ! —
And quarter'd in her heart !— he doth espy
Himself love's traitor : This is pity now,
That hanged and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be,
In such a love, so vile a lout as he.
Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine :
If he see aught in you, that makes him like,
That anything he sees, which moves his liking,
I can with ease translate it to my will ;
Or, if you will (to speak more properly),
I will enforce it easily to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this, — that nothing do I see in you
(Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge),
That I can find should merit any hate.
K. John. What say these young ones ? What say you, my
niece?
Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say.
K. John. Speak .then, prince Dauphin : can you love this lady ?
Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love ;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
K. John. Then do I give Volquessen,t Touraine, Maine,
Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee ; and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. —
Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
K. Phi. It likes us well ;— Young princes, close your hands.
Aust. And your lips too ; for, I am well assured,
That I did so, when I was first assured.!
K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made ;
For at St. Mary's chapel, presently,
The rites of marriage shall be solemnized. —
Is not the lady Constance in this troop ?—
I know, she is not ; for this match made up,
Her presence would have interrupted much : —
Where is she and her son ? tell me, who knows.
Lew. She is sad and passionate? at your highness' tent.
K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we have made,
Will give her sadness very little cure. —
* Picture. ^ The Verio. t Affianced. I Mournful.
298 KING JOHN. [ACT II.
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady ? In her right we came ;
Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way,
To our own vantage.*
K. John. We will heal up all :
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne,
And earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of. — Call the lady Constance ;
Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity : — I trust we shalL
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so,
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as naste will suffer us,
To this unlook'd for unprepared pomp.
{Exeunt all hut the BaSTABD.— The CITIZENS
retire from the walls.
Bast. Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition !
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed! with a part :
And France (whose armour conscience buckled on ;
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier), roundedj in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil ;
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith ;
That daily break-vow ; he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids ; —
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid, — cheats the poor maid of that,
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity,§ —
Commodity, the bias of the world ;
The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even, upon even ground ;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent :
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,
From a resolved and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace. —
And why rail I on this commodity ?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet :
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels || would salute my palm :
But for my hand, as unattempted yet.
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail,
* Advantage. t Parted with. t Whispered.
$ Interest. 1 The coin so called.
SCENE II.] king join?. 299
And say, — there is no sin, but to be rich ;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To say, — there is no vice, but beggary :
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord ! for I will worship thee ! [Exit.
ACT m.
SCENE I.— The same. The French King's Tent.
Enter Constance, Abthub, and Salisbcby.
Const. Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace !
False blood to false blood join'd ! Gone to be friends !
Shall Lewis have Blanch ? and Blanch those provinces ?
It is not so ; thou hast misspoke, misheard ;
Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again :
It cannot be ; thou dost but say, 'tis so :
I trust, I may not trust thee ; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man :
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man ;
I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick, and capable of fears ;
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears ;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ;
A woman, naturally born to fears ;
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
"With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine ?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ?
Then speak again : not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.
Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false,
That give you cause to prove my saying true.
Const. O, if you teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ;
And let belief and life encounter so,
As doth the fury of two desperate men,
Which, in the very meeting, fall and die. —
Lewis marry Blanch ! O, boy, then where art thou ?
France friend with England ! what becomes of me ? —
Fellow, be gone ; I cannot brook thy sight ;
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.
Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done,
But spoke the harm that is by others done ?
300 KING JOHN. [ACT III.
Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is,
As it makes harmful all that speak of it.
Arth. I do beseech, you, Madam, be content.
Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb,
Pull of unpleasing blots, and sightless* stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,!
Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content ;
For then I should not love thee ; no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.
But thou art fair ; and at thy birth, dear boy !
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great :
Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose : but fortune, O !
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee ;
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd of theirs.
France is a bawd to fortune, and king John ;
That strumpet fortune, that usurping John :—
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ?
Envenom him with words ; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.
Sal. Pardon me, Madam,
I may not go without you to the kings.
Const. Thou mayst, thou shalt, I will not with thee :
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ;
For grief is proua, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,t
Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up : here I and sorrow sit ;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
[She throws herself on the ground.
Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor,
Bastaed, Austria, and Attendants.
K. Phi. 'Tis true, fair daughter ; and this blessed day,
Ever in France shall be kept festival :
To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist ;
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :
The yearly course, that brings this day about
Shall never see it but a holyday.
Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday ! — [Rising.
"What hath this day deserved ? what hath it done ;
* Unsightly. t Portentous. t I. e. seated in state.
SCENE I.] KING JOHN. 801
That it in golden letters should be set,
Among the high tides, in the calendar ?
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week ;
This day of shame, oppression, perjury :
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously* be cross'd:
But onf this day, let seamen fear no wreck ;
No bargains break, that are not this day made :
This day. all things begun come to ill end ;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change !
K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause
To curse the fair proceedings of this day :
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?
Const. You have beguiled me with a counterfeit.
Resembling majesty ; which, being touch'd, and tried,
Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn:
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood,
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours :
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war,
Is cold in amity and painted peace,
And our oppression hath made up this league :
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings !
A widow cries ; be husband to me, heavens !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the day in peace ; but, ere sunset,
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured kings !
Hear me, O. hear me !
Aust. Lady Constance, peace.
Const. War ! war ! no peace ! peace is to me a war. J
O Limoges ! O Austria ! thou dost shame
That bloody spoil : Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward ;
Thou little valiant, great in villany !
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side !
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjured too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear,
Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave.
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ?
Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength P
And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff § it for shame,
And hang a calf s-skin on those recreant limbs.
Aust. O, that a man should speak those words to me !
Bast. And hang a calf s-skin on those recreant limbs.
* By prodigies. t Except on.
t Richard Cojur-de-Lion was taken prisoner in the dominions of the
Duke of Austria, and killed in those of the Viscount of Limoges.
» Do off.
302 KING JOHN. [ACT III.
Aust. Thou darest not say so, villain, for thy life.
Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limhs.
K. John. We like not this ; thou dost forget thyself.
Enter Pandulph:.
K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope.
Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven !
To thee, King John, my holy errand is.
I, Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal,
And from Pope Innocent the legate here,
Do, in his name, religiously demand,
Why thou against the church, our holy mother,
So wilfully dost spurn ; and, force perforce,
Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop
Of Canterbury, from that holy see ?
This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name,
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.
K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories,
Can task the free breath of a sacred king ?
Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name
So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous,
To charge me to an answer, as the pope.
Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England,
Add thus much more, — That no Italian priest
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ;
But as we under heaven are supreme head,
So, under him, that great supremacy,
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold,
Without the assistance of a mortal hand :
So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart,
To him, and his usurp'd authority.
K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.
K. John. Though you, and all the kings of Christendom,
Are led so grossly by this meddling priest,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out ;
And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself:
Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led,
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish ;
Yet I, alone, alone do me oppose
Against the pope, and count his friends my foes.
Pand. Then, by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt stand cursed, and excommunicate :
And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretic ;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd,
Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.
Const . O, lawful let it be,
That I have room with Bome to curse a white !
Good father cardinal, cry thou Amen,
SCEXE 1. 1 KING JOHN. 303
To my keen curses ; for, without my wrong,
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right.
Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse.
Const. And for mine too ; when law can do no right,
Let it be lawful, that law bar no wrong ;
Law cannot give my child his kingdom here ;
For he, that nolds his kingdom, holds the law :
Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ?
Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ;
And raise the power of France upon his head,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome.
Mi. Look'st thou pale, France ? do not let go thy hand.
Const. Look to that, devil ! lest that France repent,
And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul.
Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal.
Bast. And hang a calf s-skin on his recreant limbs.
Aust. "Well ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,
Because
Bast. Your breeches best may carry them.
K. John. Philip, what saj^st thou to the cardinal ? . ~ . .-.
Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal ?
Lew. Bethink you, father ; for the difference
Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Borne,
Or the light loss of England for a friend :
Forego the easier.
Blanch. Thaf s the curse of Borne.
Const. O Lewis, stand fast ; the devil tempts thee here,
In likeness of a new untrimmed* bride.
Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not from her faith,
But from her need.
Const. O, if thou grant my need,
"Which only lives but by the death of faith,
That need must needs infer this principle,
That faith would live again by death of need ;
O, then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up :
Keep my need up ; and faith is trodden down.
K. John. The King is moved, and answers not to this.
Const. O, be removed from him, and answer well.
Aust. Do so, King Philip ; hang no more in doubt.
Bast. Hang nothing but a calf s-skin, most sweet lout.
IT. Phi. I am perplex'd, and know not what to say.
Pand. "What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more,
If thou stand excommunicate, and cursed ?
K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person yours,
And tell me, how you would bestow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit ;
And the conjunction of our inward souls
Married in league, coupled and link'd together
"With all religious strength of sacred vows ;
The latest breath that gave the sound of words,
"Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love
* Unsullied.
304 king john. Tact hi.
Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves ;
And even before this truce, but new before, —
No longer than we well could wash our hands,
To clap this royal bargain up of peace,
Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd
With slaughter's pencil ; where revenge did paint
The fearful difference of incensed kings :
And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood,
So newly join'd in love, so strong in both,
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regret ?*
Play fast and loose with faith ? so jest with heaven,
Make such unconstant children of ourselves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm ;
Unswear faith sworn ; and on the marriage-bed
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,
And make a riot on the gentle brow
Of true sincerity ? O holy Sir,
My reverend father, let it not be so :
Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose
Some gentle order ; and then we shall be bless'd
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.
Pand. All form is formless, order orderless,
Save what is opposite to England's love.
Therefore, to arms ! be champion of our church !
Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse,
A mother's curse, on her revolting son.
Trance, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue,
A chafed lion by the mortal paw,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.
K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.
Pand. So makest thou faith an enemy to faith ;
And, like a civil war, set'st oath to oath,
Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow
First made to neaven, first be to heaven perform'd ;
That is, to be the champion of our church !
What since thou swor'st, is sworn against thyself,
And may not be performed by thyself :
For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss,
Is not amiss when it is truly done ;
And being not done, where doing tends to ill,
The truth is then most done not doing it :
The better act of purposes mistook
Is, to mistake again ; though indirect,
Yet, indirection thereby grows direct,
And falsehood falsehood cures ; as fire cools fire,
Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd.
It is religion, that doth make vows kept ;
But thou hast sworn against religion ;
By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou swear'st ;
And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth
* Exchange of salutation.
SCENE I.] KING JOHN. 306
Against an oath : The truth thou art unsure
To swear, swear only not to be forsworn ;
Else, what a mockery should it be to swear ?
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn ;
And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear.
Therefore, thy latter vows, against thy first,
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself:
And better conquest never canst thou make,
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
Against those giddy loose suggestions :
Upon which better part our prayers come in,
If thou vouchsafe them : but, ir not, then know,
The peril of our curses light on thee ;
So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off,
But, in despair, die under their black weight.
Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion !
Bast. Will't not be ?
Will not a calf s-skin stop that mouth of thine?
Lew. Father, to arms !
Blanch. Upon thy wedding-day ?
Against the blood that thou hast married ?
What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ?
Shall braying trumpets, ana loud churlish drums, —
Clamours of nell, — be measures* to our pomp ?
O husband, hear me ! — ah, alack, how new
Is husband in my mouth ! — even for that name,
Which till this tune my tongue did ne'er pronounce,
Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms
Against mine uncle.
Const. O, upon my knee.
Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom
Fore-thought by heaven.
Blanch. if ow shall I see thy love ; What motive may
Be stronger with thee than the name of wife ?
Const. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds,
His honour : O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour !
Lew. I muse, your majesty doth seem so cold,
When such profound respects do pull you on.
Band. I will denounce a curse upon his head.
K. Bhi. Thou shalt not need : — England, I'll fall from thee.
Const. O fair return of banish'd majesty !
Mi. O foul revolt of French inconstancy !
K. John. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour.
Bast. Old time the clock-setter, that bald sexton time,
Is it as he will ? well then, France shall rue.
Blanch. The sun 's o'ercast with blood : Fair day, adieu !
Which is the side that I must go withal ?
I am with both : each army hath a hand ;
And, in their rage, I having hold of both
They whirl asunder, and dismember me.
* Solemn dances.
vol.ii. x
306 KING JOHN. [ACT III.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win ;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose ;
Father, I may not wish the fortune thine ;
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive :
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ;
Assured loss before the match be play'd.
Lew. Lady, with me ; with me thy fortune lies.
Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance* together. —
[Exit Bastaed.
France, I am burned up with inflaming wrath ;
A rage, whose heat hath this condition,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood, and dearest valued blood, of France.
K. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that lire :
Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.
K. John. No more than he that threats.— To arms let's hie !
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The same. Plains near Anglers.
Alarums, Excursions. — Enter the Bastaed, with AustEIa'S
head.
Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot ;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky,
And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there :
While Philip breathes.
Enter King John, Abthub, and Hubeet.
K. John. Hubert, keep this boy :— Philip, make up :
My mother is assailed in our tent,
And ta'en, I fear.
Bast. My lord, I rescued her ;
Her highness is in safety, fear you not :
But on, my liege : for very little pains
Will bring this labour to a happy end. [Exeunt.
SCENE III— The same.
Alarums ; Excursions ; Retreat. — Enter KlNG JOHN, ELINOE,
Abthub, the Bastaed, Hubeet, and Lords.
K. John. So shall it be ; your grace shall stay behind,
[To Elinoe.
So strongly guarded. — Cousin, look not sad : [To Aethub.
Thy grandam loves thee ; and thy uncle will
As dear be to thee as thy father was.
Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.
K. John. Cousin [To the Bastaed], away for England; haste
before :
* Force.
SCENE III.J KINO JOHN. 807
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the hags
Of hoarding abbots ; angels* imprison'd
Set thou at liberty : the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force.
Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,
"When gold and silver becks me to come on.
I leave your highness : — Grandam, I will pray
ilf ever I remember to be holy)
''or your fair safety : so I kiss your hand.
Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.
K. John. Coz, farewell. \_JEx it Bastard.
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman ; hark, a word.
[She takes ARTHUR aside.
K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much ; within this wall or flesh
There is a soul, counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love :
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, —
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed
To say what good respect I have of thee.
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty.
K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet i
But thou shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say, — But let it go :
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,t
To give me audience : — If the midnight-bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night ;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs,
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy, thick
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes) ;
Or if that thoucouldst see me without eyes.
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit! alone,
Without eyes, ears, and narmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts :
But ah, I will not : — Yet I love thee well ;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me welL
* The coin. t Showy ornaments. i Conception.
x 2
308 KING JOHN. [ACT III.
Hub. So well, that what you hid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I'd do't.
K. John. Do not I know, thou wouldst ?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way ;
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me : Dost thou understand me ?
Thou art his keeper.
Hub. And I will keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death.
Hub. My lord?
K. John. A grave.
Hub. He shall not live.
K. John. Enough.
I could be merry now : Hubert, I love thee ;
"Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee :
Remember ! Madam, fare you well :
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee !
K. John. For England, cousin :
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty. — On toward Calais, ho ! [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.— The same. The French King's Tent.
Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandtjlph, and Attendants.
K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armado of convicted* sail
Is scattered and disjoin'd from fellowship.
Pand. Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go well.
K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run so ill ?
Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers lost ?
Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain ?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'erbearing interruption, spite of France ?
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified :
So hot a speed with such advice disposed,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example : Who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this ?
K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,
So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Enter CONSTANCE.
Look, who comes here ! a grave unto a soul ;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
* Assembled.
8CEXE IT.] KING JOHN'. 309
In the vile prison of afflicted breath : —
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.
Const. Lo, now ! now see the issue of your peace !
K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Constance !
Const. No, I defy* all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death : — O amiable lovely death !
Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness !
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones ;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows ;
And ring these fingers with thy household worms ;
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st,
And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love,t
O, come to me !
K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace.
Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry :—
O. that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth !
Then with a passion would I shake the world ;
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
"Which cannot hear a lady^s feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern! invocation.
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so ;
I am not mad : this hair I tear, is mine ;
My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ;
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost :
I am not mad ; — I would to heaven, I were !
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
O, if I could, what grief should I forget ! —
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shaft be canonized, cardinal ;
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliverM of these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself :
If I were mad, I should forget my son ;
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he :
I am not mad ; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.
K. Phi. Bind up those tresses : O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs !
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
* Refuse. t Lover, friend. t Common.
310 KING JOHN. (ACT III.
Const. To England, if you will.
K. Phi. Bind up your hairs.
Const. Yes, that I will ; and wherefore will I do it ?
I tore them from their bonds ; and cried aloud,
that these hands could so redeem my son,
As they have given these hairs their liberty !
But now I envy at their liberty,
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven :
If that be true, I shall see my boy again ;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost ;
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit;
And so he'll die ; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
1 shall not know him : therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
JPand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Const. He talks to me that never nad a son.
K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child.
Const. Grief fills the room up or my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats bis words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Fare you well : had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do. —
I will not keep this form upon my head,
[ Tearing off her Mead-dress.
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son !
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world !
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure ! [Exit.
K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. [Exit.
Lew. There's nothing in the world, can make me joy :
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste,
That it yields naught, but shame, and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest ; evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil :
What have you lost by losing of this day ?
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you have won it, certainly, you had.
SCENE IT.] KING JOHN. 311
No, no : when fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost
In this which he accounts so clearly won :
Are not you grieved, that Arthur is his prisoner ?
Lew. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him.
Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood.
Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit;
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub,
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foot to England's throne ; and, therefore, mark.
John hath seized Arthur ; and it cannot be,
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplaced John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest :
A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand.
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd :
And he, that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile bold to stay him up :
That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall ;
So be it, for it cannot be but so.
Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall ?
Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
Lew. And lose it, Ufe and all, as Arthur did.
Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world !
John lays you plots ; the times conspire with you ;
For he, that steeps his safety in true Dlood,
Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue
This act so evilly born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal ;
That none so small advantage shall step forth,
To check his reign, but they will cherish it :
No natural exhalation in the sky,
No scope of nature, no distemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.
Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
Pand. O, Sir. when he shall hear of your approach,
If that young Arthur be not gone already.
Even at that news he dies ; and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him,
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ;
And pick strong matter or revolt, and wrath,
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot ;
And, O, what better matter breeds for you,
Than I have named !— The bastard Faulconbridge
312 KING JOHN. [ACT IV.*
Is now in England, ransacking the church,
Offending charity : If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side ;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,
Go with me to the king : J Tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent :
Now that their souls are topfull of offence,
Tor England go ; I will whet on the king.
Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions : Let us go ;
If you say, ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — Northampton. A Boom in the Castle.
Enter Hubebt and two Attendants.
Sub. Heat me these irons hot : and, look thou stand
Within the arras : when I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth ;
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
East to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch.
1 Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed.
Sub. Uncleanly scruples ! Eear not you : look to't. —
[Exeunt ATTENDANTS.
Young lad, come forth, I have to say with you.
Enter ABTHUB.
Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.
Sub. Good morrow, little prince.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
To be more prince), as may be. — You are sad.
Sub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth. Mercy on me !
Methinks, no body should be sad but I :
Yet, I remember, when I was in Erance,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long ;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me :
He is afraid of me, and I of him :
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
No, indeed, is't not ; and I would to heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Sub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate,
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead :
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [Aside.
SCENE I.J KINO JOHN. 313
Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale to-day :
In sooth I would you were a little sick ;
That I might sit all night, and watch with you :
I warrant, I love you more than you do me.
Sub. His words do take possession of my bosom. —
llead here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] How now, foolish
rheum ! [Aside.
Turning dispiteous torture out of door !
I must be brief ; lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.—
Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ ?
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect :
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ?
Sub. Young boy, I must.
Arth. And will you ?
Sub. And I will.
Arth. Have you the heart ? When your head did but ake,
I knit my handkerchief about your brows
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me),
And I did never ask it you again :
And with my hand at midnight held your head ;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ;
Saying. What lack you ? and, Where lies your grief?
Or, What good love may I perform for you ?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it, cunning ; Do, an if you will :
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill,
Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes ?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you ?
Sub. I have sworn to do it ;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it !
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot,
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench his fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence :
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than haminer'd iron ?
An if an angel should have come to me,
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed no tongue but Hubert's.
Sub. Come forth. [Stamps.
Re-enter ATTENDANTS, with Cord, Irons, S(c.
Do as I bid you do.
Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes are out,
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
314 KING JOHN. [ACT IV.
Sub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough ?
1 will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound !
Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ;
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly :
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.
Sub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him.
1 Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed.
[Exeunt ATTENDANTS,
Arth. Alas ! 1 then have chid away my friend ;
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : —
Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give life to yours.
Sub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy ?
Sub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours,
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense !
Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
Sub. Is this your promise ? go to, hold your tongue.
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes :
Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert !
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
So I may keep mine eyes : O, spare mine eyes ;
Though to no use, but still to look on you !
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,
And would not harm me.
Sub. I can heat it, boy.
Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead with grief,
Being create for comfort to be used
In undeserved extremes : See else yourself;
There is no malice in this burning coal ;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.
Sub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush,
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert :
Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes ;
And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre* him on.
All things, that you should use to do me wrong,
Deny their office, only you do lack
That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends,
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses.
* Set on.
SCENE II.] KINO JOHN. 315
Sub. "Well, see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes :*
Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
"With this same very iron to burn them out.
Art h. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this while
You were disguised.
Sub. Peace : no more. Adieu ;
Your uncle must not know but you are dead :
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports.
And, nretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure,
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.
Arth. O heaven !— I thank you, Hubert.
Sub. Silence ; no more : Go closelyt in with me ;
Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— The same. A Room of State in the Palace.
Enter King John, crowned; Pembroke, Salisbury, and other
Lords. The King takes his State.
K. John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd,
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.
Pern. This once again, but that your highness pleased,
"Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off;
The faiths of men ne er stained with revolt ;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land,
"With any long'd-for change, or better state.
Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guardj & title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Pern. But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told ;
And, in the last repeating, troublesome,
Being urged at a time unseasonable.
Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured :
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about :
Startles and frights consideration ;
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected,
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.
Pern. "When workmen strive to do better than well,
They do confound their skill in covetousness :§
And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault.
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse :
* Owns. t Secretly. t Lace. S Eager desire.
316 KING JOHN - . [ACT IV.
As patches, set upon a little breach.
Discredit more in hiding of the fault,
Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.
Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd,
We breathed our counsel : but it pleased your highness
To overbear it ; and we are all well pleased ;
Since all and every part of what we would,
Doth make a stand at what your highness will.
K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation
I have possess'd you with, and think them strong ;
And more, more strong (when lesser is my fear),
I shall indue you with : Meantime, but ask
What you would have reform'd, that is not well ;
And well shall you perceive, how willingly
I will both hear and grant you your requests.
Pent. Then I (as one that am the tongue of these,
To sound* the purposes of all their hearts),
Doth for myself and them (but, chief of all,
Your safety, for the which myself and them
Dend their best studies), heartily request
The enfranchisement of Arthur ; whose restraint
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent
To break into this dangerous argument, —
If, what in rest you have, in right you hold,
Why then your fears (which, as they say, attend
The steps of wrong), should move you to mew up
Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
The rich advantage of good exercise ?
That the time's enemies may not have this
To grace occasions, let it be our suit,
That you have bid us ask his liberty ;
Which for our goods we do no further ask ?
Than whereupon our weal, on you depending,
Counts it your weal, he have his liberty.
K. John. Let it be so ; I do commit his youth
Enter Hubert.
To your direction. — Hubert, what news with you ?
Pern. This is the man should do the bloody deed ;
He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine :
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his
Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast ;
And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done,
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do.
Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go,
Between his purpose and his conscience,
Like heralds twixt two dreadful battles set :
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.
* (Forth.)
SCENE II.] KING JOHN. 317
Pern. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death.
K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand : —
Good lords, although my will to give is living,
The suit which you demand is gone and dead :
He tells us, Arthur is deceased to-night.
Sal. Indeed, we fearM. his sickness was past cure.
Pern. Indeed we heard how near his death he was,
Before the child himself felt he was sick :
This must be answer'd, either here, or hence.
K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me ?
Think you, I bear the shears of destiny ?
Have I commandment on the pulse of life ?
Sal. It is apparent foul-play ; and 'tis shame,
That greatness should so grossly offer it :
So thrive it in your game ! and so farewell.
Pern. Stay yet, lord Salisbury ; I'll go with thee,
And find the inheritance of this poor child,
His little kingdom of a forced grave.
That blood, which owed* the breath of all this isle,
Three foot of it doth hold ; Bad world the while !
This must not be thus borne : this will break out
To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. [Exeunt Lobds.
K. John. They burn in indignation ; I repent ;
There is no sure foundations set on blood ;
No certain life achieved by others' death.
Enter a Messengee.
A fearful eye thou hast ; Where is that blood,
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm :
Pour down thy weather : — How goes all in France ?
Mess. From France to England. — Never such a power
For any foreign preparation,
AVas levied in the body of a land !
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ;
For, when you should be told they do prepare,
The tidings come, that they are all arrived.
K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk ?
Where hath it slept ? Where is my mother's care ?
That such an army could be drawn in France,
And she not hear of it ?
Mess. My liege, her ear
Is stopp'd with dust ; the first of April, died
Your noble mother : And, as I hear, my lord,
The lady Constance in a frenzy died
Three days before : but this from rumour's tongue
I idly heard if true or false, I know not.
K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion !
O, make a league with me till I have pleased
My discontented peers ! — What ! mother dead ?
318 KING JOHN. [ACT IT.
How wildly then walks* my estate in Prance !—
Under whose conduct came those powers of France,
That thou for truth giv'st out, are landed here ?
Mess. Under the Dauphin.
Enter the Bastard and Petee of Pomfret.
K. John. Thou hast made me giddy
With these ill tidings. — Now, what says the world
To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news, for it is full.
Bast. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst,
Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.
K. John. Bear with me, cousin ; Por I was amazed t
Under the tide : but now I breathe again
Aloft the flood ; and can give audience
To any tongue, speak it or what it will.
Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen,
The sums I have collected shall express.
But as I travell'd hither through the land,
I find the people strangely fantasied ;
Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams :
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear :
And here's a prophet, that I brought with me
Prom forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found
"With many hundreds treading on his heels ;
To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes,
That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon,
Your highness should deliver up your crown.
K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so ?
Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so.
K. John. Hubert, away with him ; imprison him ;
And on that day at noon, whereon he says,
I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd :
Deliver him to safety, and return.
For I must use thee. — O my gentle cousin,
\_Exit Hubeet, with Petee.
Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arrived ?
Bast. The French, my lord ; men's mouths are full of it :
Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury
(With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire),
And others more, going to seek the grave
Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night
On your suggestion.
K. John. Gentle kinsman, go,
And thrust thyself into their companies :
I have a way to win their loves again ;
Bring them before me.
Bast. I will seek them out.
K. John. Nay, but make haste ; the better foot belore.
O, let me have no subject enemies,
When adverse foreigners affright my towns
* Proceeds. t Stunned, confounded.
6CEXE II. J EIKG JOHN. 319
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion ! —
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels ;
And fly, like thought, from them to me again.
Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. [Exit.
K. John. Spoke like a spriteful noble gentleman. —
Go after him ; for he, perhaps, shall need
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ;
And be thou he.
Mess. With all my heart, my liege. [Exit.
K. John. My mother dead !
Re-enter HUBEBT.
Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen to-night :
Four fix'd ; and the fifth did whirl about
The other four, in wond'rous motion.
K. John. Five moons ?
Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets
Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
Young Arthurs death is common in their mouths :
And when they talk of him, they shake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear :
And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist ;
Whilst he that hears, makes fearful action.
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ;
Who. with his shears and measure in his hand,
Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet),
Told of a many thousand warlike French,
That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent :
Another lean unwash'd artificer
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.
K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears ?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ?
Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had mighty cause
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
Hub. Had none, my lord ! Why, did you not provoke me ?
K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended
By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant
To break within the bloody house of life :
And, on the winking of authority,
To understand a law ; to know tne meaning
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns
More upon humour than advised respect.*
Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
K. John. O, wnen the last account 'twixt heaven and earth
Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal
Witness against us to damnation !
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,
* Deliberate consideration.
320 KING JOHK. [ACT IV. •
Makes deeds ill done ! Hadst not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted,* and sign'd, to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind :
But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany,
Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death
And thou to be endeared to a king,
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.
Hub. My lord,
K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause,
When I spake darkly what I purposed ;
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,
Or bid me tell my tale in express words ;
Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off,
Ana those thy fears might have wrought fears in me :
But thou didst understand me by my signs,
And didst in signs again parley with sin ;
Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,
And, consequently, thy rude hand to act
The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name, —
Out of my sight, and never see me more !
My nobles leave me ; and my state is braved,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers :
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,f
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns
Between my conscience, and my cousin's death.
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you.
Young Arthur is alive : This hand of mine
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.
Within this bosom never enter'd yet
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought.
And you have slander'd nature in my form ;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
K. John. Doth Arthur live ? O, haste thee to the peers,
Throw this report on their incensed rage,
And make them tame to their obedience !
Forgive the comment that my passion made
Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind,
And foul imaginary eyes of blood
Presented thee more hideous than thou art.
O, answer not ; but to my closet bring
The angry lords, with all expedient^ haste:
I conjure thee but slowly ; run more fast. [Exeunt.
* Observed. t His own body. J Expeditious.
SCENE in.] KING JOHN. 331
SCENE III.— The same. Before the Castle.
Enter ABTHCB, on the Walls.
Arth. The wall is high ; and yet will I leap down : —
Good ground> be pitiful, and hurt me not ! —
There's few, or none, do know me ; if they did,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguised me quite.
I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it.
If I get down, and do not break my limbs,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away :
As good to die, and go, as die, and stay. [Leaps down.
O me ! my uncle's spirit is in these stones —
Heaven take my souL and England keep my bones ! [Dies.
Enter Pembeoke, Salisbuby, and BlGOT.
Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmund's-Bury ;
It is our safety, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perilous time.
Pern. Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France ;
Whose private with me * of the Dauphin's love,
Is much more general than these lines import.
Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.
Sal. Or, rather, then set forward : for 'twill be
Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet.
Enter the BASTABD.
Bast. Once more to-day, well met, distemper'd lords !
The king, by me, .requests your presence straight.
Sal. The king hath dispossess^ himself of us ;
We will not line his thin bestained cloak
With our pure honours, nor attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks :
Beturn, and tell him so ; we know the worst.
Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best
Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reasonf now.
Bast. But there is little reason in your grief;
Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now.
Pern. Sir, Sir, impatience hath his privilege.
Bast. 'Tis true ; to hurt his master, no man else.
Sal. This is the prison : What is he lies here ?
[Seeing AbtHTTB.
Pem. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty !
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.
Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done,
Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge.
Big. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave,
Found it too precious-princely for a grave.
* Private account. t Speak.
VOL. II. T
32$ KING JOHN. [ACT IT.
Sal. Sir Richard, what think you ? have you heheld,
Or have you read, or heard P or could you think ?
Or do you almost think, although you see,
That you do see ? could thought, without this object,
Form such another ? This is the very top,
The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest,
Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroke,
That ever wall-eyed wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse*
Pern. All murders past do stand excused in this :
And this, so sole, and so unmatchable,
Shall give a holiness, a purity,
To the yet-unbegotten sin of time ;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle.
Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work :
The graceless action of a heavy hand,
If that it be the work of any hand.
Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ? —
We had a kind of light, what would ensue :
It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ;
The practice, and the purpose, of the king : —
From whose obedience I forbid my soul,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
And breathing to his breathless excellence
The incense of a vow, a holy vow ;
Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
Till I have set a gloryf to this hand,
By giving it the worship of revenge.
Pern. Big. Our souls religiously confirm thy words.
Enter HUBERT.
Sub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you :
Arthur doth live ; the king hath sent for you.
Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death :
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone !
Sub. I am no villain.
Sal. Must I rob the law ? \ Drawing his sivord.
Bast. Your sword is bright, Sir ; put it up again.
Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin.
Sub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say ;
By heaven, I think, my sword 's as sharp as yours :
I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,
Nor tempt the danger of my truet defence ;
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
* Pity.
t The circle of rays surrounding the heads of saints.
t Honest.
SCENE III.j' KING JOHN. 323
Big. Out, dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a nobleman ?
Hub. Not for my life : but yet I dare defend
My innocent life against an emperor.
Sal. Thou art a murderer.
Hub. Do not prove me so ; *
Yet, I am none : Whose tongue soe'er speaks false,
Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly, hes.
Pern. Cut him to pieces.
Bast. Keep the peace, I say.
Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge.
Bast. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury :
If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot,
Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame,
I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime ;
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron,
That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge ?
Second a villain, and a murderer ?
Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.
Big. Who kill'd this prince ?
Hub. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well :
I honour'd him, I loved him ; and will weep
My date of life out, for his sweet life's loss.
Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villany is not without such rheum ;
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Like rivers of remorsef and hinocency.
Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house,
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.
Big. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there !
Pern. There, tell the king, he may inquire us out.
[Exeunt Lords.
Bast. Here's a good world ! — Knew you of this fair work ?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn'd, Hubert.
Hub. Do but hear me, Sir.
Bast. Ha ! I'll tell thee what ;
Thou art damn'd as black — nay, nothing is so black ;
Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer :
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
Hub. Upon my soul,
Bast. If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but despair,
And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be
A beam to hang thee on ; or wouldst thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,
* By compelling me to kill you. t Pity.
Y2
324 KING JOHN. [ACT V.
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villain up.^—
I do suspect thee very grievously.
Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me !
I left him well.
Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms. —
I am amazed* methinks ; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.—
How easy dost thou take all England up ;
Prom forth this morsel of dead royalty,
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm
Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left
To tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth
The unowedf interest of proud-swelling state.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace :
Now powers from home, and discontents at home,
Meet m one line ; and vast confusion waits
(As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast),
The imminent decay of wrested X pomp.
Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed ; I'll to the king :
A thousand businesses are brief in hand.
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King John, Pandtjlph with the Crown, and Attendants.
K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand
The circle of my glory.
Pand. Take again [ Giving John the Crown.
Prom this my hand, as holding of the pope,
Your sovereign greatness and authority.
K. John. Now keep your holy word : go meet the Prench ;
And from his holiness use all your power
To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflamed.
Our discontented counties do revolt ;
Our people quarrel with obedience;
Swearing allegiance, and the love ot soul,
To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This inundation of mistemper'd humour
* Confounded. 1 Unowned.
X Wrested from its right owner.
SCENE I.] KING JOHN. 825
Bests by you only to be qualified.
Then pause not ; for the present time 's so sick,
That present medicine must be minister'd,
Or overthrow incurable ensues.
Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempest up,
Upon your stubborn usage of the pope :
But, since you are a gentle convertite,
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war,
And make fair weather in your blustering land.
On this Ascension-day, remember well
Upon your oath of service to the pope,
Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [Exit.
K. John. Is this Ascension-day ? Did not the prophet
Say, that, before Ascension-day at noon,
My crown I should give off? Even so I have :
I did suppose, it should be on constraint ;
But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary.
Enter the Bastaed.
Bast. All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there holds out,
But Dover Castle : London hath received,
Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers :
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer service to your enemy ;
And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of your doubtful friends.
K. John. Would not my lords return to me again,
After they heard young Arthur was alive ?
Bast . They found him dead, and cast into the streets ;
An empty casket, where the jewel of life
By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away.
K. John. That villain Hubert told me he did live.
Bast. So. on my soul he did, for aught he knew.
But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ?
Be great in act as you have been in thought ;
Let not the world see fear and sad distrust,
Govern the motion of a kingly eye :
Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ;
Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow
Of bragging horror : so shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Away ; and glister like the god of war
When he intendeth to become the field :
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence.
What, shall they seek the lion in his den,
And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ?
O, let it not be said ! — Forage, and run
To meet displeasure further from the doors ;
And grapple with him, ere he comes so nigh.
K. John. The legate of the pope hath been with me,
And I have made a happy, peace with him ;
326 KING JOHN. [ACT V.
And he hath promised to dismiss the powers
Led by the Dauphin.
Bast. O inglorious league !
Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
Send fair-play orders, and make compromise,
Insinuation, parley, and base truce,
To arms invasive ? shall a beardless boy,
A cocker'd* silken wanton brave our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,
And find no check ? Let us, my liege, to arms :'
Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace ;
Or if he do, let it at least be said,
They saw we had a purpose of defence.
K. John. Have thou the ordering of this present time.
Bast. Away then, with good courage ; yet I know,
Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A plain, near St. Edmund' s-Bury.
Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Melius, Pembroke,
Bigot, and Soldiers.
Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out,
And keep it safe for our remembrance :
Eeturn the precedent to these lords again ;
That, having our fair order written down,
Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes,
May know wherefore we took the sacrament,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable,
Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken.
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear
A voluntary zeal, and unurged faith,
To your proceedings ; yet, believe me, prince,
I am not glad that such a sore of time
Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound,
By making many : O, it grieves my soul,
That I must draw this metal from my side
To be a widow-maker ; O, and there,
"Where honourable rescue, and defence,
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury :
But such is the infection of the time,
That, for the health and physic of our right,
We cannot deal but with the very hand
Of stern injustice and confused wrong. —
And is't not pity O my grieved friends !
That we, the sons and children of this isle,
Were born to see so sad an hour as this ;
Wherein we step after a stranger march
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up
* Over-fondled,
SCENE II.] KING JOHN. 327
Her enemies' ranks (I must withdraw and weep
Upon the spot of this enforced cause),
To grace the gentry of a land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours here ?
What, here ? — O nation, that thou couldst remove !
That Neptune's arms, who clippeth* thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself,
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore ;
Where these two Christian armies might combine
The blood of malice in a vein of league,
And not to spend it so unneighbourly !
Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this ;
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom, •
Do make an earthquake of nobility.
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
Between compulsion and a brave respect !f
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks ;
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
Being an ordinary inundation ;
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed
Than I had seen the vaulty top of heaven
Figured quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up tny brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm :
Commend these waters to those baby eyes,
That never saw the giant world enraged ;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Come, come ; for thou shalt thrust thy nand as deep
Into the purse of rich prosperity,
As Lewis himself: — so, nobles, shall you all
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.
Enter Pandulph, attended.
And even there, methinks, an angel spake :
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven ;
And on our actions set the name of right,
With holy breath.
Fund. Hail, noble prince of France !
The next is this, — King J ohn hath reconciled . .
Himself to Borne; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church,
The great metropolis and see of Rome :
Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That, like a Hon foster'd up at hand,
* Embraceth. + J. e. for his country.
328 KING JOHN. [ACT V.
It may lie gently at the foot of peace.
And be no further harmful than in show.
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back ;
I am too high-born to be propertied,*
To be a secondary at control,
Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars,
Between this chastised kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire ;
And now tis far too huge to be blown out
"With that same weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart ;
And come you now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Borne ? What is that peace to me ?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine ;
And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Bome ?
Am I Bome's slave ? What penny hath Bome borne,
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop this action ? is't not I,
That undergo this charge ? who else but I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war ?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out,
Vive le roy ! as I have bank'df their towns ?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this easy match play'd for a crown ?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ?
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.
Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return
Till my attempt so much be glorified
As to my ample hope was promised
Before l drew this gallant head of war,
And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world,
To outlook J conquest, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death. — [Trumpet sounds.
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?
Enter the BASTABD, attended.
Bast. According to the fair play of the world,
Let me have audience ; I am sent to speak : —
My holy lord of Milan, from the king
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ;
And, as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.
* Appropriated. t Coasted along, passed. t Face down.
8CENE II.] KING JOHN. 329
Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
And will not temporize with my entreaties ;
He flatly says, he 11 not lay down his arms.
Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breathed,
The youth says well : — Now hear our English king ;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepared ; and reason too, he should :
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish*troops,
The king doth smile at ; and is well prepared
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
That hand, which had the strength, even at your door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch ;*
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells ;
To crouch in litter of your stable planks ;
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks ; ,
To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill, and shake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ; —
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No : Know the gallant monarch is in arms ;
And like an eagle o'er his aery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody pJeros, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame :
For your own ladies, and pale-visaged maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums ;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their neeldst to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.
Lew. There end thy brave, 1 and turn thy face in peace ;
We grant, thou canst outscold us : fare thee well ;
"We hold our time too precious to be spent
"With such a brabbler.
Pand. Give me leave to speak.
Bast. No, I will speak.
Lew. We will attend to neither :—
Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest, and our beinghere.
Bast. Indeed, your drums, being heaten, will cry out ;
And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready braced,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ;
Sound but another, and another shall
* Leap over the hedge Needles. J Bravado.
330 KING JOHN. [ACT V.
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's* ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at hand
(Not trusting to this halting legate here,
Whom he hath used rather for sport than need),
Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits
A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.
Lew. Strike up our drums to find this danger out.
Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.
{Exeunt.
SCENE III.— The same. A Field of Battle.
Alarums. — Enter King John and Hubert.
K. John. How goes the day with us ? ; tell me, Hubert.
Hub. Badly, I fear : How fares your majesty ?
K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long,
Lies heavy on me ; O, my heart is sick !
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge,
Desires your majesty to leave the field ;
And send him word by me, which way you go.
K. John. Tell him, toward Swinshead, to the abbey there.
Mess. Be of good comfort ; for the great supply,
That was expected by the Dauphin here,
Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands.
This news was brought to Richard but even now :
The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.
K. John. Ah me ! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news. —
Set on toward Swinshead : to my litter straight ;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [ExeunU
SCENE IV.— The same. Another part of the same.
Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and others. .
Sal. I did not think the king so stored with friends.
Pern. Up once again ; put spirit in the French;
If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Pern. They say, King John, sore sick, hath left the field.
Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers.
Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.
Bern. It is the count Meiun.
* Sky.
SCENE IV. J KING JOHN. 331
Sal. "Wounded to death.
Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold ;
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion.
And welcome home again discarded faith.
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet ;
For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
He* means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury ;
Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.
Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true ?
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view.
Retaining but a quantity of life ;
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolved from his figure t 'gainst the fire ?
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
Why should I then be false; since it is true
That I must die here, and hve hence by truth ?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes or yours
Behold another day break in the east :
But even this night, — whose black contagious breath
Already smokes about the burning crest
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, —
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire ;
Faying the fine of rated treachery.
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him, — and this respect besides,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman, —
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field ;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.
Sal. We do believe thee, — And beshrew my soul
But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps 01 damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
And calmly run on in obedience,
Even to our ocean, to our great king John.
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ;
* Lewis. t Dissolved.
332 KING JOHN. [ACT V.
For I do see the cruel pangs of death
Eight in thine eye. — Away nly friends ! New flight ;
And happy newness, that intends old right.
[Exeunt, leading off Melun.
SCENE V.— The same. The French Camp.
Enter LEWIS and his Train.
Lew. The sun of heaven, methought ; was loath to set ;
But stay'd and made the western welkin blush,
When the English measured backward their own ground,
In faint retire : O, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After such bloody toil, we bid good night ;
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it ! <
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Where is my prince the Dauphin ?
Lew. Here : — What news?
Mess. The count Melun is slain ; the English lords,
By his persuasion, are again fallen off:
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long,
Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.
Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news ! — Beshrew thy very heart !
I did not think to be so sad to-night,
As this hath made me. — Who was he, that said,
King John did fly, an hour or two before
The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lew. Well ; keep good quarter,* and good care to-night ;
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI. — An open Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinshead
Abbey.
Enter the Bastaed and HUBEET, meeting.
Sub. Who's there ? speak, ho ! speak quickly, or I shoot.
Bast. A friend :— What art thou ?
Sub. Of the part of England.
Bast. Whither dost thou go ?
Sub. What's that to thee P Why may not I demand
Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine ?
Bast . Hubert, I think.
Sub. Thou hast a perfect thought :
I will upon all hazards, well believe
Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well :
Who art thou?
* In your posts.
SCENE VII.] KING JOHN. 333
Bast. Who thou wilt : an if thou please,
Thou mayst befriend me so much, as to think
I come one way of the Plantagenets.
Hub. Unkind remembrance ! thou, and eyeless night,
Have done me shame : — Brave soldier, pardon me,
That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
Bast . Come, come ; sans compliment, what news abroad ?
Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night,
To find you out.
Bast. Brief, then ; and what's the news ?
Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news ;
I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.
Hub. The king, I fear is poison'd by a monk :
I left him almost speechless, and broke out
To acquaint you with this evil : that you might
The better arm you to the sudden time,
Than if you had at leisure known of this.
Bast. How did he take it ? who did taste to him ?
Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain,
Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king
Yet speaks, and, perad venture, may recover.
Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all come back,
And brought prince Henry in their company ;
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his majesty.
Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
And tempt us not to bear above our power !
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,
Passing these flats, are taken by the tide,
These Lincoln washes have devour'd them ;
Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escaped.
Away, before ! conduct me to the king ;
I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII— The Orchard of Swinshead Abbey.
Enter PEINCE Heney, Saxisbuby, and BlGOT.
P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood
Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house)
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.
Enter Pembboke.
Pern. His highness yet doth speak ; and holds belief,
That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poison which assaileth him.
S34 KING JOHN - . |>CT V.
P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here —
Doth he still rage ? [Exit Bigot.
Pern. He is more patient
Than wlien you left him ; even now he sung.
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes,
In their continuance, will not feel themselves.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them insensible ; and his siege is now
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
"With many legions of strange fantasies ;
Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing.—
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ;
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince ; for you are born
To set a form upon that indigest
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.
Pe-enter BlGOT and Attendants, who bring in King John in a
Chair.
K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room ;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust :
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment ; and against this fire
Do I shrink up.
P. Hen. How fares your majesty ?
K. John. Poison'd, — ill-fare ; — dead, forsook, cast off:
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold : — I do not ask you much,
I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait,*
And so ingrateful, you deny me that.
P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears,
That might relieve you !
K. John. The salt in them is hot. —
Within me is a hell ; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize
On unreprievable condemned blood.
Enter the Bastaed.
Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,
And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye :
* Narrow, avaricious.
SCENE VII. J KING JOIIN. 335
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ;
And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail,
Are turned to one thread, one little hair :
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered;
And then all this thou seest, is but a clod,
And module* of confounded royalty.
Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ;
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him :
Tor, in a night, the best part of my power,
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The King dies.
Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. —
My liege ! my lord ! — But now a king, — now thus.
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop.
What surety of the world, what hope, what stay,
When this was now a king, and now is clay ?
Bast. Art thou gone so ? I do but stay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge ;
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,
As it on earth hath been thy servant stilL
Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres.
Where be your powers ? Show now your mended faiths ;
And instantly return with me again,
To push destruction, and perpetual shame,
Out of the weak-door of our fainting land :
Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought ;
The Dauphin rages at our very heels.
Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we :
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest.
Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin ;
And brings from him such offers of our peace
As we with honour and respect may take,
With purpose presently to leave this war.
Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already ;
For many carriages he hath despatch'd
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel
To the disposing of the cardinal :
With whom yourself, myself, and other ldrds,
If you think meet, this afternoon will post
To consummate this business happily.
Bast. Let it be so ; — And you, my noble prince,
With other princes that may best be spared,
Shall wait upon your father s funeral.
P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd ;
For so he will'd it.
Bast. Thither shall it then,
And happily may your sweet self put on
336 KING JOHN. [ACT V.
The lineal state and glory of the land !
To whom, with all submission, on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithful services
And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
To rest without a spot for evermore.
P. Sen. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks,
And knows not how to do it, but with tears.
Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe,
Since it hath been before-hand with our griefs. —
This England never did (nor never shall)
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt.
THE
LIFE AND DEATH
OF
KING RICHARD II.
PERSONS EEPEESENTED.
KING RICHARD THE SECOND.
EDMUND OF LANGLEY.1 TT „„,„
Duke of York; 1^«
JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke f ° lne
of Lancaster) J Aln «-
HENRY, surnamed Bolingbroke,
Duke of Hereford, Son to John of
Gaunt; afterwards King Henry IV.
DUKE OF AUMERLE, Son to the
Duke of York.
MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk.
DUKE OF SURREY.
EARL OF SALISBURY.
EARL BERKLEY.
BUSHY "1
BAGOt! [Creatures to King
GREEN, J Rlchard '
EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.
HENRY PERCY, his Son.
LORD ROSS.
LORD WILLOUGHBY.
LORD FITZWATER.
BISHOP OF CARLISLE.
ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER.
LORD MARSHAL; and another
Lord.
SIR PIERCE of Exton.
SIR STEPHEN SCROOP.
Captain of a band of Welshmen.
QUEEN to King Richard.
DUCHESS OF GLOSTER.
DUCHESS OF YORK.
Lady attending on the Queen.
Lords, Heralds, Officers, Sol-
diers, two Gardeners, Keeper,
Messenger, Groom, and other
Attendants.
Scene.— Dispersedly in England and Wales.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — London. A Room in the Palace.
Enter KlNG ElCHARD, attended; John o/GAUNT, and other
Nobles, with him.
K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,*
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son ;
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,
TOL. II.
* Bond.
Z
338 KING EICHAED IT. [ACT I.
Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ?
Gaunt. I have, my liege.
K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him,
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice ;
Or worthily as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him ?
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument, —
On some apparent danger seen in him,
Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence ; face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
The accuser, and the accused, freely speak : —
[Exeunt some Attendants.
High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBEOKE and NoEFOLK.
Roling. May many years of happy days befall
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege !
Nor. Each day still better other's happiness ;
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown !
K. Rich. We thank you both : yet one but flatters us,
As well appeareth by the cause you come ;
Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. —
Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ?
Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my speech !)
In the devotion of a subject's love,
Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
And free from other misbegotten hate,
Come I appellant to this princely presence. —
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak,
My body shall make good upon this earth,
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant ;
Too good to be so, and too bad to live ;
Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat ;
And wish (so please my sovereign), ere I move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove.
Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal ;
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain :
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this,
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say :
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
SCENE T.J KING EICHAED II. 339
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech ;
Which else would post until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I spit at him ;
Call him — a slanderous coward, and a villain :
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds ;
And. meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any otherground inhabitable*
Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
Meantime, let this defend my loyalty, —
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming here the kindred of a king ;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except :
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop :
By that, and all the rites of knighthood else,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoke, or thou canst worst devise.
Nor. I take it up ; and, by that sword I swear,
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial :
And, when I mount, alive may I not light,
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight !
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge ?
It must be great, that can inheritf us
So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true ; —
That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles,
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ;
The which he hath detain'd for lewd J employments,
Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Besides I say, and will in battle prove, —
Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge
That ever was survey'd by English eye, —
That all the treasons, for these eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
Further I say, — and further will maintain
Upon his bad life, to make all this good. —
That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death ;
Suggest§ his soon-believing adversaries :
And, consequently, like a traitor coward,
Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood :
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,
* Uninhabitable. t Possess. t Wicked. I Prompt.
Z 2
340 KING EICHAKD II. [ACT I.
To me, for justice, and rough chastisement ;
And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars !— •
Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this ?
Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
Till I have told this slander of his blood,*
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar.
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and ears :
"Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir
(As he is but my father's brother's son),
Now by my sceptre's awef I make a vow.
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul ;
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest !
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers :
The other part reserved I by consent ;
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt,
Upon remainder of a dear account,
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen :
Now swallow down that lie. For Gloster's death,
I slew him not ; but to my own disgrace,
Neglected my sworn duty in that case, —
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honourable father to my foe,
Once did I lay in ambush for your life,
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul:
But, ere I last received the sacrament,
I did confess it ; and exactly begg'd
Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it.
This is my fault : As for the rest appeal'd, J
It issues from the rancour of a villain,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor :
Which in myself I boldly will defend ;
And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Upon this overweening § traitor's foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom :
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
Your highness to assign our trial-day.
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me ;
Let's purge this choler without letting blood :
This we prescribe, though no physician ;
Deep malice makes too deep incision :
* Reproach to his ancestry. t Dignity.
t Charged. § Arrogant.
SCENE I.j KING BICHAED II. 841
Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed ;
Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. —
Good uncle, let this end where it begun ;
"We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son.
Gaunt. To be a make- peace shall become my age :
Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.
Gaunt. When, Harry ? when ?
Obedience bids, I should not bid again.
K. Mich. Norfolk, throw down ; we bid; there is no boot.*
Nor. Myself, I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot ;
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame ;
The one my duty owes ; but my fair name
(Despite of death, that lives upon my grave),
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
I am disgraced, impeach'd, and baffled here ;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear ;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.
K. Rich. Bage must be withstood :
Give me his gage : — Lions make leopards tame.
Nor. Yea, but not change their spots : take but my shame,
And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is — spotless reputation ; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
Is-^-a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ;
Take honour from me, and my life is done :
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try ;
In that I live, and for that will I die.
K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage ; do you begin.
Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin !
Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight ?
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
Before this out-dared dastard ! Ere my tongue
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong,
Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear
The slavish motive of recanting fear,
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.
[Exit Gaunt.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command :
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day ;
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate ;
Since we cannot atonef you, we shall see
Justice design^ the victor's chivalry. —
* I. e. refusal. t Eeooncile. t Show.
342 KING EICIIAED II. [ACT I.
Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home-alarms. {Exeunt.
SCENE II.— The same. A Room in the Duke of Lancastee's
Palace.
Enter GAUNT, and Duchess o/Glostee.
Gaunt. Alas ! the part* I had in Gloster's blood
Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims,
To stir against the butchers of his life.
But since correction lieth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven:
Who when he sees the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?
Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,
Or seven fair branches springing from one root :
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut :
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, —
One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root, —
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ;
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt ! his blood was thine ; that bed, that womb,
That mettle, that self-mould, that fashion d thee,
Made him a man ; and though thou liv'st, and breath'st,
Yet art thou slain in him : Thou dost consent t
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair :
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou show st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee :
That which in mean men we entitle — patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say ? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is — to 'venge my Gloster's death.
Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel ; for heaven's substitute,
His deputy anointed in his sight,
Hath caused his death : the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge ; for I may never lift
An angry arm against his minister.
Duch. Where then, alas ! may I complain myself?
Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence.
* Relationship. t Assent.
SCENE ni.] KING RICHARD II. 343
Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight.
O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray^ breast:
Or, if misfortune miss the first career,
Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
That they may break his foaming coursers back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford !
Farewell, old Gaunt ; thy sometime brother's wife,
With her companion grief must end her life.
Gaunt. Sister, farewell ; I must to Coventry :
As much good stay with thee, as go with me !
Duch. Yet one word more ; — Grief boundeth where it falls,
Not with the empty hollowness, but weight :
I take my leave before I have begun ;
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York.
Lo, this is all : — Nay, yet depart not so ;
Though this be all, do not so quickly go ;
I shall remember more. Bid him — O, what ? —
With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see,
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ?
Ana what cheer there for welcome, but my groans ?
Therefore commend me ; let him not come there,
To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere :
Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die ;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — Gosford Green, near Coventry.
Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, Sec. attending.
Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE.
Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd ?
Aunt. Yea, at all points ; and longs to enter in.
Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.
Aunt. Why then, the champions are prepared, and stay
For nothing but his majesty's approach.
Flourish of Trumpets. — Enter King BlCHARD, who talces his
seat on his throne ; Gaunt, and several Noblemen, who take
their places. A Trumpet is sounded, and answered by anotlter
Trumpet within. Then enter Norfolk in armour, preceded by
a Herald.
K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion
The cause of his arrival here in arms :
344 KING EICHAKD II. [ACT I.
Ask him bis name ; and orderly proceed
To swear him in the justice of his cause.
Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who thou art,
And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms :
Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel :
Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath ;
And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour !
Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk ;
"Who hither come engaged by my oath
(Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate !),
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
To God, my king, and my succeeding issue,
Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me ;
And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm,
To prove him, in defending of himself,
A traitor to my God, my king, and me :
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven ! [He takes his seat.
Trumpet sounds. — Enter Bolingbroke, in armour ; preceded
by a Herald.
K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
Both who he is, and why he cometh hither
Thus plated in habiliments of war ;
And formally according to our law
Depose him in the justice of his cause.
Mar. What is thy name ? and wherefore com'st thou hither,
Before king Richard, in his royal lists ?
Against whom comest thou ; and what's thy quarrel ?
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven !
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Am I ; who ready here do stand in arms,
To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour,
In, lists, on Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk,
That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous,
To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me :
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven !
Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold,
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists ;
Except the marshal, and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs.
Boling. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand,
And bow my knee before his majesty :
For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewell, of our several friends.
Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave.
K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our arms.
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,
So be thy fortune in this royal fight !
Farewell, my blood ; which if to-day thou shed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
SCENE III.] KING BICHABI) II. 345
Boling. O, lei no noble eye profane a tear
For me. if I be gored with Mowbray's spear ;
As confident as is the falcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My loving lord [To Lord Marshal], I take my leave of you;
Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle : —
Not, sick, although I have to do with death ;
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet :
O thou, the earthly author of my blood, — [To Gaunt.
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head, —
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers ;
And with thy blessings steel my lance's point,
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen* coat,
And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt,
Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son.
Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous !
Be swift like lightning in the execution ;
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazingf thunder on the casque
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy :
Bouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to thrive !
[He takes his seat.
Nor. [Rising.] However heaven, or fortune, cast my lot,
There lives or dies, true to king Richard's throne,
A loyal, just, and upright gentleman :
Never did captive with a freer heart
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace
His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with mine adversary. —
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years.
As gentle and as jocund, as to jest, J
Go I to fight ; Truth hath a quiet breast.
K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
Order the trial, marshal, and begin.
[The KING and the Lords return to their seats.
Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Receive thy lance ; and God defend the right !
Boling. [ Rising.) Strong as a tower in hope, I cry — Amen.
Mar. Go bear this lance [To an Officer] to Thomas duke of
Norfolk.
1 Bier. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself,
On pain to be found false and recreant,
* Yielding. t Stunning. t Play a part in a mask.
346 KING BICIIARD II. [ACT I.
To prove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
A traitor to his God, his king, and him,
And dares him to set forward to the fight.
2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk,
On pain to be found false and recreant,
Both to defend himself, and to approve
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal ;
Courageously, and with a free desire,
Attending but the signal to begin.
Mar. Sound, trumpets ; and set forward combatants.
[A Charge sounded.
Stay, the king hath thrown his warder* down.
K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
And both return back to their chairs again :—
Withdraw with us : — and let the trumpets sound,
While we return these dukes what we decree. — [A long flourish.
Draw near, [ To the Combatants.
And list, what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
With that dear blood which it hath foster'd ;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords
(And for we think the eagle-winged pride
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
With rival-hating envy, set you on
To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep) ;
Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums,
With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray,
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace,
And make us wade even in our kindred's blood ; —
Therefore, we banish you our territories: >
You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death,
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions.
But tread the stranger paths of banishment
Boling. Your will be done : This must my comfort be,— —
That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me ;
And those his golden beams to you here lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.
K, Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce :
The fly-slow hours shall not determinate
The dateless limit of thy dear exile ; —
The hopeless word of— never to return
Breathe I against thee upon pain of life.
Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth :
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
* Truncheon.
SCENE III.] KING BICHAED II. 347
As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highness' hand.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more,
Than an unstring'd viol or a harp ;
Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
Or, being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
"Within my mouth you have enjail'd my tongue,
Doubly porteullised, with my teeth and lips ;
And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my jailer to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now ;
What is thy sentence then, but speechless death,
"Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath ?
K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate ;*
After our sentence plaining comes too late.
Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's light,
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. [Retiring.
K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee,
Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ;
Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven
(Our part therein we banish with yourselves),
To keep the oath that we administer :—
You never shall (so help you truth and heaven !)
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never look upon each other's face ;
Nor never write, regreefc nor reconcile
This lowering tempest or your home-bred hate,
Nor never by advisedf purpose meet,
To plot, contrive, or complot any UL
'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
Baling. I swear.
Nor. And I, to keep all this.
Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy—
By this time, had the king permitted us,
One of our souls bad wander'd in the air,
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land-
Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm ;
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.
Nor. No, Bolingbroke ; if ever I were traitor,
My name be blotted from the book of life,
And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence !
But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know ;
And all too soon, I fear the king shall rue. —
Farewell, my liege : — Now no way can I stray ;
Save back to England, all the world 's my way. \_JExU.
* Seeking to move compassion. t Concerted.
348 KING RICHARD II. [ACT I.
K. Rich. TTncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grieved heart : thy sad aspect
Hath from the number of his banish'd years
Pluck'd four away ;— Six frozen winters spent,
Return [To Boling.] with welcome home from banishment.
Holing. How long a time lies in one little word !
Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs,
End in a word ; Such is the breath of kings.
Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of me,
He shortens four years of my son's exile :
But little vantage shall I reap thereby ;
For, ere the six years that he hath to spend,
Can change their moons, and bring their times about,
My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted hght,
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night ;
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold death not let me see my son.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.
Gaunt But not a minute, king, that thou canst give :
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow :
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ;
Thy word is current with him for my death ;
But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,*
"Whereto thy tongue a partyf verdict gave ;
"Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower ?
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion sour.
You urged me as a judge : but I had rather,
Tou would have bid me argue like a father :
O, had it been a stranger, not my child,
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild ;
A partial slander J sought I to avoid,
And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.
Alas, I look'd, when some of you should say,
I was too strict, to make mine own away ;
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,
Against my will, to do myself this wrong.
K. Rich. Cousin, farewell : — and, uncle, bid him so ;
Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
[Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and Train.
Aunt. Cousin, farewell : what presence must not know,
Prom where you do remain, let paper show.
Mar. My lord, no leave take I ; for I will ride,
As far as land will let me, by your side.
Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ?
Soling. I have too few to take my leave of you,
When the tongue's office should be prodigal
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
* Consideration. t Share. i Reproach of partiality.
SCEXE HI.] KIXG BICHAED IT. 349
Gaunt Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
Gaunt. What is six winters ? they are quickly gone.
Boling. To men in joy ; but grief makes one hour ten.
Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.
Boling. My heart will sigh when 1 miscall it so,
Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.
Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps
Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
The precious jewel of thy home-return.
Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make
"Will but remember me, what a deal of world
I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
To foreign passages ; and in the end,
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else.
But that I was a journeyman to grief ?
Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens :
Teach thy necessity to reason thus :
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the king did banish thee ;
But thou the king : Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say — I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not — The king exiled thee : or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st :
Suppose the singing birds, musicians;
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd ;*
The flowers fair ladies ; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure,! or a dance :
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December's snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ?
O, no ! the apprehension of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse :
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way :
Had I thy youth,and cause, I would not stay.
Boling. Then. England's ground, farewell ; sweet soil, adieu ;
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet !
* Presence-chamber strewed with rushes,
t A slow dance.
S50 KING BICHAED II. [ACT I.
"Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — The same. A Room in the King's Castle.
Enter KingBichabd, Bagot, and Gbeen; Aumeele
following.
K. Rich. We did observe. — Cousin Aumerle,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way ?
Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call hun so,
But to the next highway, and there I left him.
K. Rich. And, say what store of parting tears were shed ?
Aum. 'Faith, none by me : except the north-east wind,
Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
Awaked the sleeping rheum ; and so, by chance,
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.
K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted with him ?
Aum. Farewell:
And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such grief,
That words seem buried in my sorrow's grave.
Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours,
And added years to his short banishment,
He should have had a volume of farewells ;
But, since it would not, he had none of me.
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis doubt,
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observed his courtship to the common people : —
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy ;
What reverence he did throw away on slaves ;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their effects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster- wench ;
A brace of draymen bid — God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,*
With — Thanks my countrymen, my loving friends ;
As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjects' next degree in hope.
Green. Well, he is gone ; and with him go these thoughts.
Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ; —
Expedient! manage must be made, my liege ;
Ere further leisure yield them further means,
For their advantage, and your highness' loss.
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war.
And, forj our coffers — with too great a court,
* I.e. a courtesy, such as now is only practised by women,
t Expeditious. t Because.
SCENE IV.] KING BICHABD II. 351
And liberal largess,— are grown somewhat light,
We are enforced to farm our royal realm ;
The revenue whereof shall furnish us
For our affairs in hand : If that come short,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters ;
W hereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold,
And send them after to supply our wants ;
For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter BUSHY.
Bushy, what news ?
Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord ;
Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste,
To entreat your majesty to visit him.
K. Rich. Where lies he ?
Bushy. At Ely-house.
K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind,
To help him to his grave immediately !
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. —
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him :
Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late ! {Exeunt.
act n.
SCENE I.— London. A Room in Ely-house.
Gatjnt on a Couch; the Duke o/ToEK, and others standing hy
him.
Oawnt. Will the king come ? that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth.
York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath ;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention, like deep harmony:
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain :
For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain.
He, that no more may say, is listen'd more
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose;*
More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before :
The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last :
Writ in remembrance, more than things long past ;
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.
* Flatter.
352 KING EICHAED II. [ACT II.
York. No ; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds,
As, praises of his state : then there are found
Lascivious metres ; to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen :
Report of fashions in proud Italy ;
Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
Limps after, in base imitation,
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity
(So it be new, there's no respect how vile),
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears ?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.*
Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ;
'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspired ;
And thus expiring, do foretell of him ;
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last ;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves :
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short ;
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes ;
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder :
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise ;
This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war ;
This happy breed of men, this little world ;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the olfice of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands ;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Eear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth,
Kenowned for their deeds as far from home
(For Christian service, and true chivalry),
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son :
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Lear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out (I die pronouncing it)
Like to a tenement, or peltingt farm :
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery ISeptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots,+ and rotten parchment bonds ;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself :
* The observation of the understanding. t Paltry.
t Written disgraces.
SCENE I.] KING BICHABD II. 353
0, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death !
Enter King Eichabd ana" Queen: Attmeble, Bushy, Gbeen,
Bagot, Ross, and Willoughby.
York. The king is come : deal mildly with his youth ;
For young hot colts, being raged, do rage the more.
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster ?
K. Rich. What, comfort, man ? How is't with aged Gaunt ?
Qaunt. O, how that name befits my composition !
Old Gaunt, indeed : and gaunt in being old :
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast ;
And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt ?
l'i or sleeping England long time have I watch'd ;
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt :
The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon,
Is my strict fast, I mean — my children's looks ;
And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt :
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their names ?
Qaunt. No ; misery makes sport to mock itself:
Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those that live ?
Gaunt. No. no ; men living flatter those that die.
K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st— thou flatter'st me.
Gaunt. Oh ! no ; thou diest, though I the sicker be.
K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.
Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see thee ill ;
111 in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land,
Wherein thou best in reputation sick :
And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure
Of those physicians that first wounded thee :
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown.
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head :
And yet, incaged in so small a verge,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame ;
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd,
Which art possess'd* now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease :
But, for thy world, enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame, to shame it so ?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
* Impelled by a demon.
VOL. IL 2 A
354 KING EICHAED II. [ACT II,
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law ;
And
K. Rich. And thou a lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheek ; chasing the royal blood,
With fury, from his native residence.
Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders.
Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
For that I was his father Edward's son ;
That blood already, like the pelican.
Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly caroused :
My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul,
(Whom fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy souls !)
May be a precedent and witness good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood :
Join with the present sickness that I have ;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee ! —
These words hereafter thy tormentors be ! —
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave :
Love they to live, that love and honour have.
[Exit, borne out by his Attendants.
K. Rich. And let them die, that age and sullens have ;
For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him :
He loves you, on my life., and holds you dear
As Harry duke of Hereford, were he here.
K. Rich. Right ; you say true : as Hereford's love, so his :
As theirs, so mine ; and all be as it is.
Enter Noethtjmbeeland.
North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty.
K. Rich. What says he now ?
North. Nay, nothing ; all is said :
His tongue is now a stringless instrument ;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so !
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he ;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be :
So much for that. -Now for our Irish wars :
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kernes ;*
Which live like venom, where no venom else,
But only they, hath privilege to hve.f
* Light troops.
t Alluding to the idea that no venomous reptiles live in Ireland.
SCENE I.] KING BICHABD II.
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
thereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessM.
York. How long shall I be patient ? Ah, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong ?
Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.—
I am the last of noble Edward's sons,
Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first ;
In war, was never lion raged more fierce.
In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman :
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours ;*
Bui when he frown'd, it was against the French,
And not against his friends : his noble hand
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father's hand had won :
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O, Kichard ! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter ?
York. O, my hege.
Pardon me, if you please ; if not, I, pleased
Not to be pardon'd, am content withaL
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ?
Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford live ?
Was not Gaunt just ? and is not Harry true ?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir ?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son ?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time
His charters, and his customary rights ;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ;
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
But by fair sequence and succession ?
Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true !)
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in the letters patent that he hath
By his attornies-general to sue
His livery ,t and deny his offcr'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
* When of thy age. t Taking possession.
356 KING BICHAED II. [ACT II.
K. Rich. Think what you will ; we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
York. I'll not be by, the while : My liege, farewell :
What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell ;
But by bad courses may be understood,
That their events can never fall out good. [Exit.
K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire straight,
Bid him repair to us to Ely-house,
To see this business : To-morrow next
We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time, I trow;
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York lord governor of England,
Eor he is just, and always loved us well.
Come on,. our queen ; to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Flourish.
[Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aumeele, Geeen,
and BAGOT.
North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is dead.
Ross. And living too ; for now his son is duke.
Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue.
North. Richly in both, if justice had her right.
Ross. My heart is great ; but it must break with silence,
Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal* tongue.
North. Nay, speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er speak more,
That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm !
Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of Hereford ?
If it be so, out with it boldly, man ; ,
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him ;
Unless you call it good to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony.
North. Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame, such wrongs are borne,
In him a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land.
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers ; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs.
Ross. The commons hath he pill'df with grievous taxes,
And lost their hearts : the nobles hath he fined
Eor ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Willo. And daily new exactions are devised ;
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what :
But what, o God's name, doth become of this ?
North. Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not,
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his ancestors achieved with blows :
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars.
Ross. The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm.
Willo. The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.
* Free. t Pillaged.
6CEXE II.] KING EICHABD II. 357
North. Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth over him.
Ross. He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.
North. His noble kinsman : most degenerate king !
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm :
"We see the wind sit sore upon our sails.
And yet we strike not, but securely perish*
Ross. We see the very wreck that we must suffer ;
And unavoidedf is the danger now,
For suffering so the causes of our wreck.
North. Not so ; even through the hollow eyes of death,
I spy life peering ; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.
Willo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.
Ross. Be confident to speak. Northumberland :
We three are but thyself ; and speaking so,
Thy words are but as thoughts ; therefore, be bold.
North. Then thus :— I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
In Brittany, received intelligence,
That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham,
[The son of Richard Earl of Arundel],
That late broke from the duke of Exeter,
His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, sir John Ramston,
Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint,—
All these well furnish'd by the duke of Bretagne,
With eight tall J ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience,
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore :
Perhaps, they had ere this ; but that they stay
The first departing of the king for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp§ out our drooping country's broken wing,
Redeem from broken pawn the blemish'd crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt,
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg :
But u you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.
Ross. To horse, to horse ! urge doubts to them that fear.
Willo. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The same. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Qtjeen, Br/SHY, and Bagot.
Bushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad :
You promised, when you parted with the king,
* Perish by over-confidence in our security. t Unavoidable
t Stout. S Supply with new feathers.
358 King eichaed ii. [act &
To lay aside life-harming heaviness,
And entertain a cheerful disposition.
Queen. To please the king, I did ; to please myself,
I cannot do it ; yet I know no cause
"Why I should welcome such a guest as grief,
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest
As my sweet Eichard : Yet, again, methinks,
Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb,
Is coming towards me ; and my inward soul
With nothing trembles : at something it grieves,
More than with parting from my lord the king.
Bushy. Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
Which show like grief itself, but are not so :
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears,
Divides one thing entire to many objects ;
Like perspectives,* which, rightly gazed upon,
Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry,
Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty,
Looking awry upon your lord's departure,
Finds shapes of grief, more than himself to wail ;
Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows
Of what is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen,
More than your lord's departure weep not; more's not seen :
Or if it be, tis with false sorrow's eye,
Which for things true, weeps things imaginary.
Queen. It may be so ; but yet my inward soul
Persuades me it is otherwise : Howe'er it be,
I cannot be but sad ; so heavy sad,
As, — though, in thinking, on no thought I think, —
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink.
Bushy. 'Tis nothing but conceit^ my gracious lady.
Queen. 'Tis nothing les3 : conceit is still derived
From some fore-father grief; mine is not so ;
For nothing hath begot my something grief;
Or something hath the nothing that I grieve :
"Tis in reversion that I do possess ;
But, what it is, that is not yet known ; what
I cannot name ; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. X
Enter Gbeen.
Green. God save your majesty !— and well met, gentleman : —
I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.
Queen. Why hop'st thou so ? 'tis better hope, he is ;
For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope ;
Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not shipp'd ?
Green. That he, our hope, might have retired his power,§
And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land :
The banish d Bolingbroke repeals himself,
* Cut glasses, used for reflecting: images. t Fanciful conception.
J Know. 5 Withdrawn it.
SCENE II.] KING BICHABD II.
And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
At Kavenspurg.
Queen. Now God in heaven forbid !
Green. O, Madam, 'tis too true : and that is worse, —
The lord Northumberland, his young son Henry Percy,
The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and W illoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
Bushy. Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland,
And all the rest of the revolting faction
Traitors?
Green. We have : whereon the earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
To Bolingbroke.
Queen. So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe,
And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir :
Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy ;
And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother,
Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd.
Bushy. Despair not, Madam.
Queen. Who shall hinder me ?
I will despair, and be at enmity
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer,
A parasite, a keeper back of death,
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life,
Which false hope lingers in extremity.
Enter YOEK.
Green. Here comes the duke of York.
Queen. With signs of war about his aged neck ;
O, full of careful business are his looks !
Uncle,
For heaven's sake, speak comfortable words.
York. Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts :
Comfort 's in heaven ; and we are on the earth,
Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief.
Your husband he is gone to save far off,
Whilst others come to make him lose at home :
Here am I left to underprop his land ;
Who, weak with age. cannot support myself: —
Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made ;
Now shall he trv his friends that flatter him.
Enter a Seevant.
Sere. My lord, your son was gone before I came.
York. He was ? — Why, so ! — go all which way it will !
The nobles they are fled, the commons cold,
And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side.
Sirrah,
Get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ;
Bid her send me presently a thousand pound :
Hold, take my ring.
360 KING EICHABD II. [ACT II.
Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship :
To-day, as I came by, I called there ;
But I shall grieve you to report the rest.
York. What is it, knave ?
Serv. An hour before I came, the duchess died.
York. God for his mercy ! what a tide of woes
Comes rushing on this woeful land at once !
I know not what to do :— I would to God
(So my untruth* had not provoked him to it),
The king had cut off my head with my brother's—
"What, are these posts despatch'd for Ireland ? —
How shall we do for money for these wars ? —
Come, sister, — cousin, I would say : pray pardon me. —
Go, fellow [To MeSEEVANT], get thee home, provide some carts,
And bring away the armour that is there. — {Exit Seevani..
Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? If I know
How, or which way, to order these affairs,
Thus thrust disorderly into my hands,
Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen ;-—
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath
And duty bids defend ; the other again,
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd ;
"Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right.
"Well, somewhat we must do. — Come, cousin, I'll
Dispose of you : — Go, muster up your men,
Ana meet me presently at Berkley-castle.
I should to Plashy too ; — -
But time will not permit : — All is uneven,
And everything is left at six and seven.
[Exeunt Yoek and Qr/EEN..
Bushy. The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
But none returns. .For us to levy power,
Proportionable to the enemy,
Is all impossible.
Green. Besides our nearness to the king in love,
Is near the hate of those love not the king.
Bagot. And that's the wavering commons for their love
Lies in their purses ; and whoso empties them,
By so much nils their hearts with deadly hate.
Bushy. "Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd.
Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do we,
Because we ever have been near the king.
Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to Bristol castle ;
The earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Bushy. Thither will I with you : for little office
The hateful commons will perform for us ;
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. —
Will you go along with us ?
Bagot. No : I'll to Ireland to his majesty,
farewell : if heart's presages be not vain,
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet again.
* Disloyalty.
SCENE III.] KING BICIIABD II. 3G1
Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke.
Green. Alas, poor duke ! the task he undertakes
Is — numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans dry ;
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
Bushy. Farewell at once ; for once, for all, and ever.
Green. Well, we may meet again.
Bagot. I fear me never. [Exeunt.
SCENE II'L— The Wilds in Glostershire.
Enter Bolingbboke and Nobthtjmbebland, with Forces.
Boling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley now ?
North. Believe me, noble lord,
I am a stranger here in Glostershire.
These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways,
Draw out our miles ; and make them wearisome :
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
But, I bethink me, what a weary way
Prom Ravenspurg to Cotswold, will be found
In Boss and Willoughby, wanting your company ;
"Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled
The tediousness and process of my travel :
But theirs is sweeten d with the hope to have
The present benefit, which I possess :
And nope to joy, is little less in joy,
Than hope enjoy'd : by this the weary lords
Shall make their way seem short ; as mine hath done
By sight of what I have, your noble company.
Boling. Of much less value is my company,
Than your good words. But who comes here ?
Enter Haeey Pebct.
North. It is my son, young Harry Percy,
Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. —
Harry, how fares your uncle ?
Percy. I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of
you.
North. Why, is he not with the queen ?
Percy. No, my good lord ; he hath forsook the court,
Broken his staff of office, and dispersed
The household of the king.
North. What was his reason ?
He was not so resolved, when last we spake together.
Percy. Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor.
But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurg,
To offer service to the duke of Hereford ;
And sent me o'er by Berkley, to discover
What power the duke of York had levied there ;
Then with direction to repair to Ravenspurg.
North. Have you forgot the duke of Hereford, boy ?
Percy. No, my good lord, for that is not forgot,
362 KING EICHAED II. [ACT II.
Which ne'er I did remember : to my knowledge,
I never in my life did look on him.
North. Then learn to know him now ; this is the duke.
Percy. My gracious lord, I tender you my service,
Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young ;
Which elder days shall ripen, and confirm
To more approved service and desert.
Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be sure,
I count myself in nothing else so happy,
As in a soul remembering my good friends ;
And, as my fortune ripens with thy love,
It shall be still thy true love's recompense :
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it.
North. How far is it to Berkley ? And what stir
Keeps good old York there, with his men of war ?
Percy. There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees,
Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard :
And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and Seymour :
None else of name, and noble estimate.
Enter Ross and Willoughby.
North. Here come the lords of Boss and Willoughby,
Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste.
Boling. Welcome, my lords : I wot, your love pursues
A banish'd traitor ; all my treasury
Is yet but unfelt thanks, which, more enrich'd,
Shall be your love and labours recompense. ,
Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord.
Willo. And far surmounts our labour to attain it. '
Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor ;
Which, till my infant fortune come to years,
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here ?
Enter Beekley.
North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess.
Berk. My lord of Hereford, my message is to you.
Boling. My lord, my answer is — to Lancaster ;
And I am come to seek that name in England :
And I must find that title in your tongue,
Before I make reply to aught you say.
Berk. Mistake me not, my lord ; 'tis not my meaning,
To raze one title of your honour out : —
To you, my lord, I come (what lord you will),
Prom the most glorious regent of this land,
The duke of York ; to know, what pricks you on
To take advantage of the absent time,*
And fright our native peace with self-born arms.
Enter YOEK, attended.
Boling. I shall not need transport my words by you ;
Here comes his grace in person. — My noble uncle ! [Kneels.
* Time of the king's absence.
SCEN-E in.J KISQ BICHABD II. 363
York. Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee,
Whose duty is deceivable and false.
Boling. My gracious uncle ! —
York. Tut, tut !
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle:
I am no traitor's uncle ; and that word — grace,
In an ungracious mouth, is but profane.
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs
Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground ?
But then more wby ; Why have they dared to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ;
Frighting her pale-faced villages with war,
And ostentation of despised arms ?
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence ?
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,
And m my loyal bosom lies his power.
Were I but now the lord of such hot youth,
As when brave Gaunt, thy father, ana myself,
Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men,
From forth the ranks of many thousand French ;
O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine,
Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,
And minister correction to thy fault !
Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my fault ;
On what condition stands it, and wherein ?
York. Even in condition of the worst degree, —
In gross rebellion, and detested treason :
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come,
Before the expiration of thy time,
In braving arms against thy sovereign.
Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford t
But as I come, I come for Lancaster.
And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,
Look on my wrongs with an indifferent* eye :
You are my father, for, methinks in you
I see old Gaunt alive ; O, then, my father !
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd
A wand'ring vagabond ; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away
To upstart unthrifts ? Wherefore was I born ?
If that my cousin king be king of England,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster.
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman ;
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down,
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father,
To rouse his wrongs,t and chase them to the bay.
I am denied to sue my livery t here.
And yet my letters-patent give me leave :
My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold ;
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd.
What would you have me do ? I am a subject,
* Impartial. t Wrongers. t Possession of my land, &c.
364 KING BICHABD II. [ACT II.
And challenge law : attornies ere denied me ;
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.
North. The noble duke hath been too much abused.
Ross. It stands your grace upon,* to do him right.
Willo. Base men by ms endowments are made great.
York. My lords of England, let me tell you this, —
I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,
And labour'd all I could to do him right :
But in this kind to come, in braving arms,
Be his own carver, and cut out his way,
To find out right with wrong, — it may not be ;
And you, that do abet him in this kind,
Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.
North. The noble duke hath sworn, his coming is
But for his own : and, for the right of that.
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ;
And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath.
York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms ;
I cannot mend it, I must needs confess,
Because my power is weak, and all ill left :
But, if I could, by him that gave me life
I would attach you all, and make you stoop
Unto the sovereign mercy of the king;
But, since I cannot, be it known to you,
I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well ; —
Unless you please to enter in the castle,
And there repose you for this night.
Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept.
But we must win your grace, to go with us
To Bristol castle ; which, they say, is held
By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices,
The caterpillars of the commonwealth,
Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away.
York. It may be, I will go with you : — but yet I'll pause ;
For I am loath to break our country's laws.
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are :
Things past redress, are now with me past care. [Exeunt.
SCENE TV— A Camp in Wales.
Enter Salisbuey, and a Captain.
Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days,
And hardly kept our countrymen together,
And yet we hear no tidings from the king ;
Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell.
Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman ;
The king reposeth all his confidence
In thee.
Capt. 'Tis thought the king is dead ; we will not stay.
The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd,—
* It is your interest.
SCENE IV.] KING BICHAED II. 365
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ;
The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth,
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, —
The one in fear, to lose what they enjoy,
The other to enjoy by rage and war :
These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. —
Farewell ; our countrymen are gone and fled,
As well assured, Richard their king is dead. [Exit.
Sal. Ah, Richard ; with the eyes of heavy mind,
I see thy glory, like a shooting star,
Fall to the base earth from the firmament !
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west,
Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest :
Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ;
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. [Exit.
ACT III.
SCENE I.— BOLINGBBOKE'S Camp at Bristol.
Enter Bolingbeoke, Yoek, Nobthtjmbebland, Pebcy,
Willoughby, Ross : Officers behind with Buses: and
Gbeen, prisoners.
Boling. Bring forth these men. —
Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls
(Since presently your souls must part your bodies)
with too much urging your pernicious lives,
For 'twere no charity : yet, to wash your blood
From off my hands, here, in the view of men
I will unfold some causes of your death.
Tou have misled a prince, a royal king,
A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,
By you unhappied and disfigured clean*
You have, in manner, with your sinful hours,
Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him ;
Broke the possession of a royal bed,
And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks
With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs.
Myself— a prince, by fortune of my birth ;
Near to the king in blood ; and near in love,
Till you did make him misinterpret me,
Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries.
And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment :
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Dispark'd my parks, and fell'd my forest woods;
From my own windows torn my household coat,f
Razed out my impress, J leaving me no sign, —
* Completely. t Of arras. t Motto.
3G6 KING BICEAED II. . [ACT III.
Save men's opinions, and my living blood, —
To show the world I am a gentleman.
This, and much more, much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death :— See them delivered over
To execution and the hand of death.
Bushy. More welcome is the stroke of death to me,
Than Bolingbroke to England. — Lords, farewell.
Green. My comfort is, — that heaven will take our souls,
And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
Boling. My lord Northumberland, see them despatch'd.
[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with Prisoners.
Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house ;
Tor heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated ;
Tell her, I send to her my kind commends ;
Take special care my greetings be deliver'd.
York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd
"With letters of your love to her at large.
Boling. Thanks, gentle uncle. — Come, lords, away ;
To fight with Glendower and his complices ;
Awhile to work, and, after,. holiday. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The Coast of Wales. A castle in view.
Flourish : Drums and Trumpets. Enter King RlCHABD, Bishop
of Carlisle, Aumerle, and Soldiers.
K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand ?
Aum. Yea, my lord : How brooks your grace the air,
After late tossing on the breaking seas ?
K. Rich. Needs must I like it well ; I weep for joy,
To stand upon my kingdom once again.
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs :
As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting ;
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth,
And do thee favour with my royal hands.
Peed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,
Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sense :
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom,
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way ;
Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet.
Which with usurping steps do trample thee.
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies :
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower,
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder ;
Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. —
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords ;
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king
Shall falter under foul rebellious arms.
Car. Fear not, my lord ; that Power, that made you king,
Hath power to keep you king in spite of all.
SCENE IT.] KIXO EICHAED II.
The means that heaven yields must be embraced,
And not neglected ; else, if heaven would,
And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse ;
The proffered means of succour and redress.
Aunt. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss.
"Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security,
Grows strong and great, in substance and in friends.
K. Rich. Discom Portable cousin ! know'st thou not,
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
In murders, and in outrage, bloody here ;
But when, from under this terrestrial ball,
He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines,
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins,
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs,
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ?
So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, —
Who all this while hath revell'd in the night,
Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes,
Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Not able to endure the sight of day.
But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king :
The breath of worldly men cannot depose
The deputy elected by the Lord :
For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd,
To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown,
God for his Bichard hath in heavenly pay
A glorious angel : then, if angels fight,
Weak men must fall ; for heaven still guards the right.
Enter SiLlSBUBY.
Welcome, my lord ; How far off lies your power ?
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord,
Than this weak arm : Discomfort guides my tongue,
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
One day too late. I fear, my noble lord,
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth :
O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men !
To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late,
O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state ;
For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers'd, and lied.
Aunt. Comfort, my liege : why looks your grace so pale ?
K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand men
Did triumph in my face, and they are fled ;
And, till so much blood thither come again,
Have I not reason to look pale and dead i
368 KING BICHAED II. [ACT III.
All souls that will be safe, fly from my side ;
For time hath set a blot upon my pride.
Aum. Comfort, my liege ; remember who you are.
K. Rich. I had forgot myself: Am I not king ?
Awake, thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleep'st.
Is not the king's name forty thousand names ?
Arm, arm, my name ! a puny subject strikes
At thy great glory. — Look not to the ground,
Ye favourites of a king ; Are we not high ?
High be our thoughts : I know, my uncle York
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who
Comes here ?
Enter SCEOOP.
Scroop. More health and happiness betide my liege,
Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.
K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared ;
The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold.
Say, is my kingdom lost ? why, 'twas my care ;
And what loss is it, to be rid of care ?
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we P
Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God,
We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so :
Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend ;
They break their faith to God, as well as us :
Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay ;
The worst is— death, and death will have his day.
Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd
To bear the tidings of calamity.
Like an unseasonable stormy day,
Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores,
As if the world were all dissolved to tears ;
So high above his limits swells the rage
Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land
With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel.
White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps
Against thy majesty ; boys, with women's voices,
Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints
In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown :
Thy very beadsmen learn'd to bend their bows
Of double-fatal yew against thy state ;
Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills
Against thy seat : both young and old rebel.
And all goes worse than I have power to tell.
K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale so ill.
Where is the earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ?
What is become of Bushy ? where is Green ?
That they have let the dangerous enemy
Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ?
If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.
I warrant, they have made peace with Bolingbroke.
Scroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed my lord.
K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption !
SCENE II.] KING BICHABD II. 369
Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man !
Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart !
Three J udasses, each one thrice worse than Judas !
Mould they make peace ? terrible hell make war
Upon their spotted souls for this offence !
Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing nis property,
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate : —
Again uncurse their souls ; their peace is made
AY ith heads, and not with hands : those whom you curse,
Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound,
And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground.
Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of Wiltshire, dead ?
Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their heads.
Aum. Where is the duke my father with his power ?
K. Mich. No matter where ; of comfort no man speak :
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills :
And yet not so,— for what can we bequeath,
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ?
Our lands ; our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death ;
And that small model* of the barren earth,
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And tell sad stories of the death of kings : —
How some have been deposed, some slain in war ;
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed :
Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd;
All murder'd :— For within the hollow crown,
That rounds the mortal temples of a king,
Keeps death his court : and there the anticf sits,
Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks :
Infusing him with self and vain conceit, —
As if this flesh, which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable ; and, humour'd thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king !
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence ; throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while :
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends : — Subjected thus,
How can you say to me — I am a king ?
Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present woes,
But presently prevent the ways to wail.
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength,
* Module. t Malicious fooL
VOL. II. 2 B
370 KINO RTCHARD IT. [ACT III.
Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe,
And so your follies fight against yourself.
Fear, and be slain ; no worse can come, to fight :
And fight and die, is death destroying death ;
Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath.
Aum. My father hath a power, inquire of him ;
And learn to make a body of a limb.
K. Rich. Thou chid'st me well : — Proud Bolingbroke, I come
To change blows with thee for our day of doom.
This ague-fit of fear is over-blown ;
An easy task it is, to win our own.
Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power ?
Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour.
Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky
The state and inclination of the day :
So may you by my dull and heavy eye,
My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say.
I play the torturer by small and small,
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken :
Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke ;
And all your northern castles yielded up,
And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Upon his party.
K. Rich. Thou hast said enough.
Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth [To Aumeble.
Of that sweet way I was in to despair !
"What say you now ? What comfort have we now ?
By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly,
That bids me be of comfort any more.
Go, to Flint castle ; there I'll pine away;
A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey.
That power I have, discharge ; and let them go
To ear* the land that hath some hope to grow,
For I have none : — Let no man speak again
To alter this, for counsel is but vain.
Aum. My liege, one word.
K. Rich. He does me double wrong,
That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue.
Discharge my followers, let them hence ; — Away,
From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— Wales. Before Flint Castle.
Enter, with Drum and Colours, Bolingbroke and Forces ;
Yobk, Nobthtjmbebland, and others.
Soling. So that by this intelligence we learn,
The Welshmen are dispersed ; and Salisbury
Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed,
With some few private friends, upon this coast.
North The news is very fair and good, my lord ;
Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head.
* Plough.
SCENE III.] KING EICHAED II. 3?1
York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland,
To say— king Richard :— Alack the heavy day,
"When such a sacred king should hide his head !
North. Your grace mistakes me ; only to be brief *
Left I his title out.
York. The time hath been,
Would you have been so brief with him, he would
Have been so brief with you, to shorten you,
For taking so the head,t your whole head's length.
Boling. Mistake not, uncle ; further than you should.
York. Take not, good cousin, further than you should,
Lest you mistake : The heavens are o'er your head.
Boling. I know it, uncle ; and oppose not
Myself against their will. — But who comes here ?
Enter Pebcy.
Well Harry; what, will not this castle yield ?
Percy. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord,
Against thy entrance.
Boling. Royally!
Why, it contains no king ?
Percy. Yes, my good lord,
It doth contain a king ; king Richard lies
Within the limits of yon lime and stone :
And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury,
Sir Stephen Scroop ; besides a clergyman
Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn.
North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle.
Boling. Noble lord, [To North.
Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle ;
Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle J
Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver.
Harry Bolingbroke
On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand ;
And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart,
To his most royal person : hither come
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ;
Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,
And lands restored again, be freely granted :
If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood,
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen :
The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke
It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench
The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land,
My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
Go, signify as much ; while here we march
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain.—
[NOBTHTTMBEBLAND advances to the Castle, with a Trumpet.
Let s march without the noise of threat'ning drum,
* Short. t Undue liberty ; a taking awav the head title.
t Parley.
IBS
872
KING RICHARD II. [ACT III.
That from the castle's totter'd battlements
Our fair appointments may be well perused.
Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet
"With no less terror than the elements
Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water :
The rage be his, while on the earth I rain
My waters; on the earth, and not on him.
March on, and mark king Richard how he looks.
A varle sounded, and answered In another Trumpet within.
Flourish. Enter on the walls King RICHARD, the Bishop
of Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and Salisbury.
York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear,
As doth the blushing discontented sun
Prom out the fiery portal of the east ;
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
To dim his glory, and to stain the track
Of his bright passage to the Occident.
Yet looks he like a king ; behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
Controlling majesty; Alack, alack, for woe,
That any harm should stain so fair a show !
K. Rich We are amazed; and thus long have we stood
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, [To North.
Because we thought ourself thy lawful king:
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget
To pay their awful duty to our presence ?
If we be not, show us the hand of God
That hath dismiss'd us from our stewardship :
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone
Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre,
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp.
And though you think, that all, as you have done,
Have torn their souls, by turning them from us,
And we are barren, and bereft of friends ;
Yet know,— my master, God omnipotent,
Is must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf,
Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
That lift your vassal hands against my head,
And threat the glory of my precious crown.
Tell Bolingbroke (for yond', methinks, he is),
That every stride he makes upon my land,
Is dangerous treason: He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
Shall ill become the flower of England's face;*
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace
* Soil.
SCEXE III.] KIXG BICHABD II. 373
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood.
North. The king^ of heaven forbid, our lord the king
Should so with civil and uncivil arms
lie rush'd upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin,
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand;
And by the honourable tomb he swears,
That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones ;
And by the royalties of both your bloods,
Currents that spring from one most gracious head;
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt;
And by the worth and honour of himself,
Comprising all that may be sworn or said, —
His coming hither hath no further scope,
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees :
"Which on thy royal party granted once,
His glittering arms he will commend to rust,
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart
To faithful service of your majesty.
This swears he, as he is a prince, is iust ;
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.
K. Rich. Northumberland, say, — thus the king returns ;
His noble cousin is right welcome hither ;
And all the number 01 his fair demands ,
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction :
"With all the gracious utterance thou hast
Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. —
We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not, [To Aumeble.
To look so poorly, and to speak so fair ?
Shall we call back Northumberland, and send
Defiance to the traitor, and so die ?
Attm. No, good my lord ; let's fight with gentle words,
Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful swords.
K. Rich. O God ! O God ! that e'er this tongue of mine,
That laid the sentence of dread banishniei.t
On yon proud man, should take it off again
With words of sooth!* O, that I were as great
As is my grief, or lesser than my name'.
Or that I could forget what I have been !
Or not remember what I must be now !
Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat,
Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me.
.htm. Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke.
K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he submit?
The king shall do it. Must he be deposed ?
The king shall be contented : Must he lose
The name of king? o' God's name, let it go:
I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads ;
My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage;
My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown ;
* Softness.
374 KINO EICHAED II. [ACT III.
My figured goblets, for a dish of wood ;
My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff;
My subjects, for a pair of carved saints ;
And my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave : —
Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,
Some way of common trade ; where subjects' feet
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head :
For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live ;
And, buried once, why not upon my head ?
Aumerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cousin h-
We'll make foul weather with despised tears ;
Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn,
And make a dearth in this revolting land.
Or shall we play the wantons with our woes,
And make some pretty match with shedding tears?
As thus : — To drop them still upon one place,
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves
Within the earth ; and, therein laid, — Titer e lies
Two kinsmen, digged their graves with weeping eyes ?
Would not this ill do well ? — Well, well, I see
I talk but idly, and you mock at me. —
Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland,
What says king Bolingbroke ? will his majesty
Give Eichard leave to live till Eichard die ?
Tou make a leg, and Bolingbroke says — ay.
North. My lord, in the base* court he doth attend
To speak with you ; may't please you to come down ?
K. Rich. Down, down, I come ; like glistering Phaeton,
Wanting the manage of unruly jades.
[NOETH. retires to Bc-LING.
In the base court ? Base court, where kings grow base.
To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace.
In the base court ? Come down ? Down, court ! down, king !
For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing.
[Exeunt, from above.
Soling. What says his majesty?
North. Sorrow and grief of heart
Makes him speak fondly,t like a frantic man:
Yet he is come.
Enter KlNG BlCHABD, and his Attendants below.
Soling. Stand all apart,
And show fair duty to his majesty.
My gracious lord, — [Kneeling.
K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee,
To make the base earth proud with kissing it :
Me rather had, my heart might feel your love,
Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy.
Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know,
Thus high at least [Touching his own head], although your knee
be low.
* Lower. t Foolishly.
SCENE IV.J KING BICHABD II. 375
Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine own.
K. Rich. X our own is yours, and I am yours, and all.
Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,
As my true service shall deserve your love.
K. Rich. Well you deserve : — They will deserve to have,
That know the strong'st and surest way to get. —
Uncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eves ;
Tears show their love, but want their remedies. —
Cousin, I am too young to be your father,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.
What you will have, I'll give, and willing too ;
For do we must, what force will have us do. —
Set on towards London :— Cousin, is it so ?
Boling. Yea, my good lord.
K. Rich. Then I must not say, no. [ Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—Langley. The Duke o/ Yoke's Garden.
Enter the QUEEN and Two Ladies.
Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this garden,
To drive away the heavy thought of care ?
1 Lady. Madam, we'll play at bowls.
Queen. 'Twill make me think,
The world is full of rubs, and that my fortune
Runs 'gainst the bias.
1 Lady. Madam, we will dance.
Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight,
When my poor heart no measure keeps in griei :
Therefore, no dancing, girl • some other sport.
1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales.
Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy ?
1 Lady. Of either, Madam.
Queen. Of neither, girl :
For if of joy, being altogether wanting,
It doth remember me the more of sorrow ;
Or if of grief, being altogether had,
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy :
For what I have I need not to repeat ;
And what I want, it boots not to complain.
1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing.
Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause ;
But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep.
1 Lady. I could weep, Madam, would it do you good.
Queen. And I could weep, would weeping do me good,
And never borrow any tear of thee.
But stay, here come the gardeners :
Let's step into the shadow of these trees. —
Enter a Gardeneb, and two SERVANTS.
My wretchedness unto a row of pins.
They'll talk of state ; for every one doth so
Against a change : Woe is forerun with woe.
[Queen and Ladies retire.
376 KING RICHARD II. [ACT III.
Gard. Go, bind thou up yon' dangling apricocks,
Which, like unruly children, make their sire
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight ;
Give some supportance to the bending twigs. —
Go thou, and like an executioner,
Cut off the heads of too fast-growing sprays,
That look too lofty in our commonwealth :
All must be even in our government.
You thus employ'd, I will go root away
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
1 Serv. "Why should we, in the compass of a pale,*
Keep law, and form, and due proportion,
Showing, as in a model, our firm estate ?
When our sea-walled garden, the whole land,
Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers choked up,
Her fruit-trees all unpruned, her hedges ruin d,
Her knotsf disorder'd, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars ?
Gard. Hold thy peace : —
He that hath suffer d this disorder'd spring
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf :
The weeds that his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,
That seem'd in eating him to hold him up,
Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke ;
I mean the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green.
1 Serv. What, are they dead ?
Gard. They are ; and Bolingbroke
Hath seized the wasteful king.— Oh ! What pity is it,
That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land,
As we this garden ! We at time of year
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees;
Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood,
With too much riches it confound itself:
Had he done so to great and growing men,
They might have lived to bear, and he to taste
Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live :
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be deposed ?
Gard. Depress'd he is already; and deposed,
'Tis doubt,! he will be : Letters came last night
To a dear friend of the good duke of York's,
That tell black tidings.
Queen. O, I am press'd to death,
Through want of speaking !— Thou, old Adam's likeness,
[Coming from her concealment.
Set to dress this garden, how dares
Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news ?
What Eve, what serpent hath suggested thee
* Inclosure. t Figures planted in box. t No doubt.
SCENE IV.] KING KICHAHD II. 377
To make a second fall of cursed man ?
Why dost thou say, king Richard is deposed ?
Barest thou, thou little better thing than earth,
Divine his downfall ? Say, where, when, and how,
Cam'st thou by these ill-tidings ? speak, thou wretch.
Oard. Pardon me, Madam : little joy have I,
To breathe this news ; yet, what I say, is true.
King Richard, he is in the mighty hold
Of Rolingbroke ; their fortunes both are weigh'd :
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,
And some few vanities that make him light ;
Rut in the balance of great Rolingbroke,
Resides himself are all the English peers,
And with that odds he weighs king Richard down.
Post you to London, and you'll find it so ;
I speak no more than every one doth know.
Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot,
Doth not thy embassage belong to me,
And am I last that knows it ? O, thou think'st
To serve me last, that I may longest keep
Thy sorrow in my breast.— Come, ladies, go,
To meet at London London's king in woe. —
What, was I born to this ! that my sad look
Should grace the triumph of great Rolingbroke ? —
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe,
I would, the plants thou graff st may never grow.
[Exeunt Queen and LADIES.
Oard. Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse,
I would, my skill were subject to thy curse. —
Here did she drop a tear ; here, in this place,
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace :
Rue. even for ruth,* here shortly shall be seen,
In the remembrance of a weeping queen. [Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.— London. Westminster Hall.
The Lords spiritual on the right side of the Throne ; the Lords
temporal on the left ; the Commons below. Enter ROLING-
BROKE, Aumerle, Surrey, Northumberland, Percy,
Fitzwater, another Lord, Bishop of Carlisle, Abbot of
WESTMINSTER, and Attendants. Officers behind, with Ragot.
Boling. Call forth Ragot :
Now, Ragot, freely speak thy mind ;
What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death,
Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd
The bloody office of his timelesst end.
Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle.
Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man.
* Pity. t Untimely.
378 KING BICHARD II. [ACT IV.
Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue
Scorns to unsay what once it hath delivered.
In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted,
I heard you say, — Is not my arm of length,
That reachethfrom the restful English court
As far as Calais, to my uncle's head ?
Amongst much other talk, that very time,
I heard you say, that you had rather refuse
The offer of a hundred thousand crowns,
Than Bolinghroke's return to England ;
Adding withal, how hlest this land would he,
In this your cousin's death.
Aum. Princes, and nohle lords,
What answer shall I make to this base man ?
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars,
On equal terms to give him chastisement ?
Either I must or have mine honour soil'd
With the attainder of his sland'rous lips.
There is my gage, the manual seal of death.
That marks thee out for hell : I say, thou liest,
And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false,
In thy heart-blood, though being all too base
To stain the temper of my knightly sword.
Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up.
Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best
In all this presence, that hath moved me so.
Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathies,
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine :
By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand'st,
I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spak'st it,
That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death.
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest ;
And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart,
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point.
Aum. Thou dar'st not, coward, live to see that day.
Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour.
Aum. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this.
Percy. Aumerle, thou liest ; his honour is as true,
In this appeal, as thou art all unjust;
And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage,
To prove it on thee to the extremest point
Of mortal breathing ; seize it if thou dar'st.
Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off,
And never brandish more revengeful steel
Over the glittering helmet of my foe !
Lord. Itake the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle ;
And spur thee on with full as many lies
As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear
From sun to sun : there is my honour's pawn ;
Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.
Aum. Who sets me else ? by heaven I'll throw at all :
I have a thousand spirits in one breast,
To answer twenty thousand such as you.
SCENE I.] KING EICHABD IT. 379
Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
Fitz. My lord, 'tis true : you were in presence then ;
And you can witness with me, this is true.
Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.
Surrey. Dishonourable boy :
That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,
That it shall render vengeance and revenge
Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie
In earth as quiet as thy father's scull.
In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn ;
Engage it to the trial if thou dar'st.
Fitz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse !
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,
I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,
And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies.
And lies, and lies : there is my bond of faith,
To tie thee to my strong correction. —
As I intend to thrive in this new world,
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal :
Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say,
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men
To execute the noble duke at Calais.
Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage,
That Norfolk lies : here do I throw down this,
If he may be repeal'd to try his honour.
Soling. These differences shall all rest under gage,
Till Norfolk be repeal'd : repeal'd he shall be,
And, though mine enemy, restored again
To all his land and signones ; when he's return'd.
Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial.
Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. —
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought
For Jesu Christ ; in glorious Christian field
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross,
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens :
And toil'd with works of war, retired himself
To Italy ; and there, at Venice, gave
His body to that pleasant country's earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.
Soling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead ?
Car. As sure as I live, my lord.
Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom
Of good old Abraham ! — Lords appellants,
Your differences shall all rest under gage,
Till we assign you to your days of trial.
Enter Toek, attended.
York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee
From plume-pluck'd Richard ; who with willing soul
Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields
380 KING KICHARD U. [ACT IV.
To the possession of thy royal hand :
Ascend his throne, descending now from him, —
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth.
Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne.
Car. Marry, God forbid ! —
Worst in this royal presence may I speak,
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.
Would God, that any in this noble presence
Were enough noble to be upright judge
Of noble Richard ; then true nobless* would
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong.
What subject can give sentence on his king ?
And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject ?
Thieves are not judged, but they are by to hear,
Although apparent guilt be seen in them :
And shall the figure of God's majesty,
His captain, steward, deputy elect,
Anointed, crown'd, planted many years,
Be judged by subject and inferior breath,
And he himself not present ? O, forbid it, God,
That, in a Christian climate, souls refined
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed !
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks,
Stirr 5 up by heaven thus boldly for his king.
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king,
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king :
And if you crown him, let me prophesy, —
The blood of English shall manure the ground,
And future ages groan for this foul act ;
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels,
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars
Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound ;
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's sculls.
O, if you rear this house against this house,
It will the woefullest division prove.
That ever fell upon this cursed earth :
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
Lest child, child's children, cry against you — woe !
North. We'll have you argued. Sir ; and for your pains,
Of capital treason we arrest you here : —
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge
To keep him safely till his day of trial. —
May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit.
Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view
He may surrender ; so we shall proceed
Without suspicion.
York. I will be his conduct. [Exit.
Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest,
Procure your sureties for your days of answer : —
* Nobleness.
SCENE I.] KING BICHABD II. 381
Little are we beholden to your love [2b Caelisle],
And little look'd for at your helping nands.
Re-enter Tobk, with King Eichaed, and Officers hearing
the Crown, S(c.
K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king,
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts
"Wherewith I reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn'd
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee : —
Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me
To this submission. Yet I well remember
The favours* of these men : Were they not mine ?
Did they not sometime cry, all hail ! to me ?
So Judas did to Christ : but he, in twelve,
Pound truth in all, but one ; I, in twelve thousand, none.
God save the king ! — Will no man say, amen ?
Am I both priest and clerk ? well then, amen.
God save the king ! although I be not he ;
And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. —
To do what service am I sent for hither ?
York. To do that office, of thine own good will
"Which tired majesty did make thee offer,
The resignation of thy state and crown
To Henry Bolingbroke.
K. Rich. Give me the crown : Here, cousin, seize the crown ;
Here, on t"n*3 side, my hand ; on that side, thine.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,
That owesf two buckets filling one another ;
The emptier ever dancing in the air, ■
The other down, unseen, and full of water :
That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,
Drinking my grief, whilst you mount up on high.
Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign.
K. Rich. My crown, I am ; but still my griefs are mine^
You may my glories and my state depose,
But not my griefs ; still am I king 01 those.
Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your crown.
K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck my cares down.
My care is— loss of care, by old care done ;
Your care is — gain of care, by new care won :
The cares I give, I have, though given away ;
They 'tend the crown, yet still with me they stay.
Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown ?
K. Rich. Ay, no ; — no, ay ; — for I must nothing be ;
Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.
Now mark me how I will undo myself: —
I give this heavy weight from off my head,
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ;
With mine own tears I wash away my balm, J
"With mine own hands I give away my crown,
* Countenances. t Has. X Oil of consecration.
882 KING RICHABD IT. [ACT IV.
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
"With mine own breath release all duteous oaths :
All pomp and majesty I do forswear ;
My manors, rents, revenues, I forego ;
My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny :
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me !
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee !
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved ;
And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved !
Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,
And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit !
God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,
And send him many years of sunshine days ! —
What more remains ?
North. No more, but that you read [Offering a Paper.
These accusations, and these grievous crimes,
Committed by your person, and your followers,
Against the state and profit of this land ;
That by confessing them, the souls of men
May deem that you are worthily deposed.
K. Rich. Must I do so ? and must I ravel out
My weaved-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland,
If thy offences were upon record,
Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,
To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst,
There shouldst thou find one heinous article, —
Containing the deposing of a king,
And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, —
Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven : —
Nay all of you, that stand and look upon me,
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, —
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands,
Showing an outward pity ; yet you Pilates
Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,
And water cannot wash away your sin.
North. My lord, dispatch ; read o'er these articles.
K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see :
And yet salt water blinds them not so much,
But they can see a sort* of traitors here.
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
I find myself a traitor with the rest :
Por I have given here my soul's consent,
To undeck the pompous body of a king ;
Make glory base ; and sovereignty, a slave ;
Proud majesty, a subject ; state, a peasant.
North. My lord
K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught,t insulting man,
Nor no man's lord ; I have no name, no title, —
No, not that name was given me at the font, —
But 'tis usurp'd :— Alack the heavy day,
That I have worn so many winters out,
* Company. t Haughty.
SCENE I.] KING BICHABD II. 383
And know not now what name to call myself!
O, that I were a mockery king of snow,
Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke,
To melt myself away in water-drops !
Good king, — great king — (and yet not greatly good),
And if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight ;
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.
Soling. Go some of you, and fetch a looking-glass.
[ Exit an Attendant.
North. Bead o'er this paper, while the glass doth come.
JT. Rich. Fiend ! thou torment'st me ere I come to hell.
Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland.
'North. The commons will not then be satisfied. *
K. Rich. They shall be satisfied : I'll read enough,
When I do see the very book indeed
Where all my sins are writ, and that's — myself.
Re-enter Attendant with a Glass.
Give me that glass, and therein will I read. —
No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck
So many blows upon this face of mine,
And made no deeper wounds ? — O, flattering glass,
Like to my followers in prosperity.
Thou dost beguile me ! Was this face the face,
That every day under his household roof
Lid keep ten thousand men ? Was this the face,
That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ?
Was this the face, that faced so many follies,
And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke ?
A brittle glory shineth in this face •
As brittle as the glory is the face ;
t Dashes the glass against the ground.
lundred shivers. —
Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport,—
How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face.
Soling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd
The shadow of your face.
K. Rich. Say that again.
The shadow of my sorrow ? Ha ! let's see : —
'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ;
And these external manners of lament
Are merely shadows to the unseen grief,
That swells with silence in the tortured soul ;
There lies the substance : and I thank thee, king,
For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st
Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon,
And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Shall I obtain it?
Boling. Name it, fair cousin.
K. Rich. Fair cousin ? Why, I am greater than a king :
381 KING RICHARD II. [ACT T.
For, when I was a king, my flatterers
Were then hut subjects ; being now a subject,
I have a king here to my flatterer.
Being so great, I have no need to beg.
Holing. Yet ask.
K. Rich. And shall I have ?
Boling. You shall.
K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.
Boling. Whither?
K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights.
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower.
K. Rich. O, good ! Convey ? — Conveyers* are you all,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall.
f Exeunt KING IIichard, some Lords, and a Guard.
Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down
Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves.
[Exeunt all but the ABBOT, Bishop of CARLISLE, and
AUMERLE.
Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld.
Car. The woe 's to come ; the children yet unborn
Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn.
Aum. You holy clergyman, is there no plot
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ?
Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein,
You shall not only take the sacrament
To bury mine intents, but to effect
Whatever I shall happen to devise : —
I see your brows are full of discontent,
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears ;
Come home with me to supper ; I will lay
A plot, shall show us all a merry day. [Exevnt.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — London. A Street leading to the Tower.
Enter QUEEN and Ladies.
Queen. This way the king will come ; this is the way
To Julius Caesar's ill-erectedf Tower,
To whose flint bosom my condemned lord
Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke ;
Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth
Have any resting for her true king's queen.
Enter King Richard, and Guards.
But soft, but see. or rather do not see,
My fair rose wither : Yet look up ; behold ;
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,
* Thieves. t Erected for evil purpose*.
SCENE I.] KING BICHABD TI. 333
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. —
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand ;
Thou map* of honour ; thou king Richard's tomb,
And not king Richard ; thou most beauteous inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee,
When triumph is become an ale-house guest ?
K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,
To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul,
To think our former state a happy dream ;
From which awaked, the truth of what we are
Shows us but this : I am sworn brother, sweet,
To grim necessity ; and he and I
Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France,
And cloister thee in some religious house :
Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,
Which ourprofant hours here have stricken down.
Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape and mind
Transform'd, and weaken'd ? Hath Bolingbroke
Deposed thine intellect ? hath he been in thy heart ?
The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage
To be o'erpower'd ; and wilt thou, pupil-like,
Take thy correction mildly ? kiss the rod ;
And fawn on rage with base humility,
Which art a lion, and a king of beasts ?
K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed ; if aught but beasts,
I had been still a nappy king of men.
Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France :
Think I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,
As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire
With good old folks ; and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages, long ago betid :f
And, ere thou bid good night, to quit J their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.
For why, the senseless brands will sympathize
The heavy accent of thy moving tongue,
And, in compassion, weep the fire out :
And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black,
For the deposing of a rightful king.
Enter NOBTHTTMBEBLAND, attended.
North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed ;
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower.
And, Madam, there is order ta'en for you ;
With all swift speed you must away to France.
K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal
The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne,
The time shall not be many hours of age
More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head,
* Picture of greatness. t Passed. j Be quits with them
VOL. II. 2 C
38G KING EICHAED II. [ACT V.
Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think.
Though he divide the realm, and give thee half,
It is too little, helping him to all ;
And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again,
Being ne'er so little urged, another way
To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.
The love of wicked friends converts to fear ;
That fear, to hate ; and hate turns one, or both,
To worthy danger, and deserved death.
North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end.
Take leave, and part ; for you must part forthwith.
K. Rich. Doubly divorced ? — Bad man, ye violate
A twofold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and me ;
And then, betwixt me and my married wife. —
Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me ;
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. —
Part us, Northumberland ; I towards the north,
Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime,
My wife to France ; from whence set forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like sweet May,
Sent back like Hallowmas, or short'st of day.
Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part ?
K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart
Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me.
North. That were some love, but little policy.
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go.
K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe.
Weep thou for me in Prance, I for thee here ;
Better far off, than — near, be ne'er the near 3 .*
Go, count thy way with sighs ; I, mine with groans.
Queen. So longest way shall have the longest moans.
K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short,
And piece the way out with a heavy heart.
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief,
Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief.
One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part ;
Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. {They hiss.
Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good part,
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. [Kiss again.
So, now I have my own again, begone,
That I may strive to kill it with a groan.
K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond delay :
Once more, adieu ; the rest let sorrow say. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The same. A Room in the Duke of Yobk's
Palace.
Enter Yoke, and his Duchess.
Dnnh. My lord, you told me, you would tell the rest,
When weeping made you break the story off
Of our two cousins coming into London.
* Nigher.
SCENE II.] KING EICHAED II. 387
York. Where did I leave ?
Duch. At that sad stop, niy lord,
Where rude misgovern'd hands, from window tops,
Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head.
York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Bohngbroke, —
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, —
"W ith slow, but stately pace, kept on his course.
"While all tongues cried — God save thee, Bohngbroke !
You would have thought the very windows spake.
So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage ; and that all the walls,
With painted imag'ry ,* had said at once, —
Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bohngbroke !
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck,
Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen :
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.
Duch. Alas ! poor Bichard ! where rides he the while ?
York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious :
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Bichard ; no man cried, God save nun ;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home :
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, —
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience, —
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce, have melted.
And barbarism itself have pitied him.
But heaven hath a hand in these events ;
To whose high will we bound our calm contents.
To Bohngbroke are we sworn subjects now,
Whose state and honour I for ayef allow.
Unter Atjmeele.
Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle.
York. Aumerle that was:
But that is lost, for being Richard's friend,
And, Madam, you must call him Rutland now :
I am in parliament pledge for his truth,
And lasting fealty to the new-made king.
Duch. Welcome, my son : Who are the violets now,
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?
Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not :
God knows, I had as lief be none, as one.
* Tajfestry hung from the windows. f Ever.
2c2
888 KING BICHARD TI. [ACT V.
York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of time,
Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime.
"What news from Oxford ? hold* those justs and triumphs ?
Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do.
York. You will be there, I know.
Aum. If God prevent it not ; I purpose so.
York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom ?
Tea, look'st thou pale ? let me see the writing.
Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing.
York. No matter then who sees it :
I will be satisfied, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ;
It is a matter of small consequence,
Which for some reasons I would not have seen.
York. Which for some reasons, Sir, I mean to see.
I fear, I fear,
Duch. What should you fear ?
"lis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into
For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day.
York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond
That he is bound to ? Wife, thou art a fool. —
Boy, let me see the writing.
Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me ; I may not show nV
York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say.
[Snatches it, and reads.
Treason ! foul treason ! — villain ! traitor ! slave !
Duch. What is the matter, my lord ?
York. Ho ! who is within there ? [Enter a Servant.'] Sad-
dle my horse.
God for his mercy ! what treachery is here !
Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ?
York. Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse: —
Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth,
I will appeach the villain. [Exit Servant.
Duch. What's the matter ?
York. Peace, foolish woman.
Duch. I will not peace : — What is the matter, son ?
Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more
Than mypoor life must answer.
Duch. Thy life answer!
He-enter Servant with Boots.
York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the king.
Duch. Strike him, Aumerle. — Poor boy, thou art amazed :f
Hence, villain ; never more come in my sight. —
[To the Servant.
York. Give me my boots, I say.
Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do ?
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ?
Have we more sons ? or are we like to have?
Is not my teeming datej drunk up with time ?
* Are they still to be held. t Confounded. t Breeding time.
6CENE III.] KING BICHABD II. 389
And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,
And rob me of a happy mother's name?
Is he not like thee ? is he not thine own ?
York. Thou fond mad woman,
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy ?
A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament,
And interchangeably set down their hands
To kill the king at Oxford.
Duch. He shall be none ;
We'll keep him here : Then what is that to him ?
York. Away,
Fond woman ! were he twenty times my son,
I would appeach him.
Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him,
As I have done, thou'dst be more pitiful.
But now I know thy mind ; thou dost suspect,
That I have been disloyal to thy bed,
And that he is a bastard, not thy son:
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind :
He is as like thee as a man may be, i
Not like to me, or any of my kin,
And yet I love him.
York. Make way, unruly woman. [Exit.
Duch. After, Aumerle ; mount thee upon his horse ;
Spur, post ; and get before him to the king,
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee.
I'll not De long behind ; though I be old,
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York :
And never will I rise up from the ground,
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee : Away ;
Begone. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Enter BoiINGBBOKE as King ; PEECY, and other LOBDS.
Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty son ?
'Tis full three months, since I did see him last : —
If any plague hang over us, 'tis he.
I would to God, my lords, he might be found :
Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there,
Por there, they say, he daily doth frequent,
With unrestrained loose companions ;
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes,
And beat our watch, and rob our passengers :
While he, young, wanton, and effeminate boy,
Takes on the point of honour, to support
So dissolute a crew.
Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw the prince ;
And told him of these triumphs held at Oxford.
Boling. And what said the gallant ?
Percy. His answer was, he would unto the stews ;
And from the commonest creature pluck a glove,
390 KING RICHABD II. [ACT V.
And wear it as a favour ; and with that
He would unhorse the lustiest challenger.
Boling. As dissolute as desperate ; yet, through both
I see some sparkles of a better hope,
Which elder days may happily bring forth.
But who comes here ?
Enter AUMEBLE, hastily.
Aum. Where is the king ?
Boling. What means
Our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly ?
Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech your majesty
To have some conference with your grace alone.
Boling. Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. —
{Exeunt PEBCY and LoEDS.
What is the matter with our cousin now ?
Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the earth, [Kneels.
My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth,
Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak.
Boling. Intended, or committed, was this fault ?
If but the first, how heinous ere it be,
To win thy after-love, I pardon thee.
Aum. Then give me leave that I may turn the key,
That no man enter till my tale be done.
Boling. Have thy desire. [AtTMEBLE locks the door,
York [within). My liege, beware ; look to thyself;
Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing.
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand ;
Thou hast no cause to fear.
York [within). Open the door, secure, fool-hardy king:
Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face ?
Open the door, or I will break it open.
[Bolingbboke opens the door.
Enter YOEK.
Boling. What is the matter, uncle ? speak ;
fiecover breath ; tell us how near is danger,
That we may arm us to encounter it.
York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
The treason that my haste forbids me show.
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past :
I do repent me ; read not my name there,
My heart is not confederate with my hand.
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. —
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king :
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence :
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart.
Boling. O heinous, strong, and bold conspiracy ! —
O loyal father of a treacherous son !
SCENE III. J KING KICHARD II. 391
Thou sheer,* immaculate, and silver fountain,
From whence this stream through muddy passages,
Hath held his current^ and defiled himself !
Thy overflow of good converts to bad ;
And thy abundant goodness shall excuse
This deadly blot in thy digressing! son.
York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd ;
And he shall spend mine honour with his shame,
As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold.
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies,
Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies :
Thou kill'st me in his life ; giving him breath,
The traitor lives, the true man 's put to death.
Duch. [urithinj. What ho, my hege ! for God's sake let me in,
Boling. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry ?
Duch. A woman, and thine aunt, great king, 'tis I.
Speak with me, pity me, open the door ;
A beggar begs that never begg'd before.
Boling. Our scene is alter'd, — from a serious thing,
And now changed to The Beggar and the King.%
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ;
I know, she's come to pray for your foul sin.
York. If thou do pardon, whosoever pray,
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may.
This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rests sound;
This, let alone, will all the rest confound.
Enter DUCHESS.
Duch. O king, believe not this hard-hearted man ;
Love, loving not itself, none other can.
York. Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make§ here ?
Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear ?
Duch. Sweet 1 ork, be patient : Hear me, gentle hege. {Kneels.
Boling. Rise up, good aunt.
Duch. Not yet, I thee beseech :
For ever will I kneel upon my knees,
And never see day that the happy sees,
Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy,
By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy.
Aum. Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee. [Kneels.
York. Against them both, my true joints bended be. [ Kneels.
Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace !
Duch. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his face ;
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest ;
His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast :
He prays but faintly, and would be denied ;
We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside :
His weary joints would gladly rise, I know ;
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow :
* Clear. t Transgressing. J An old ballad. } Do.
392 KING KICHAKD IT. [ACT V
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ;
Ours of true zeal and deep integrity.
Our prayers do out-pray his ; then let them have
That mercy, which true prayers ought to have.
Baling. Good aunt, stand up.
Buch. Nay, do not say — stand up ;
But, pardon first ; and afterwards stand up.
And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach,
Pardon — should he the first word of thy speech.
I never long'd to hear a word till now ;
Say — pardon, king ; let pity teach thee how :
The word is short, but not so short as sweet ;
No word like pardon, for kings' mouths so meet.
York. Speak it in French, king, say pardonnez mor/.
Buch. Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy P
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord,
That set'st the word itself against the word ! —
Speak, pardon, as 'tis current in our land ;
The chopping French we do not understand.
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue there :
Or, in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear ;
That, hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce,
Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse.
Boling. Good aunt, stand up.
Buch. I do not sue to stand,
Pardon is all the suit I have in hand.
Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
Buch. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee !
Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ;
Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain,
But makes one pardon strong.
Boling. With all my heart
I pardon him.
Buch. A God on earth thou art.
Boling. But for our trusty brother-in-law, — and the abbot,
With all the rest of that consorted crew, —
Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. —
Good uncle, help to order several powers*
To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are :
They shall not live within this world, I swear,
But I will have them, if I once know where.
Uncle, farewell, — and cousin too, adieu :
Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true.
Buch. Come, my old son ; — I pray God make thee new.
[Exeunt
SCENE IV.
Enter ExTON, and a Sebvant.
Exton. Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake ?
Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear 1
Was it not so ?
SCENE V.] KING BICHABD II. 393
Serv. Those were his very words.
Exton. Have I no friend ? quoth he ; he spake it twice,
And urged it twice together ; did he not ?
Serv. He did.
Exton. And, speaking it, he wistly* look'd on me;
As who should say,— I would thou wert the man
That would divorce this terror from my heart ;
Meaning, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go ;
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.— Pomfret. The Dungeon of the Castle.
Enter King Eichaed.
K. Etch. I have heen studying how I may compare
This prison, where I live, unto the world :
And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it ; — yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul ;
My soul, the father: and these two beget
A generation of still breeding thoughts,
And these same thoughts people this little world ;t
In humours, like the people of this world,
For no thought is contented. The better sort, —
As thoughts of things divine, — are intermix'd
"With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word :%
As thus, — Come little ones ; and then again, —
It is as hard to come, as for a camel
To thread the postern of a needle's eye.
Thought tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders : how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this ham world, my ragged prison walls ;
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves, —
That they are not the first or fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last ; like silly beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, —
That many have, and others must sit there :
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I, in one person, many people.
And none contented; sometimes am I king ;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am : then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king ;
Then am I king'd again ; and, by-and-bv,
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing :— But, whate'er I am,
* Wistfully. t His own body. j The Scriptures.
394 KING RICHARD II. [ACT T.
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
"With being nothing. — Music do I hear ? [Music.
Ha, ha ! keep time : — How sour sweet music is,
When time is broke, and no proportion kept !
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear,
To check time broke in a disorder'd string ;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock :
My thoughts are minutes ; and, with sighs, they jar*
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch,f
Whereto my finger, like a dial s point,
Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, Sir, the sound, that tells what hour it is,
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell : So sighs, and tears, and groans,
Show minutes, times, and hours : but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy.
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o'the clock.
This music mads me, let it sound no more ;
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wit
In me, it seems it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me !
For 'tis a sign of love : and love to Eichard
Is a strange brooch§ in this all-hating world
Enter GROOM.
Groom. Hail, royal prince !
K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer ;
The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.
What art thou ? and how comest thou hither,
Where no man never comes, but that sad dog
That brings me food, to make misfortune live ?
Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king.
When thou wert king ; who, travelling towards York,
With much ado, at length have gotten leave
To look upon my sometime || master's face.
O, how it yearn d my heart, when I beheld,
In London streets, that coronation day,
When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary !
The horse, that thou so often hast bestrid ;
That horse, that I so carefully have dress'd !
K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary ? Tell me, gentle friend,
How went he under him ?
Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground.
K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back '
• Tick. t I. e. dial-plate.
t The figure of a man that struck the hours on a bell.
f Unusual ornament. I Former.
SCENE VI.] KING BICHABD II. 395
That jade hath eat hread from my royal hand ;
This hand hath made him proud with clapping him.
Would he not stumble ? Would he not fall down
(Since pride must have a fall), and break the neck
Of that proud man that did usurp his back ?
Forgiveness, horse ! why do I rail on thee,
Since thou, created to be awed by man.
Was born to bear ? I was not made a horse ;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tired, by jauncing* Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a Dish.
Keep. Fellow, give place ; here is no longer stay.
[To the Geoom.
K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away.
Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall pay.
[Exit.
Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to ?
K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do.
Keep. My lord, I dare not ; Sir Pierce of Exton, who
Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.
K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee !
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats t/te Keeper.
Keep. Help, help, help!
Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.
K. Rich. How now ? what means death in this rude assault ?
Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument.
[Snatching a weapon and killing one.
Go thou, and fill another room in hell.
[He kills another, then Exton strikes him down.
That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire,
That staggers thus my person.— -Exton, thy fierce hand
Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land.
Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high ;
Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. [Dies.
Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood :
Both have I spilt ; O, would the deed were good !
For now the devil, that told me — I did well,
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I'll bear; —
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.— Windsor. A Room in the Castle.
Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE, and YORK, with LORDS and
Attendants.
Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear
Is— that the rebels have consumed with fire
* Jaunting.
396 KING BICHABD II. [>CT V.
Our town of Cicester in Glostershire ;
But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not.
Enter Nobthumbebland.
Welcome, my lord : What is the news ?
North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
The next news is, — I have to London sent
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent : '
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursed in this paper here. [Presenting a paper
Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains ;
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.
Enter FlTZWATEB.
Mtz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London
The heads of Brocas, and sir Bennet Seely ;
Two of the dangerous consorted traitors,
That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow.
Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot ;
Eight noble is thy merit, well I wot.
Enter Pebct, with the Bishop of Caelisle.
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster,
With clog of conscience, and sour melancholy,
Hath yielded up his body to the grave ;
But here is Carlisle living, to abide
Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom : —
Choose out some secret placet, some reverend room,
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life ;
So, as thou hVst in peace, die free from strife ;
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.
Enter EXTON, with Attendants bearing a Coffin.
Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present
Thy buried fear : herein all breathless lies
The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Bichard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.
Boling. Exton, I thank thee not ; for thou hast wrought
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand,
Upon my head, and all this famous land.
Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed.
Boling. They love notpoison that do poison need,
Nor do I thee ; though I did wish him dead,
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
But neither my good word, nor princely favour : \
With Cain go wander through the shade of night,
And never snow thy head by day nor light. —
SCENE VI.] KINO EICHABD II. 397
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe,
That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow :
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament,
And put on sullen black incontinent ;*
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,
To wash this blood off from my guilty hanl : —
March sadly after : grace my mournings here,
In weeping after this untimely bier. [Exeunt,
* Immediately.
FIRST PART
KING HENRY IV.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
HENRY, Prince of Wales, \ Q
PRINCE JOHN of Lancaster, J aons
to the King.
EARL OF WESTMORE- 1 Friends
LAND, } to the
SIR WALTER BLUNT, J King.
_V> r THOMAS PERCY, Earl of Wor-
E>M cester.
L~ HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northum-
berland.
HENRY PERCY, surnamed Hot-
spur, ftis Son.
EDWARD MORTIMER, Earl of
March.
SCROOP, Archbishop of York.
ARCHIBALD, Earl of Douglas.
OWEN GLENDOWER.
SIR RICHARD VERNON.
SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
POINS.
GADSHILL.
PETO.
BARDOLPH.
LADY PERCY, Wife to Hotspur,
and Sister to Mortimer.
LADY MORTIMER, Daughter to
Glendower, and Wife to Mortimer.
MRS. QUICKLY, Hostess of a Ta-
Trm m Eastcheap.
Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vint-
ner, Chamberlain, Drawers,
two Carriers, Travellers, and
Attendants.
Scene.— England.
ACT I.
SCENE I. — London. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt,
and others.
K. Sen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenced in stronds* afar remote.
* Strands of the sea.
SCENE I.] FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 399
No more the thirsty Erinnys* of this soil
Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood ;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes.
Which, — like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred, —
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way ; and be no more opposed
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies :
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engaged to fight),
Forthwith a powerf of English shall we levy ;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootless tis to tell you — we will go;
Therefore we meet not now : — Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.^
West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
And many limites of the charge set down
But yesternight ; when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news ;
Wnose worst was, — that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered :
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of.
K. Men. It seems then, that the tidings of this broil
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.
West. This, mateh'd with other, did, my gracious lord ;
For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,
* The fury of discord. t Army. t Expedition. % Outlines.
400 riEST PAET OF KING HENET IV. [ACT I.
Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour ;
As by discharge of their artillery,
And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.
K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd* with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours ;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The earl of Douglas is discomfited ;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'df in their own blood, did sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains : Of prisoners, Hotspur took
Mordake, the earl of Fife, and eldest son
To beaten Douglas ; and the earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil ?
A gallant prize ? ha, cousin, is it not ?
West. In faith.
It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin
In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son :
A son, who is the theme of honour ^s tongue ;
Amongst a grove, the very straigntest plant ;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride :
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonou r stain the brow
Of my young "Harry. O, that it could be proved,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine — Percy, his — Plantagenet !
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts : — What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy s pride ? the prisoners.
Which he in this adventure hath surprised,
To his own use he keeps ; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake, earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects ;
Which makes him prunet himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.
K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this ;
And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on ~V\ ednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords :
But come yourself with speed to us again ;
* Soiled with dirt of different colours,
t Piled up in a heap. t Trim.
SCENE II.J FIRST PART OP KINO HENRY IT. 401
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, iny liege. {Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The same. Another Room in the Palace.
Enter HENRY Prince of Wales, and Falstaff.
Fal. Now. Hal, what time of day is it, lad ?
P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and
unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after
noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou
wouldst truly know. What the devil hast thou to do with the
time of the day ? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes
capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials of signs of
leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in
flame-colour'd tattata ; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so
superfluous to demand the time of the day.
Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal : for we, that take
Eurses, go by the moon and seven stars ; and not by Phoebus, —
e, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag,
when thou art king, — as, God save thy grace (majesty, I should
say ; for grace thou wilt have none),
P. Hen. What, none ?
Fal. No, by my troth ; not so much as will serve to be prologue
to an egg and butter.
P. Hen. Well, how then ? come, roundly, roundly. ,
Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us,
that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's
beauty ; let us be — Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade,
minions of the moon : And let men say, we be men of good
government: being governed as the sea is, by our noble and
chaste mistress, the moon, under whose countenance we— steal.
P. Hen. Thou say'st well ; and it holds well too : for the for-
tune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the
sea ; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof,
now : A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night,
and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning ; got with swear-
ing — lay by ! * and spent with crying — bring mf now, in as low
an ebb as the foot of the ladder : and, by-and-by, in as high a flow
as the ridge of the gallows.
Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess
of the tavern a most sweet wench ?
P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And
is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?%
Fal. How now, how now, mad wag ? what, in thy quips, and
thy quiddities ? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin P
P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the
tavern ?
Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time
and oft.
P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part ?
* stand. f J- *> more wine. t The dress of sheriff's' officers.
VOL. II. 2 D
402 PIBST PABT OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT I.
Fal. No ; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.
P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch ;
and, where it would not, I have used my credit.
Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that
thou art heir apparent,— But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there
be gallows standing in England when thou art king ? and reso-
lution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty crub of old father antic
the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.
P. Hen. No ; thou shalt.
Fal. Shall IPO rare ! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.
P. Hen. Thou judgest false already ; I mean, thou shalt have
the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.
Fal. Well, Hal, well ; and in some sort it jumps with my
humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.
P. Hen. For obtaining of suits ?
Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits : whereof the hangman hath no
lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a jib* cat, or a
lugged bear.
P. Hen. Or an old lion ; or a lover's lute.
Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.t
P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of
Moor-ditch ?
Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes ; and art, indeed,
the most comparative, rascalliest, — sweet young prince, — But,
Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to
. God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were
to be bought : An old lord of the council rated me the other day
in the street about you, Sir ; but I marked him not : and yet he
talked very wisely ; but I regarded him not : and yet he talked
wisely, and in the street too.
P. Hen. Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries out in the streets,
and no man regards it.
Fal. O thounast damnable iteration ; .t and art, indeed, able to
corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal, —
God forgive thee for it ! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew noth-
ing ; and now am I. if a man should speak truly, little better
than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will
give it over ; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain ; I'll be
damned for never a king's son in Christendom.
P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow. Jack ?
Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one ; an I do not, call me
villain, and baffle § me.
P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee ; from praying,
to purse-taking.
Enter PoiNS, at a distance.
Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation. Hal ; 'tis no sin for a man to
labour in his vocation. Poins ! — Now shall we know if Gadshill
hath set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what
* Gelded cat. t Croak of a frog.
t Citation of holy texts. i Treat me with ignominy.
SCENE II.] FIBST PART OF KINO HENBY IV. 403
hole in hell were hot enough for him ? This is the most omni-
potent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true man.
P. Ren. Good morrow, Ned.
Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. — What savs monsieur Re-
morse ? What says sir John Sack-and-Sugar ? Jack, how agrees
the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-
Friday last, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg ?
P. Ren. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his
bargain ; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs, he will give
the devil his due.
Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the
devil.
P. Ren. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.
Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four
o'clock, early at Gadshill : There are pilgrims going to Canterbury
with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses :
I have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves ; Gadshill
lies to-night in Rochester ; I have bespoke supper to-morrow night
in Eastcheap ; we may do it as secure as sleep : If you will go, I
will stuff your purses full of crowns ; if you will not, tarry at
home, and be' hanged.
Fal. Hear me, Yedward ; if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll
hang you for going.
Poins. You will, chops ?
Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one ?
P. Ren. Who, I rob ? la thief ? not I, by my faith.
Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in
thee, nor thou earnest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not
stand for ten shillings*
P. Ren. Well, then once in my days, I'll be a mad-cap.
Fal. Why, that's well said.
P. Ren. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.
Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
P. Ren. I care not.
Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone ; I
will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.
Fal. Well, mayst thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he
the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and
what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for
recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the
time want countenance. Farewell : You shall find me in East-
cheap.
P. Ren. Farewell, thou latter spring ! Farewell, All-hallown
summer !+ [Exit Falstaff.
Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-
morrow ; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone.
Falstaff, Bardolph, Teto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that
we have already waylaid ; yourself, and L will not be there : and
when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, out
this head from my shoulders.
* The coin called royal was of the value of ten shillings.
t /. e. winter-summer.
2D2
404 FIBST PART OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT I.
P. Hen. But how shall we part from them in setting forth ?
Poins. Why, we will set forth before or alter them, and appoint
them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail ;
and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves :
which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon
them.
P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will know us, by our horses,
by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
Poins. Tut ! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the
wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and,
sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce,* to immask our
noted outward garments.
P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard for us.
Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred
cowards as ever turned back ; and for the third, if he fight longer
than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest
will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will
tell us, when we meet at supper : how thirty, at least, he fought
with ; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured ;
and, m the reprooff of this, lies the jest.
P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things neces-
sary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup.
Farewell,
Poins. Farewell, my lord. {Exit Poins.
P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold
The unyoked humour of your idleness :
Yet herein will I imitate the sun ;
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
-If alHheve ar were pl aying holidays.
TjQ-spo ff would be as tedious as to work ;
ButTwheu Lhey seldom "come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ;%
And, like bright metal on a sullen§ ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill ;
Eedeeming time, when men think least I will. [Exit.
* Occasion. t Disproof.
; Expectations. } Dull.
SCENE III.] FIRST PABT OF KING MENBY IV. 405
SCENE III. — TJie same. Another Room in the Palctfe.
Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Wobcesteb, Hot-
spur, Sib Waltee Blunt, and others.
K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me ; for accordingly,
You tread upon my patience : but, be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition ;*
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect,
"Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. .
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
The scourge of greatness to be used on it ;
And that same greatness too which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly.
North. My lord,
K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger
And disobedience in thine eye : O, Sir,
Your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontierf of a servant brow.
You have good leaveX to leave us ; when we need
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. — [Exit Wobcester.
You were about to speak. [ To North.
North. Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded,
'Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is delivered to your majesty :
Either envy, therefore, or misprision,
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rasie, and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd.
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ;
He was perfumed like a milliner ;
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box,§ which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took't away again ; —
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuflf:|| — and still he smiled, and talk'd;
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
* Natural disposition. t Forehead. t Ready assent.
{ Filiagree box for perfumes. I 111 part.
406 FIBST PABT OF KING HENRY IV. [>CT I.
He call'd them — untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He question'd me ; among the rest demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold,
To be so pestered with a popinjay,
Out of my grief* and my impatience,
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what ;
He should, or he should not ; — for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds (God save the mark !)
And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise ;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tallf fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said ;
And, I beseech you, let not this report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good, my lord,
Whatever Harry Percy then hath said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.
K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners ;
But with proviso, and exception, —
That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in law, the foolish Mortimer ;
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower ;
Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home ?
Shall we buy treason ? and indent with fears,t
When they have lost and forfeited themselves ?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve ;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
* Pain. t Brave. t Bargain with objects of fear.
SCENE III.] FIRST PABT OF KING HENBY IT. 407
Hot. Revolted Mortimer !
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war ; — To prove that true,
Needs no more, but one tongue for all those wounds,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition, hand to hani
He did confound* the best part of an hour
In changing hardimentf with great Glendower :
Three times they breathed, and three times did they drink.
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp J head in the hollow bank,
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did bare and rotten policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds ;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly :
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.
K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him,
He never did encounter with Glendower ;
I tell thee,
He durst as well have met the devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art not ashamed ? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you. — My lord Northumberland,
"We license your departure with your son : —
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.
{Exeunt King Heney, Blunt, and Train.
Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them,
I will not send them : — I will after straight,
And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart,
Although it be with hazard of my nead.
North. What, drunk with choler ? stay, and pause awhile ;
Here comes your uncle.
Re-enter WoBCESTEB.
Hot. Speak of Mortimer !
Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul
"Want mercy, if I do not join with him :
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high i' the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.
North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad.
(To Wobcesteb.
* Expend. + Hardiness. t Curled.
408 FIEST PAET OF KING HENBY IV. [> C T *■
Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone ?
Sot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners ;
And when I urged the ransom once again
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale •
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
Wor. I cannot blame him : Was he not proclaim'd,
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood ?
North. He was ; I heard the proclamation :
And then it was, when the unhappy king
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon !) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition ;
From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be deposed, and shortly, murdered.
Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's wide mouth
Live scandalized, and foully spoken of.
Sot. But soft, I pray you ; Did king Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown ?
North. He did ; myself did hear it.
Sot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king.
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starved.
But shall it be, that you, — that set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man ;
And, for his sake, wear the detested blot
Of murd'rous subordination, — shall it be,
That you a world of curses undergo ;
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather ? —
O, pardon me, that I descend so low,
To show the line, and the predicament,
Wherein you range under this subtle king. —
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power,
Bid gage them both in an unjust behalf, —
As both of you, God pardon it ! have done, —
To put dow ji HicTinrri t.hqfcgwpftt, lovely rose,
And piantthis thorn, this canker,* Bolingbroke ?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him, for whom these shames ye underwent ?
No ; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again :
Revenge the jeering, and disdain'df contempt,
Of this proud king ; who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt he owes to you,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore, I say,
* Dog-rose. t Disdainful.
SCENE III.] FIRST PAET OF KING IIENBY IV. 409
Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more :
And now 1 will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous ;
As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
On the un steadfast footing of a spear.
Hot. If he fall in, good night : — or sink or swim
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple ; — O ! the blood more stirs,
To rouse a lion, than to start a hare.
North. Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
Hot. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap,
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon ;
Or dive unto the bottom of the deep,
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ;
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival,* all her dignities :
But out upon this half-faced fellowship !t
Wor. He apprehends a world of figures J here.
But not the form of what he should attend
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor. Those same noble Scots,
That are your prisoners,
Hot. I'll keep them all ;
By heaven he snail not have a Scot of them :
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not ■
I'll keep them, by this hand.
Wor. You start away,
And lend no ear unto my purposes. —
Those prisoners you shall keep.
Hot. Nay, I will : that's flat :—
He said, he would not ransom Mortimer ;
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer ;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla — Mortimer !
Nay,
I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it hiin,
To keep his anger still in motion.
Wor. Hear you,
Cousin ; a word.
Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy,§
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke :
And that same sword-and-buckler j| prince of Wales. —
* Rival. t Friendship. i Shapes.
Refuse. J A blustering, quarrelsome fellow.
410 FIBST PAST OF KING HENBY IV. [ACT I.
But that I think his father loves him not,
And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale.
Wor. Farewell, kinsman ! I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.
North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool
Art thou, to break into this woman's mood ;
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own ?
Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with rods,
Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Bichard's time — What do you call the place ? —
A plague upon't ! — it is in Glostershire ; —
'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept ;
His uncle York ; — where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Bavenspurg.
North. At Berkley castle.
Hot. You say true :
Why, what a candy* deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
Look, — when his infant fortune came to age,
And, — gentle Harry Percy, — and, kind cousin, —
O, tne devil take such cozeners ! God forgive me ! >
Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again ;
We'll stay your leisure.
Hot. 1 have done, i' faith.
Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
And make the Douglas' son your only mean
Tor powers in Scotland ; which, — for divers reasons,
Which I shall send you written,— be assured,
Will easily be granted. — You, my lord, —
[To NOBTHUJIBEELAND.
Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, —
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble prelate, well beloved,
The archbishop.
Hot. Of York, is'tnot?
Wor. True ; who bears hard
His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation, f
As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down ;
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.
Hot. I smell it ; upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game 's a-foot, thou still let'st slip.
Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot : —
* Sugared. t Conjecture.
SCENE III.] FIEST PAST OF KING HEXBY IV. 411
And then the power of Scotland, and of York, —
To join with Mortimer, ha ?
Wor. And so they shall.
Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.
Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed,
To save our heads by raising of a head :*
For, bear ourselves as even as we can,
The king we always think him in our debt ;
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
And see already, how he doth begin
To make us strangers to his looks of love.
Hot. He does, he does ; we'll be revenged on him.
Wor. Cousin, farewell : — No further go in this,
Than I by letters shall direct your course.
When time is ripe (which will be suddenly),
I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer ;
Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once
(As I will fashion it), shall happily meet,
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.
North. Farewell, good brother : we shall thrive, I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adieu : — O, let the hours be short,
Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport ! [Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.— Rochester. An Inn Yard.
Enter a CABBIEB, with a Lantern in his hand.
1 Car. Heigh ho ! An't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd :
Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not
packed. What, ostler !
Ost. \vnthin\. Anon, anon.
1 Car. I pry*thee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in
the point ; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.f
Enter another Cabbies.
2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank J here as a dog, and that is
the next way to give poor jades the bote : § this house is turned
upside down, since Robin ostler died.
1 Car. Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price of oats rose ;
it was the death of him.
2 Car. I think, this be the most villanous house in all London
road for fleas : I am stung like a tench.||
* A body of forces. t Measure. t Wet.
i Worms. | Spotted like a tench.
412 FIEST PART OF KING HENBY IV. [ACT II.
1 Car. Like a tench ? by the mass, there is ne'er a king in
Christendom could be better bit than 1 have been since the first
cock.
2 Car. "Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, and then we
leak in your chimney ; and your chamber-he breeds fleas like a
loach*
1 Car. "What, ostler ! come away and be hanged, come away.
. 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger, to
be delivered as far as Charingcross.
1 Car. 'Odsbody ! the turkies in my pannier are quite starved.
— What, ostler ! — A plague on thee ! hast thou never an eye in
thy head ? canst not hear ? An 'twere not as good a deed as
drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain. — Come, and
be hanged : — Hast no faith in thee ?
Enter Gadshill.
Gads. Good morrow, carriers. "What's o'clock ?
1 Car. I think it be two o'clock.
Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding in
the stable.
1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye ; I know a trick worth two of that,
i' faith.
Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine.
2 Car. Ay, when ? canst tell ? — Lend me thy lantern, quoth a ?
— marry, I'll see thee hanged first.
Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to
London ?
2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant
thee. — Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen ;
they will along with company, for they have great charge.
[Exeunt Caeeiebs.
Gads. What ho ! chamberlain !
Cham, [within]. At hand, quoth pick-purse.
Gads. That's even as fair as — at hand, quoth the chamberlain :
for thou variest no more from picking of purses, than giving di-
rection doth from labouring ; thou lay'st the plot how.
Enter CjSAMBEBLAIN.
Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It holds current, that
I told you yesternight: There's a franklin t in the wild of Kent,
hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold : I heard
him tell it to one of his company, last night at supper ; a kind
of auditor ; one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows
what. They are up already, and call for eggs and butter : They
v»t11 away presently.
Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint Nicholas' clerks,!
I'll give thee this neck.
Cham. No, I'll none of it : I pr'ythee, keep that for the hang-
man ; for, I know, thou worship'st saint Nicholas as truly as a
man of falsehood may.
Gads. "What talkest thou to me of the hangman ? If I hang,
* A very prolific little fish. t Freeholder. t Highwaymen.
SCENE II.J FIRST PART CF KINO HENBY IT. 413
I'll make a fat pair of gallows : for, if I hang, old sir John haniis
with me ; and, thou knowest, he's no starveling. Tut ! there are
other Trojans that thou dreamest not of, the which, for sport
sake, are content to do the profession some grace ; that would, if
matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake, make
all whole. I am joined with no foot land-rakers,* no long-statf,
sixpenny strikers ; none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued
malt-worms: but with nobility, and tranquillity; burgomasters,
and great oneyers;t such as can hold in; such as will strike
sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink
sooner than pray: And yet I he; for they pray continually to
their saint, the commonwealth ; or, rather, not pray to her, but
prey on her ; for they ride up and down on her, and make her
their boots.!
Cham. What, the commonwealth their boots? will she hold
out water in foul way?
Gads. She will, she will; justice hath liquored her.§ We
steal us in a castle, cocksure ; we have the receipt of fern-seed,
we walk invisible.
Cham. Nay, by my faith ; I think you are more beholden to
the night, than to fern-seea, for your walking invisible.
Gads. Give my thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our
purchase,!| as I am a truelf man.
Cham. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.
Gads. Go to ; Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the
ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy
knave. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— The Road by Gadshill.
Enter Prince Henry and Poins ; BARDOLrH and Peto,
at some distance.
Poins. Come, shelter, shelter ; I have removed FalstafTs horse,
and he frets like gummed velvet.
P. Hen. Stand close.
Enter PalstafF.
Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged ! Poins !
P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal ; What a brawling dost
thou keep !
Fal. Where's Poins, Hal ?
P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill ; I'll go seek
him. [Pretends to seekroist*.
Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief s company : the rascal
hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I
travel but four foot by the squire** further afoot, I shall break
my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this,
if I 'scai>e hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his
company hourly anv time this two-and-twenty years, and yet
I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have
not given me medicinesff to make me love him, I'll be hanged ;
* Footpads. t Public accountants 5 but qutere moneyers.
1 Booty. \ Explained to be oiled. 1 In what we acquire.
«i Honest. ** Square. tt Love-powder.
414 T-IEST PART OF KING HENKT IV. [ACT II.
it could not be else ; I have drunk medicines. — Poins ! — Hal ! —
a plague upon you both ! — Bardolph ! — Peto ! — I'll starve, ere
I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to
turn true* man, and leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet
that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground,
is threescore and ten miles afoot with me ; and the stony-hearted
villains know it well enough : A plague upon't, when thieves can-
not be true to one another ! [They whistle.'] Whew! — A plague
upon you all ! Give me my horse, you rogues ; give me my horse,
and be hanged.
P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down ; lay thine ear close to
the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers.
Fal. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down ?
'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again, for all the
coin in thy father's exchequer. "What a plague mean ye to coltt
me thus ?
P. Hen. Thou liest, thou are not colted, thou art uncolted.J
Fal. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horse ; good
king's son.
P. Hen. Out, you rogue ! shall I be your ostler ?
Fal. Go hang thyself in thy own heir-apparent garters ! If 1
be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you
alb and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison :
"When a jest is so forward, and afoot too, — I hate it.
Enter Gadshill.
Gads. Stand.
Fal. So I do, against my will.
Poins. O, 'tis our setter : I know his voice.
Enter Baedolph.
Bard. "What news ?
Gads. Case ye, case ye ; on with your visors : there's money
of the king's coming down the hill ; 'tis going to the king's ex-
chequer.
Fal. You lie, you rogue ; 'tis going to the king' tavern.
Gads. There's enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hanged.
P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane ;
Ned Poins, and I, will walk lower: if they 'scape from your
encounter, then they light on us.
Peto. How many be there of them ?
Gads. Some eight, or ten.
Fal. 'Zounds ! will they not rob us ?
P. Hen. "What, a coward, Sir John Paunch !
Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather ; but
yet no coward, Hal.
P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof.
Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge ; when
thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and
stand fast.
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.
* Honest. t Make a youngster of me. t Dismounted.
SCENE III.j FIBST PART OF KING HENEY IV. 41. r >
P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises ?
Poins. Here, hard by; stand close.
f Exeunt PEINCE HENEY and PoiNS.
Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I ; every
man to his business.
Enter Tbavellebs.
1 Trav. Come, neighbour ; the boy shall lead our horses down
the hill : we'll walk afoot a while, and ease our legs.
Thieves. Stand.
Trav. Jesu bless us !
Fal. Strike ; down with them ; cut the villains' throats : Ah !
whoreson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they hate us youth :
down with them ; fleece them.
1 Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours, for ever.
Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves ; Are ye undone ? No, ye
fat chuffs ; I would, your store were here ! On, bacons, on !
"What, ye knaves? young men must live: You are grand-jurors,
are ye ? We'll jure ye, i' faith.
[JEretmtf PALSTAFF, <fc., driving the Tbavellebs out.
Re-enter Peince Henby and PoiNS.
P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men : Now could
thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily to London, it would
be argument* for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest
for ever.
Foins. Stand close, I hear them coming.
Re-enter Thieves.
Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before
day. An the prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's
no equity stirring ; there's no more valour in that Poins, than in
a wild duck.
P. Hen. Your money. [Rushing out upon them.
Foins. Villains.
\_As they are sharing, the PEINCE and PoiNS set upon
them. FAL8TAFF, after a blow or two, and the rest,
run away, leaving their booty behind them.
P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse :
The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear
So strongly, that they dare not meet each other ;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along :
Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins. How the rogue roar'd ! [Exeunt.
SCENE Ill.— Warkworth. A Room in the Castle.
Enter HoTSPUB, reading a Letter.
But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented
to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house. — He could be
* Topic.
416 FIEST PART OF KING HENKY IV. [ACT IT,
contented, — Why is he not then ? In respect of the love he bears
our house : — he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than
he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you un-
dertakers dangerous; — Why, that's certain ; 'tis dangerous to take
a cold, to sleep, to drink : but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this
nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose you
undertake, is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain ,•
the time itself, unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the
counterpoise of so great an opposition. — Say you so, say you so P
T say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you
lie. What a lack-brain is this ? By the Lord, our plot is a good
plot as ever was laid ; our friends true and constant : a good
plot, good friends, and full of expectation : an excellent plot,
very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this ? Why,
my lord of York commends the plot, and tho general course of
the action. 'Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain
him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and
myself? lord Edward Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen
Glendower ? Is there not, besides, the Douglas ? Have I not all
their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month ?
and are they not, some of them, set forward already? What a
pagan rascal is this ! an infidel ! Ha ! you shall see now in very
sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open
all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, ana go to bullets,
for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an
action ! Hang him ! let him tell the king : We are prepared :
I will set forward to-night.
Enter LADY PERCY.
How now, Kate ? I must leave you within these two hours.
Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone ?
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ;
And start so often when thou sit'st alone ?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks ;
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee,
To thick-eyed musing, and cursed melancholy ?
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars :
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ;
Cry, Courage ! — to the field ! And thou hast talk'd
Of sallies, and retires ; of trenches, tents.
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets ;
Of basilisks,* of cannon, culverin ;
Of- prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents! of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,
* A large sort of artillery. t Occurrences.
6CE5JE III.j FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 417
That beads* of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream :
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are these ?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hot. What, ho ! is Gilliams with the packet gone ?
Enter Servant.
Sen. He is, my lord, an hour ago.
Mot. Hath Butler brought these horses from the sheriff?
Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
Hot. What horse ? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not ?
Serv. It is, my lord.
Hot. That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight : O esperance !f —
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant.
Lady. But hear you, my lord.
Hot. What say'st, my lady ?
Lady. What is it carries you away ?
Hot. My horse,
My love, my horse.
Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape !
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen,
As you are toss"d with. In faith,
I'll know your business, Harry, that I wilL
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title ; and hath sent for you,
To linet his enterprize : But if you go
Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask.
In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.
Hot. Away,
Away you trifler ! — Love ? — I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate : this is no world ;
To play with mammets,§ and to tilt with lips :
We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too. — Gods me, my horse ! —
AVhat say'st thou, Kate ? what wouldst thou have witl me ?
Lady. Do you not love me ? do you not, indeed ?
Well, do not then ; for, since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me ?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no.
Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride ?
And when I am o' horse-back, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate ;
I must not have you henceforth question me
* Drops.
t Motto of the Percy family
t 3 lengthen. .
S Puppets.
n.
2 E
418 FIBST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT IL
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout :
Whither I must, I must ; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise ; but yet no further wise,
Than Harry Percy's wife ; constant you are ;
But yet a woman : and for secrecy,
No lady closer ; for I well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know ;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate !
Lady. How ! so far ?
Hot. Not an inch farther. But hark you, Kate !
Whither I go, thither shall you go too ;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. —
Will this content you, Kate ?
Lady. It must, of force. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern.
Enter PsiNCE Henet and PoiNS.
P. Sen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, and lend me
thy hand to laugh a little.
Poins. Where hast been, Hal ?
P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or four
score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of hu-
mility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers ; and
can call them all by their Christian names, as — Tom, Dick, and
Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though
I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy ; and
tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff ; but a Corin-
thian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, — by the Lord, so they call
me ; and when I am king of England, I shall command all the
good lads in Eastcheap. They call — drinking deep, dying scarlet :
and when you breathe in your watering, they cry — hem ! and
bid you play it off. — To conclude, I am so good a proficient in
one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his
own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost
much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But,
sweet Ned,— to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this
pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand by an under-
skinker ;* one that never spake other English in his life, than —
Eight shillings and sixpence, and — You are welcome; with this
shrill addition ; — Anon, anon, Sir ! Score a pint of bastard in
the Half-Moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till
Ealstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some by-room, while
I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar ;
and do thou never leave calling — Francis, that his tale to me may
be nothing but — anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a pre-
cedent.
Poins. Francis!
P. Hen. Thou art perfect.
Poins. Francis ! [Exit Poins.
* Tapster.
SCENE IV.] FIHST PAET OF KING BENET IV. 419
Enter Fbancis.
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.— Look down into the Pomegranate,*
Balph.
P. Hen. Come hither, Francis.
Fran. My lord.
P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis ?
Fran. Forsooth, five year, and as much as to —
Poins [within]. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.
P. Hen. Five years ! by'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of
pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the
coward with thy indenture, and to show it a fair pair of heels,
and run from it ?
Fran. O lord, Sir ! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England,
I could find in my heart —
Poins [within]. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.
P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis ?
Fran. Let me see, — About Michaelmas next I shall be —
Poins [within]. Francis !
Fran. Anon, Sir, — Pray you, stay a little,my lord.
P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis : For the sugar thou
gavest me,— 'twas a pennyworth, was't not ?
Fran. O lord, Sir ; I would, it had been two.
P. Hen. I wdl give thee for it a thousand pound : ask me
when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.
Poins [within]. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon.
P. Hen. Anon, Francis ? No, Francis ; but to-morrow, Fran-
cis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou
wilt. But, Francis, —
Fran. My lord ?
P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystal-button,
nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddisf-garter, smooth-
tongue, Spanish-pouch, —
Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean ?
P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard! is your only drink :
for, look you, Francis, your white canvass doublet will sully : in
Barbary, Sir, it cannot come to so much.
Fran. What, Sir?
Poins [within], Francis !
P. Hen. Away, you rogue ; dost thou not hear them call ?
[Here they both call him; the Drawer stands amazed,
not knowing which way to go.
Enter VlNTNEB.
Tint. What ! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling ?
Look to the guests within. [Exit Fean.] My lord, old Sir
John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; Shall I let them in?
P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. [ Exit
Vintnee.] Poins !
* I.e. into the room called the Pomegranate.
t Galloon. * A sweet wine.
2E2
420 FIEST PART OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT II.
Re-enter PoiNS.
JPoins. Anon, anon, Sir.
P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the
door ; Shall we be merry ?
Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye ; "What
cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer ?
come, what's the issue ?
P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have showed themselves
humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age
of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter Fbancis
with wine.] What's o'clock, Francis ?
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.
P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than
a parrot, and yet the son of a woman ! — His industry is — up-
stairs, and down-stairs ; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning.
I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north ; he that
kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes
his hands, and says to his wife, — Fie upon this quiet life ! I want
work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many hast thou killed
to-day ? Give my roan horse a drench, says he ; and answers.
Some fourteen, an hour after ; a trifle, a trifle. I pry'thee, call
in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damned brawn shall play
dame Mortimer his wife. Rivo, says the drunkard. Call in ribs,
call in tallow.
Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BAEDOLPH, and PETO.
Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been ?
Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry,
and amen ! Give me a cup of sack, boy. — Ere I lead this lifelong,
I'll sew netherstocks,* and mend them, and foot them too. A
plague of all cowards ! — Give me a cup of sack, rogue. — Is there
no virtue extant ? [He drinks.
P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter ?
pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun ! if
thou didst, then behold that compound.
Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too : There is nothing
but roguery to be found in villanous man : Yet a coward is worse
than a cup of sack with lime in it ; a villanous coward. Go thy
ways, old Jack ; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood,
be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten
herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England;
and one of them is fat, and grows old : God help the while ! a
bad world, I say ! I would, I were a weaver ; I could sing psalms
or anything : A plague of all cowards, I say still.
P. Hen. How now, wool-sack ? what mutter you ?
Fal. A king's son ! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom
with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like
a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You
prince of Wales !
P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man ! what's the matter ?
Fal. Are you not a coward ? answer me to that ; and Poins th ere ?
* Stockings.
SCENE IV.] FIRST PART OF KING HENRY TV. 421
Poins. 'Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, Fll stab thee.
Fal. I call thee coward ! I'll see thee damned ere I call thee
coward : but I would give a thousand pound, I could run as fast
as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you
care not who sees your back : Call you that backing of your
friends ? A plague upon such backing ! give me them that will
face me. — Give me a cup of sack : — I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.
P. Hen. O villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunk'st
last.
Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I.
[He drinks.
P. Hen. Whaf s the matter ?
Fal. What's the matter ? there be four of us here have ta'en a
thousand pound this morning.
P. Hen. Where is it, Jack ? where is it P
Fal. Where is it ? taken from us it is : a hundred upon poor
four of us.
P. Hen. What, a hundred, man ?
Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of
them two hours together. I have 'scap'd by miracle. I am
eight times thrust through the doublet ; four, through the hose ;
my buckler cut through and through ; my sword hack'd like a
hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man ;
all would not do. A plague of all cowards ! — Let them speak :
if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the
sons of darkness.
P. Hen. Speak, Sirs ; how was it ?
Gads. We four set upon some dozen,
Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord.
Gads. And bound them.
Peto. No, no, they were not bound.
Fal. Tou rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I
am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.
Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set
upon us,
Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come in the other.
P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all ?
Fal. All ? I know not what ye call, all : but if I fought not
with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish : if there were not
two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-
ImhI creature.
Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them.
Fal. Nay, that's past praying for : for I have peppered two of
them: two, I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram
suite. I tell thee what, Hal, — if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face,
call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward ; — here 1 lay, and thus
I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me,
P. Hen. What, four ? thou said'st but two, even now.
Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four.
Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.
Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I
made me no more ado, but took all their seven points in my
target, thus.
422 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT II.
P. Hen. Seven ? why, there were hut four, even now.
Fal. In huckram.
Foins. Ay, four in huckram suits.
Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
F. Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone ; we shall have more anon.
Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal ?
F. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.
Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to, these nine in
buckram, that I told thee of, —
P. Hen. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points* being broken,
Foins. Down fell their hose.
Fal. Began to give me ground : But I followed me close, came
in foot and hand ; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven 1 paid.
F. Hen. O monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out of two !
Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves,
in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me ; — for it
was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.
P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them ; gross
as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts ;
thou knotty-pated fool ; thou whoreson, obscene, greasy tallow-
keech,f
Fal. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth,
the truth ?
P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal
green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand?
come tell us your reason ; What sayest thou to this ?
Foins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.
Fal. What, upon compulsion ? No ; were I at the strappado,
or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion.
Give you a reason on compulsion ! if reasons were as plenty as
blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I.
P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin : this sanguine
coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill
of flesh;—
Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-
tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock-fish, — O, for breath to utter what
is like thee ! — you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you
vile standing tuck ; —
P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again i and when
thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but
this.
Foins. Mark, Jack.
P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four ; you bound them,
and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how plain a
tale shall put you down. — Then did we two set on you four : and,
with a word, out-faced you from your prize, and have it : yea,
and can show it you here in the house : — ana, Falstaff, you car-
ried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and
roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard a
bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast
* Points meant also laces or braces. t A round lump of fat,
SCENE IT.] FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 423
done ; and then say, it was in fight ? What trick, what device,
what starting-hole, canst thou now find out to hide thee from
this open and apparent shame ?
Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack ; "What trick hast thou now ?
Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye.
Why, hear ye, my masters : Was it for me to kill the heir ap-
parent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou
knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules ; but beware instinct ; the
lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter ; I
was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and
thee, during my life; I, for a valiant lion, and thou, for a true
prince. But, by the Lord, lads, I am- glad you have the money.
Hostess, clap to the doors ; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. —
Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, All the titles of good fellow-
ship come to you! What, shall we be merry? shall we have
a play extempore ?
P. Men. Content;— and the argument shall be, thy running
away.
Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me.
Enter HOSTESS.
Host. My lord the prince,
P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess, what say'st thou
to me?
Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at
door, would speak with you : he says, he comes from your father.
P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royal man,*
and send him back again to my mother.
Fal. What manner of man is he ?
Host. An old man.
Fal. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight ? — Shall
I give him his answer ?
P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do, Jack.
Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. [Exit.
P. Hen. Now, Sirs ; by'r lady, you fought fair ;— so did you,
Peto ;— so did you, Bardolph : you are lions too, you ran away
upon instinct, you will not touch the true prince ; no, — fie !
Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run.
P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, How came Falstaffs sword so
hacked ?
Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger ; and said, he would
swear truth out of England, but he would make you believe it
was done in fight ; and persuaded us to do the like.
Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass, to make
them bleed ; and then to beslubber our garments with it, and
swear it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this
seven year before, I blushed to hear his monstrous devices.
P. Hen. O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years
ago, and wert taken with the manner,f and ever since thou hast
* Beinp before a noble-man, t. e. a man with a noble (6s. 8d.), make
him a Royal -man, by giving him a Royal (10s.).
t In the fact.
424 FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT II,
blushed extempore : Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and
yet thou ran'st away; What instinct hadst thou for it ?
Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold
these exhalations ?
P. Hen. I do.
Bard. What think you they portend ?
P. Hen. Hot livers and cold purses*
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken.
P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter.
Be-enter Falstaff.
Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone.
How now, my sweet creature of bombast ?f
How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee ?
Fal. My own knee ? when I was about thy years, Hal, I was
not an eagle's talon in the waist ; 1 could have crept into an alder-
man's thumb-ring: A plague of sighing and grief! it blows a
man up like a bladder. There's villanous news abroad ; here
was sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in
the morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy; and
he of Wales, that gave Amaimon J the bastinado, and made
Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the
cross of a Welsh hook, — What, a plague, call you him ?
Poins. O, Glendower.
Fal. Owen, Owen ; the same ;— and his son-in-law, Mortimer ;
and old Northumberland ; and that sprightly Scot of Scots,
Douglas, that runs o' horseback up a hill perpendicular.
P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills
a sparrow flying.
Fal. You have hit it.
P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow.
Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he will not run.
P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him for
so running ?
Fal. 0' horseback, ye cuckoo ! but, afoot, he will not budge
a foot.
P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct.
Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and on«
Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps § more : Worcester is stolen
away to-night ; thy father's beard is turned white with the news ;
you may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.
P. Hen. Why then, 'tis like, if there come a hot June, and
this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy
hob-nails, by the hundreds.
Fal. By the mass, lad, thou sayest true ; it is like, we shall
have good trading that way. — But, tell me, Hal, art thou not
horribly afeard, thou being heir apparent, could the world pick
thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend Douglas, that
spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower ? Art thou not horribly
afraid ? doth not thy blood thrill at it ?
P. Hen. Not a whit, i' faith ; I lack some of thy instinct.
* Drunkenness and poverty. t Bombast is the stuffing of clothes.
t One of the four chief kings of the demon-world. § Scotsmen
SCENE IV.] FIBST PAET OF KING HENBT IV. 425
Fal. "Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to-morrow, when thou
comest to thy father : if thou love me, pntctise an answer.
P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon
the particulars of my life.
Fal. Shall I ? content : — This chair shall be my state,* this
dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown.
P. Hen. Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre
for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown, for a pitiful
bald crown !
Fal. Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now
shalt thou be moved. — Give me a cup of sack, to make mine
eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept ; for I must
speak in passion, and I will do it in king Cambyses' vein.
P. Hen. Well, here is my leg.f
Fal. And here is my speech : — Stand aside, nobility.
Host. This is excellent sport, i' faith.
Fal. Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
Host. O, the father, how he holds his countenance !
Fal. For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful J queen,
For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes.
Host. O rare ! he doth it as like one of these harlotry players,
as I ever see.
Fal. Peace, good point-pot ; peace, good tickle-brain.§ — Harry,
I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also
how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile, the more
it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it
is wasted, the sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have
partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion ; but chiefly, a
villanous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether
lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me, here lies
the point; — Why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at?
Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher,|| and eat black-
berries ? a question not to be asked. Shall the son of England
prove a thief, and take purses ? a question to be asked. There is
a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known
to many in our land by the name of pitch : this pitch, as ancient
writers do report, doth defile ; so doth the company thou keepest :
for Harry, now I do not speak to thee in drink, but in tears ;
not in pleasure, but in passion ; not in words only, but in woes
also : — And yet there is a virtuous man, whom I have often
noted in thy company, but I know not his name.
P. Hen. What manner of man, an it like your majesty?
Fal. A good portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent : of a cheerful
look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage ; and, as I think,
his age some fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to threescore; and now
I remember me, his name is Falstaff : if that man should be
lewdly given, he deceiveth me ; for, Harry, I see virtue in his
looks. If then the tree may be known by the fruit; as the fruit
by the tree, then, peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that
Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell me now, thou
naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month ?
* (Chair.) t Obeisance. t Sorrowful.
5 The name of a strong liquor. I A truant.
426 FIEST PAET OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT II.
P. Sen. Dost thou speak like a king ? Do thou stand for me,
and I'll play my father.
Fal. Depose me ? if thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically,
both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit-
sucker,* or a poulter's hare.
P. Sen. Well, here I am set.
Fal. And here I stand : — judge, my masters.
P. Sen. Now, Harry ? whence come you ?
Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap.
F. Sen. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.
Fal. 'Sblood, my lord, they are false : — nay, I'll tickle ye for a
young prince, 1' faith.
P. Sen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy ? henceforth ne'er
look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace : there is a
devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old man : a tun of man
is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of
humours, that bolting-hutcht of beastliness, that swol'n parcel of
dropsies, that huge bombardj of sack, that stuff'd cloak-bag of
guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly,
that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that
vanity in years ? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink
it ? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it ?
wherein cunning, but in craft? wherein crafty, but in villany ?
wherein villanous, but in all things ? wherein worthy, but in
nothing?
Fal. I would, your grace would take me with you ;§ Whom
means your grace ?
P. Sen. That villanous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff,
that old white-bearded Satan.
Fal. My lord, the man I know.
P. Sen. I know, thou dost.
Fal. But to say, I know more harm in him than in myself,
were to say more than I know. That he is old (the more the
pity), his white hairs do witness it : but that he is (saving your
reverence), a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and
sugar be a fault, God help the wicked ! If t6 be old and merry be
a sin, then many an old host that I know, is damned : if to be fat
be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No,
my good lord ; banish Peto ; banish Bardolph, banish Poins : but
for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff,
valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being, as he is,
old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company ; banish
plump Jack, and banish all the world.
P. Sen. I do, I will. [A knocking heard.
[Fxeunt Hostess, FEANCIS, and Baedolph.
Re-enter Baedolph, running.
Bard. O, my lord, my lord ; the sheriff, with a monstrous watch,
is at the door.
* A young rabbit.
t The machine which separates flour from bran.
J A leathern drinking-can.
S Go nc faster than 1 can follow.
SCENE IV. J FIBST PABT OF KING HENEY IV. 427
Fal. Out, you rogue ! play out the play : I have much to say
in the behalf of that Falstaff.
He-enter HOSTESS, hastily.
Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord !
Fal. Heigh, heigh ! the devil rides upon a fiddlestick : What's
the matter ?
Host. The sheriff and all the watch are at the door : they are
come to search the house. Shall I let them in ?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? never call a true piece of gold, a
'counterfeit : thou art essentially mad, without seeming so.
P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, without instinct.
Fal. I deny your major : if you will deny the sheriff, so, if not,
let him enter : if I become not a cart as well as another man, a
plague on my bringing up ! I hope I shall as soon be strangled
with a halter, as another.
P. Hen. Go, hide thee behind the arras; the rest walk up
above. Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience.
Fal. Both which I have had : but their date is out, and there-
fore I'll hide me. {Exeunt all but the PfilNCE and PoiNS.
P. Hen. Call in the sheriff.
Enter Sheeiff and Caeeiee.
i^ow, master sheriff; whaf s your will with me ?
Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry
Hath follow'a certain men unto this house.
P. Hen. What men ?
Sher. One of them is well known, my gracious lord,
A gross fat man.
Car. As fat as butter.
P. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not here ;
For I myself at this time have employed him.
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee,
That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time,
Send him to answer thee, or any man,
For anything he shall be charged withal :
And so let me entreat you leave the house.
Sher. I will, my lord : There are two gentlemen
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.
P. Hen. It may be so : if he have robb'd these men,
He shall be answerable ; and so farewell.
Sher. Good night, my noble lord.
P. Hen. I think it is good morrow ; Is it not ?
Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock.
{Exeunt SHEEIFF and CAEEIEE.
P. Hen. This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's.* Go, call
him forth.
Poins. Falstaff !— fast asleep behind the arras, and snorting
like a horse.
P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath : Search his pockets.
fPoiNS searches.'] What hast thou found ?
* St. Paul's cathedral.
428 FIRST PAST OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT III.
Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.
P. Hen. Let's see what they be : read them.
Poins. Item, A capon, 2s. 2d.
Item, Sauce, 4d.
Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d.
Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2s. 6d.
Item, Bread, a half-penny.
P. Hen. O monstrous ! but one half penny-worth of bread to
this intolerable deal of sack ! — What there is else, keep close;
we'll read it at more advantage : there let him sleep till day. I'll
to the court in the morning : we must all to the wars, and thy
place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge
of foot ; and, I know his death will be a march of twelve score.*
The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with
me betimes in the morning ; and so good morrow, Poins.
Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I. — Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon's House.
Enter HOTSPUE, WOECESTEE, MOETIMEE, and GlENDOWEE.
Mort . These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our induction! full of prosperous hope.
Hot. Lord Mortimer, — and cousin Glendower, —
Will you sit down ? —
And, uncle Worcester : — A plague upon it !
I have forgot the map.
Glend. No, here it is.
Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur :
Por by that name as oft as Lancaster
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale ; and, with
A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven.
Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.
Glend. I cannot blame him : at my nativity,
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets ; J and, at my birth,
The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shaked like a coward.
Hot. Why, so it would have done
At the same season, if your mother's cat had
But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
Glend. I say the earth did shake when I was born.
Hot. And I say the earth was not of my mind,
If you suppose, as fearing you it shook.
Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.
* It will kill him to march twelve-score yards.
f Beginning. t Beacons, lights.
SCENE I.] FIRST PART OF KING HENET IV. 429
Hot. O, then the earth shook to seethe heavens on fire,
And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions : oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb ; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down
Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your birth,
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.
Qlend. Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again, — that at my birth,
The front of heaveu was full of fiery shapes ;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs nave mark'd me extraordinary ;
And all the courses of my life do show,
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, — clipped in with the sea
That chides the banks of ^England, Scotland, Wales, — —
Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me ?
And bring him out, that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
And hold me pace in deep experiments.
Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh :
I will to dinner.
Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.
Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hot. Why, so can I : or so can any man :
But will they come, when you do call for them ?
Qlend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command
The devil.
Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil,
By telling truth ; Tell truth, and shame the devil. —
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.
Mort. Come, come,
No more of this unprofitable chat.
Qlend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
Against my power : thrice from the banks of Wiye,
And sandj-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him,
Bootless* home, and weather-beaten back.
Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too !
How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name ?
Qlend. Come, here's the map : Shall we divide our right,
According to our threefold order ta'en ?
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally:
* Unsuccessful.
430 FIEST PART OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT III.
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east, is to my part assign'd :
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower : — and ? dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn :
Which being sealed interchangeably
(A business that this night may execute),
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,
And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,*
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days : —
Within that space [To Glend.1, you may have drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.
Olend. A snorter time shall send me to you, lords,
And in my conduct shall your ladies come :
From whom you now must steal, and take no leave ;
For there will be a world of water shed,
"Upon the parting of your wives and you.
Hot. Methinks, my moiety.f north from Burton here,
In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this river comes me cranking in.
And cuts me, from the best of all my land,
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantlej out.
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up ;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run,
In a new channel, fair and evenly:
It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.
Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you see, it doth.
Mort. Yea,
But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up
With like advantage on the other side ;
Gelding the opposed continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you.
Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him here,
And on this north side win this cape of land ;
And then he runs straight and even.
Hot. I'll have it so ; a little charge will do it.
Olend. I will not have it alter'd.
Hot. Will not you ?
Olend. No, nor you shall not.
Hot. Who shall say me nay ?
Olend. Why, that will I.
Hot. Let me not understand it then,
Speak it in Welsh.
Olend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you
For I was train'd up in the English court :
Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
* Force. t Part. t Conier.
SCENE I.] FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. 431
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue* a helpful ornament ;
A virtue that was never seen in you.
Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart ;
I had rather be a kitten, and cry — mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers :
I had rather hear a brazen can'stick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree ;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry ;
"Pis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
Hot. I do not care ; I'll give thrice so much land
To any well-deserving friend ;
But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone ?
Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night :
I'll haste the writer ,t and, withal,
Break X with your wives or your departure hence :
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit.
Mort. Fie, cousin Percy ! how you cross my father !
Hot. I cannot choose : sometimes he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp§ and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies ;
And of a dragon and a fin less fish,
A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what, —
He neld me, but last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names,
That were his lackeys : I cried, humph, — and well,— go to, —
But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife ;
Worse than a smoky house : — I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates,|| and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.
Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman ;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments ;1 valiant as a lion,
And wond'rous affable ; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin ?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour ; faith he does :
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
* I. e. the English tongue. t Of the articles.
t Break the mutter. | Mole.
I Dainties. 5 Secrete.
432 FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT III.
Without the taste of danger and reproof;
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.
Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful- blame;
And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault.
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you),
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, . haughtiness, opinion,* and disdain ;
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts ; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.
Hot. Well, I am school'd good manners be your speed !
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
Re-enter GLENDOWEE, with the LADIES.
Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me, —
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
Glend. My daughter weeps ; she will not part with you,
She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.
Mort. Good father, tell her, — that she, and my aunt Percy,
Shall follow in your conduct t speedily.
[ GLENDOWEE speaks to his Daughter in Welsh, and she
answers him in the same.
Glend. She's desperate here ; a peevish self-will'd harlotry,
One no persuasion can do good upon.
[Lady M. speaks to Mortimek in Welsh.
Mort. I understand thy looks : that pretty Welsh
Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens,
I am too perfect in ; and, but for shame,
In such a parley would I answer thee. [Lady M. speaks.
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine.
And that's a feeling disputation :
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learn'd thy language ; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.
Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
[Lady M. speaks again.
Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness:
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
* Self- opinion. T Escort.
SCENE I.] FIBST PABT OF KING IIENBY IV. 433
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
Mort. With all my near t I'll sit, and hear her sing :
By that time will our book,* I think, be drawn.
Qlend. Do so ;
And those musicians that shall play to you,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence ;
Yet straight they shall be here : sit and attend.
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: Come,
quick, quick ; that I may lay my head in thy lap.
Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.
GLENDOWEB speaks some Welsh words, and then the Music plays.
Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands Welsh ;
And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous.
By'r lady, he's a good musician.
Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical ; for you
are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and
hear the lady sing in Welsh.
Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach,f howl in Irish.
Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken ?
Hot. No.
Lady P. Then be still.
Hot. Neither ; 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady P. Now God help thee !
Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed.
Lady P. What's that ?
Hot. Peace ! she sings.
A Welsh Song sung by Lady M.
Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth.
Hot. Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear like a
comfit-maker's wife ! Not you. in good sooth ; and, As true as
I live ; and, As God shall mend me ; and, As sure as day :
And giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
As if thou never walk'dst further than Pinsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth,
And such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
To velvet-guards^: and Sunday-citizens.
Come, sing.
Lady P. I will not sing.
Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher.
An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours ;
and so come in when ye will. [Exit.
Qlend. Come, come, lord Mortimer ; you are as slow,
As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.
* Paper of conditions. ♦ Hound. X Edging*.
VOL. II. 2 F
434 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT 11 r
By this our book's* drawn ; we'll but seal, and then
To horse immediately.
Hort. With all my heart. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — London. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King Henry, Prince of "Wales, and Lords.
K. Hen. Lords, give us leave ; the Prince of "Wales and I
Must have some conference : But be near at hand,
For we shall presently have need of you. — [Exeunt Lords.
I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service I have done.
That in his secret doom, out of my bloocl
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ;
But thou dost, in thy passages of life,
Make me believe, — that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate, and low desires,
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart ?
P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charged withal :
Yet such extenuation let me beg,
As. in reproof of many tales devised, —
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, —
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.
K. Hen. God pardon thee ! — yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied ;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood :
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd ; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does fore-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been.
So common-hackney'd in the eyes or men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company ;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession ;f
* Of conditions.
•■ True to him that had possession of the crown.
SCENE II.] FIRST PAET OF KING HEKEY IT. '135
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at :
That men would tell their children, That A he ;
Others would say, — Where ? which is Bolingbroke ?
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new ;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at : and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast ;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin* wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd : carded his state ;
Mingled his royalty with capering fools ;
Had his great name profaned with their scorns ;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push
Of every beardless vain comparative :f
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff d£ himself to popularity:
That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey ; and began
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes :
But rather drowzed, and hung their eyelids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries ;
Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
Por thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation ; not an eye
But is a-weary or thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more ;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
Be more myself.
K. Hen. Tor all the world,
* Brushwood. t Opponent. t Possessed.
2 F 2
436 FIRST PAET OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT III.
As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg ;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession :
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm ;
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws ;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas ; whose high deeds,
TV hose hot incursions, and great name in arms,
Holds from all soldiers ghief majority,
And military title capital,
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ ?
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing-clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfited great Douglas : ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this ? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate* against us, and are up.
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee ?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearestf enemy ?
Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen, —
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns,
To show how much degenerate thou art.
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so ;
And God forgive them, that have so much sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me !
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son ;
When I will wear a garment all of blood.
And stain my favours with a bloody mask,
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet :
For every honour sitting on his helm,
'Would they were multitudes ; and on my head
My shames redoubled ! for the time will come,
* Make head. T Most fatal.
SCENE III.J FIRST PAET OF KING HENBY IV. 4&7
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up>
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here :
The which if he be pleased I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance :
If not, the end of life cancels all bands ;*
And 1 will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this : —
Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein.
Enter Blunt.
How now, good Blunt ? thy looks are full of speed.
Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, —
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met,
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury :
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a state.
K. Ken. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day;
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster ;
For this advertisement! is five days old : —
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set
Forward ; on Thursday, we ourselves will march :
Our meeting is Bridgnorth ; and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glostershire ; by which account,
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business : let's away ;
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. [Exeunt.
SCE2TE III. — Eastcheap. A Boom in the Boar's Head Tavern.
Enter Falstaff and Babdolfh.
Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last
action ? do I not bate ? do I not dwindle ? Why, my skin hangs
about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered like an
old apple- John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am
in some liking ;% I shall be out of heart shortly, and then 1 shall
have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the
inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's
horse : the inside of a church ! Company, villanous company,
hath been the spoil of me.
* Bonds. t Intelligence. t Have some flesh.
438 PIEST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT III.
Sard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.
Fal. "Why, there is it : — come, sing me a bawdy song ; make
me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to
be ; virtuous enough : swore little ; diced, not above seven times
a week ; went to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter — of
an hour ; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times ; lived
well, and in good compass : and now I live out of all order, out
of all compass.
Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be
out of all compass ; out of all reasonable compass. Sir John.
Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life : Thou
art our admiral * thou bearest the lantern in the poop, — but 'tis
in the nose of thee ; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.
Bard. Why. Sir John, my face does you no harm.
Fal. No, I'll be sworn ; I make as good use of it as many a
man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori : I never see thy
face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple ;
for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any
way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face ; my oath should
be, By this fire : but thou art altogether given over ; and wert
indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness.
When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse,
if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of
wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual
triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a
thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the
night betwixt tavern and tavern : but the sack that thou hast
drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the
dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that sala-
mander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years ;
Heaven reward me for it !
Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly !
Fal. God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.
Enter Hostess.
How now, dame Partlet the hen ? have you inquired yet, who
picked my pocket ?
Host. "Why, Sir John ! what do you think, Sir John ? Do
you think I keep thieves in my house ? I have searched, I have
inquired, so has my husband man by man, boy by boy, servant
by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house
before.
Fal. You lie, hostess ; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a
hair : and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked : Go to, you are a
woman, go.
Host. Who, I ? I defy thee : I was never called so in mine
own house before.
Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.
Host. No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John : I know
you, Sir John : you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick
* Admiral's ship.
SCENE III.] FIRST PAET OP KING HENEY IV. 4S9
a quarrel to beguile me of it : I bought you a dozen of shirts to
your back.
Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas : I haf e given them away to bakers'
wives, and they have made bolters of them.
Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings
an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet,
and by-drinkings : and money lent you, four and twenty pound.
Fal. He had his part of it ; let him pay.
Host. He ? alas, he is poor ; he hath nothing.
Fal. How ! poor ? look upon his face : What call you rich ?
let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks ; I'll not pay a
denier. What, will you make a younker of me ? shall I not take
mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked ? I
have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.
Host. O Jesu ! I have heard the prince tell him, I know not
how oftthat that ring was copper.
Fal. How! the prince is a Jack,* a sneak -cup ; and, if he were
here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.
Enter Peince Heney and PoiNS, marching. FALSTAFF meets
the PEINCE, playing on his truncheon like a fife.
Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in that door, i' faith ? must
we all march ?
Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.
Host. Mylord, I pray you, hear me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou. Mistress Quickly ? How does thy
husband ? I love him well, he is an honest man.
Host. Good my lord, hear me.
Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou. Jack ?
Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and
had my pocket picked : this house is turned bawdy-house, they
pick pockets.
P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack ?
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal ? three or four bonds of forty
pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grandfather's.
P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said, I heard your grace
say so : And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-
mouthed man as he is ; and said, he would cudgel you.
P. Hen. What ! he did not ?
Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else.
Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune ;
nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox ; and for woman-
hood, maid Marianf may be the deputy's wife of the ward to
thee. Go, you thing, go.
Host. Say, what thing ? what thing ?
Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on.
Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst
* A term of contempt.
t A man dressed like a woman, who attended morris-dancers.
440 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [.ACT HT.
know it ; I am an honest man's wife : and, setting thy knight-
hood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.
Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a heast to say
otherwise.
Host. Say, what heast, thou knave thou ?
Fal. What beast ? why an otter.
P. Hen. An otter, Sir John ! why an otter ?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man knows not
where to have her.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man
knows where to have me, thou knave thou !
P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess ; and he slanders thee most
grossly.
Host. So he doth you, my lord ; and said this other day, you
owed him a thousand pound.
P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound ?
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal ? a million : thy love is worth a
million ; thou owest me thy love.
Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would
cudgel you.
Fal. DidI,Bardolph?
Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so.
Fal. Yea ; if he said my ring was copper.
P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper : darest thou be as good as thy word
now?
Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare :
but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the
lion's whelp.
P. Hen. And why not, as the lion ?
Fal. The king himself is to be fear'd as the lion : Dost thou
think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father ? nay, an I do, I pray
God, my girdle break !
P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy
knees ! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty,
in this bosom of thine; it is filled up with guts, and midriff.
Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket ! Why, thou
whoreson, impudent embossed* rascal, if there were anything in
thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums or bawdy-
houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee
long-winded ; if thy pocket were enriched with any other in-
juries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it ;
you will not pocket up wrong : Art thou not ashamed ?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou knowest, in the state of
innocency, Adam fell ; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in
the days of villany ? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another
man ; and therefore more frailty. You confess, then, you picked
my pocket ?
P. Hen. It appears so by the story.
Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : Go, make ready breakfast ; love
thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests : thou shalt
find me tractable to any honest reason : thou seest I am pacified
* Swoln, puffy.
SCENE III.] FIRST PAET OF KING HEN ET IV. 441
—Still ?— Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal,
to the news at court : for the robbery, lad, — How is thatanswered?
P. Sen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee :
— The money is paid back again.
Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.
P. Sen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any-
thing.
Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do
it with unwash'd hands too.
Bard. Do, my lord.
P. Sen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.
Fal. I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find one
that can steal well ? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and
twenty, or thereabouts ! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God
be thank'd for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous ; I
laud them, I praise them.
P. Sen. Bardolph
Bard. My lord.
P. Sen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster,
My brother John ; this to my lord of Westmoreland. —
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse ; for thou and I
Have thirty miles to ride ere dinner-time.
Jack,
Meet me to-morrow i' the temple hall
At two o'clock i' the afternoon :
There shalt thou know thy charge ; and there receive
Money, and order for their furniture.
The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.
[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph.
Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast;
come: —
O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Exit*
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS.
Sot. Well said, my noble Scot : if speaking truth,
In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy*
The tongues of soothers ; but a braver place
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself -
Nay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord.
* Disdain.
442 FIBST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT IV.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour :
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.
Sot. Do so, and 'tis well : —
Enter a Messengeb, with letters.
What letters hast thou there ? — I can but thank you.
Mess. These letters come from your father, —
Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not himself?
Mess. He cannot come, my lord ; he's grievous sick.
Sot. 'Zounds ! how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time ? Who leads his power ?*
Under whose government come they along ?
Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.
Wor. Ipr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed ?
Mess. He aid, my lord, four days ere I set forth ;
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.
Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole,
Ere he by sickness had been visited ;
His health was never better worth than now.
Sot. Sick now ! droop now ! this sickness doth infect
The very life-blood of our enterprise ;
'Tis catching hither even to our camp.
He writes me here, — that inward sickness—
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul removed,! but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, —
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is disposed to us :
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now ;
Because the king is certainly possess dj
Of all our purposes. What say you to it ?
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Sot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off :—
And yet in faith, 'tis not ; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it : — Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast ? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour ?
It were not good : for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope ;
The very list,§ the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.
Doug. 'Faith, and so we should !
Where || now remains a sweet reversion :
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
* Forces. t Remote in blood or interest. t Informed.
$ Selvage. | Whereas.
SCENE I.] FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. 443
Is to come in :
A comfort of retirement lives in this.
Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
If that the devil and mischance look big
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.
Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here,
The quality and hair* of our attempt
Brooks no division: It will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence ;
And think, how such an apprehension
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause :
For, well you know, we of the offering side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrament ;
And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your fathers draws a curtain,f
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.
Hot. You strain too far.
I, rather, of his absence make this use ; —
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprise,
Than if the earl were here : for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
To push against the kingdom ; with his help,
"We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. —
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Dovff. As heart can think : there is not such a word
Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.
Enter SlE ElCHAED YEENON.
Hot. My cousin Yernon ! welcome, by my soul.
Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, lord.
The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards ; with him, prince John.
Hot. No harm : "What more ?
Ver. And further, I have learn'd, —
The king himself in person is set forth,
Or hitherwards intended speedily,
"With strong and mighty preparation.
Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daiFa I J the world aside,
And bid it pass ?
Ver. All furnish'dj, all in arms,
All plumed like estndges § that wing the wind ;
* The complexion and character. t Undraws.
t Threw off. i Goshawks.
444 FIRST PAET OF KING HENEY IT. [ACT IV.
Bated like eagles having lately bathed ;
Glittering in golden coats, like images ;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer ;
"Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, — with his beaver* on,
His cuissesf on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, —
liise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And 'witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Sot. No more, no more ; worse than the sun in March,
This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come :
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,
And yet not ours :— Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt.
Against the bosom of the prince of W ales :
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down corse.—
O, that Glendower were come !
Ver. There is more news :
I learn'd in "Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach unto ?
Ver. To thirty thousand.
Hot. Forty let it be ;
My father and Glendower being both away,
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us make a muster speedily :
Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.
Doug. Talk not of dyiDg ; I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half-year. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — A Public Road near Coventry.
Enter Falstaff and Baedolph.
Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry ; fill me a bottle of
sack ; our soldiers shall march through ; we'll to Sutton-Colfield
to-night.
Bard. Will you give me money, captain ?
Fal. Lay out, lay out.
Bard. This bottle makes an angel.
Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour ; and if it make twenty,
* Helmet. t Armour.
SCENE II.] FIBST PAET OF KING HENBY IV. 415
take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto
meet me at the town's end.
Bard. I will, captain : farewell. [Exit .
Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet.
I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange
of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds.
I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire
me out contracted bachelors, such as had been ask'd twice on the
bans ; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the
devil as a drum ; such as fear the report of a caliver* worse than
a struck fowl, or a hurt wild duck. I press'd me none but such
toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pin's
heads, and they have bought out their services ; and now my
whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentle-
men of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted
cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores : and such as,
indeed, were never soldiers ; but discarded unjust serving-men,
younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers
trade-fallen ; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace ; ten
times more dishonourably ragged than an old-faced ancient :f
and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought
out their services, that you would think, that I had a hundred
and fifty tatter'd prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from
eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and
told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead
bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-crows. I'll not march
through Coventry with them, that's flat : — Nay, and the villains
march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on ; for, in-
deed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt
and a half in all my company : and the half shirt is two napkins,
tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's
coat without sleeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from
my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daintry.
But that's all one ; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.
Enter PfilNCE Henby and Westmobeland.
P. Hen. How now, blown Jack ? how now, quilt ?
Fal. What, Hal ? How now, mad wag ? what a devil dost
thou in "Warwickshire ? — My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry
you mercy ; I thought your honour had already been at Shrews-
bury.
West. 'Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there,
and you too ; but my powers are there already : The king, I can
tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night.
Fal. Tut, never fear me ; I am as vigilant as a cat to steal
cream.
P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed ; for thy theft hath
already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack ; "Whose fellows
are these that come after ?
Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.
P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals.
* A gun. + New-patched standard.
445 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT IY.
Fal. Tut, tut ; good enough to toss ;* food for powder, food
for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well as better : tush, man, mor-
tal men, mortal men.
West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor
and bare ; too beggarly.
Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, — I know not where they had
that: and for their bareness, — I am sure, they never learned
that of me.
P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn ; unless you call three fingers on the
ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste; Percy is already in the
field.
Fal. "What ! is the king encamped ?
West. He is, Sir John ; I fear, we shall stay too long.
Fal. Well,
To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast,
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt.
SCFNF III. — The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon.
Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor. It may not be.
Doug. You give him then advantage.
Ver. Not a whit.
Hot. Why say you so ? looks he not for supply ?
Ver. So do we.
Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advised ; stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.
Doug. You do not counsel well ;
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.
Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas : by my life
(And I dare well maintain it with my life),
If well-respected honour bid me on,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives : —
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Doug. Yea, or to-night.
Ver. Content.
Hot. To-night, say I.
Ver. Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being men of such great leading,f ■
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition : Certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up :
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day ;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half himself.
* I. e. on a pike. t Generalship.
PCENE III.] FIRST PAST OF KING HENRY 17. 447
Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated, and brought low ;
The better part of ours is full of rest.
Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours :
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.
[ The Trumpet sounds a parley.
Enter Sie "Walter Blunt.
Blunt. I oome with gracious offers from the king,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.
Hot. Welcpme, Sir Walter Blunt; And 'would to God,
You were of our determination !
Some of us love you well : and even those some
Envy your great deserving, and good name ;
Because you are not of our quality*
But stand against us like an enemy.
Blunt. And God defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as, out of limit and true rule,
You stand against anointed majesty !
But, to my charge. — The king hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs ;f and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility, teaching this duteous land
Audacious cruelty : If that the king
Have any way your good deserts forgot, —
Which he confesseth to be manifold, —
He bids you name your griefs, and, with all speed,
You shall have your desires, with interest ;
And pardon absolute yourself, and these,
Herein misled by your suggestion.
Hot. The king is kind ; and, well we know, the king
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father, and my uncie, and myself,
Did give him that same royalty he wears :
And, — when he was not six and twenty strong,
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, —
My father gave him welcome to the shore :
And, — when he heard him swear, and vow to God,
He came but to be duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery,! and beg his peace ;
With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal, —
My father, in kind heart and pity moved,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less§ came in with cap and knee;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages ;
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
* Fellowship. t Grievances.
J Tue delivery of his land. j High aud low.
448 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT IV.
Gave him their heirs ; as pages follow'd him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently, — as greatness knows itself, —
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Eavenspurg ;
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees,
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth :
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep
Over his country's wrongs ; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads
Of all the favourites, that the absent king
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.
Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this.
Hot. Then, to the point.
In short time after he deposed the king ;
Soon after that deprived him of his life ;
And, in the neck of that, task'd* the whole state :
To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March
(Who is, if every owner were wellplaced,
Indeed his king), to be incaged in Wales,
There without ransom to lie forfeited ;
Disgraced me in my happy victories ;
Sought to entrap me by intelligence ;
Rated my uncle from the council-board:
In rage dismiss'd my father from the court ;
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong '•
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out
This head of safety ;t and, withal, to pry
Into his title, the which we find
Too indirect for long continuance.
Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king ?
Hot. Not so, Sir Walter ; we'll withdraw awhile.
Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
Bring him our purposes : and so farewell.
Blunt. I would, you would accept of grace and love.
Hot. And, may be, so we shall.
Blunt. 'Pray heaven you do ! \ Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — York. A Boom in the Arclibishop's House.
Enter the Archbishop of York, and a Gentleman.
Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael, bear this sealed brief,J
With winged haste, to the lord mareschal ;
This to my cousin Scroop ; and all the rest
* Taxed. t I- e - this army. t Letter.
8CENE IT.] FIRST PAST OF KING HENRY IV. 1 Id
To whom they are directed : if you knew
How much they do import, you would make haste.
Gent. My good lord,
I guess their tenor,
Arch. Like enough you do.
To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day,
"Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must 'bide the touch : For, sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,
The king, with mighty and quick-raised power,
Meets with lord Harry ; and I fear, Sir Michael, —
What with the sickness of Northumberland
(Whose power was in the first proportion),*
And what with Owen Glendower's absence, thence
(Who with them was a rated sinew too,t
And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies),—
I fear, the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.
Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear; there's Douglas,
And Mortimer.
Arch. No, Mortimer 's not there.
Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry Percy,
And there's my lord of Worcester ; and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.
Arch. And so there is : but yet the king hath drawn
The special head of all the land together : —
The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt ;
And many more corrivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.
Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.
Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear ;
And, to prevent the worst., Sir Michael, speed :
For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king
Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, —
For he hath heard of our confederacy,
And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him ;
Therefore, make haste : I must go write again
To other friends ; and so farewell, Sir Michael.
[Exeunt severally.
* Whose contingent was the largest,
t A strength on which they reckoned.
vol. ii. 2 a
450 FIRST PAST OF KING HENBY IV. [ACT V.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — The King's Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter King Heney, Peince Henby.Prtnce John of Lan-
caster, Sib Waltee Blunt, and Sib John Falstaff,
K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yon busky* hill ! the day looks pale
At his distemperature.
P. Hen. The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ;
And, by his hollow whistling m the leaves,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day.
K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize ;
For nothing can seem foul to those that win. —
Trumpet.— Enter WOBCESTEB and VEENON.
How now, my lord of Worcester ? 'tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet : You have deceived our trust ;
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel :
This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
"What say you to't ? will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war ?
And move in that obedient orb again,
Where you would give a fair and natural light ;
And be no more an exhaled meteor,
A prodigy of fear, and a portent
Of broached mischief to the unborn times ?
Wor. Hear me, my liege : -
For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the lag-end of my life
With quiet hours ; for, I do protest,
I have not sought the day of this dislike.
K. Hen. You have not sought for it ! how comes it then ?
Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
P. Hen. Peace, chewet,f peace.
Wor. It pleased your majesty, to turn your looks
Of favour, from myself, and all our house ;
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
For you, my staff of office did I break
In Eichard's time ; and posted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
* Woody. t A magpie.
SCENE I.] FIEST PAST OF KING HENBY IT. 451
The dangers of the time : Tou swore to us, —
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, —
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'u right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster :
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you, —
What with our help ; what with the absent king ;
What with the injuries of a wanton time ;
The seeming sufferances that you had borne ;
And the contrarious winds, that held the king
So long in his unlucky Irish wars,
That all in England did repute him dead, —
And, from this swarm of fair advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand :
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;
AncL being fed by us, you used us so
As that ungentle guli, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow : did oppress our nest ;
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,
That even our love durst not come near your sight,
For fear of swallowing ; but with nimble wing
We were enforced, for safety sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head :
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forged against yourself;
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated,*
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches ;
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation :
And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause ;
Nor moody beggars, starvmgt for a time
Of pellmell havoc and confusion.
P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy ; By my hopes, —
This present enterprise set off his head,J —
I do not think, a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
* Exhibited in article* • t Eagerly expecting.
t Omitted &om the consideration.
2ea
462 FIEST PART OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT V.
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry ;
And so, I hear, he doth account me too :
Yet this before my father's majesty,—
I am content, that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation ;
And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.
K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
Albeit, considerations infinite
Do make against it :— No, good Worcester, no,
We love our people well ; even those we love,
That are misled upon your cousin's part :
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
Both he, and they, and you, yea. every man,
Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his :
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do :— But if he will not yield,
Bebuke and dread correction wait on us,
And they shall do their office. So, be gone ;
We will not now be troubled with reply :
We offer fair, take it advisedly.
[Exeunt Worcester and Veenon.
P. Ken. It will not be accepted, on my life ;
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.
K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge,
For, on their answer, will we set on them :
And God befriend us, as our cause is just !
[Exeunt KING, BLUNT, and PRINCE JOHN.
Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me,
so ; 'tis a point of friendship.
P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
Say thy prayers, and farewell.
Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.
P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit.
Fal. 'Tis not due yet ; I would be loath to pay him before his
day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on
me ? Well, 'tis no matter ; Honour pricks me on. Tea, but
how if honour prick me off when I come on ; how then ? Can
honour set to a leg ? No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the
grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ?
No. What is honour ? A word. What is in that word, honour ?
Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it ? He that died o' Wed-
nesday. Both he feel it ? No. Both he hear it ? No. Is it
insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with
the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — there-
fore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends
my catechism. [Exit.
SCENE II.] FIRST PABT OP KING HENBY IV. 458
SCENE II.— The Rebel Camp— Enter WoBCESTEB and
Vebnon.
Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir Eichard,
The liberal kind offer of the king.
Ver. 'Twere best he did.
Wor. Then are we all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The king should keep his word in loving us ;
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To punish this offence in other faults :
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes :
For treason is but trusted like the fox ;
"Who, ne'er so tame ; so cherish'd, and lock'd up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or sad, or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our looks ;
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood ;
And an adopted name of privilege, —
A hair-brain 'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen :
All his offences live upon my head,
And on his father's ; — we did. train him on ;
And, his corruption being ta'en from us,
We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all.
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know,
In any case, the offer of the king.
Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so.
Here comes your cousin.
Enter Hotspue and DOUGLAS ; and Officers and Soldiers,
behind.
Hot. My uncle is return'd : — Deliver up
My lord of Westmoreland. — Uncle, what news ?
Wor. The king will bid you battle presently.
Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland.
Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly. [Exit.
Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king.
Hot. Did you beg any ? God forbid !
Wor. I told him gently of our grievances,
Of his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus, —
By now forswearing that he is forsworn :
He calls us rebels, traitors ; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
Re-enter Douglas.
Doug. Arm, gentlemen ; to arms ! for I have thrown
A brave defiance in king Henry's teeth,
And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it;
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
454 FIBST PAET OF KING HENKY IV. [ACT V.
Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king,
And, nephew, challenged you to single tight.
Hot. 0, would the quarrel lay upon our heads ;
And that no man might draw short breath to-day,
But I, and Harry Monmouth ! Tell me, tell me,
How showed his tasking ? seem'd it in contempt ?
Ver. No, by my soul ; I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urged more modestly,
Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
He gave you all the duties of a man ;
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue ;
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ;
Making you ever better than his praise,
By still dispraising praise, valued with you :
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital* of himself;
And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd there a double spirit,
Of teaching, and of learning, instantly.
There did he pause : But let me tell the world, —
If he outlive the envy of this day,
England did never owet so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his wantonness.
Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamour'd
Upon his follies ; never did I hear
Of any prince, so wild, at liberty : J —
But, be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy. ■
Arm, arm, with speed : And, fellows, soldiers, friends,
Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.
Enter a MESSENGEB.
Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot read them now. —
O gentlemen, the time of life is short ;
To spend that shortness basely, were too long
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings ;
If die, brave death, when princes die with us !
Now for our conscience, — the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.
Enter another Messengeb.
Mess. My lord, prepare ; the king comes on apace.
Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
* Recital. t Own, t I.e. not confined as a madman.
PCENE III.] FIBST P.AET OF KINO HENBY IT. 453
For I profess not talking ; Only tins —
Let each man do his best ; and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now, — Esperance ! — Percy ! — and set on. —
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace :
For, heaven* to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.
[The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.
SCENE III. — Plain near Shrewsbury.
Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum to the Battle. Then
enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT, meeting.
Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus
Thou crossest me ? what honour dost thou seek
Upon my head ?
Doug. Know, then, my name is Douglas ;
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,
Because some tell me that thou art a lung.
Blunt. They tell thee true.
Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought
Thy likeness ; for, instead of thee, king Harry,
This sword hath ended him : so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.
Blunt. I was not born a yieider, thou proud Scot ;
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
Lord Stafford's death. [They fight, and Blunt is slain.
Enter Hotspue.
Hot. Douglas, hadst thou fought at Hohnedon thus,
I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.
Doug. All's done, all's won ; here breathless lies the king.
Hot. Where?
Doug. Here.
Hot. This, Douglas ? no, I know this face full well :
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt ;
Semblablyf furnish'd like the king himself.
Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes !
A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king ?
Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats.
Doug. Now by my sword, I will kill all his coats ;
I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the king.
Hot. Up, and away ;
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. {Exeunt.
* I.e. wagered against. t Similarly.
456 FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT V.
Other Alarums.— Enter Palstaff.
Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the
shot here ; here's no scoring, hut upon the pate. — Soft ! who
art thou ? Sir Walter Blunt ; there's honour for you ; Here's no
vanity ! — I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too : God keep
lead out of me ! I need no more weight than mine own howels. — I
have led my raggamuffins where they are peppered : there's hut
three of my hundred and fifty left alive ; and they are for the
town's end, to heg during life. But who comes here ?
Enter Peince Heney.
P. Sen. What, stand'st thou idle here ? lend me thy sword :
Many a nohleman lies stark and stift"
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unrevenged : Pr'ythee, lend thy sword.
Fal. O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe a while. —
Turk Gregory* never did such deeds in arms, as I have done this
day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.
P. Hen. He is, indeed, and living to kill thee. Lend me thy
sword, I pr'ythee.
Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not
my sword ; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.
P. Hen. Give it me : What, is it in the case ?
Fal. Ay, Hal ; 'tis hot, 'tis hot ; there's that will sack a city.
[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack.
P. Sen. What is't a time to jest and dally now ?
[Throws it at him and exit.
Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in
my way, so ; if he do not, if I come in his, willingly, let him make
a carbonadof of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir
Walter hath : Give me life : which if I can save, so ; if not,
honour comes unlooked for, and there's an end. [Exit.
SCENE IV.— Another part of the Field.
Alarums. Excursions. — Enter the Kino, Peince HENEY,
Peince John, and Westmoeeland.
K. Sen. I pr'ythee,
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleedst too much : —
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Sen. I do beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
K. Sen. I will do so : —
My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.
West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent.
P. Sen. Lead me, my lord, I do not need your help :
And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should drive
The prince of Wales from such a field as this :
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on,
* J. e. Pope Gregory VII.
t A piece of meat cut crossways for the gridiron.
SCENE IV.] EIKST PAST OF KING HENET IV. 457
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !
P. John. We breathe too long : come, cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies : for God's sake, come.
[Exeunt Peince John and Westmoeeland.
P. Sen. By heaven, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster,
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit :
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John ;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.
K. Ken. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.
P. Hen. O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all ! [ Exit.
Alarums. — Enter Douglas.
Doug. Another king ! they grow like Hydra's heads :
I am the Douglas fatal to all those
That wear those colours on them. — What art thou,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king ?
K. Hen. The king himself ; who, Douglas grieves at heart,
So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very king ; I have two boys,
Seek Percy, and thyself, about the field :
But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee ; so defend thyself.
Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit ;
And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king :
But mine, I am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be,
And thus I win thee.
[ Tliey fight ; the KlNG being in danger, enter PEINCE HENET.
P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again ! the spirits
Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms :
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee ;
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay. —
[They fight; DoTJGZASfiies.
Cheerly, my lord ; How fares your grace ? —
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton ; I'll to Clifton straight.
K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile : —
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ;*
And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life,
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
P. Hen. O heaven ! they did me too much injury,
That ever said, I hearken'd for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you ;
Which would have been as speedy in your end
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
And saved the treacherous labour of your son.
K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.
[Exit King Henet.
* Reputation.
458 FIBST PAST OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT T.
Enter Hotspt/b.
Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.
Sot. My name is Harry Percy.
P. Hen. Why, then I see
A very valiant rebel of the name.
I am the prince of Wales ; and think not, Percy,
To share with me in glory any more :
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere ;
Nor can one England brook a double reign, Y^J^
Of Harry Percy, and the prince of Wales. _^ V**
Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the"h75ltris come
To end the one of us ; And would to God,
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine !
P. Hen. I'll make it greater ere I part from thee ;
And all the budding honours on thy crest
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. {They fight.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal. Well said, Hal ! to it, Hal !— Nay, you shall find no boy's
play here, I can tell you.
Enter DOUGLAS ; he fights with PALSTAFF, who falls down as if he
were dead, and exit DOUGLAS. HoTSPTTB is wounded, andfalh.
Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth :
I better brook the loss of brittle life,
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me ;
They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh :
But thought 's the slave of life, and life time's fool ;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop , O, I could prophesy,
~P»ut that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue : — No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for [Dies.
P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy : Fare thee well, great heart ! —
El-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk !
When that this body did contain a spirit, " •
A kingdom for it was too small a bound ;
But now, two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough : — This earth, that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so dear a show of zeal : —
But let my favours* hide thy mangled face ;
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven !
Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! —
\He sees FALSTAFF on the ground.
* Scarf.
8CENE IV.] FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 459
What ! old acquaintance ! could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life ? Poor Jack, farewell !
I could have better spared a better man.
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day,
Though many dearer in this bloody fray :
Embowell'd* will I see thee by-ana-by ;
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit.
Fal. [rising slowly']. Embowelled ! if thou embowel me to-
day, I'll give you leave to powderf me and eat me too, to-morrow.
'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot
had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit ! I lie, I am no coun-
terfeit : To die, is to be a counterfeit ; for he is butthe_i50unter-
feit of a manrwhu hath utrt-4he4i^ef--«Tnan-ri5uTto counter-
feit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit,
but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The better part
of valour is — discretion ; in the which better part, I have saved
my life. 'Zounds, I am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though
he be dead : How, if he should counterfeit too, and rise ? I am
afraid, he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore I'll
make him sure : yea, and I'll swear I killed him. Why may not
he rise, as well as I ? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody
sees me. Therefore, sirrah [stabbing him], with a new wound in
your thigh, come you along with me.
[ Takes Hotspur on his bach.
Re-enter PRINCE HENRY, and PRINCE John.
P. Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou fleshed
Thy maiden sword.
P. John. But, soft ! whom have we here ?
Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead ?
P. Hen. I did ; I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding
Upon the grouncL—
Art thou alive, or is it fantasy
That plays upon our eyesight ? I pr'ythee, speak ;
We will not trust our eyes, without our ears : —
Thou art not what thou seem'st
Fal. No, that's certain ; I am not a double man : but if I be
not Jack Falstaft) then am I a Jack. There is Percy [throwing
the body down] : if your father will do me any honour, so ; if not,
let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or
duke, I can assure you.
P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.
Fal. Didst thou? — Lord, lord, how this world is given to
lying ! — I grant you, I was down, and out of breath ; and so was
he : but we arose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by
Shrewsbury clock. If I maybe believed, so; if not, let them,
that should reward valour, bear the sin upon their own heads.
I'll take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh :
if the man were alive and would deny it, I would make him eat
a piece of my sword.
* J. e. for embalming:. f Salt.
460 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT V.
P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard.
P. Sen. This is the strangest fellow, brother John, ■
Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back :
Por my part ? if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. [A retreat is sounded.
The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours,
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To see what friends are living, who are dead.
[Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince John.
Fal. I'll follow, as they say for reward. He that rewards me,
God reward him ; If I do grow great, I'll grow less ; for I'll
purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman should do.
[Exit, bearing off the body.
SCENE V.— Another part of the Field.
The Trumpets sound. — Enter King Henry, Prince Henry,
Prince John, Westmoreland, and others, icith Worcester
and Vernon, prisoners.
K. Sen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. —
Hl-spirited Worcester ! did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you ?
And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary ?
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust ?
Three knights upon our party slain to-day,
A noble earL and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.
Wor. What I have done, my safety urged me to ;
And I embrace this fortune patiently.
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
K. Sen. Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too ;
Other offenders we will pause upon. —
[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded.
How goes the field ?
P. Sen. The noble Scot, lord Douglas, when he saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
Upon the foot of fear, — fled with the rest :
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised,
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is ; and I beseech your grace,
I may dispose of him.
K. Sen. With all my heart.
P. Sen. Then, brother John of Lancaster to you
This honourable bounty shall belong :
Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free :
His valour, shown upon our crests to-day,
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
Even in the bosom of our adversaries.
SCENE Y.] FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 461
K. Hen. Then this remains, — that we divide our power. —
You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed,
To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop,
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms :
Myself, — and you, son Harry, — will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day :
And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own be won. [Exeunt.
SECOND PART
KING HENRY IY.
PEESONS EEPEESENTED.
KING HENRY THE FOURTH.
HENRY, Prince of Wales, >,
afterwards King Henry
V;
THOMAS, Duke of Cla-
fence,
PRINCE JOHN OF LAN- i
CASTER, afterwards (2 )MsSons.
Henry V.) Duke of Bed-
ford,
PRINCE HUMPHREY
OF GLOSTER, after-
wards (2 Henry V.) Duke
of Gloster, J
EARL OF WARWICK,
EARL OF WESTMORE-
LAND,
GOWER,— HARCOURT,
LORD CHIEF JUSTICE of the
King's Bench.
A GENTLEMAN attending on the
Chief Justice.
EARL OF NORTHUM-"
BERLAND,
SCROOP, Archbishop of
York,
LORD MOWBRAY,
LORD HASTINGS,
LORD BARDOLPH,
SIR JOHN COLEVILE, .
of the
ti.-r.gt
Party.
Enemies
to the
King.
TRAVERS and MORTON, Domes,
tics of Northumberland.
FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, PISTOL,
and PAGE.
POINS and PETO, Attendants on
Prince Henry.
SHALLOW and SILENCE, Country
Justices.
DAVY, Servant to Shallow.
MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEE-
BLE, and BULLCALF, Recruits.
FANG and SNARE, Sheriff's Offi-
cers.
RUMOUR.
A PORTER.
A DANCER, Speaker of the Epi-
LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.
LADY PERCY.
Hostess QUICKLY.
DOLL TEAR-SHEET.
Lords and other Attendants ;
Officers, Sold i ers, Messenger,
Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, &c.
Scene.— England.
INDUCTION.
WarTaoorth— Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter EUMOUR, painted full of Tongues.
Sum. Open your ears ; Por which of you will stop
The vent of hearing, when loud Eumour speaks ?
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
INDUC.] 8EC0ND PAST OF KING HENBY IT. 4G3
The acts commenced on this hall of earth :
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride ;
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world :
And who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepared defence ;
Whilst the big year, swol'n with some other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter ? Humour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well-known body to anatomize
Among my household ? Why is Rumour here ?
I run before king Harry's victory ;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,
Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops,
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first ? my office is
To noise abroad, — that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ;
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
Lies crafty-sick : the posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me ; Prom Rumour's tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.
[Exit.
ACT I.
SCENE I.— The same. The Poster before the Gate.
Enter Lobd Babdolph.
Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho ? —
Where is the earl ?
Port. What shall I say you are ?
Bard. Tell thou the earl,
That the lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard ;
Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,
And he himself will answer.
464 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT I.
Enter Northumberland.
Bard. Here comes the earl.
North. "What news, lord Bardolph ? every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem :*
The times are wild ; contention, like a horse
Pull of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.
Bard. Noble earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
North. Good, an heaven will !
Bard. As good as heart can wish : —
The king is almost wounded to the death ;
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright ; and both the Blunts
Kill'd by the hand of Douglas : young prince John,
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field ;
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son : O, such a day,
So fought, so follow'd, and so fairly won,
Came not, till now, to dignify the times,
Since Caesar's fortunes !
North. How is this derived ?
Saw you the field ? came you from Shrewsbury?
Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence ;
A gentleman well bred, and of good name,
That freely render'd me these news for true.
North. Here comes my servant, Travers, whom I sent
On Tuesday last, to listen after news.
Bard. My lord, I over-rode him on the way;
And he is furnish'd with no certainties,
More than he haply may retail from me.
Enter Travers.
North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with you ?
Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
"With joyful tidings ; and, being better horsed,
Out-rode me. After him, came spurring hard,
A gentleman almost forspentf with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse :
He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck,
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold ;
"With that, he gave his able horse the head,
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head ; and, starting so,
He seem'd in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
North. Ha! Again.
Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold ?
* Important event. t Exhausted.
SCENE I.J SECOND PAET OF KING HENBY IT. 465
Of Hotspur, coldspur ? that rebellion
Had met ill-luck !
Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ; —
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honour, for a silken point*
I'll give my barony: never talk of it.
North. Why should the gentleman, that rode by Travers,
Give then such instances of loss?
Bard. Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow, that had stol'n
The horse he rode on ; and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
Enter Mobton.
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume :
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness'd usurpation/^
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord ;
W r here hateful death put on his ugliest mask,
To fright our party. »
North. How doth my son. and brother ?
Thou tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull so dead in look, so woe-begone,
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd:
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report st it.
This thou wouldst say, — Your son did thus, and thus,
Your brother, thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ;
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds :
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with— brother, son, and all are dead.
Mor. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet :
But, for my lord your son,
North. VVhy, he is dead.
See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath !
He, that but fears the thing he would not know,
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes,
That what he feared is chanced. Yet speak, Morton ;
Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies ;
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace,
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid :
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certair
North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy 's dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye:
* Lace. t An attestation of its ravage.
VOL. IL 2 H
4G6 SECOND PAET OF KING HENBY IV. [ACT Z
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear or sin,
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so :
The tongue offends not, that reports his death •
And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead ;
Not he, which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office ; and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Bemember'd knolling a departing friend.
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to believe
That, which I would to heaven I had not seen :
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance * wearied and out-breath'd
To Harry Monmouth : whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few,f his death (whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp),
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
Prom the best temper'd courage in his troops :
Por from his metal was his^party steel'd ;
Which once in him abated, all the rest
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed ;
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear,
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim,
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, ♦
Ply from the field : Then was that noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner : and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slain the appearance of the king,
'Gan vail J his stomach, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs ; and, in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is, — that the king hath won ; and hath sent out
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster,
And Westmoreland : this is the news at full.
North. Por 4 this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic ; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well :
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckles under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs,
Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief,
* Eeturn of blows. t (Words.)
X Let fall. § Bend,
SCENE I.] SECOND PABT OF KING HENBY IV. 467
Are thrice themselves : hence therefore, thou nice* crutch ;
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel.
Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly quoif.t
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron ; and approach
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring,
To frown upon the enraged Northumberland !
Let heaven kiss earth ! Now let not nature's hand
Keep the wild flood ^confined ! let order die !
And let this world no longer be a stage,
To feed contention in a lingering act ;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead !
Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
Mor. The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health ; the which, if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast the event of war, my noble lord,
And summ'd the account of chance, before you said, —
Let us make head. It was your presurmise.
That in the dolej of blows your son might drop :
You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er :
You were advised, his flesh was capable
Of wounds, and scars ; and that his forward spirits
Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged ;
Yet did you say, — Go forth ; and none 01 this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action : What hath then befallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be ?
Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss,
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas,
That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one :
And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd ;
And, since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth ; body, and goods.
Mor. 'Tis more than time: And, my most noble lord,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth,
The gentle archbishop of York is up,
With well-appointed powers ;§ he is a man,
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corps,
But shadows, and the shows of men, to fight :
Tor that same word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls ;
* Trifling. t Cap. t Distribution. » Forces.
IXl
468 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT I.
And they did fight with queasiness * constraint,
As men drink potions ; that their weapons only
Seem'd on our side, but, for their spirits and souls,
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
As fish are in a pond : But now the bishop
Turns insurrection to religion :
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind ;
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair king Eichard, scraped from Pomfret stones.
Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause ;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ;
And more arM lessf do flock to follow him.
North. I knew of this before ; but, to speak truth,
This present grief hath wiped it from my mind.
Go in with me ; and counsel every man
The aptest way for safety, and revenge :
Get posts, and letters, ana make friends with speed ;
Never so few, and never yet more need. [Exeunt.
SCENE II— London. A Street.
Enter SiE JOHN Falstaff, with, his Page, bearing his Sword
and Buckler.
Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water ?
Page. He said, Sir, the water itself was a good healthy water :
but, for the party that owed J it, he 'might have more diseases
than he knew for.
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird § at me : The brain
of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to vent any-
thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented
on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is
in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath
overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the prince put thee into
my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then
I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, || thou art
fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was
never manned with an agatel till now: but I will set you neither
in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again
to your master, for a jewel ; the juvenal, the prince your master,
whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow
in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his cheek; and
yet he will not stick to say, his face is a face-royal : God may
finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet : he may keep it
still as a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of
it ; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever since
his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is
* Against their stomachs. t High and low. t Owned.
i Gibe. t A root supposed to have the shape of a man.
% A little figure cut in an agate.
SCENE II.] SECOND PABT OF KING HENBY IV. 4C9
almost out cf mine, I can assure him. What said master
Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak, and slops ?
Page. He said, Sir, you should procure him better assurance
than Bardolph : he would not take nis bond and yours ; he liked
not the security.
Fal. Let him be damned like a glutton ! may his tongue be
hotter ! — A whoreson Achitophel ! a rascally yea-f'orsooth knave !
to bear a gentleman in hand,* and then stand upon security !
— The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high
shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is
thoroughf with them in honest taking up, then they must stand
upon — security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my
mouth, as offerto stop it with security. Ilook'dheshould havesent
me two and twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he
sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security ; for he hath
the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines
through it : and yet cannot he see, though he have his own
lantern to light him. "Where's Bardolph ?
Page. He's gone into Smithfield, to buy your worship a horse.
Fal. I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in
Smithfield : an I could get me but a wife in the stews, I were
manned, horsed, and wived. J
Enter the Lobd Chief Justice and an Attendant.
Page. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the prince
for striking him about Bardolph.
Fal. Wait close, I will not see him.
Ch. Just. What's he that goes there ?
Atten. Falstaflj an't please your lordship.
Ch. Just. He that was in question for the robbery ?
Atten. He, my lord : but he hath since done good service at
Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, is now going with some charge to
the lord John of Lancaster.
Ch. Just. What, to York ? Call him back again.
Atten. Sir John Falstaff !
Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deaf.
Page. You must speak louder, my master is deaf.
Ch. Just. I am sure, he is, to the hearing of anything good.—
Go, pluck him by the elbow ; 1 must speak with him.
AH en. Sir John,
Fal. What ! a young knave, and beg ! Is there not wars ? is
there not employment ? Doth not the king lack subjects ? do not
the rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any
side but one, it is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side,
were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell how to make it.
Atten. You mistake me, Sir.
Fal. Why, Sir, did I say you were an honest man ? Setting my
knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had hed in my throat if
I had said so.
* Keep him in expectation. + In their debt.
t Alluding to an old proverb : Who goes to Westminster for a wife, to
St. Paul's for a man, and to Smithfield for a horse, may meet with a
■whore, a knave, and a jade.
470 SECOND PART OF K.INQ HENEY IV. [ACT I.
Atten. I pray you. Sir, then set your knighthood and your
soldiership aside ; and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your
throat, if you say I am any other than an honest man.
Fal. I give thee leave to tell me so ! I lay aside that which
grows to me ! If thou get'st any leave of me, hang me ; if thou
takest leave, thou wert better be hang'd: You hunt-counter,*
hence ! avaunt !
Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with you.
Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.
Fal. My good lord ! — God give your lordship good time of day.
I am glad to see your lordship abroad : I heard say, your lord-
ship was sick: I hope, your lordship goes abroad by advice.
Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, hath yet some
smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time ; and I
most humbly beseech your lordship, to have a reverend care of
your health.
Ch. Just. Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to
Shrewsbury.
Fal. An't please your lordship, I hear, his majesty is returned
with some discomfort from Wales.
Ch. Just. 1 talk not of his majesty : — You would not come
when I sent for you.
Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this
same whoreson apoplexy.
Ch. Just. Well, heaven mend him ! I pray let me speak with
you.
Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an't
please your lordship ; a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson
tingling.
Ch. Just. What tell you me of it ? be it as it is.
Fal. It hath its original from much grief; from study, and
Sjrturbation of the brain : I have read the cause of his effects in
alen ; it is a kind of deafness.
Ch. Just. I think, you are fallen into the disease ; for you hear
not what I say to you.
Fal. Very well, my lord, very well : rather, an't please you, it
is the disease of not listening, the malady of not marking, that I
am troubled withal.
Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels, would amend the atten-
tion of your ears ; and I care not, if I do become your physician.
Fal. I am as poor as Job, my lord ; but not so patient : your
lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment to me, in
respect of poverty ; but how I should be your patient to follow
your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple,
or, indeed, a scruple itself.
Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters against you
for your life, to come speak with me.
Fal. As 1 was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws
of this land-service, I did not come.
Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy.
Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in less.
* A catchpole.
SCENE II.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY IT. 471
Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your waste is great.
Fal. I would it were otherwise; I would my means were
greater, and my waist slenderer.
Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful prince.
Fal. The young prince hath misled me : I am the fellow with
the great belly, and he my dog.
Ch. Just. Well. I am loath to gall a new-healed wound ; your
day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's
exploit on Gads-hill : you may thank the unquiet time for your
quiet o'er-posting that action.
Fal. My lord ?
Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so : wake not a sleeping
wolf.
Fal. To wake a wolf is as had as to smell a fox.
Ch. Just. What ! you are as a candle, the better part burnt
out.
Fal. A wassel* candle, my lord ; all tallow : if I did say of wax,
my growth would approve the truth.
Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your face, but should
have his effect of gravity.
Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy.
Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up and down, like his
ill angel.
Fal. Not so, my lord ; your ill angel t is light ; but, I hope, he
that looks upon me, will take me without weighing : and yet, in
some respects, I grant, I cannot go, I cannot tell : J Virtue is of
so little regard in these costermonger times, that true valour is
turned bear-herd : Pregnancy § is made a tapster, and hath his
quick wit wasted in giving reckonings : all the other gifts apper-
tinent to man, as the malice of this age shapes them, are not
worth a gooseberry. You, that are old, consider not the capacities
of us that are young : you measure the heat of our livers with
the bitterness of your galls : and we that are in the vaward|| of
our youth, I must confess, are wags too.
Ch. Just. Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth,
that are written down old with all the characters of age ? Have
you not a jnoist eye ? a dry hand ? a yellow cheek ? a white
beard? a decreasing leg ? an increasing belly? Is not your voice
broken ? your wind short ? your chin double ? your wit single ?T
and every part about you blasted with antiquity ? and will you
yet call yourself young ? Fie, fie, fie. Sir John !
Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the after-
noon, with a white head, and something a round belly. For my
voice, — I have lost it with hollaing, and singing of anthems. To
approve my youth further, I will not : the truth is. I am only
old in judgment and understanding ; and he that will caper with
me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have
at him. For the box o' the ear that the prince gave you, — he
gave it like a rude prince, and you took it like a sensible
lord. I have checked him for it ; and the young lion repents :
* A larjre candle for a feast. + The coin called an angrel.
t Pass current. i Readiness. J Vanguard. * Small.
4/2 SECOND PAKT OF KING HENBY IT. [ACT I.
marry, not in ashes, and sackcloth ; but in new silk, and old
sack.
Ch. Just. Well, heaven send the prince a better companion !
Fal. Heaven send the companion a better prince ! I cannot
rid my hands of him.
Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you and prince Harry :
I hear, you are going with lord John of Lancaster, against the
archbishop, and the earl of Northumberland.
Fal. Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look
you pray, all you that kiss my lady peace at home, that our
armies join not in a hot day ! for, by the Lord, I take but two
shirts out with me, and I mean not to sweat extraordinarily : if
it be a hot day, and I brandish anything but my bottle, I would
I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action
can peep out his head, but I am thrust upon it : Well, I cannot
last ever : But it was always yet the trick of our English nation,
if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If you will
needs say, I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would
to God, my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I
were better to be eaten to death with rust, than to be scoured to
nothing with perpetual motion.
Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest ; And God bless your
expedition !
Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound, to furnish
me forth ?
Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny ; you are too impatient to
bear crosses* Fare you well : Commend me to my cousin West-
moreland. {Exeunt Chief Justice and Attendant.
Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetlet — A man can
no more separate age and covetousness, than he can part young
limbs and lechery : but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches
the other; and so both the degrees prevent J my curses. — Boy !
Fage. Sir?
Fal. What money is in my purse ?
Fage. Seven groats and twopence.
Fal. I can get no remedy against this consumption of the
purse : borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease
is incurable. — Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster ; this
to the prince ; this to the earl of Westmoreland ; and this to old
mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I
perceived the first white hair on my cb-in : About it ; you know
where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout ! or, a gout
of this pox ! for the one, or the other, plays the rogue with my
great toe. It is no matter, if I do halt ; I have the wars for my
colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable : A good
wit will make use of anything; I will turn diseases to com-
modity^' [Exit.
* A quibble upon the double meaning of the term, cross being also a
coin.
t A large wooden hammer, so heavy as to require three men to wield it.
X Anticipate. J Profit.
SCENE III.] SECOND PAST OF KING HENBY IT. 473
SCENE III. — York. A Room in the Archbishop's Palace.
Enter the AECHBisnop of York, the Lords Hastings,
MOWBBAY, and BaBDOLPH.
Arch. Thus have you heard our cause, and known our means ;
And, my most nohle friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes : —
And first, lord marshal, what say you to it ?
Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms ;
But gladly would be better satisfied,
How, in our means, we should advance ourselves
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the power and puissance of the king.
Hast. Our present musters grow upon the file
To five and twenty thousand men of choice ;
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
"With an incensed fire of injuries.
Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, standeth thus : — >■
"Whether our present five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.
Hast. With him, we may.
Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point :
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we should not step too far
Till we had his assistance by the hand :
For, in a theme so bloody-faced as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.
Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph ; for, indeed,
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.
Bard. It was, my lord ; who lined himself with hope,
Eating the air on promise of supply,
Flattering himself with project of a power
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts :
And so, with great imagination,
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
Ana, winking, leap'd into destruction.
Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt,
To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope.
Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war ; —
Indeed the instant action (a cause on foot),
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
"We see the appearing buds ; which,"to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair,
That frosts will bite them. "When we mean to build,
"We first survey the plot, then draw the model ;
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection :
Which if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then, but draw anew the model
In fewer offices ; or, at least, desist
474 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT I.
To build at all ? Much more, in this great work
(Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down,
And set another up), should we survey
The plot of situation, and the model ;
Consent* upon a sure foundation ;
Question surveyors ; know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite ; or else,
"We fortify in paper, and in figures,
Using the names of men, instead of men :
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it ; who, half through,
Gives o'er, and leaves his part created cost
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.
Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely for fair birth)
Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd
The utmost man of expectation ;
I think, we are a body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the king.
Bard. What ! is the king but five and twenty thousand ?
Hast. To us, no more ; nay, not so much, lord Bardolph.
For his divisions, as the times do brawl,
Are in three heads : one power against the French,
And one against Glendower ; perforce, a third
Must take up us : So is the unfirm king
In three divided ; and his coffers sound
With hollow poverty and emptiness.
Arch. That he should draw his several strengths together,
And come against us in full puissance,
Need not be dreaded.
Hast. If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh
Baying him at the heels : never fear that.
Bard. AVho, is it like, should lead his forces hither ?
Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland :
Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Monmouth :
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I have no certain notice.
Arch. Let us on ;
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice,
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited : —
A habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many !f with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be ?
And being now trimm'd X in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.
* Agree. t Multitude. t Dressed.
SCENE III.] SECOND PABT OF KING HENEY IV. 475
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard ;
And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times ?
They that, when Richard lived, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave :
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came sighing on
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Cry'st now, earth, yield us that king again,
And take thou this ! O thoughts of men accursed !
Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, worst.
Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on ?
Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. [Exeunt.
ACT H.
SCENE L— London. A Street.
Enter HOSTESS; Fang, and his Boy, with her; and SXABE
following.
Host. Master Tang, have you entered the action ?
Fang. It is entered.
Host. Where is your yeoman?* Is it a lusty yeoman ? will
a' stand to't ?
Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare ?
Host. O lord, ay : good master Snare.
Snare. Here, here.
Fang. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Palstaff.
Host. Yea, good master Snare ; I have entered him and all.
Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.
Host. Alas the day ! take heed of him ; he stabbed me in mine
own house, and that most beastly : in good faith, a' cares not
what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out : he will foinf like
any devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.
Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.
Host. No, nor I neither : I'll he at your elbow.
Fang. An I but fist him once: an a' come but within my
vice ; %—
Host. I am undone by his going ; I warrant you, he's an infi-
nitive thing upon my score: — Good master Pang, hold him
sure ; — good master Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes con-
tinuantly to Pie-corner (saving your manhoods), to buy a saddle ;
and he's indited to dinner to the Lubbar's§ head in Lumbert-
street, to master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my
exion is entered, and my case so openly known to the world, let
him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long
* Follower. t Thrust.
t Grasp. i Libbard's, i. e. leopard's.
476 SECOND PART OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT II.
one for a poor lone woman to bear: and I have borne, and
borne, and borne ; and have been fubbed off, and i'ubbed off, and
i'ubbed off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be
thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing; unless a
woman should be made an ass, and a beast, to bear every knave's
wrong.
Enter Sie John Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph.
Yonder he comes : and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bar-
dolph, with him. Do your offices, do your offices, master Fang,
and master Snare : do me, do me, do me your offices.
Fal. How now ? whose mare 's dead ? what's the matter ?
Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of mistress Quickly.
Fal. Away, varlets ! — Draw, Bardolph ; cut me off the vil-
lain's head ; throw the quean in the channel.
Host. Throw me in the channel ? I'll throw thee in the chan-
nel. Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou bastardly rogue ! — Murder,
murder ! O thou honey-suckle* villain ! wilt thou kill God's
officers, and the king's ? O thou honey-seed t rogue ! thou art a
honey-seed ; a man-queller, and a woman-queller.
Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.
Fang. A rescue ! a rescue !
Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two. — Thou wo't, wo't
thou ? thou wo't, wo't thou ? do, do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp-
seed!
Fal. Away, you scullion ! you rampallian ! you fustilarian !
I'll tickle your catastrophe.
Enter the Loed Chief Justice, attended.
Ch. Just. What's the matter ? keep the peace here, ho !
Host. Good my lord, be good to me ! I beseech you, stand
to me !
Ch. Just. How now, Sir John ? what, are you brawling here ?
Doth this become your place, your time, and business ?
You should have been well on your way to York. —
Stand from him, fellow : Wherefore hang'st thou on him ?
Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I am
a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit.
Ch. Just. For what sum ?
Host. It is more than for some, my lord : it is for all, all I have :
ho hath eaten me out of house and home ; he hath put all my
substance into that fat belly of his : — but I will have some of it
out again, or I'll ride thee o' nights, like the mare.
Fal. I think, I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any
vantage of ground to get up.
Ch. Just. How comes this, Sir John ? Fie ! what man of good
temper would endure this tempest of exclamation ? Are you
not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course to
come by her own ?
Fal. What is the gross sum that I owe thee ?
* Homicidal. t Homicide.
SCEXE 1.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENBY IV. 477
Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself, and the
money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt* goblet,
sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal
fire, upon Wednesday in Whitsun-week, when the prince broke
thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of Windsor ; thou
didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry
me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it ? Did
not goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then, and call
me gossip Quickly ? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; tell-
ing us, she had a good dish of prawns ; whereby thou didst
desire to eat some : whereby I told thee, they were ill for a green
wound ? And didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs,
desire me to be no more so familiarity with such poor people ;
saying, that ere long they should call me madam ? And didst
thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings ? I put
thee now to thy book-oath ; deny it, if thou canst.
Fal. My lord, this is a poor mad soul ; and she says, up and
down the town, that her eldest son is like you : she hatn been in
good case, and, the truth is, poverty hath distracted her. But for
these foolish officers, I beseech you, I may have redress against
them.
Ch. Just. Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your
manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a
confident brow, nor the throng of words that come with such
more than impudent sauciness from you, can thrust me from a
level consideration ; you have, as it appears to me, practised upon
the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve your
uses both in purse and person.
Host. Yea, in truth, my lord.
Ch. Just. Pr'ythee, peace : — Pay her the debt you owe her,
and unpay the villany you have done with her ; the one you may
do with sterling money, and the other with current repentance.
Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneapt without reply.
You call honourable boldness^ impudent sauciness : if a man will
make court'sy, and say nothing, he is virtuous : No, my lord,
my humble duty remembered, I will not be your suitor ; I say
to you, I do desire deliverance from these officers, being upon
hasty employment in the king's affairs.
Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do wrong : but answer
in the effect of your reputation,^ and satisfy the poor woman.
Fal. Come hither, hostess. [Taking her aside.
Enter Gowee.
Ch. Just. Now, master Gower : What news ?
Oow. The king, my lord, and Harry prince of Wales,
Are near at hand : the rest the paper tells.
Fal. As I am a gentleman ;
Host. Nay, you said so before.
Fal. As I am a gentleman ; Come, no more words of it.
Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain to
pawn both my plate, and the tapestry of my dining-chambers.
* Partly gilt. t Snub, check. t Suitable to your character.
478 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT II.
Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking ; and for thy walls, — •
a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the prodigal, or the
German hunting in water-work,* is worth a thousand of these
bed-hangings, and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten
pound, if thou canst. Come, an it were not for thy humours,
there is not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and
'drawf thy action : Gome, thou must not be in this humour with
me ; dost not know me ? Come, come, I know thou wast set on
to this.
Host. Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles ; i' faith
I am loath to pawn my plate, in good earnest, la.
Fal. Let it alone; I'll make other shift: you'll be a fool still.
Most. Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I
hope, you'll come to supper : You'll pay me all together ?
Fal. Will I live?— Go, with her, with her [To Baedolph] ;
hook on, hook on.
Host. Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet you at supper ?
Fal. No more words ; let's have her.
[Fxeunt Hostess, Bardolph, Officers, and Page.
Ch. Just. I have heard better news.
Fal. What's the news, my good lord ?
Ch. Just. Where lay the king last night ?
Goto. At Basingstoke, my lord.
Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well : What's the news, my lord ?
Ch. Just. Come all his forces back ?
Goto. No ; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse,
Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster,
Against Northumberland, and the archbishop.
Fal. Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord ?
Ch. Just. You shall have letters of me presently: Come, go
along with me, good master Gower.
Fal. My lord !
Ch. Just. What's the matter ?
Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner ?
Gow. I must wait upon my good lord here : 1 thank you, good
Sir John.
Ch. Just. Sir John, you loiter here too long, seeing you are to
take soldiers up in counties as you go.
Fal. Will you sup with me, master Gower ?
Ch. Just. What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir
John ? w
Fal. Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool that
taught them me. — This is the right fencing grace, my lord ; tap
for tap, and so part fair.
Ch. Just. Now the Lord lighten thee ! thou art a great fool.
IFxeunt.
* Water-colours. t Withdraw.
SCENE II.J SECOND PAET OF KING HENET TV. 4"9
SCENE II.— The same. Another Street.
Enter PfilNCE Heney and PoiNS.
P. Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary.
Poins. Is it come to that ? I had thought, weariness durst not
have attached one of so high blood.
P. Hen. 'Faith it does me ; though it discolours the complexion
of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in
me, to desire small beer ?
Poins. Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied, as to
remember so weak a composition.
P. Hen. Belike then, my appetite was not princely got ; for, by
my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, small beer.
But, indeed, these humble considerations make me out of love
with my greatness. What a disgrace is it to me, to remember
thy name ? or to know thy face to-morrow? or to take note how
many pair of silk stockings thou hast ; viz. these, and those that
were the peach-colour'd ones ? or to bear the inventory of thy
shirts ; as, one for superfluity, and one other for use ? — but that,
the tennis-court-keeper knows better than I ; for it is a low ebb of
linen with thee, when thou keepest not racket there ; as thou hast
not done a great while, because the rest of thy low countries have
made a shift to eat up thy Holland : and God knows, whether
those that bawl out of the ruins of thy linen,* shall inherit his
kingdom : but the midwives say, the children are not in the
fault ; whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are mightily
strengthened.
Poins. How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, you
should talk so idly ? Tell me, how many good young princes
would do so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this time is ?
P. Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins ?
Poins. Yes ; and let it be an excellent good thing.
P. Hen. It will serve among wits of no higher breeding than
thine.
Poins. Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you
will tell.
P. Hen. Why, I tell thee, — it is not meet that I should be sad,
now my father is sick : albeit I could tell to thee (as to one it
pleases me, for fault of a better, to call my friend), I could be
sad, and sad indeed too.
Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject.
P. Hen. By this hand, thou think'st me as far in the devil's
book, as thou, and Ealstaff, for obduracy and persistency : Let
the end try the man. But I tell thee,— my heart bleeds in-
wardly, that my father is so sick : and keeping such vile company
as thou art, hath in reason taken from me all ostentationf of
sorrow.
Poins. The reason.
P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep ?
Poins. I would think thee a most princely hypocrite.
* Thy bastard children wrapped up in thy old shirts. t Show.
4S0 SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT IT.
P. Hen. It would be every man's thought : and thou art a
blessed fellow, to think as every man thinks ; never a man's
thought in the world keeps the road- way better than thine :
every man would think me a hypocrite indeed. And what accites
your most worshipful thought, to think so ?
Poins. Why, because you have been so lewd, and so much
engraffed to PalstafT.
P. Hen. And to thee.
Poins. By this light, I am well spoken of, I can hear it with
my own ears : the worst that they can say of me is, that I am
a second brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands ;*
and those two things, I confess, I cannot help. By the mass,
here comes Bardolph.
P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Palstaff : he had him from
me Christian ; and look, if the fat villain hath not transformed
him ape.
Enter Baedolph and Page.
Bard. 'Save your grace.
P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph !
Bard. Come, you virtuous ass [To the Page], you bashful
fool, must you be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What
a maidenly man-at-arms are you become ? Is it such a matter,
to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead ?
Page. He called me even now, my lord, through a red lattice,f
and I could discern no part of his face from the window : at last,
I spied his eyes ; and, methought, he had made two holes in the
ale-wife's new petticoat, and peeped through.
P. Hen. Hath not the boy profited ?
Bard. Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away !
Page. Away, you rascally Althea's dream, away !
P. Hen. Instruct us, boy: What dream, boy?
Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed she was delivered of a
fire-brand ; and therefore I call him her dream.
P. Hen. A crown's worth of good interpretation. — There it is,
boy. [ Gives him money.
Poins. O, that this good blossom could be kept from cankers !
— Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee.
Bard. An you do not make him be hanged among you, the
gallows shall have wrong.
P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bardolph ?
Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming to
town : there's a letter for you.
Poins. Delivered with good respect. — And how doth the mar-
tlemas, X your master ?
Bard. In bodily health, Sir ?
Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a physician : but that
moves not him ; though that be sick, it dies not.
P. Hen. I do allow this wen § to be as familiar with me as my
dog : and he holds his place ; for, look you, how he writes.
* Stout fellow for my size. t An ale-house window.
X I. e. autumn, the latter spring. S Swoln excrescence.
SCENE II. J SECOND PAET OE KING HENET IT. 481
Poins. [Reads.] John Falstaff, knight, Every man must
know that, as oft as he has occasion to name himself. Even like
those that are kin to the king ; for they never prick their finger,
but they say, There is some of the Icing's blood spilt ; How comes
that ? says he, that takes upon him not to conceive : the answer
is as ready as a borrower's cap ; I am the king's poor cousin, Sir.
P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from
Japhet. But the letter : —
Poins. Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of the king, nearest
his father, Harry prince of Wales, greeting. — Why, this is a
certificate.
P. Hen. Peace !
Poins. I will imitate the honourable Roman in brevity. — he
sure means brevity in breath ; short-winded. — I commend me to
thee, I commend thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar tmth
Poins ; for he misuses thy favours so much, that he swears, thou
art to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst,
and so farewell.
Thine, by yea and no (which is as much as to say, as
thou usest him), Jack Falstaff, with my familiars ;
John, with my brothers and sisters; and Sir John,
with all Europe.
My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and make him eat it.
P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do
you use me thus, Ned ? must I marry your sister ?
Poim. May the wench have no worse fortune ! but I never
said so.
P. Hen. "Well, thus we play the fools with the time ; and the
spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. — Is your master
here in London ?
Bard. Yes, my lord.
P. Hen. Where sups he ? doth the old boar feed in the old
frank ?*
Bard. At the old place, my lord ; in Eastcheap.
P. Hen. What company ?
Page. Ephesians,f my lord, of the old church.
P. Hen. Sup any women with him ?
Page. None, my lord, but old mistress Quickly, and mistress
Doll Tear-sheet.
P. Hen. What Pagan may that be ?
Page. A proper gentlewoman, Sir, and a kinswoman of my
master's.
P. Hen. Even such kin, as the parish heifers are to the town
bull. — Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper ?
Poins. I am your shadow, my lord ; I'll follow you.
P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, — and Bardolph ; — no word to your
master, that I am yet come to town : There's for your silence.
Bard. I have no tongue, Sir.
Page. And, for mine. Sir, — I will govern it.
P. Hen. Fare ye well ; go. [Exeunt Baedolph and Page.] —
This Doll Tear-sheet should be some read.
* Sty. t Dissolute persons.
TOL. II. 2 I
482 SECOND PABT OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT II.
Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint
Alban's and London.
P. Hen. How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in
his true colours, and not ourselves be seen ?
Poins. Put on two leather jerkins, and aprons, and wait upon
him at his table as drawers.
P. Hen. From a god to a bull ? a heavy descension ! It was
Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice ? a low transformation !
that shall be mine : for, in everything ,the purpose must weigh
with the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt.
SCENE IIL—WarTcworth. Before the Castle.
Enter Nobtht/mbebland, Lady Nobthtjmberland, and,
Lady Percy.
North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter,
Give even way unto my rough affairs :
Put not you on the visage of the times,
And be, like them, to Percy troublesome.
Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more :
Do what you will ; your wisdom be your guide.
North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn ;
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.
Lady P. O, yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars !
The time was, father, that you broke your word,
"When you were more endear'd to it than now ;
"When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry,
Threw many a northward look, to see his father
Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain.
"Who then persuaded you to stay at home ?
There were two honours lost ; yours, and your son's.
For yours, — may heavenly glory brighten it !
For his, — it stuck upon him, as the sun
In the grey vault of heaven : and, by his light,
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts ; he was, indeed, the glass
"Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.
He had no legs, that practised not his gait :
And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant ;
For those that could speak low, and tardily,
Would turn their own perfection to abuse,
To seem like him : So that, in speech, in gait,
In diet, in affections of delight,
In military rules, humours of blood,
He was the mark and glass, copy and book,
That fashioned others. And him, — O wondrous him !
O miracle of men ! — him did you leave
(Second to none, unseconded by you),
To look upon the hideous god of war
In disadvantage; to abide a field,
"Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name
SCENE IV.l SECOND PABT OF KING HENET IV. 483
Did seem defensible : — so you left him :
Is ever, O never, do his ghost the wrong,
To hold your honour more precise ana nice
With others, than with him ; let them alone ;
The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong :
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck,
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.
North. Beshrew your heart,
Fair daughter ! you do draw my spirits from me,
"With new lamenting ancient oversights.
But I must go, and meet with danger there ;
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.
Lady N. O, fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles, and the armed commons,
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the king,
Then join you with them, like a rib of steel.
To make strength stronger ; but, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves : So did your son ;
He was so suffered ; so came I a widow ;
And never shall have length of life enough,
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven,
For recordation to my noble husband.
North. Come, come, go in with me : 'tis with my mind,
As with the tide swell'd up unto its height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way,
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back : —
I will resolve for Scotland ; there am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Boar's Head Tavern,
in Eastcheap.
Enter two Dbawebs.
1 Draw. What the devil hast thou brought there ? apple-
Johns ? thou know'st, Sir John cannot endure an apple- John*
2 Draw. Mass, thou sayest true : The prince once set a dish of
apple-Johns before him, and told him, there were five more Sir
Johns: and, putting off his hat. said, I will vow take my leave of
these six dry, round, old, wither d knights. It angered him to the
heart ; but he hath forgot that
1 Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down : And see if
thou canst find out Sneak's noise :t mistress Tear-sheet would
fain hear some music. Despatch : The room where they supped
is too hot ; they'll come in straight.
2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the prince, and master Poins
* A two-year old apple. t Sneak's band of music.
2 I 2
4S4 SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY IT. [ACT II.
anon : and they will put on two of our jerkins, and aprons ; and
Sir John must not know of it ; Bardolph hath brought word.
1 Draw. By the mass, here will be old utis :* It will be an ex-
cellent stratagem,
2 Draw. I'll see, if I can find out Sneak. [Exit.
Enter Hostess and Doll Teae-sheet.
Host. I' faith, sweet heart, methinks now you are in an excel-
lent good temperality : your pulsidge beats as extraordinarily as
heart would desire ; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as
any rose : But, i' faith, you have drunk too much canaries ; and
that's a marvellous searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere
one can say, — What's this ? How do you now ?
Dol. Better than I was. Hem !
Host. "Why, that 's well said ; a good heart 's worth gold, Look,
here comes Sir John.
Enter Falstaff, sieging.
Fal. When Arthur first in court — Empty the Jordan. — Anal
was a worthy king. [Exit Drawer.] How now, mistress Doll ?
Host. Sick of a calm : yea, good sooth.
Fal. So is all her sect ; an they be once in a calm, they are sick.
Dol. You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me ?
Fal. You make fat rascals,f mistress Doll.
Dol. I make them ! gluttony and diseases make them ; I make
them not.
Fal. If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to make
the diseases, Doll : we catch of you, Doll, we catch of you ; grant
that, my poor virtue, grant that.
Dol. Ay, marry ; our chains, and our jewels.
Fal. Your brooches, pearls, and owches ; — for to serve bravely,
is to come halting off, you know : To come off the breach with
his pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely ; to venture upon
the charged chambers! bravely :
Dol. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself !
Host. By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never
meet but you fall to some discord : you are both, in good troth,
as rheumatic§ as two dry toasts ; you cannot one bear with
another's confirmities. What the good-year ! [| one must bear,
and that must be you [To Doll] : you are the weaker vessel, as
they say, the emptier vessel.
Dol. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full hogshead ?
There's a whole merchant's venture of Bordeaux stuff in him ;
you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the hold. — Come, I'll
be friends with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars; and
whether I shall ever see thee again, or no, there is nobody cares.
* Merry doings.
t You miscall me rascal ; rascal, in forest language being lean deer.
t Small pieces of ordnance. § Capricious.
| Goujere, i. e. lues venerea.
SCENE IV.] SECOND PAET OP KING HENET IT. 485
He-enter Dbaweb.
Draw. Sir, ancient* Pistol 's below, and would speak with you.
Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal ! let him not come hither :
it is the foul mouth'dst rogue in England.
Host. If he swagger, let him not come here : no, by my faith ;
I must live amongst my neighbours ; I'll no swaggerers : I am in
good name and fame with the very best :— Shut the door ; there
comes no swaggerers here : I have not lived all this while, to
have swaggering now : shut the door, I pray you.
Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ?
Host. Pray you, pacify yourself, Sir John; there comes no
swaggerers here.
Fal. Dost thou hear ? it is mine ancient.
Host. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me ; your ancient swag-
ferer comes not in my doors. I was before master Tisick, the
eputy, the other day ; and, as he said to me, — it was no longer
ago than Wednesday last, — Neighbour Quickly, says he ; — Master
Dumb, our minister, was by then ; Neighbour Quickly, says he ;
receive those that are civil ; for, saith he, you are in an ill name ; —
now he said so, I can tell whereupon : for, says he, you are an honest
woman, and well thought on; therefore take heed what guests
you receive : Receive, says he, no swaggering companions.
There comes none here ; you would bless you to hear what he
said : — no, I'll no swaggerers.
Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess ; a tame cheater,t he ; you
may stroke him as gently as a puppy greyhound : he will not
swagger with a barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any
show of resistance. — Call him up, drawer.
Host. Cheater, call you him ? I will bar no honest man my
house, nor no cheater ;$ But I do not love swaggering ; by my
troth, I am the worse, when one says — swagger : feel, masters,
how I shake ; look you, I warrant you.
Dol. So you do, hostess.
Host. Do I ? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen leaf:
I cannot abide swaggerers.
Enter Pistol, Baedolph, and Page.
Fist. 'Save you, Sir John !
Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you
with a cup of sack : do you discharge upon mine hostess.
Pitt. I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets.
Fal. She is pistol proof, Sir, you shall hardly offend her.
Host. Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no bullets : I'll drink no
more than will do me good, for no man's pleasure, I.
Fist. Then, to you, mistress Dorothy ; I will charge you.
Dol. Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy companion. What!
you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lackhnen mate ! Away you
mouldy rogue, away ! I am meat lor your master.
* Ensigrn. + Gamester.
t Escheator, an officer of the exchequer.
486 SECOND PAET OP KINO HENBT IV. [ACT II.
Pist. I know you, mistress Dorothy.
Dol. Away, you cut-purse rascal ! you filthy hung, away ! hy
this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play
the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal ! you
basket-hilt stale juggler, you ! — Since when, I pray you, Sir ? —
"What, with two points* on your shoulder ? much !f
Pist. I will murder your ruff for this.
Fal. No more, Pistol ; I would not have you go off here : dis-
charge yourself of our company, Pistol.
Host. No, good captain Pistol ; not here, sweet captain.
Dol. Captain ! thou abominable damned cheater, art thou not
ashamed to be called — captain ? If captains were of my mind,
they would truncheon you out, for taking their names upon you
before you have earned them. You a captain, you slave ! for
what ? for tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house ? — He a
captain ! Hang him, rogue ! he lives upon mouldy stewed prunes,
and dried cakes. A captain ! these villains will make the word
captain as odious as the word occupy ; which was an excellent
{;ood word before it was ill sorted : therefore captains had need
ook to it.
Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient.
Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll.
Pist. Not I : tell thee what, corporal Bardolph ; — I could tear
her : — I'll be revenged on her.
Page. Pray thee, go down.
Pist. I'll see her damned first ;— to Pluto's damned lake, to the
infernal deep, with Erebus and tortures vile also. Hold hook
and line, say I. Down, down, dogs ! down faitours ! % Have we
not Hiren here ? §
Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet ; it is very late, i' faith : I
beseek you now, aggravate your choler.
Pist. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall pack-horses,
And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia,
Which cannot go but thirty miles a day,
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals,!!
And Trojan Greeks ? nay, rather damn them with
King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar.
Shall we fall foul for toys ?
Host. By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words.
Bard. Be gone, good ancient : this will grow to a brawl anon.
Pist. Die men, like dogs ; give crowns like pins ; have we not
Hiren here ?
Host. O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What the
good-year ! do you think, I would deny her ? for God's sake be
quiet.
Pist. Then, feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis :T
Come, give's some sack.
Sifortuna me tormenta, sperato me contenta. —
* Epaulettes. t An expression of disdain. t Traitors, rascals.
§ Trene, a character in a play of G. Peele's. II Haimibals.
if Parody of a line in the Battle of Alcasar, an old play.
SCENE IV.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENBY IV. 487
Fear we broadsides ? no, let the fiend give fire :
Give me some sack ; — and, sweetheart, lie thou there.
[Laying down his sword.
Come we to full points here ;* and are et cetera' s nothing ?
Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet.
Fist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif :f What ! we have seen the
seven stars.
Dol. Thrust him down stairs ; I cannot endure such a fustian
rascal.
Fist. Thrust him down stairs ! know we not Galloway nags PJ
Fal. Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling :
nay, if he do nothing but speak nothing, he shall be nothing here.
Bard. Come, get you down stairs.
Fist. What ! shall we have incision ? shall we imbrue ?
[Snatching up his sword.
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the sisters three ! Come, Atropos, I say !
Host. Here's goodly stuff" toward !
Fal. Give me my rapier, boy.
Dol. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw.
Fal. Get you down stairs. [Drawing, and driving PISTOL out.
Host. Here's a goodly tumult ! I'll forswear keeping house,
afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. So ; murder, I warrant
now. Alas, alas ! put up your naked weapons, put up your
naked weapons. [Exeunt Pistol and Baedolph.
Dol. I pray thee, Jack, be quiet ; the rascal is gone. Ah, you
whoreson little valiant villain, you.
Host. Are you not hurt i' the groin ? methought, he made a
shrewd thrust at your belly.
Re-enter Baedolph.
Fal. Have you turned him out of doors ?
Bard. Yes, Sir. The rascal's drunk : you have hurt him, Sir,
in the shoulder.
Fal. A rascal ! to brave me !
Dol. Ah, you sweet little rogue, you ! Alas, poor ape, how
thou sweat'st ! Come, let me wipe thy face ; — come on, you
whoreson chops : — Ah, rogue ! i' faith, I love thee. Thou art as
valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon, and ten
times better than the nine worthies. Ah, villain !
Fal. A rascally slave ! I will toss tbe rogue in a blanket.
Dol. Do, if thou darest for thy heart : if thou dost, I'll canvas
thee between a pair of sheets.
Enter Music.
Page. The music is come. Sir.
Fal. Let them play ;— Play, Sirs. — Sit on my knee, Doll. A
rascal bragging slave ! the rogue fled from me like quicksilver !
Dol. I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. Thou
* Do we stop here. t Fist- t Common hacknies.
488 SECOND PAET OF KINO HENBY IV. [ACT IT.
whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave
lighting o' days and foining* o' nights, and begin to patch up
thine old body for heaven ?
Enter behind, Prince Heney and PoiNS, disguised like
Drawers.
Fal. Peace, good Doll ! do not speak like a death's head : do
not bid me remember mine end.
Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of?
Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he would have made a
good pantler, he would have chipped bread well.
Dol. They say, Poins has a good wit.
Fal. He a good wit ? hang him, baboon ! his wit is as thick a.?
Tewksbury mustard ; there is no more conceit in him, than is in
a mallet.
Dol. Why does the prince love him so then ?
Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness : and he plays at
quoits well ; and eats conger and fennel ; and drinks off candles'
ends for flap-dragons ; and rides the wild maref with the boys ;
and jumps upon joint-stools ; and swears with a good grace ; and
wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg ; and
breeds no bate with telling of discreet stories, and such other
gambol faculties he hath, that show a weak mind and an able
body, for the which the prince admits him : for the prince himself
is such another j the weight of a hair will turn the scales between
their avoirdupois.
P. Hen. Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off?
Poins. Let's beat him before his whore.
P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath not his poll clawed
like a parrot.
Poins. Is it not strange, that desire should so many years out-
live performance ?
Fal. Kiss me, Doll.
P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction ! what
says the almanack to that ?
Poins. And, look, whether the fiery Trigon,t his man, be not
lisping to his master's old tables ; his note-book, his counsel-
keeper.
Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses.
Dol. Nay, truly ; I kiss thee with a most constant heart.
Fal. I am old, I am old.
Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of
them all.
Fal. What stuff wilt have a kirtle§ of? I shall receive money
on Thursday : thou shalt have a cap to-morrow. A merry song,
come : it grows late, we'll to bed. Thou'lt forget me, when I am
gone.
Dol. By my troth, thou'lt set me a- weeping, an thou sayest
so : prove that ever I dress myself handsome till thy return.
Well, hearken the end.
* Thrusting. ' t See-saw.
t An astronomical term. j An over-petticoat.
SCENE IT.] SECOND PAST OF KING HENET IV. 489
Fal. Some sack, Francis.
P. Hen. Point. Anon, anon, Sir. [Advancing.
Fal. Ha! a bastard son of the king's ? — And art thou not Poins
his brother P
P. Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful continents, what a life dost
thou lead ?
Fal. A better than thou; I am a gentleman, thou art" a
drawer.
P. Hen. Very true, Sir ; and I come to draw you out by the
ears.
Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace ! by my troth, wel-
come to London. — Now the Lord bless that sweet face of thine !
O Jesu, are you come from Wales ?
Fal. Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, — by this light
flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome.
[Leaning his hand upon DOLt.
Dol. How ! you fat fool, I scorn you.
Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge, and
turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat*
P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you ? how vilely did you
speak of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gentle-
woman ?
Host. 'Blessing o' your good heart ! and so she is, by my troth.
Fal. Didst thou hear me ?
P. Hen. Yes ; and you knew me, as you did when you ran
away by Gads-hill : you knew I was at your back, and spoke it
on purpose, to try my patience.
Fal. No, no, no ; not so ; I did not think thou wast within
hearing.
P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse ; and
then I know how to handle you.
Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour ; no abuse.
P. Hen. Not ! to dispraise me ; and call me— pantler, and
bread-chipper, and I know not what ?
Fal. No abuse, Hal.
Poins. No abuse !
Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I dis-
f >raised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in
ove with him : — in which doing, I have done the part of a care-
ful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks
for it. No abuse, Hal ; — none, Ned, none ; — no, boys, none.
P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice,
doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close
with us ? Is she of the wicked ? Is thine hostess here of the
wicked ? Or is the boy of the wicked ? Or honest Bardolph,
whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked ?
Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.
Fal. The fiend, hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable :
and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he doth nothing
but roast malt-worms. For the boy, — there is a good angel about
him ; but the devil outbids him too.
* Strike while the iron is hot.
490 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT II.
P. Hen. For the women,
Fal. For one of them,— she is in hell already, and hums, poor
soul ! For the other, — I owe her money ; and whether she be
damned for that, 1 know not.
Host. No, I warrant you.
Fal. No, I think thou art not ; I think thou art quit for that :
Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh
to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law ; for the which, I
think, thou wilt howl.
Host. All victuallers do so : What's a joint of mutton or two
in a whole Lent ?
P. Hen. You, gentlewoman,
Hoi. "What says your grace ?
Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.
Host. Who knocks so loud at door ? look to the door there,
Francis.
Fnter Peto
P. Hen. Peto, how now ? what news ?
Peto. The king your father is at Westminster ;
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts,
Come from the north ; and, as I came along,
I met. and overtook, a dozen captains,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns,
And askingevery one for Sir John Falstaff.
P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame-,
So idly to profane the precious time ;
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword, and cloak : — Falstaff, good night.
{Exeunt Prince Henry, Poins, Peto, and Bardolph.
Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we
must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking heard.] More
knocking at the door ?
Re-enter BARDOLPH.
How now ? what's the matter ?
Bard. You must away to court, Sir, presently ; a dozen cap-
tains stay at door for you.
Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah. [To the Page.] — Farewell,
hostess ; — farewell, Doll. — You see, my good wenches, how men
of merit are sought after : the undeserver may sleep, when the
man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches : If I be not
sent away post, I will see you again ere I go.
Hoi. I cannot speak ; — If my heart be not ready to burst :—
Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself.
Fal. Farewell, farewell. [Exeunt Falstaff and Bardolph.
Host. Well, fare thee well : I have known thee these twenty-
nine years, come peascod-time, but anhonester, and truer-hearted
man, — Well, fare thee well.
Bard, [within]. Mistress Tear-sheet, ■
Host. What's the matter ?
Bard, [within]. Bid mistress Tear-sheet come to my master.
Host. O run, Boll, run ; run, good Doll. [Exeunt
ACT III.1 SECOND PAST OF KING HENBI IV. 491
ACT III.
SCENE I.— A Room in the Palace.
Enter KING HENEY in his Nightgown, with a PAGE.
K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick ;
But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters,
And well consider of them : Make good speed! [Exit Page.
How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep ! — Sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness ?
"Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber i
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum bell ?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge ;
And in the visitation of the winds.
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly * death itself awakes ?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ;
And. in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king ? Then, happy lowly clown !
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Enter Warwick and Subset.
War. Many good morrows to your majesty !
K. Hen. Is it good morrow, lords ?
War. 'Tis one o'clock, and past.
K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.
Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you ?
War. We have, my liege.
K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom
How foul it is ; what rank diseases grow.
And with what danger, near the heart of it.
War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper'd ;
Which to his former strength may be restored
492 SECOND PAET OF KING HENBY IV. [ACT III.
With good advice, and little medicine :
My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.
K. Hen. O heaven ! that one might read the book of fate ;
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent
( Weary of solid firmness), melt itself
Into the sea ! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean
Too wide for Neptune's hips : how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors ! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth, — viewing his progress through,
What perils past, what crosses to ensue, —
Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
'Tis not ten years gone,
Since Eichard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did feast together, and in two years after,
Were they at wars : It is but eight years, since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul ;
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot ;
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Eichard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by
(Tou, cousin Nevil, as I may remember), [To Wabwick.
When Eichard, — with his eye brimfull of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, —
Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy ?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne ; —
Though then, heaven knows, I had no such intent ;
But tliat necessity so bow'd the state,
That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss : —
The time shall come, thus did he follow it,
The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head,
Shall break into corruption : — so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division Of our amity.
War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceased :
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds,
And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of time ;
And by the necessary form of this,
King Eichard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness ;
Which should not find a ground to root upon,
Unless on you.
K. Hen. Are these things then necessities ?
Then let us meet them like necessities : —
And that same word even now cries out on us ;
SCENE II.] SECOND PAST OF KING HENBY IV. *23
They say, the Bishop and Northumberland
Are fifty thousand strong.
War. It cannot be, my lord ;
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd : — Please it your grace,
To go to bed : upon my life, my lord,
The powers that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I have received
A certain instance, that Glendower is dead.
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill ;
And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must add
Unto your sickness.
K. Ren. I will take your counsel :
And, were these inward wars once out of hand,
"We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— Court before Justice Shallow's Souse in
Olostershire.
Enter Shallow and Silence, meeting; Mouldy, Shadow,
Wast, Feeble, Bull-calf, and Sebvants, behind.
Shal. Come on, come on, come on ; give me your hand, Sir,
give me your hand, Sir : an early stirrer, by the rood.* And how
doth my good cousin Silence ?
Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow ? and your
fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen ?
Sil. Alas, a black ouzel cousin Shallow.
Shal. By yea and nay, Sir, I dare say, my cousin "William is
become a good scholar : He is at Oxford, still, is he not ?
Sil. Indeed, Sir, to my cost.
'Shal. He must then to the inns of court shortly : I was once
of Clement's-inn ; where I think, they will talk 01 mad Shallow
yet.
Sil. You were called — lusty Shallow, then, cousin.
Shal. By the mass, I was called anything; and I would have
done anything, indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little
John Doit of Staffordshire, and Black George Bare and Francis
Pickbone, and Will Squele a Cotsolet man, — you had not four
such swinge bucklers J in all the inns of court again : and I may
say to you, we knew where the bona-robasj were ; and had the
best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir
John, a boy ; and page to Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk.
Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about
soldiers ?
Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I saw him break
Skogan's|| head at the court gate, when he was a crack,1f not
* Cross.
t Cotswold, in Gloucestershire, where annual games were celebrated.
t Rakes, rioters. S Ladies of pleasure.
| Jack Scogau, jester to Edward IV. % Boy.
404 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT III.
thus high : and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson
Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's-inn. O, the mad days that
I have spent ! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance
are dead !
Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.
Shal. Certain, 'tis certain ; very sure, very sure : death, as the
Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all shall die. How a good yoke
of bullocks at Stamford fair ?
Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.
Shal. Death is certain. — Is old Double of your town living yet ?
Sil. Dead, Sir.
Shal. Dead ! — See, see ! — he drew a good bow ; — And dead !—
he shot a fine shoot : — John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted
much money on his head. Dead ! — he would have clapped i' the
clout at twelve score ;* and carried you a forehand shaft a four-
teen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's
heart good to see. How a score of ewes now ?
Sil. Thereafter as they be : a score of good ewes may be worth
ten pounds.
Shal. And is old Double dead
Enter BAEDOLPH, and one with him.
Sil. Here come two of Sir John Palstaff's men, as I think.
Sard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen : I beseech you, which
is justice Shallow ?
Shal. I am Bobert Shallow, Sir ; a poor esquire of this county,
and one of the king's justices of the peace : What is your good
pleasure with me ?
Bard. My captain, Sir, commends him to you : my captain,
Sir John Palstaff: a tallf gentleman, by heaven, and a most
gallant leader.
Shal. He greets me well. Sir ; I knew him a good backsword
man : How doth the good knight ? may I ask, how my lady his
wife doth ?
Bard. Sir, pardon ; a soldier is better accommodated, than with
a wife.
Shal. It is well said, in faith, Sir ; and it is well said indeed
too. Better accommodated ! — it is good ; yea, indeed, it is : good
phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accom-
modated ! — it comes from accommodo : very good ; a good phrase.
Bard. Pardon me, Sir, I have heard the word. Phrase, call
you it ? By this good day, I know not the phrase : but I will
maintain the word with my sword, to be a soldier-like word, and
a word of exceeding good command. Accommodated : That is,
when a man is, as they say, accommodated : or, when a man is, —
being, — whereby, — he may be thought to be accommodated;
which is an excellent thing.
Enter PALSTAFF.
Shal. It is very just : — Look, here comes good Sir John. — Give
me your hand, give me your worship's good hand : By my troth,
* Hit the white mark at twelve score yards. t Brave.
SCENE II.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENET IV. 495
you look well, and bear your years very well : welcome, good Sir
John.
Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master Robert Shallow : —
Master Sure-card, as I think.
Shal. No, Sir John ; it is my cousin Silence, in commission
with me.
Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you should be of the
peace.
Sil. Your good worship is welcome.
Fal. Fie ! this is hot weather, — Gentlemen, have you provided
me here half a dozen sufficient men ?
Shal. Marry, have we Sir. Will you sit ?
Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you.
Shal. Where's the roll ? where's the roll ? where's the roll ? —
Let me see. let me see. So, so, so, so : Yea, marry, Sir : — Ralph
Mouldy : — let them appear as I call ; let them do so, let them do
so. Let me see : Where is Mouldy ?
Moul. Here, an't please you.
Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow
young, strong, and of good friends.
Fat. Is thy name Mouldy ?
Moul. Yea, an't please you.
Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used.
Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i'faith! things, that are
mouldy, lack use : Very singular good !— In faith, well said, Sir
John ; very well said.
Fal. Prick him. \To Shallow.
Moul. I was pricked well enough before, an you could have
let me alone : my old dame will be undone now, for one to do her
husbandry, and her drudgery : you need not to nave pricked me ;
there are other men fitter to go out than I.
Fal. Go to ; peace, Mouldy, you shall go.
Mouldy, it is time you were spent.
Moul. Spent !
Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside ;
Know you where you are ? — For the other, Sir John : — let me
see; — Simon Shadow!
Fal. Ay marry, let me have him to sit under ; he's like to be a
cold soldier.
Shal. Where's Shadow ?
Shad. Here, Sir.
Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou ?
Shad. My mother's son, Sir.
Fal. Thy mother's son ! like enough ; and thy father's shadow :
so the son of the female is the shadow of the male : It is often so,
indeed ; but not much of the fathers substance.
Shal. Do you like him, Sir John ?
Fal. Shadow will serve for summer, — prick him ; — for we have
a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book.
Shal. Thomas Wart !
Fal. Where's he ?
Wart. Here, Sir.
Fal. Is thy name Wart ?
496 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IT. [ACT 1H.
Wart. Tea, Sir.
Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart.
Shal. Shall I prick him, Sir John ?
Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his
back, and the whole frame stands upon pins : prick him no more.
Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! — you can do it, Sir ; you can do it : I com-
mend you well. — Francis Feeble !
Fee. Here, Sir.
Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble ?
Fee. A woman's tailor, Sir.
Shal. Shall I prick him, Sir ?
Fal. You may : but if he had been a man's tailor, he would
have pricked you. — Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's
battle, as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat ?
Fee. I will do my good will, Sir ; you can have no more.
Fal. Well said, good woman's tailor ! well said, courageous
Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove, or most
magnanimous mouse.— Prick the woman's tailor well, master
Shallow ; deep, master Shallow.
Fee. I would. Wart might have gone, Sir.
Fal. I would, thou wert a man's tailor ; that thou mightst
mend him, and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private
soldier, that is the leader of so many thousands : Let that suffice,
most forcible Feeble.
Fee. It shall suffice, Sir.
Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. —
Who is next ?
Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the green !
Fal. Yea, marry, let us see Bull-calf.
Bull. Here, Sir,
Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow ! — Come, prick me Bull-calf till
he roar again. *
Hull. O lord ! good my lord captain, —
Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked ?
Bull. O lord, Sir ! I am a diseased man.
Fal. What disease hast thou ?
Bull. A whoreson cold. Sir ; a cough, Sir ; which I caught with
ringing in the king's affairs, upon his coronation day, Sir.
Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown ; we will have
away thy cold ; and I will take such order, that thy friends shall
ring for thee.— Is here all ?
Shal. Here is two more called than your number ; you must
have but four here, Sir ; — and so, I pray you, go in with me to
dinner.
Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner.
I am glad to see you, in good troth, master Shallow.
Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in
the windmill in St. George's-fields ?
Fal. No more of that, good master Shallow, no more of that.
Shal. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane N ight-work alive ?
Fal. She lives, master Shallow.
Shal. She never could away with me.
SCENE II.] SECOND PABT OE KING HENBY IV. 497
Fal. Never, never : she would always say, she could not abide
master Shallow.
Shal. By the .mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was
then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well ?
Fal. Old, old, master Shallow.
Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old;
certain, she's old ; and had Eobin Night-work by old Night-
work, before I came to Clement's-inn.
Sil. That's fifty-five year ago.
Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this
knight and I have seen ! — Ha, Sir John, said I well ?
Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, master Shallow.
Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have ; in faith, Sir
John, we have : our watch- word was, Hem, boys ! — Come, let's to
dinner; come, let's to dinner: — 0,the days that we have seen ! —
Come, come. [Exeunt Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence.
Bull. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my friend ; and
here is four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In
very truth, Sir, I had as lief be hanged, Sir, as go : and yet, for
mine own part, Sir, I do not care ; but, rather, because I am
unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my
friends ; else, Sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.
Bard. Go to ; stand aside.
Mould. And good master corporal captain, for my old dame's
sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do anything about her,
when I am gone : and she is old, and cannot help herself : you
shall have forty, Sir.
Bard. Go to ; stand aside.
Fee. By my troth I care not; — a man can die but once; — we
owe God a death; — I'll ne'er bear a base mind: — an't be my
destiny, so ; an't be not, so : No man 's too good to serve his
prince ; and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is
quit for the next.
Bard. Well said ; thou'rt a good fellow.
Fee. 'Faith, I'll bear no base mind.
Re-enter FALSTAFF and JUSTICES.
Fal. Come, Sir, which men shall I have ?
Shal. Four, of which you please.
Bard. Sir, a word with you:— I have three pound to free
Mouldy and Bull-calf.
Fal. Go to ; well.
Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you have ?
Fal. Do you choose for me.
Shal. Marry then,— Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and Shadow.
Fal. Mouldy, and Bull-calf :— For you, Mouldy, slay at home
still ; you are past service : — and, for your part, Bull-calf, — grow
till you come unto it j I will none of you.
Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are
your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.
Fal. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to choose a man ?
Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, bulk, and big assein-
VOL. II. 2 K
493 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT III.
blance of a man ! Give me the spirit, master Shallow. — Here's
Wart ; — you see what a ragged appearance it is : he shall charge
you, and discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer's hammer ;
come off, and on, swifter than he that gibbets-on the brewer's
bucket. And this same half-faced fellow,- Shadow, — give me this
man ; he presents no mark to the enemy ; the foeman may with
as great aim level at the edge of a penknife : And, for a retreat, — ■
how swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off? O, give
me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. — Put me a
caliver* into Wart's hand, Bardolph.
Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse ;f thus, thus, thus.
Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So : — very well : — go to :
— very good : — exceeding good. — O, give me always a little, lean,
old, chapped, bald shot.t— Well said, i' faith Wart; thou'rt a
good scab : hold, there's a tester for thee.
Shal. He is not his craft's-master, he doth not do it right.
I remember at Mile-end green (when I lay at Clement's-inn, —
I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's show§), there was a little
quiverll fellow, and 'a would manage you his piece thus : and 'a
would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in :
rah, tah, tah, would 'a say ; bounce, would 'a say ; and away again
would 'a go, and again would 'a come: — I shall never see such a
fellow.
Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shallow.— God keep
you, master Silence ; I will not use many words with you :— Fare
you well, gentlemen both : I thank you : I must a dozen mile
to-night— Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.
Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper your affairs,
and send us peace ! As you return, visit my house ; let our old
acquaintance be renewed: perad venture, I will with you to
the court.
Fal. I would you would, master Shallow.
Shal. Go to ; I have spoke, at a word. Fare you well.
[Exeunt Shallow and SILENCE.
Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On, Bardolph; lead
the men away. [Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits, 8(c.~\ As I return,
I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of justice
Shallow. Lord, lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of
lying ! This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to
me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done
about Turnbull-street ; and every third word a lie, duer paid to
the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at
Clement's-inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring :
when he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked
radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife : he
was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were
invisible : he was the very Genius of famine ; yet lecherous as a
monkey, and the whores called him — mandrake : he came ever
in the rear-ward of the fashion ; and sung those tunes to the
over-scutched^" huswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and
* Gun. t March. t Shooter.
} An exhibition of archery. \\ Nimble. % Carted.
SCENE II.] SECOND PABT OF KING HENBT IV. 499
sware-ythey were his Fancies, or his Good-nights* And now is
this Vice's daggert become a squire ; and talks as familiarly of
John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother to him : and
I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the Tilt-yard ; and
then he bursty his head, for crowding among the marshal's men.
I saw it ; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name :§ for
you might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin ;
the case of a treble haut-boy was a mansion for him, a court;
and now has he land and beeves. Well ; I will be acquainted
with him, if I return : and it shall go hard, but I will make him
a philosopher's two stones to me : Ir the young dace be a bait for
the old pike, I see no reason, in the law of nature but I may
snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. [Exit.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.— A Forest in Yorkshire.
Enter ihe Abchbishop of Yobk, Mowbbay, Hastings,
and others.
Arch. What is this forest call'd ?
Hast. Tis Gaultree forest, an't shall please your grace.
Arch. Here stand, my lords ; and send discoverers forth,
To know the numbers of our enemies.
Hast. We have sent forth already.
Arch. 'Tis well done.
My friends, and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have received
New-dated letters from Northumberland ;
Their cold intent, tenor, and substance thus : —
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
As might hold sortance|| with his quality,
The which he could not levy ; whereupon
He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers,
That your attempts may overlive the hazard,
And fearful meeting of their opposite.
Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground,
And dash themselves to pieces.
Enter a MesSENGEB.
Hast. Now, what news ?
Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
In goodly form comes on the enemy:
And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number
Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thousand^
* Titles of little poems.
t Vice was a burlesque character In the old play, equipped with a
wooden dagger or sword, called Harlequin.
t Broke. s Gaunt. | Be suitable.
2 K 2
500 SECOND PAET OE KING HENRY IV. [i.CT IV.
Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them out.
Let us sway on, and face them in the held.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
Arch. What well-appointed* leader fronts us here ?
Mowb. I think, it is my lord of Westmoreland.
West. Health and fair greeting from our general,
The prince, lord John and duke of Lancaster.
Arch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in peace ;
What doth concern your coming ?
West. Then, my lord,
TJnto your grace do I in chief address
The substance of my speech. If that rebellion
Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guardedf with rage,
And countenanced by boys and beggary ;
I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd,
In his true, native, and most proper shape,
Tou, reverend father, and these noble lords,
Had not been here, to dress the ugly form
Of base and bloody insurrection
With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop, —
Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd ;
Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd ;
Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd;
Whose white investments figure innocence,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, —
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself,
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war ?
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances ; and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet, and a point of war ?
Arch. Wherefore do I this ? — so the question stands.
Briefly to this end : — We are all diseased ;
And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours,
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
And we must bleed for it : of which disease
Our late king, Eichard, being infected, died.
But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland,
I take not on me here as a physician ;
Nor do I, as an enemy to peace,
Troop in the throngs of military men :
But, rather, show a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness ;
And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer,
And find our griefsj heavier than our offences.
* Completely accoutred. t Faced, turned up. t Grievance*.
SCENE I.] 8EC0ND PAST OP KING HENBT IV. 601
We see which way the stream of time doth run,
And are enforced from our most quiet sphere
By the rough torrent of occasion :
And have the summary of all our griefs,
"When time shall serve, to show in articles;
"Which, long ere this, we offered to the king,
And might by no suit gain our audience :
When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our griefs,
We are denied access unto his person
Even by those men that most have done us wrong.
The dangers of the days but newly gone
(Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet-appearing blood), and the examples
Of every minute's instance (present now),
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms :
Not to break peace, or any branch of it ;
But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.
West. W hen ever yet was your appeal denied ?
Wherein have you been galled by the king ?
What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you ?
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forged rebellion with a seal divine.
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?*
Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth,
To brother born an household cruelty,
I make my quarrel in particular.
West. There is no need of any such redress ;
Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.
Mowb. Wliy not to him, in part ; and to us all,
That feel the bruises of the days before ;
And suffer the condition of these times
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours ?
West. O my good lord Mowbray,
Conster the times to their necessities,
And you shall say indeed,— it is the time,
And not the king, that doth you injuries.
Yet, for your part, it not appears to me,
Either from the king, or in the present time.
That you should have an inch of any ground
To build a grief on : Were you not restored
To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories,
Your noble and right-well-remember'd father's ?
Mowb. What thing, in honour, had my father lost,
That need to be revived, and breath'd in me ?
The king, that loved him, as the state stood then,
Was, force perforce, compell'd to banish him :
And then, when Harry Bolingbroke, and he,—
Being mounted, and both roused in their seats,
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
* 7. e. the sword of rebellion.
502 SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. [ACT IV.
Their armed staves* in charge, their beaversf down,
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights! of steel,
And the loud trumpet blowing them together ;
Then, then, when there was nothing could have staid
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
O, when the king did throw his warder§ down,
His own life hung upon the staff he threw :
Then threw he down himself; and all their lives,
That, by indictment, and by dint of sword,
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.
West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know not what :
The earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman ;
Who knows, on whom fortune would then have smiled ?
But, if your father had been victor there,
He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry :
For all the country in a general voice,
Cried hate upon him ; and all their prayers, and love,
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd and graced indeed, more than the king.
But this is mere digression from my purpose. —
Here come I from our princely general,
To know your griefs ; to tell you from his grace,
That he will give you audience : and wherein
It shall appear that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them ; everything set off,
That might so much as think you enemies.
Mowb. But he hath forced us to compel this offer;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.
West. Mowbray, you over- ween, || to take it so;
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear :
For, lo ! within a ken.1T our army lies ;
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ;
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good : —
Say you not then, our offer is compell'd.
Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley.
West. That argues but the shame of your offence :
A rotten case abides no handling.
Mast. Hath the prince John a full commission,
In very ample virtue of his father.
To hear, and absolutely to determine
Of what conditions we shall stand upon ?
West. That is intended** in the general's name :
I muse, you make so slight a question.
Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this schedule ;ff
* Lances. t Helmets.
t The eye-holes of helmet3. § Truncheon.
II Think too highly. <i Sight.
** Understood. tt Inventory,
SCENE I.] SECOND PART OF KINO HENEY IV. 503
For this contains our general grievances :
Each several article herein redress'd ;
All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action.
Acquitted by a true substantial form;
And present execution of our wills
'J 1 © us, and to our purposes, consign'd ;
We eome within our awful banks* again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I show the general. Please you, lords,
In sight of both our battles we may meet :
And either end in peace, which heaven so frame !
Or to the place of difference call the swords
"Which must decide it.
Arch. My lord, we will do so. [Exit West.
Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me,
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Mast. Fear you not that : if we can make our peace
Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice,t and wanton reason,
Shall, to the king, taste of this action :
That were our royal faiths martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind,
That, even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.
Arch. No, no, my lord ; Note this, — the king is weary
Of dainty and such picking^ grievances :
For he hath found— to end one doubt by death,
Revives two greater in the heirs of life.
And therefore will he wipe his tables§ clean ;
And keep no tell-tale to his memory,
That may repeat and history his loss
To new remembrance : For full well he knows,
He cannot so precisely wded this land,
As his misdoubts present occasion :
His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife.
That hath enraged him on to offer strokes ;
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolved correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution.
Hast. Besides the king hath wasted all his rods
On late offenders, that he now doth lack
The very instruments of chastisement :
* Limits. t Trivial.
I Insignificant. $ Memorandum-book.
504 SECOND PART OF KING HENBY IV. [ACT IV.
So that his power, like a fangless lion,
May offer, but not hold.
Arch. "lis very true ; —
And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal,
If we do now make our atonement well,
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.
Mowb. Be it so.
Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland.
Re-enter WESTMORELAND.
West. The prince is here at hand : Pleaseth your lordship,
To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies ?
Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's name then set forward.
Arch. Before, and greet his grace : — my lord, we come.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.— Another part of the Forest.
Enter, from one side, Mowbray, the Abchbishop, Hastings,
and others ; from the other side, Pbince John of Lancaster,
WESTMOBELAND, Officers and Attendants.
P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray :
Good day to you, gentle lord Archbishop : —
And so to you, lord Hastings, — and to all. —
My lord of York, it better show'd with you.
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your exposition on the holy text ;
Than now to see you here an iron man,*
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword, ana life to death.
That man, that sits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour.
Would he abuse the countenance of the king,
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach,
In shadow of such greatness ! With you, lord bishop,
It is even so : — Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep you were within the books of God ?
To us, the speaker in his parliament ;
To us the imagined voice of God himself;
The very opener, and intelligencer.
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings :f O, who shall believe,
But you misuse the reverence of your place ;
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonourable ? You have taken upj!
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The subjects of his substitute, my father;
* Clad in armour. f Labours of thought. t Raised in arms.
SCENE II.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY IV. 505
And, both against the peace of heaven and him,
Have here up-swarm'd them.
Arch. Good my lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your father's peace :
Hut, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
The time disorder'd doth, in common sense,
Crowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form,
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace
The parcels and particulars of our grief;
The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court,
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born :
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep,
With grant of our most just and right desires ;
And true obedience of this madness cured,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man.
Mast. And though we here fall down,
We have supplies to second our attempt ;
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them :
And so, success* of mischief shall be born ;
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shall have generation.
P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,
To sound the bottom of the after-times.
West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them directly,
How far-forth you do like their articles ?
P. John. I like them all, and do allowf them well :
And swear here by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook ;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning, and authority. —
My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd ;
Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your powersX unto the several counties,
As we will ours : and here, between the armies,
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace ;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home
Of our restored love and amity.
Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses.
P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my word :
And thereupon I drink unto your grace.
Hast. Go, captain [ To an Officer], and deliver to the army
This news of peace ; let them have pay, and part :
I know it will well please them ; Hie thee, captain.
[Exit Officer.
Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland.
West. I pledge your grace : And, if you knew what pains .
I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace,
. You would drink freely : but my love to you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
* Succession. t Approve. X Forces.
506 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT IY..
Arch. I do not doubt you.
West. I am glad of it. —
Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray,
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy season :
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.
Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry ;
But heaviness foreruns the good event.
West. Therefore be merry, coz ; since sudden sorrow
Serves to say thus, — Some good thing comes to-morrow.
Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.
Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule be true.
[Shouts irnthin.
P. John. The word of peace is render'd; Hark, how they shout !
Mowb. This had been cheerful, after victory.
Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest ;
For then both parties nobly are subdued,
And neither party loser.
P. John. Go, my lord,
And let our army be discharged too. — [Exit Westmoeeland.
And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains*
March by us ; that we may peruse the men
We should have coped withal.
Arch. Go, good lord Hastings,
And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. [Exit Hastings.
P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-night together.—
Re-enter "Westmoeeland.
Now, cousin, wherefore stands cur army still ?
West. The leaders having charge from you to stand,
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
P. John. They know their duties.
Pe-enter Hastings.
Hast. My lord, our army is dispersed already :
Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses
East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke up,
Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place.
West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings ; for the which
1 do arrest, thee, traitor, of high treason : —
And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbray,
Of capital treason, I attach you both.
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable ?
West. Is your assembly so ?
Arch. "Will you thus break your faith ?
P. John. I pawn'd thee none :
I promised you redress of these same grievances,
"Whereof you did complain ; which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a most Christian care.
But, for you, rebels, — look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours.
* Armies.
SCENE III.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY IV. 507
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly* brought here, and foolishly sent hence.
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray ;
Heaven, and not we, have safely fought to-day.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death ;
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— Another part of the Forest.
Alarums ; Excursions. Enter Falstaff and COLEVILE,
meeting.
Fal. What's your name, Sir ? of what condition are you ; and
of what place, I pray ?
Cole. I am a Knight, Sir ; and my name is — Colevile of the
dale.
Fal. "Well then, Colevile is your name ; a knight is your de-
gree ; and your place, the dale : Colevile shall still be your name ;
a traitor your degree ; and the dungeon your place, — a place deep
enough ; so shall you still be Colevile of the dale.
Cole. Are not you Sir John FalstafT?
Fal. As good a man as he, Sir. whoe'er I am. Do ye yield,
Sir ? or shall I sweat for you ? If I do sweat, they are drops of
thy lovers, and they weep for thy death : therefore rouse up fear
and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.
Cole. I think, you are Sir John Falstaff; and, in that thought,
yield me.
Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine ;
and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my
name. An I had but a belly of any indiflerency, I were simply
the most active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, my
womb undoes me. — Here comes our general.
Enter PfilNCE JOHN of Lancaster, WestMOBELAND,
and others.
P. John. The heat is past, follow no further now ; —
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. — [Exit "West.
Now, Falstaff. where have you been all this while ?
When everything is ended, then you come :
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows' back.
Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus ; I never
knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do
you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet ? have I, in my
poor and old motion, the expedition of thought ? I have speeded
hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have
foundered nine-score and odd posts : and here, travel-tainted as
I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John
Colevile of the dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy :
But what of that ? he saw me, and yielded ; that I may justly say
with the hook-nosed fellow of Kome, 1 came, saw, and over-
came.
* Foolishly.
508 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT IT.
P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.
Fal. I know not ; here he is, and here I yield him : and I he-
seech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day's
deeds ; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else,
with mine own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my foot :
To the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like
gilt twopences to me: and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine
you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element,
which show like pins' heads to her ; believe not the word of the
noble : Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.
P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount.
Fal. Let it shine then.
P. John. Thine's too thick to shine.
Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good,
and call it what you will.
P. John. Is thy name Colevile ?
Cole. It is, my lord.
P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile,
Fal. And a famous true subject took him.
Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are,
That led me hither ; had they been ruled by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have.
Fal. I know not how they sold themselves, but thou, like a
kind fellow, gavest thyself away ; and I thank thee for thee.
He-enter Westmoeeland.
P. John. Now, have you left pursuit ?
West. Retreat is made, and execution staj^d.
P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates,
To York, to present execution : —
Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
[Fxeunt some with COLEVILE.
And now despatch we toward the court, my lords ;
I hear, the king my father is sore sick :
Our news shall go before us to his majesty, —
Which, cousin, you shall bear, — to comfort bim ;
And we with sober speed will follow you.
Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through
Glostershire : and when you come to court, stand my good lord,
'pray, in your good report.
P. John. Fare you well, FalstafF: T, in my condition,*
Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit.
Fal. I would, you had but the wit ; 'twere better than your
dukedom. — Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth
not love me ; nor a man cannot make him laugh ; but that's no
marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of these demure
boys come to any proof : for thin drink doth so over-cool their
blood, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of
male green-sickness ; and then, when they marry, they get
wenches : they are generally fools and cowards ; — which some of
us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath
* Present temper.
SCENE IT.] SECOND PABT OF KINO HENBY IV. 509
a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain ; dries
me there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours which en-
viron it ; makes it .apprehensive,* quick, forgetive,t full of nimble,
fiery, and delectable shapes ; which delivered o'er to the voice
(the tongue), which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The
second property of your excellent sherris is, — the warming of the
blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and
pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice : but the
sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the
parts extreme. It illumineth the face ; which, as a beacon,
gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm :
and then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, muster
me all to their captain, the heart ; who, great, and puffed up with
this retinue, doth any deed of courage ; and this valour comes of
sherris : So that skill in the weapon is nothing, without sack ;
for that sets it a-work : and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept
by a devil ; till sack commences it,£ and sets it in act and use.
Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant : for the cold blood
he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril,
and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent
endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherris;
that he is become very not, and valiant. If I had a thousand
sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should be,
to forswear thin potations, and addict themselves to sack.
Enter Bardolph.
How now, Bardolph ?
Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone.
Fal. Let them go. I'll through Glostershire ; and there will
I visit master Kobert Shallow, esquire : I have him already
tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I
seal with him. § Come away. . [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.— Westminster. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King Henry, Clarence, Prince Humphrey,
•Warwick, and others.
K. Hen. Now. lords, if heaven doth give successful end >
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors.
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd,|| our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And everything lies level to our wish :
Only, we want a little personal strength ;
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of government.
War. Both which, we doubt not but your majesty
Shall soon enjoy.
* Quick of apprehension. + Inventive. i Brings it into action.
I) An allusion to the old use of sealing with soft wax.
I Ready, prepared.
510 SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY IT. [ACT IV
K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster,
Where is the prince your brother ?
P. Humph. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.
K. Hen. And how accompanied ?
P. Humph. I do not know, my lord.
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence with him ?
P. Humph. No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
Cla. What would my lord and father ?
K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
How chance, thou art not with the prince thy brother ?
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas,
Thou hast a better place in his affection,
Than all thy brothers : cherish it, my boy ;
And noble offices thou mayst effect
Of mediation, after I am dead.
Between his greatness and thy other brethren :
Therefore, omit him not ; blunt not his love :
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace,
By seeming cold, or careless of his will.
For he is gracious, if he be observed ;*
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity :
Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint :
As humorousf as winter, and as sudden
As flawsj congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observed :
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth :
But, being moody, give him line and scope ;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends ;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ;
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion§
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in),
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder.
Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
JT. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas ?
Cla. He is not there to-day ; he dines in London.
K. Hen. And how accompanied? canst thou tell that ?
Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers.
K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds ;
And he, the noble image of my youth,
Is overspread with them : therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death ;
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape,
In forms imaginary, the unguided days,
And rotten times, that you shall look upon
* Has an attention shown him. t Changeable.
j Gusts of wind. $ Temptation.
8CENE TV.] 8EC0ND PAST OF KINO HENBY IV. 611
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors.
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly
Towards fronting peril and opposed decay !
War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite :
The prince but studies his companions,
Like a strange tongue : wherein, to gain the language,
'TLs needful, that the most immodest word
Be look'd upon, and learn'd ; which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, ana hated. So, like gross terms,
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers : and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
By which his grace must mete the lives of others ;
Turning past evils to advantages.
K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her comb
In the dead carrion. — Who's here ? Westmoreland ?
Enter WESTMOBELAND.
West. Health to my sovereign ! and new happiness
Added to that that I am to deliver !
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand :
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law ;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,
But peace puts forth her olive everywhere.
The manner how this action hath been borne,
•Here at more leisure, may your highness read ;
With every course, in his particular*
K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look ! here's more news.
Enter Habcouet.
Mar. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ;
And, when they stand against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you of !
The earl of Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,
With a great power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown :
The manner and true order of the fight,
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news make me sick ?
Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters ?
She either gives a stomach, and no food, —
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast,
* Its detail-
612 SECOND PART OF KING HENBY IT. [ACT IV.
And takes away the stomach— such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news ;
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy : —
O me ! come near me, now I am much ill. [Swoons.
P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty !
Cla. O my royal father !
West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up !
War. Be patient, princes ; you do know, these fits
Are with his highness very ordinary.
Stand from him, give him air ; he'll straight be well.
Cla. No, no ; he cannot long hold out these pangs ;
The incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure * that should confine it in,
So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.
P. Humph. The people fear me ;t for they do observe
TJnfather'd heirs, X and loathly birds of nature :
The seasons change their manners, as§ the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them over.
Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between :
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say, it did so a little time before
That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died.
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers.
P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end.
K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber : softly, 'pray.
{They convey the King into an inner part of
the room, and place him on a bed.
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends ;
Unless some dull|| and favourable hand
"Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
War. Call for the music in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise.
Enter Prince Henry.
P. Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence ?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
P. Hen. How now ! rain within doors, and none abroad !
How doth the king ?
P. Humph. Exceeding ill.
P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet ?
Tell it Him.
P. Humph. He alter'd much upon the hearing it.
P. Hen. Ifhebesick
With joy, he will recover without physic.
War. Not so much noise, my lords : — sweet prince, speak low ;
The king your father is disposed to sleep.
* Worked the wall. J Make me afraid. X Monster*.
j (As if.) || Gently soothing.
SCENE TV.] SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. C13
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will't please your grace to go along with us ?
P. Hen. No ; I will sit and watch here by the king.
[Exeunt all but PRINCE HENET.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
O polish'd perturbation ! golden care !
That keeps the ports* of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night ! — sleep with it now !
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet,
As he, whose brow, with homely biggin t bound,
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty !
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit
Like a rich armour worn m heat of day,
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not :
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move.— My gracious lord ! my father !
This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep,
That from this golden rigolj hath divorced
So many English kings. Thy due, from me,
Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood ;
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness,
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously :
My due, from thee, is this imperial crown ;
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, — [Putting it on his head.
Which heaven shall guard : And put the world's whole strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honour from me : This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. [Exit.
K. Hen. Warwick ! Gloster ! Clarence !
He-enter Warwick, and the rest.
Cla. Doth the king call ?
War. What would your majesty ? How fares your grace ?
K. Hen. Why did you leave me here alone, my lords ?
Cla. We left the prince my brother here, my liege,
Who undertook to sit and watch by you.
K. Hen. The prince of Wales ? Where is he ? let me see him :
He is not here.
War. This door is open ; he is gone this way.
P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where we staydL
K. Hen. Where is the crown ? who took it from my pillow ?
War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here.
K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence : — go, seek him out,
Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose
My sleep my death ?
Pind him, my lord of Warwick ; chide him hither.
[Exit Warwick.
This part of his conjoins with my disease,
* Gates. + Ca P- * Circle.
VOL. II. 2 L
514 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT IV.
And helps to end me. — See, sons, what things you are !
How quickly nature falls into revolt,
When gold becomes her object !
For this the foolish over-careful fathers
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care,
Their bones with industry ;
for this they have engrossed and piled up
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold ;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises :
When, like the bee, tolling* from every flower
The virtuous sweets ;
Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive ; and, like the bees,
Are murder'd for our pains. This bitter taste
Yield his engrossments! to the ending father.—
Re-enter Waewick.
Now, where is he that will not stay so long
Till his friend sickness hath determined J me ?
War. My lord, I found the prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ;
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow,
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife '
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither.
K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown ?
He-enter PsiNCE HENEY.
Lo, where he comes.— Come hither to me, Harry :—
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone.
[Exeunt Claeence, Pbince Htjmpheey, Lords, $(c.
P. Sen. I never thought to hear you speak again.
K. Hen. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought :
I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours
Before thy hour be ripe ? O foolish youth !
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little ; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop : my day is dim.
Thou hast stolen that, which, after some few hours,
Were thine without offence ; and, at my death,
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation :§
Thy life did manifest, thou loVdst me not,
And trou wilt have me die assured of it.
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts ;
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,
* Taking toll. t Accumulations.
X Ended. $ Confirmed my opinion
SCENE IV.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. 515
To stab at half an hour of my life.
What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ?
Then get thee gone, and dig my grave thyself;
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear,
That thou art crown'd, not that I am dead.
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse,
Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head :
Only compound me with forgotten dust ;
Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms ;
Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ;
For now a time is come to mock at form.
Harry the Fifth is crown'd : — Up, vanity !
Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence !
And to the English court assemble now,
From every region, apes of idleness !
Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum :
Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more :
England shall double gild his treble guilt ;
England shall give him office, honour, might :
For the fifth Harry from curb'd license plucks
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog
Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.
my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows !
When that my care could not withhold thy riots,
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care ?
O, thou wilt be a wilderness again ?
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants !
P. Sen. O pardon me, my liege ! but for my tears, [Kneeling.
The moist impediments unto my speech,
1 had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke,
Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard
The course of it so far. There is your crown ;
And He that wears the crown immortally,
Long guard it yours ! If I aflfect it more,
Than as your honour, and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise
(Which my most true and inward-duteous spirit
Teacheth), this prostrate and exterior bending !
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in,
And found no course of breath within your majesty,
How cold it struck my heart ! if I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die ;
And never live to show the incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposed !
Coming to look on you. thinking you dead
(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were),
I spake unto the crown as having sense,
And thus upbraided it : The eare on thee depending,
JIathfed upon the body of my father ;
Therefore, thou best of gold, art worst of gold;
2L 2
516 SECOND PART OF KIXG HENEY IT. [ACT IT.
Other, less fine in carat* is more precious,
Preserving life in med'cine potable :f
Hut thou, most fine, most honoured, most renown'd,
Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus my most royal liege,
Accusing it, I put it on my head;
To try with it, — as with an enemy,
That had before my face murder 'd my father —
The quarrel of a true inheritor.
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride ;
If any rebel or vain spirit of mine
Did, with the least affection of a welcome,
Give entertainment to the might of it,
Let God for ever keep it from my head !
And make me as the poorest vassal is,
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it !
K. Hen. Oh my son !
Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence,
That thou mightst win the more thy father's !ove,
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it.
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed ;
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son,
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways,
I met this crown ; and I myself know well,
How troublesome it sat upon my head :
To thee it shall descend with better quiet,
Better opinion, better confirmation ;
For all the soil J of the achievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me,
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand ;
And I had many living, to upbraid
My gain of it by their assistances ;
Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed,
Wounding supposed peace : all these bold fears,§
Thou seest with peril I have answered :
For all my reign hath been but as a scene
Acting that argument ; and now my death
Changes the mode : || for what in me was purchased, 1 ^
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ;
So thou the garland wear'st successively.**
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do,
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green,
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy friends,
Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out ;
By whose fell working I was first advanced,
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear
To be again displaced : which to avoid,
I cut them off; and had a purpose now
To lead out many to the Holy Land ;
* Weight. t In solution. t Spot, dirt. $ Alarms.
1 State of things. «J 111 acquired. ** In succession.
SCENE IT.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENBT IV. 517
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds
"With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so,
That strength of speech is utterly denied me.
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive !
And grant it may with thee in true peace live !
P. Hen. My gracious liege,
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me :
Then plain, and right, must my possession be :
^Miich I, with more than with a common pain,
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.
Enter Prince John of Lancaster, "Waewick, Lords,
and others.
K. Hen. Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster.
P. John. Health, peace, and happiness, to my royal father !
K. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John ;
But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare, wither'd trunk ; upon thy sight,
My worldly business makes a period.
Where is my lord of Warwick ?
P. Hen. My lord of "Warwick !
K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon ?
War. 'Tis called Jerusalem, my noble lord.
K. Hen. Laud be to God ! — even there my life must end.
It hath been prophesied to me many years,
I should not die but in Jerusalem ;
"Which vainly I supposed, the Holy Land : —
But bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie :
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. {Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.—Glostershire. A Hall in Shallow's House.
Enter SHALLOW, Falstaff, Baedolph, and Page.
Shal. By cock and pye, Sir, you shall not away to-night.
"What, Davy, I say !
Fal. You must excuse me, master Robert Shallow.
Shal. I will not excuse you ; you shall not be excused ; excuses
shall not be admitted ; there is no excuse shall serve ; you shall
not be excused.— "Why, Davy !
Enter DAVT.
Davy. Here, Sir.
Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy,— let me see, Davy ; let me see :— yea,
518 8EC0ND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT V.
marry, William cook, bid him come hither. — Sir John, you shall
not be excused.
Davy. Marry, Sir, thus; — those precepts* cannot be served:
and, again. Sir, — Shall we sow the headland with wheat ?
Shal. With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook : Are
there no young pigeons ?
Davy. Yes, Sir. Here is now the smith's note, for shoeing,
and plough-irons.
Shal. Let it be cast, and paid: Sir John, you shall not be
excused.
Davy. Now, Sir, a new link to the bucket must needs be had :
— And, Sir, do you mean to stop any of William's wages, about
the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley fair ?
Shal. He shall answer it : — —Some pigeons, Davy ; a couple of
short-legg'd hens ; a joint of mutton ; and any pretty little tiny
kickshaws, tell William cook.
Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, Sir ?
Shal. Y^es, Davy. I will use him well ; A friend i' the court is
better than a penny in purse. Use his men well, Davy ; for they
are arrant knaves, and will backbite.
Davy. No worse than they are backbitten, Sir ; for they have
marvellous foul linen.
Shal. Well conceited, Davy. About thy business, Davy.
Davy. I beseech you, Sir, to countenance William Visor of
Wincot against Clement Perkes of the hill.
Shal. There are many complaints, Davy, against that Visor ;
that Visor is an arrant knave on my knowledge.
Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a knave, Sir : but yet,
God forbid, Sir, but a knave should have some countenance at
his friend's request. An honest man, Sir, is able to speak for
himself, when a knave is not. I have served your worship truly,
Sir, this eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in a quarter
bear out a knave against an honest man, I have but a very little
credit with your worship. The knave is mine honest friend, Sir ;
therefore, I beseech your worship, let him be countenanced.
Shal. Go to ; I say, he shall have no wrong. Look about,
Davy. [Exit Davy.] Where are you, Sir John ? Come, off with
your boots. — Give me your hand, master Bardolph.
Bard. I am glad to see your worship.
Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind master Eardolph :
— and welcome, my tall fellow. [To the Page.] Come, Sir
John. [Exit Shallow.
Fal. I'll follow you, good master Robert Shallow. Bardolph,
look to our horses. [Exeunt Baedolph and Page.] If I were
sawed into quantities, I should make four dozen of such bearded
hermit's-staves as master Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, to
see the semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his : They,
by observing him, do bear themselves like foolish justices ; he, by
conversing with them, is turned into a justice-like serving-man;
their spirits are so married in conjunction with the participation
of society, that they flock together in consent, like so many wild
* Warrants.
SCENE II.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IV. 519
geese. If I had a suit to master Shallow, I would humour his
men, with the imputation of being near their master.* If to his
men, I would curry f with master Shallow, that no man could
better command his servants. It is certain that either wise bear-
ing, or ignorant carriage, is caught, as men take diseases, one of
another : therefore, let men take heed of their company. I will
devise matter enough out of this Shallow, to keep prince Harry in
continual laughter, the wearing out of six fashions (which is tour
terms, or two actions,* and he shall laugh without intervallums. O,
it is much, that a he, with a slight oath, and jest with a sad brow,§
will do with a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders !
O, you shall see him laugh, till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid
up.
Shal. [within). Sir John !
Fal. f come, master Shallow ; I come, master Shallow.
[Exit Palstaff.
SCENE II. — Westminster. A Room in the Palace.
Enter WAEWTCK, and the LoED CHIEF JUSTICE.
War. How now, my lord chief justice ? whither away ?
Ch. Just. How doth the king ?
War. Exceeding well ; his cares are now all ended.
Ch. Just. I hope, not dead.
War. He's walk d the way of nature ;
And, to our purposes, he lives no more.
Ch. Just. I would, his majesty had call'd me with him :
The service that I truly did his life,
Hath left me open to all injuries.
War. Indeed, I think, the young king loves you not.
Ch. Just. I know, he doth not ; and do arm myself,
To welcome the condition of the time ;
Which cannot look more hideously on me
Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.
Enter Peince John, Pbince Humphbey, Claeence,
"WESTMOEELAND, and others.
War. Here comes the heavy issue of dead Harry :
O, that the living Harry had the temper
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen !
How many nobles then should hold their places,
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort !
Ch. Jvst. Alas ! 1 fear, all will be overturn'd.
P. John. Good morrow, cousin Warwick.
P. Humph. Cla. Good morrow, cousin.
P. John. We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
War. We do remember ; but our argument
Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
* In their master's confidence. t Rub him down, flatter him.
t Perioil necessary for the prosecution of two actions for debt.
$ A serious face.
520 SECOND PART OF EING HEXKY IT. [ACT V.
P. John. "Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy !
Ch. Just. Peace be with us, lest we be heavier !
P. Humph. O, good my lord, you have lost a friend, indeed :
And I dare swear, you borrow not that face
Of seeming sorrow ; it is sure, your own.
P. John. Though no man be assured what grace to find,
You stand in coldest expectation :
I am the sorrier ; 'would 'twere otherwise.
Cla. Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair ;
Which swims against your stream of quality.
Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour,
Led by the impartial conduct of my soul ;
And never shall you see, that I will beg
A ragged and forestall'd remission. —
If truth andupright innocency fail me,
I'll to the king my master that is dead,
And tell him who hath sent me after him.
War. Here comes the prince.
Enter King Heney V.
Ch. Just. Good morrow ; and heaven save your majesty !
King. This new and gorgeous garment, majesty,
Sits not so easy on me as you think. —
Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear :
This is the English, not the Turkish court ;
Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
But Harry, Harry : Yet be sad, good brothers,
3 7 or, to speak truth ; it very well becomes you :
Sorrow, so royally in you appears,
That I will deeply put the fashion on,
And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad :
But entertain no more of it, good brothers,
Than a joint burden laid upon us all.
For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured,
I'll be your father and your brother too ;
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares.
Yet weep that Harry 's dead ; and so will I :
But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears,
By number, into hours of happiness.
B. John Sfc. We hope no other from your majesty.
King. You all look strangely on me : — and you most ;
[To the Ch. Justice.
You are, I think, assured I love you not.
Ch. Just. I am assured, if I be measured rightly,
Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
King.sSol
How might a prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid upon me ?
What ! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison
The immediate heir of England r Was this easy ?*
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten ?
* /. e. to be endured.
SCENE II.] SECOND PART T)F KING HENEY IV. 521
Ch. Just. I then did use the person of your father ;
The image of his power lay then in me :
And, in the administration of his law,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your highness pleased to forget my place,
The majesty and power of law and justice,
The image of the king, whom I presented,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment:
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority,
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,*
To have a son set your decrees at nought ;
To pluck down justice from your awful bench ;
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person :
Nay, more ; to spurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.f
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours ;
Be now the father, and propose* a son :
Hear your own dignity so much profaned,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd ;
And then imagine me taking your part,
And, in your power, soft silencing your son :
After this cola considerance, sentence me ;
And, as you are a king, speak in your state,§
What I have done, that misbecame my place,
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.
King. You are right, justice, and you weigh this well ;
Therefore still bear the balance and the sword :
And I do wish your honours may increase,
Till you do live to see a son of mine
Offend you, and obey you, as I did.
So shall I live to speak my father's words ; —
Happy am I, that have a man so bold,
That dares do justice on my proper son :
And not less happy, having such a son,
That would deliver up his greatness so
Into the hands of justice. — You did commit me :
For which, I do commit into your hand
The unstained sword that you have used to bear ;
With this remembrance, 1 1 — That you use the same
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit,
As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand ;
You shall be as a father to my youth :
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear ;
And I will stoop and humble my intents
To your well-practised, wise directions.
* Crown.
t Treat with contempt your acts executed by a representative.
J Imagine yourself with a sou. $ Regal character.
t Admonition.
522 SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IT. [ACT T.
And, princes, ail, believe me, I beseech you ; —
My father is gone wild into his grave,
For in his tomb lie my affections;
And with his spirit sadly* I survive,
To mock the expectation of the world ;
To frustrate prophecies ; and to raze out
Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me
Hath proudly fiow'd in vanity, till now :
Now doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea ;
Where it shall mingle with the statet of floods,
And flow henceforth in formal majesty.
Now call we our high court of parliament :
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel,
That the great body of our state may go
In equal rank with the best-govern'd nation
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be
As thing acquainted and familiar to us;
In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. —
[To the Loed Chief Justice.
Our coronation done, we will accite,J
As I before remember'd, all our state :
And (God consigning to my good intents),
No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause to say, —
Heaven shorten Harry's happy life one day. [Exeunt.
SCENE IIL—GlostersUre. T7ie Garden of Shallow's house.
Enter Falstaff, Shallow', Silence, Babdolph, the Page,
and Davy.
Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard: where, in an arbour,
we will eat a last year's pippin of my own grafting, with a dish
of caraways, and so forth ; — come, cousin Silence ; — and then to
bed.
Fal. 'Fore Go'd, you have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich.
Shal. Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John :
— marry, good air. — Spread, Davy; spread, Davy; well said, Davy.
Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your serving-
man, and your husbandman.
Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, Sir
John. — By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at supper :
a good varlet. Now, sit down, now sit down :— come, cousin.
Sil. Ah, sirrah ! quoth-a, — we shall
Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, [Singing.
And praise heaven for the merry year ;
When flesh is cheap and females dear,
And lusty lads roam here and there,
So merrily,
And ever among so merrily.
Fal. There's a merry heart !— Good master Silence, I'll give
you a health for that anon.
* Gravely. t Dignity. } Summon.
SCENE III.] 8EC0ND PAET OF KING HENBY IV. 623
Shal. Give master Bardolph some wine, Davy.
Davy. Sweet Sir, sit [Sealing BaEDOLPH and the Page at
another table]. I'll be with you anon : — most sweet Sir, sit ■
Master Page, good master Page, sit : proface ! * "What you want
in meat, we'll have in drink. But you must bear ; The heart 'st
all. [Exit.
Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph; — and my little soldier
there, be merry.
Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife 's as all ;% [Singing.
For women are shrews, both short and tall :
'Tis merry in hall, when beards toag all,
And welcome merry shrove-tide.
Be merry, be merry, $c.
Fal. I did not think, master Silence had been a man of this
mettle.
SiL Who I ? I have been merry twice and once, ere now.
Re-enter Davy.
Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats§ for you.
[Setting them before BARDOLPH.
Shal. Davy, —
Davy. Your worship ? — I'll be with you straight. [To Babd.J
— A cup of wine, Sir ?
Sil. A cup ofxoine, thafs brisk and fine, [Singing.
And drink unto the leman\\ mine ;
And a merry heart lives long-a.
Fal. "Well said, master Silence.
SU. And we snail be merry ;— now comes in the sweet of the
night.
Fal. Health and long life to you, master Silence.
Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ;
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.
Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : if thou wantest anything,
and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. — "Welcome, my little tiny
thief [ To the Page] ; and welcome, indeed, too. — I'll drink to
master Bardolph, and to all the cavalieroes about London.
Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die.
Bard. An 1 might see you there Davy, —
Shal. By the mass you'll crack a quart together. Ha ! will
you not, master Bardolph ?
Bard. Yes, Sir, in a pottle pot.
Shal. I thank thee: — The knave will stick by thee, I can assure
thee that : he will not out ; he is true bred.
Bard. And I'll stick by him, Sir.
Shal. "Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry.
[Knocking heard.] Look who's at door there : Ho ! who knocks?
[Exit Davy.
Fal. "Why, now you have done me right.
[To Silence, who drinks a bumper.
* Much good may it do you. t Intention. i As all women are.
i Russetines. | Sweetheart.
524 SECOND PABT OF KING HEN ItT IV. [ACT V.
Sil. Do trie rigid, [Singing.
And dub me knight :*
Samingo.f
1st not so?
Fal. 'Tisso.
Sil. Is't so ? "Why, then say, an old man can do somewhat.
He-enter Davy.
Davy. An it please your worship, there's one Pistol come from
.the court with news.
Fal. From the court, let him come in. —
Enter PlSTOL.
Fal. How now, Pistol ?
Fist. God save you, Sir John !
Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol ?
Fist. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. — Sweet
knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm.
Sil. By'r lady, I think 'a be ; but£ goodman Pull' of Barton.
Pitt. Puff?
Puffin thy teeth, most recreant coward base ! —
Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend,
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee ;
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys,
And golden times, and happy news of price.
Fal. I pr'ythee now, deliver them like a man of this world.
Fist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings base !
I speak of Africa, and golden joys.
Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news ?
Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Sil. And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. [Sings.
Fist. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ?
And shall good news be baffled ?
Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Puries' lap.
Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding.
Pist. Why theii, lament therefore.
Shal. Give me pardon, Sir ; If, Sir, you come with news from
the court, I take it, there is but two ways ; either to utter them,
or to conceal them. I am, Sir, under the king, in some authority.
Pist. Under which king, Bezonian ?§ speak, or die.
Shal. Under king Harry.
Pist. Harry the fourth ? or fifth ?
Shal. Harry the fourth.
Pist. A foutra for thine office ! —
Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king ;
Harry the fifth's the man. I speak the truth :
When Pistol lies, do this; and fig|| me, like
The bragging Spaniard.
Fal. What ! is the old king dead ?
Fist. As nail in door : The things I speak, are just.
* He who drank a great bumper on his knees to the health of his mistress
■was dubbed a knight for the evening,
t San Domingo ; it is part of a song in one of Nashe's plays.
} Except. § Biso^noso, beggarly fellow.
U Make figs at me (put the thumb between the fore and middle fingers).
SCENE IT.] SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY IT. C23
Fal. Away, Bardolph, saddle my horse. — Master Eobert Shal-
low, choose what office thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. — Pistol,
I will double-charge thee with dignities.
Bard. O joyful day !— I would not take a knighthood for my
fortune.
PiM. What? I do bring good news ?
Fal. Carry master Silence to bed. — Master Shallow, my lord
Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am fortune's steward. Get on thy
boots ; we'll ride all night : — O, sweet Pistol ; — Away, Bardolph.
[Exit Bahd.] — Come, ristol, utter more to me ; and, withal, de-
vise something, to do thyself good. — Boot, boot, master Shallow ;
I know, the young king is sick for me. Let us take any man's
horses; the laws of England are at my commandment. Happy
are they which have been my friends ; and woe to my lord chief
justice !
Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also !
Where is the life that late I Ud, say they :
"Why, here it is ; welcome these pleasant days. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV— London. A street.
Enter BEADLES, dragging in Hostess QUICKLY and
Doll Teae-sheet.
Jlost. No, thou arrant knave: I would I might die, that I might
have thee hanged : thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
1 Bead. The constables have delivered her over to me ; and
she shall have whipping cheer enough, I warrant her: there
hath been a man or two lately killed about her.
Dol. Nut-hook, nut-hook,* you lie. Come on ; I'll tell thee
what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal ; an the child I now go
with, do miscarry, thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy
mother, thou paper-faced villain.
Host. O the lord, that Sir John were come, he would make
this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the fruit of her
womb miscarry !
1 Bead. If it do, you shall have a dozen or cushions! again ;
you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go with
me ; for the man is dead, that you and Pistol beat among you.
Dol. I'll tell thee what, thou thin man in a censer !£ I will
have you as soundly swinged for this, you blue-bottle rogue ! 5
you filthy famished correctioner ! if you be not swinged, I'll
forswear half-kirtles. ||
1 Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errand come.
Host. O, that right should thus overcome might ! Well ; of
sufferance comes ease.
Dol. Come, you rogue, come ; bring me to a justice.
Host. Ay ; come, you starved blood-hound.
Dol. Goodman death ! goodman bones !
Host. Thou atomy, thou !
Dol. Come, you thin thing ! come, you rascal !
1 Bead. Very well. [Exeunt.
* Catchpole. t To stuff her out to counterfeit pregnancy.
t The embossed figure in a censer.
4 Beadles wore a blue livery. I Short cloaks.
526 SECOND PAST OF KING HENEY IV. [ACT V.
SCENE V. — A public place near Westminster Abbey.
Enter two GEOOMS, strewing Mushes.
1 Groom. More rushes, more rushes.
2 Groom. The trumpets have sounded twice.
1 Groom. It will be two o'clock ere they come from the coro-
nation : Despatch, despatch. [Exeunt Geooms.
Enter Palstaff, Shallow, Pistol, Baedolph, and
the Page.
Fal. Stand here by me, master Robert Shallow ; I will make
the king do you grace : I will leer upon him, as 'a comes by ;
and do but mark the countenance that he will give me.
Fist. God bless thy lungs, good knight.
Fal. Come here, Pistol ; stand behind me. — O, if I had had
time to have made new liveries, I would have bestowed the
thousand pound I borrowed of you. [To Shallow.] But 'tis no
matter ; this poor show doth better : this doth infer the zeal I
had to see him.
Shal. It doth so.
Fal. It shows my earnestness of affection.
Shal. It doth so.
' Fal. My devotion.
Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth.
Fal. As it were, to ride day and night ; and not to deliberate,
not to remember, not to have patience to shift me.
Shal. It is most certain.
Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with de-
sire to see him : thinking of nothing else ; putting all affairs else
in oblivion ; as if there were nothing else to be done, but to see
him.
Fist. 'Tis semper idem, for absque hoc nihil est: 'Tis all in all,
and all in every part.
Shal. 'Tis so ; indeed.
Fist. My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver,
And make thee rage.
Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts,
Is in base durance, and contagious prison ;
Haul'd thither
By most mechanical and dirty hand : —
Bouse up revenge from ebon den with fell Alecto's snake,
For Doll is in ; Pistol speaks nought but truth.
Fal. I will deliver her.
[Shouts within, and the Trumpets sound.
Fist. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangour sounds.
Enter the KlNG and his Train, the CHIEF JUSTICE among them.
Fal. God save thy grace, king Hal ! my royal Hal !
Fist. The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp* of
fame !
Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy !
King. My lord chief justice, speak to that vain man.
* Child.
8CENE T.] SECOND PART OF KING IIENKY IT. 527
Ch. Just. Have you your wits ? know you what 'tis you speak?
Fal. My kins ! my Jove ! I speak to thee, my heart !
King. I know thee not, old man : Fall to thy prayers ;
How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester.
I have long dreani'd of such a kind of man,
So surfeit-swell'd, so old. and so profane;*
But, being awake, I do despise my dream.
Make less thy body hence,t and more thy grace ;
Leave gormandizing ; know, the grave doth gape
For thee thrice wider than for other men : —
Reply not to me with a fool-born jest ;
Presume not. that I am the thing I was :
For heaven doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have turn'd away my former self;
So will I those that kept me company.
When thou dost hear I am as I have been,
Approach me ; and thou shalt be as thou wast,
The tutor and the feeder of my riots :
Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, —
As I have done the rest of my misleaders, —
Not to come near our person by ten mile.
For competence of life, I will allow you,
That lack of means enforce you not to evil :
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves.
We will, — according to your strength, and qualities.
Give you advancement. — Be it your charge, my lord,
To see perform'd the tenor of our word.
Set on. [Exeunt King and his train.
Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound.
Shal. Ay, marry, Sir John ; which I beseech you to let me
have home with me.
Fal. That can hardly be, master Shallow. Do not you grieve at
this ; I shall be sent for in private to him : look you, he must
seem thus to the world. Fear not your advancement ; I will be
the man yet, that shall make you great.
Shal. I cannot perceive how ; unless you give me your
doublet, and stuff me out with straw. I beseech you, good Sir
John, let me have five hundred of my thousand.
Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word : this that you heard,
was but a colour.
Shal. A colour, I fear, that you will die in, Sir John.
Fal. Fear no colours ; go with me to dinner. Come, lieute-
nant Pistol ; — come, Bardolph : I shall be sent for soon at night.
Re-enter Prince John, the Chief Justice, Officers, Sec
Ch. Just. Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet :
Take all his company along with him.
Fal. My lord, my lord,
Ch. Just. I cannot now speak : I will hear you soon.
Take them away.
Pist. Sifortuna me lormenta, spero me contenta.
[Exeunt Fal. Shal. Pist. Bard. Page, and Officer*.
•"Talkative. f Henceforward.
528 SECOND PABT OF KING HEliRY IV. [ACT T.
P. John. I like this fair proceeding of the king's :
He hath intent, his wonted followers
Shall all be very well provided for ;
But all are bamsh'd, till their conversations
Appear more wise and modest to the world.
Ch. Just. And so they are.
P. John. The king hath call'd his parliament, my lord.
Ch.Just. He hath.
P. John. I will lay odds, — that, ere this year expire,
"We bear our civil swords, and native fire,
As far as France : I heard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
Come, will you hence ? [Exeunt
EPILOGUE
Spoken by a Danceb.
Eirst, my fear ; then, my court'sy ; last, my speech. My fear
is, your displeasure ; my court'sy, my duty ; and my speech, to
beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now, you undo
me : for what I have to say is of mine own making; and what,
indeed, I should say, will, I doubt, prove mine own marring.
But to the purpose, and so to the venture.— Be it known to you
(as it is very well), I was lately here in the end of a displeasing
play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise you a better. I
did mean, indeed, to pay you with this : which, if, like an ill
venture, it come unluckily home, 1 break, and you, my gentle
creditors, lose. Here, I promised you, I would be, and here I com-
mit my body to your mercies ; bate me some, and I will pay
you some, and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely.
If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you com-
mand me to use my legs ? and yet that were but light payment.
— to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make
any possible satisfaction, and so will I. All the gentlewomen
here have forgiven me; if the gentlemen will not, then the gen-
tlemen do not agree witli the gentlewomen, which was never
seen before in such an assembly.
One word more, 1 beseech you. If you be not too much
cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will continue the story,
with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair Katharine of
Prance : where, for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat,
unless already he be killed with your hard opinions; for Old-
castle died a martyr, and this is not the man. My tongue is
weary; when my legs are too, I will bid you good night : and so
kneel down before you, — but, indeed, to pray for the queen.
end of vol. II.
^764-1
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