AS YOU LIKE IT DRAMATIS PERSONAE DUKE SENIOR living in banishment. DUKE FREDERICK his brother, an usurper of his dominions. AMIENS | | lords attending on the banished duke. JAQUES | LE BEAU a courtier attending upon Frederick. CHARLES wrestler to Frederick. OLIVER | | JAQUES (JAQUES DE BOYS:) | sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. | ORLANDO | ADAM | | servants to Oliver. DENNIS | TOUCHSTONE a clown. SIR OLIVER MARTEXT a vicar. CORIN | | shepherds. SILVIUS | WILLIAM a country fellow in love with Audrey. A person representing HYMEN. (HYMEN:) ROSALIND daughter to the banished duke. CELIA daughter to Frederick. PHEBE a shepherdess. AUDREY a country wench. Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. (Forester:) (A Lord:) (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) (First Page:) (Second Page:) SCENE Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the Forest of Arden. AS YOU LIKE IT ACT I SCENE I Orchard of Oliver's house. [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM] ORLANDO As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. ADAM Yonder comes my master, your brother. ORLANDO Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. [Enter OLIVER] OLIVER Now, sir! what make you here? ORLANDO Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. OLIVER What mar you then, sir? ORLANDO Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. OLIVER Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. ORLANDO Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? OLIVER Know you where your are, sir? ORLANDO O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. OLIVER Know you before whom, sir? ORLANDO Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. OLIVER What, boy! ORLANDO Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. OLIVER Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? ORLANDO I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself. ADAM Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's remembrance, be at accord. OLIVER Let me go, I say. ORLANDO I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. OLIVER And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. ORLANDO I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. OLIVER Get you with him, you old dog. ADAM Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! he would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM] OLIVER Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! [Enter DENNIS] DENNIS Calls your worship? OLIVER Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? DENNIS So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you. OLIVER Call him in. [Exit DENNIS] 'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. [Enter CHARLES] CHARLES Good morrow to your worship. OLIVER Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the new court? CHARLES There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. OLIVER Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be banished with her father? CHARLES O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. OLIVER Where will the old duke live? CHARLES They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world. OLIVER What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? CHARLES Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether against my will. OLIVER Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother's purpose herein and have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles: it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep and thou must look pale and wonder. CHARLES I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: and so God keep your worship! OLIVER Farewell, good Charles. [Exit CHARLES] Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about. [Exit] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT I SCENE II Lawn before the Duke's palace. [Enter CELIA and ROSALIND] CELIA I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. ROSALIND Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. CELIA Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee. ROSALIND Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. CELIA You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. ROSALIND From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love? CELIA Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour come off again. ROSALIND What shall be our sport, then? CELIA Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. ROSALIND I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women. CELIA 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly. ROSALIND Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. [Enter TOUCHSTONE] CELIA No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? ROSALIND Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of Nature's wit. CELIA Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but Nature's; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, wit! whither wander you? TOUCHSTONE Mistress, you must come away to your father. CELIA Were you made the messenger? TOUCHSTONE No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. ROSALIND Where learned you that oath, fool? TOUCHSTONE Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now I'll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not the knight forsworn. CELIA How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge? ROSALIND Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. TOUCHSTONE Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. CELIA By our beards, if we had them, thou art. TOUCHSTONE By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. CELIA Prithee, who is't that thou meanest? TOUCHSTONE One that old Frederick, your father, loves. CELIA My father's love is enough to honour him: enough! speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation one of these days. TOUCHSTONE The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly. CELIA By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. ROSALIND With his mouth full of news. CELIA Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. ROSALIND Then shall we be news-crammed. CELIA All the better; we shall be the more marketable. [Enter LE BEAU] Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news? LE BEAU Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. CELIA Sport! of what colour? LE BEAU What colour, madam! how shall I answer you? ROSALIND As wit and fortune will. TOUCHSTONE Or as the Destinies decree. CELIA Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. TOUCHSTONE Nay, if I keep not my rank,-- ROSALIND Thou losest thy old smell. LE BEAU You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. ROSALIND You tell us the manner of the wrestling. LE BEAU I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. CELIA Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. LE BEAU There comes an old man and his three sons,-- CELIA I could match this beginning with an old tale. LE BEAU Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. ROSALIND With bills on their necks, 'Be it known unto all men by these presents.' LE BEAU The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping. ROSALIND Alas! TOUCHSTONE But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost? LE BEAU Why, this that I speak of. TOUCHSTONE Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. CELIA Or I, I promise thee. ROSALIND But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? LE BEAU You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. CELIA Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. [Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants] DUKE FREDERICK Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. ROSALIND Is yonder the man? LE BEAU Even he, madam. CELIA Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully. DUKE FREDERICK How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither to see the wrestling? ROSALIND Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. DUKE FREDERICK You will take little delight in it, I can tell you; there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him. CELIA Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. DUKE FREDERICK Do so: I'll not be by. LE BEAU Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. ORLANDO I attend them with all respect and duty. ROSALIND Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? ORLANDO No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. CELIA Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. ROSALIND Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward. ORLANDO I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that was willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty. ROSALIND The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. CELIA And mine, to eke out hers. ROSALIND Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you! CELIA Your heart's desires be with you! CHARLES Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? ORLANDO Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. DUKE FREDERICK You shall try but one fall. CHARLES No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. ORLANDO An you mean to mock me after, you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways. ROSALIND Now Hercules be thy speed, young man! CELIA I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. [They wrestle] ROSALIND O excellent young man! CELIA If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [Shout. CHARLES is thrown] DUKE FREDERICK No more, no more. ORLANDO Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed. DUKE FREDERICK How dost thou, Charles? LE BEAU He cannot speak, my lord. DUKE FREDERICK Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? ORLANDO Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. DUKE FREDERICK I would thou hadst been son to some man else: The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy: Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: I would thou hadst told me of another father. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, train, and LE BEAU] CELIA Were I my father, coz, would I do this? ORLANDO I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, His youngest son; and would not change that calling, To be adopted heir to Frederick. ROSALIND My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father's mind: Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventured. CELIA Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him and encourage him: My father's rough and envious disposition Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved: If you do keep your promises in love But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy. ROSALIND Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck] Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz? CELIA Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. ORLANDO Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. ROSALIND He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown More than your enemies. CELIA Will you go, coz? ROSALIND Have with you. Fare you well. [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] ORLANDO What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. [Re-enter LE BEAU] LE BEAU Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved High commendation, true applause and love, Yet such is now the duke's condition That he misconstrues all that you have done. The duke is humorous; what he is indeed, More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. ORLANDO I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this: Which of the two was daughter of the duke That here was at the wrestling? LE BEAU Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; But yet indeed the lesser is his daughter The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, To keep his daughter company; whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. But I can tell you that of late this duke Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, Grounded upon no other argument But that the people praise her for her virtues And pity her for her good father's sake; And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. ORLANDO I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. [Exit LE BEAU] Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother: But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT I SCENE III A room in the palace. [Enter CELIA and ROSALIND] CELIA Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word? ROSALIND Not one to throw at a dog. CELIA No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. ROSALIND Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any. CELIA But is all this for your father? ROSALIND No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world! CELIA They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths our very petticoats will catch them. ROSALIND I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart. CELIA Hem them away. ROSALIND I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him. CELIA Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. ROSALIND O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself! CELIA O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? ROSALIND The duke my father loved his father dearly. CELIA Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando. ROSALIND No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. CELIA Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? ROSALIND Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the duke. CELIA With his eyes full of anger. [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords] DUKE FREDERICK Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste And get you from our court. ROSALIND Me, uncle? DUKE FREDERICK You, cousin Within these ten days if that thou be'st found So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. ROSALIND I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: If with myself I hold intelligence Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, If that I do not dream or be not frantic,-- As I do trust I am not--then, dear uncle, Never so much as in a thought unborn Did I offend your highness. DUKE FREDERICK Thus do all traitors: If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself: Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. ROSALIND Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. DUKE FREDERICK Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. ROSALIND So was I when your highness took his dukedom; So was I when your highness banish'd him: Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What's that to me? my father was no traitor: Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous. CELIA Dear sovereign, hear me speak. DUKE FREDERICK Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, Else had she with her father ranged along. CELIA I did not then entreat to have her stay; It was your pleasure and your own remorse: I was too young that time to value her; But now I know her: if she be a traitor, Why so am I; we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable. DUKE FREDERICK She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence and her patience Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. CELIA Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: I cannot live out of her company. DUKE FREDERICK You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords] CELIA O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. ROSALIND I have more cause. CELIA Thou hast not, cousin; Prithee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me, his daughter? ROSALIND That he hath not. CELIA No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? No: let my father seek another heir. Therefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go and what to bear with us; And do not seek to take your change upon you, To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. ROSALIND Why, whither shall we go? CELIA To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. ROSALIND Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. CELIA I'll put myself in poor and mean attire And with a kind of umber smirch my face; The like do you: so shall we pass along And never stir assailants. ROSALIND Were it not better, Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand; and--in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-- We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances. CELIA What shall I call thee when thou art a man? ROSALIND I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be call'd? CELIA Something that hath a reference to my state No longer Celia, but Aliena. ROSALIND But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel? CELIA He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together, Devise the fittest time and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. Now go we in content To liberty and not to banishment. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE I The Forest of Arden. [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords, like foresters] DUKE SENIOR Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 'This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.' Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life exempt from public haunt Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones and good in every thing. I would not change it. AMIENS Happy is your grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. DUKE SENIOR Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored. First Lord Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heaved forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. DUKE SENIOR But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? First Lord O, yes, into a thousand similes. First, for his weeping into the needless stream; 'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much:' then, being there alone, Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, ''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part The flux of company:' anon a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques, 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. DUKE SENIOR And did you leave him in this contemplation? Second Lord We did, my lord, weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. DUKE SENIOR Show me the place: I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter. First Lord I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE II A room in the palace. [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords] DUKE FREDERICK Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be: some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. First Lord I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, Saw her abed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. Second Lord My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman, Confesses that she secretly o'erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company. DUKE FREDERICK Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; If he be absent, bring his brother to me; I'll make him find him: do this suddenly, And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE III Before OLIVER'S house. [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting] ORLANDO Who's there? ADAM What, my young master? O, my gentle master! O my sweet master! O you memory Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny priser of the humorous duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not, master, to some kind of men Their graces serve them but as enemies? No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it! ORLANDO Why, what's the matter? ADAM O unhappy youth! Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives: Your brother--no, no brother; yet the son-- Yet not the son, I will not call him son Of him I was about to call his father-- Hath heard your praises, and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie And you within it: if he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off. I overheard him and his practises. This is no place; this house is but a butchery: Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. ORLANDO Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? ADAM No matter whither, so you come not here. ORLANDO What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road? This I must do, or know not what to do: Yet this I will not do, do how I can; I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. ADAM But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I saved under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse When service should in my old limbs lie lame And unregarded age in corners thrown: Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; And all this I give you. Let me be your servant: Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. ORLANDO O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee. But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry But come thy ways; well go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, We'll light upon some settled low content. ADAM Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; But at fourscore it is too late a week: Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well and not my master's debtor. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE IV The Forest of Arden. [Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena, and TOUCHSTONE] ROSALIND O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. ROSALIND I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, good Aliena! CELIA I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. TOUCHSTONE For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse. ROSALIND Well, this is the forest of Arden. TOUCHSTONE Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home, I was in a better place: but travellers must be content. ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. [Enter CORIN and SILVIUS] Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in solemn talk. CORIN That is the way to make her scorn you still. SILVIUS O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! CORIN I partly guess; for I have loved ere now. SILVIUS No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: But if thy love were ever like to mine-- As sure I think did never man love so-- How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? CORIN Into a thousand that I have forgotten. SILVIUS O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into, Thou hast not loved: Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not loved: Or if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not loved. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! [Exit] ROSALIND Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found mine own. TOUCHSTONE And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took two cods and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears 'Wear these for my sake.' We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. ROSALIND Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. ROSALIND Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion. TOUCHSTONE And mine; but it grows something stale with me. CELIA I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food: I faint almost to death. TOUCHSTONE Holla, you clown! ROSALIND Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. CORIN Who calls? TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir. CORIN Else are they very wretched. ROSALIND Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. CORIN And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. ROSALIND I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd And faints for succor. CORIN Fair sir, I pity her And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, My fortunes were more able to relieve her; But I am shepherd to another man And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: My master is of churlish disposition And little recks to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality: Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you will feed on; but what is, come see. And in my voice most welcome shall you be. ROSALIND What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? CORIN That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing. ROSALIND I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock, And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. CELIA And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. And willingly could waste my time in it. CORIN Assuredly the thing is to be sold: Go with me: if you like upon report The soil, the profit and this kind of life, I will your very faithful feeder be And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE V The Forest. [Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others] SONG. AMIENS Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. JAQUES More, more, I prithee, more. AMIENS It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. AMIENS My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you. JAQUES I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos? AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques. JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me nothing. Will you sing? AMIENS More at your request than to please myself. JAQUES Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will not, hold your tongues. AMIENS Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you. JAQUES And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company: I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. SONG. Who doth ambition shun [All together here] And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. JAQUES I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. AMIENS And I'll sing it. JAQUES Thus it goes:-- If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, Leaving his wealth and ease, A stubborn will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. AMIENS What's that 'ducdame'? JAQUES 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. AMIENS And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. [Exeunt severally] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE VI The forest. [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM] ADAM Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. ORLANDO Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently; and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! thou lookest cheerly, and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam! [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT II SCENE VII The forest. [A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and Lords like outlaws] DUKE SENIOR I think he be transform'd into a beast; For I can no where find him like a man. First Lord My lord, he is but even now gone hence: Here was he merry, hearing of a song. DUKE SENIOR If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him. [Enter JAQUES] First Lord He saves my labour by his own approach. DUKE SENIOR Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, That your poor friends must woo your company? What, you look merrily! JAQUES A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool; a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms and yet a motley fool. 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he, 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:' And then he drew a dial from his poke, And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear The motley fool thus moral on the time, My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative, And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. O noble fool! A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. DUKE SENIOR What fool is this? JAQUES O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, And says, if ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! I am ambitious for a motley coat. DUKE SENIOR Thou shalt have one. JAQUES It is my only suit; Provided that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion that grows rank in them That I am wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please; for so fools have; And they that are most galled with my folly, They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The 'why' is plain as way to parish church: He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart, Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not, The wise man's folly is anatomized Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Invest me in my motley; give me leave To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine. DUKE SENIOR Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. JAQUES What, for a counter, would I do but good? DUKE SENIOR Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting itself; And all the embossed sores and headed evils, That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride, That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the weary very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name, When that I say the city-woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? Who can come in and say that I mean her, When such a one as she such is her neighbour? Or what is he of basest function That says his bravery is not of my cost, Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech? There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here? [Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn] ORLANDO Forbear, and eat no more. JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet. ORLANDO Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. JAQUES Of what kind should this cock come of? DUKE SENIOR Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress, Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? ORLANDO You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred And know some nurture. But forbear, I say: He dies that touches any of this fruit Till I and my affairs are answered. JAQUES An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. DUKE SENIOR What would you have? Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. ORLANDO I almost die for food; and let me have it. DUKE SENIOR Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. ORLANDO Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you: I thought that all things had been savage here; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. DUKE SENIOR True is it that we have seen better days, And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd: And therefore sit you down in gentleness And take upon command what help we have That to your wanting may be minister'd. ORLANDO Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn And give it food. There is an old poor man, Who after me hath many a weary step Limp'd in pure love: till he be first sufficed, Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit. DUKE SENIOR Go find him out, And we will nothing waste till you return. ORLANDO I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! [Exit] DUKE SENIOR Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. JAQUES All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. [Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM] DUKE SENIOR Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen, And let him feed. ORLANDO I thank you most for him. ADAM So had you need: I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. DUKE SENIOR Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes. Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. SONG. AMIENS Blow, blow, thou winter wind. Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not. Heigh-ho! sing, &c. DUKE SENIOR If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limn'd and living in your face, Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, Thou art right welcome as thy master is. Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, And let me all your fortunes understand. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT III SCENE I A room in the palace. [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER] DUKE FREDERICK Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth Of what we think against thee. OLIVER O that your highness knew my heart in this! I never loved my brother in my life. DUKE FREDERICK More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands: Do this expediently and turn him going. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT III SCENE II The forest. [Enter ORLANDO, with a paper] ORLANDO Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. [Exit] [Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE] CORIN And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone? TOUCHSTONE Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As is it a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? CORIN No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, means and content is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd? CORIN No, truly. TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damned. CORIN Nay, I hope. TOUCHSTONE Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side. CORIN For not being at court? Your reason. TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. CORIN Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court. You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands: that courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. TOUCHSTONE Instance, briefly; come, instance. CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. TOUCHSTONE Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come. CORIN Besides, our hands are hard. TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance, come. CORIN And they are often tarred over with the surgery of our sheep: and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. CORIN You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest. TOUCHSTONE Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! God make incision in thee! thou art raw. CORIN Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes graze and my lambs suck. TOUCHSTONE That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes and the rams together and to offer to get your living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape. CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. [Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading] ROSALIND From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind. Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the world bears Rosalind. All the pictures fairest lined Are but black to Rosalind. Let no fair be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind. TOUCHSTONE I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: it is the right butter-women's rank to market. ROSALIND Out, fool! TOUCHSTONE For a taste: If a hart do lack a hind, Let him seek out Rosalind. If the cat will after kind, So be sure will Rosalind. Winter garments must be lined, So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind; Then to cart with Rosalind. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, Such a nut is Rosalind. He that sweetest rose will find Must find love's prick and Rosalind. This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you infect yourself with them? ROSALIND Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. ROSALIND I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. TOUCHSTONE You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. [Enter CELIA, with a writing] ROSALIND Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. CELIA [Reads] Why should this a desert be? For it is unpeopled? No: Tongues I'll hang on every tree, That shall civil sayings show: Some, how brief the life of man Runs his erring pilgrimage, That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age; Some, of violated vows 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: But upon the fairest boughs, Or at every sentence end, Will I Rosalinda write, Teaching all that read to know The quintessence of every sprite Heaven would in little show. Therefore Heaven Nature charged That one body should be fill'd With all graces wide-enlarged: Nature presently distill'd Helen's cheek, but not her heart, Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part, Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts By heavenly synod was devised, Of many faces, eyes and hearts, To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have, And I to live and die her slave. ROSALIND O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried 'Have patience, good people!' CELIA How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little. Go with him, sirrah. TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE] CELIA Didst thou hear these verses? ROSALIND O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. CELIA That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses. ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse and therefore stood lamely in the verse. CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees? ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. CELIA Trow you who hath done this? ROSALIND Is it a man? CELIA And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you colour? ROSALIND I prithee, who? CELIA O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter. ROSALIND Nay, but who is it? CELIA Is it possible? ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. CELIA O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping! ROSALIND Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South-sea of discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow- mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth that may drink thy tidings. CELIA So you may put a man in your belly. ROSALIND Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard. ROSALIND Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. CELIA It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow and true maid. CELIA I' faith, coz, 'tis he. ROSALIND Orlando? CELIA Orlando. ROSALIND Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes him here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see him again? Answer me in one word. CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first: 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To say ay and no to these particulars is more than to answer in a catechism. ROSALIND But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled? CELIA It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a dropped acorn. ROSALIND It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. CELIA Give me audience, good madam. ROSALIND Proceed. CELIA There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. CELIA Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. ROSALIND O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. CELIA I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest me out of tune. ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. CELIA You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here? [Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES] ROSALIND 'Tis he: slink by, and note him. JAQUES I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. ORLANDO And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you too for your society. JAQUES God be wi' you: let's meet as little as we can. ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers. JAQUES I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. ORLANDO I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading them ill-favouredly. JAQUES Rosalind is your love's name? ORLANDO Yes, just. JAQUES I do not like her name. ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. JAQUES What stature is she of? ORLANDO Just as high as my heart. JAQUES You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them out of rings? ORLANDO Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from whence you have studied your questions. JAQUES You have a nimble wit: I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery. ORLANDO I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults. JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love. ORLANDO 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. JAQUES By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you shall see him. JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure. ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. JAQUES I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good Signior Love. ORLANDO I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. [Exit JAQUES] ROSALIND [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him, like a saucy lackey and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester? ORLANDO Very well: what would you? ROSALIND I pray you, what is't o'clock? ORLANDO You should ask me what time o' day: there's no clock in the forest. ROSALIND Then there is no true lover in the forest; else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that been as proper? ROSALIND By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal and who he stands still withal. ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal? ROSALIND Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day it is solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year. ORLANDO Who ambles Time withal? ROSALIND With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain, the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury; these Time ambles withal. ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal? ROSALIND With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. ORLANDO Who stays it still withal? ROSALIND With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between term and term and then they perceive not how Time moves. ORLANDO Where dwell you, pretty youth? ROSALIND With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. ORLANDO Are you native of this place? ROSALIND As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. ROSALIND I have been told so of many: but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women? ROSALIND There were none principal; they were all like one another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it. ORLANDO I prithee, recount some of them. ROSALIND No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that abuses our young plants with carving 'Rosalind' on their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger I would give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. ORLANDO I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you tell me your remedy. ROSALIND There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. ORLANDO What were his marks? ROSALIND A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable spirit, which you have not, a beard neglected, which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied and every thing about you demonstrating a careless desolation; but you are no such man; you are rather point-device in your accoutrements as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. ROSALIND Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does: that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so admired? ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. ROSALIND But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? ORLANDO Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. ROSALIND Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so? ROSALIND Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to woo me: at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every passion something and for no passion truly any thing, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't. ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth. ROSALIND I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me. ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me where it is. ROSALIND Go with me to it and I'll show it you and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest you live. Will you go? ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth. ROSALIND Nay you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT III SCENE III The forest. [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind] TOUCHSTONE Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you? AUDREY Your features! Lord warrant us! what features! TOUCHSTONE I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. JAQUES [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house! TOUCHSTONE When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical. AUDREY I do not know what 'poetical' is: is it honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? TOUCHSTONE No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. AUDREY Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical? TOUCHSTONE I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. AUDREY Would you not have me honest? TOUCHSTONE No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. JAQUES [Aside] A material fool! AUDREY Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest. TOUCHSTONE Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish. AUDREY I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. TOUCHSTONE Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest and to couple us. JAQUES [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. AUDREY Well, the gods give us joy! TOUCHSTONE Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are necessary. It is said, 'many a man knows no end of his goods:' right; many a man has good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honourable than the bare brow of a bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to want. Here comes Sir Oliver. [Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT] Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? SIR OLIVER MARTEXT Is there none here to give the woman? TOUCHSTONE I will not take her on gift of any man. SIR OLIVER MARTEXT Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. JAQUES [Advancing] Proceed, proceed I'll give her. TOUCHSTONE Good even, good Master What-ye-call't: how do you, sir? You are very well met: God 'ild you for your last company: I am very glad to see you: even a toy in hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered. JAQUES Will you be married, motley? TOUCHSTONE As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb and the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. JAQUES And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is: this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp. TOUCHSTONE [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be married of him than of another: for he is not like to marry me well; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. JAQUES Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. TOUCHSTONE 'Come, sweet Audrey: We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,-- O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee: but,-- Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee. [Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] SIR OLIVER MARTEXT 'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. [Exit] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT III SCENE IV The forest. [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA] ROSALIND Never talk to me; I will weep. CELIA Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. ROSALIND But have I not cause to weep? CELIA As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. ROSALIND His very hair is of the dissembling colour. CELIA Something browner than Judas's marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. ROSALIND I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. CELIA An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. CELIA He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them. ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this morning, and comes not? CELIA Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. ROSALIND Do you think so? CELIA Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. ROSALIND Not true in love? CELIA Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. ROSALIND You have heard him swear downright he was. CELIA 'Was' is not 'is:' besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. ROSALIND I met the duke yesterday and had much question with him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told him, of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando? CELIA O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose: but all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who comes here? [Enter CORIN] CORIN Mistress and master, you have oft inquired After the shepherd that complain'd of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. CELIA Well, and what of him? CORIN If you will see a pageant truly play'd, Between the pale complexion of true love And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, If you will mark it. ROSALIND O, come, let us remove: The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. Bring us to this sight, and you shall say I'll prove a busy actor in their play. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT III SCENE V Another part of the forest. [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] SILVIUS Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe; Say that you love me not, but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner, Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck But first begs pardon: will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? [Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind] PHEBE I would not be thy executioner: I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye: 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, Who shut their coward gates on atomies, Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down; Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers! Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. SILVIUS O dear Phebe, If ever,--as that ever may be near,-- You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, Then shall you know the wounds invisible That love's keen arrows make. PHEBE But till that time Come not thou near me: and when that time comes, Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; As till that time I shall not pity thee. ROSALIND And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, That you insult, exult, and all at once, Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,-- As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed-- Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, I think she means to tangle my eyes too! No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it: 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, That can entame my spirits to your worship. You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain? You are a thousand times a properer man Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children: 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her. But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: For I must tell you friendly in your ear, Sell when you can: you are not for all markets: Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer: Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well. PHEBE Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. ROSALIND He's fallen in love with your foulness and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me? PHEBE For no ill will I bear you. ROSALIND I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine: Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud: though all the world could see, None could be so abused in sight as he. Come, to our flock. [Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN] PHEBE Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, 'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' SILVIUS Sweet Phebe,-- PHEBE Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius? SILVIUS Sweet Phebe, pity me. PHEBE Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. SILVIUS Wherever sorrow is, relief would be: If you do sorrow at my grief in love, By giving love your sorrow and my grief Were both extermined. PHEBE Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? SILVIUS I would have you. PHEBE Why, that were covetousness. Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, And yet it is not that I bear thee love; But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure, and I'll employ thee too: But do not look for further recompense Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. SILVIUS So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. PHEBE Know'st now the youth that spoke to me erewhile? SILVIUS Not very well, but I have met him oft; And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of. PHEBE Think not I love him, though I ask for him: 'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well; But what care I for words? yet words do well When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth: not very pretty: But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him: He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue Did make offence his eye did heal it up. He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall: His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well: There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference Between the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love with him; but, for my part, I love him not nor hate him not; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him: For what had he to do to chide at me? He said mine eyes were black and my hair black: And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: I marvel why I answer'd not again: But that's all one; omittance is no quittance. I'll write to him a very taunting letter, And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius? SILVIUS Phebe, with all my heart. PHEBE I'll write it straight; The matter's in my head and in my heart: I will be bitter with him and passing short. Go with me, Silvius. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT IV SCENE I The forest. [Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES] JAQUES I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. ROSALIND They say you are a melancholy fellow. JAQUES I am so; I do love it better than laughing. ROSALIND Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards. JAQUES Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. ROSALIND Why then, 'tis good to be a post. JAQUES I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry's contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me m a most humorous sadness. ROSALIND A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's; then, to have seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. JAQUES Yes, I have gained my experience. ROSALIND And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad; and to travel for it too! [Enter ORLANDO] ORLANDO Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! JAQUES Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. [Exit] ROSALIND Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp and wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be out of love with your nativity and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. ORLANDO My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. ROSALIND Break an hour's promise in love! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole. ORLANDO Pardon me, dear Rosalind. ROSALIND Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I had as lief be wooed of a snail. ORLANDO Of a snail? ROSALIND Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head; a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman: besides he brings his destiny with him. ORLANDO What's that? ROSALIND Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. ORLANDO Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. ROSALIND And I am your Rosalind. CELIA It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you. ROSALIND Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind? ORLANDO I would kiss before I spoke. ROSALIND Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking--God warn us!--matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. ORLANDO How if the kiss be denied? ROSALIND Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. ORLANDO Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? ROSALIND Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. ORLANDO What, of my suit? ROSALIND Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? ORLANDO I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. ROSALIND Well in her person I say I will not have you. ORLANDO Then in mine own person I die. ROSALIND No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was drowned and the foolish coroners of that age found it was 'Hero of Sestos.' But these are all lies: men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love. ORLANDO I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, for, I protest, her frown might kill me. ROSALIND By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will. I will grant it. ORLANDO Then love me, Rosalind. ROSALIND Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. ORLANDO And wilt thou have me? ROSALIND Ay, and twenty such. ORLANDO What sayest thou? ROSALIND Are you not good? ORLANDO I hope so. ROSALIND Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister? ORLANDO Pray thee, marry us. CELIA I cannot say the words. ROSALIND You must begin, 'Will you, Orlando--' CELIA Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? ORLANDO I will. ROSALIND Ay, but when? ORLANDO Why now; as fast as she can marry us. ROSALIND Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.' ORLANDO I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. ROSALIND I might ask you for your commission; but I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband: there's a girl goes before the priest; and certainly a woman's thought runs before her actions. ORLANDO So do all thoughts; they are winged. ROSALIND Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her. ORLANDO For ever and a day. ROSALIND Say 'a day,' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep. ORLANDO But will my Rosalind do so? ROSALIND By my life, she will do as I do. ORLANDO O, but she is wise. ROSALIND Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the wiser, the waywarder: make the doors upon a woman's wit and it will out at the casement; shut that and 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. ORLANDO A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 'Wit, whither wilt?' ROSALIND Nay, you might keep that cheque for it till you met your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. ORLANDO And what wit could wit have to excuse that? ROSALIND Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool! ORLANDO For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. ROSALIND Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. ORLANDO I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o'clock I will be with thee again. ROSALIND Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you would prove: my friends told me as much, and I thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours won me: 'tis but one cast away, and so, come, death! Two o'clock is your hour? ORLANDO Ay, sweet Rosalind. ROSALIND By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful: therefore beware my censure and keep your promise. ORLANDO With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind: so adieu. ROSALIND Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try: adieu. [Exit ORLANDO] CELIA You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. ROSALIND O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. CELIA Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. ROSALIND No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow and sigh till he come. CELIA And I'll sleep. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT IV SCENE II The forest. [Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters] JAQUES Which is he that killed the deer? A Lord Sir, it was I. JAQUES Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose? Forester Yes, sir. JAQUES Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough. SONG. Forester What shall he have that kill'd the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home; [The rest shall bear this burden] Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; It was a crest ere thou wast born: Thy father's father wore it, And thy father bore it: The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT IV SCENE III The forest. [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA] ROSALIND How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and here much Orlando! CELIA I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to sleep. Look, who comes here. [Enter SILVIUS] SILVIUS My errand is to you, fair youth; My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: I know not the contents; but, as I guess By the stern brow and waspish action Which she did use as she was writing of it, It bears an angry tenor: pardon me: I am but as a guiltless messenger. ROSALIND Patience herself would startle at this letter And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will! Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, This is a letter of your own device. SILVIUS No, I protest, I know not the contents: Phebe did write it. ROSALIND Come, come, you are a fool And turn'd into the extremity of love. I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand. A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands: She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter: I say she never did invent this letter; This is a man's invention and his hand. SILVIUS Sure, it is hers. ROSALIND Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style. A style for-challengers; why, she defies me, Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? SILVIUS So please you, for I never heard it yet; Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. ROSALIND She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. [Reads] Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? Can a woman rail thus? SILVIUS Call you this railing? ROSALIND [Reads] Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? Did you ever hear such railing? Whiles the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beast. If the scorn of your bright eyne Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect! Whiles you chid me, I did love; How then might your prayers move! He that brings this love to thee Little knows this love in me: And by him seal up thy mind; Whether that thy youth and kind Will the faithful offer take Of me and all that I can make; Or else by him my love deny, And then I'll study how to die. SILVIUS Call you this chiding? CELIA Alas, poor shepherd! ROSALIND Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee! not to be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to her: that if she love me, I charge her to love thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. [Exit SILVIUS] [Enter OLIVER] OLIVER Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? CELIA West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom: The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your right hand brings you to the place. But at this hour the house doth keep itself; There's none within. OLIVER If that an eye may profit by a tongue, Then should I know you by description; Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair, Of female favour, and bestows himself Like a ripe sister: the woman low And browner than her brother.' Are not you The owner of the house I did inquire for? CELIA It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. OLIVER Orlando doth commend him to you both, And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? ROSALIND I am: what must we understand by this? OLIVER Some of my shame; if you will know of me What man I am, and how, and why, and where This handkercher was stain'd. CELIA I pray you, tell it. OLIVER When last the young Orlando parted from you He left a promise to return again Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside, And mark what object did present itself: Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush: under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis The royal disposition of that beast To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead: This seen, Orlando did approach the man And found it was his brother, his elder brother. CELIA O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; And he did render him the most unnatural That lived amongst men. OLIVER And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural. ROSALIND But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? OLIVER Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, And nature, stronger than his just occasion, Made him give battle to the lioness, Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling From miserable slumber I awaked. CELIA Are you his brother? ROSALIND Wast you he rescued? CELIA Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? OLIVER 'Twas I; but 'tis not I I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. ROSALIND But, for the bloody napkin? OLIVER By and by. When from the first to last betwixt us two Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, As how I came into that desert place:-- In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, Committing me unto my brother's love; Who led me instantly unto his cave, There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm The lioness had torn some flesh away, Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound; And, after some small space, being strong at heart, He sent me hither, stranger as I am, To tell this story, that you might excuse His broken promise, and to give this napkin Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. [ROSALIND swoons] CELIA Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede! OLIVER Many will swoon when they do look on blood. CELIA There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede! OLIVER Look, he recovers. ROSALIND I would I were at home. CELIA We'll lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm? OLIVER Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a man's heart. ROSALIND I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! OLIVER This was not counterfeit: there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. ROSALIND Counterfeit, I assure you. OLIVER Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man. ROSALIND So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. CELIA Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us. OLIVER That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. ROSALIND I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT V SCENE I The forest. [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. TOUCHSTONE A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. AUDREY Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in the world: here comes the man you mean. TOUCHSTONE It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: by my troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. [Enter WILLIAM] WILLIAM Good even, Audrey. AUDREY God ye good even, William. WILLIAM And good even to you, sir. TOUCHSTONE Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? WILLIAM Five and twenty, sir. TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William? WILLIAM William, sir. TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God. TOUCHSTONE 'Thank God;' a good answer. Art rich? WILLIAM Faith, sir, so so. TOUCHSTONE 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? WILLIAM Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. TOUCHSTONE Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying, 'The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid? WILLIAM I do, sir. TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned? WILLIAM No, sir. TOUCHSTONE Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he. WILLIAM Which he, sir? TOUCHSTONE He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon,--which is in the vulgar leave,--the society,--which in the boorish is company,--of this female,--which in the common is woman; which together is, abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better understanding, diest; or, to wit I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life into death, thy liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy with thee in faction; I will o'errun thee with policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: therefore tremble and depart. AUDREY Do, good William. WILLIAM God rest you merry, sir. [Exit] [Enter CORIN] CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, away! TOUCHSTONE Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT V SCENE II The forest. [Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER] ORLANDO Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her? that but seeing you should love her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should grant? and will you persever to enjoy her? OLIVER Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; consent with both that we may enjoy each other: it shall be to your good; for my father's house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. ORLANDO You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: thither will I invite the duke and all's contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for look you, here comes my Rosalind. [Enter ROSALIND] ROSALIND God save you, brother. OLIVER And you, fair sister. [Exit] ROSALIND O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf! ORLANDO It is my arm. ROSALIND I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. ORLANDO Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. ROSALIND Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon when he showed me your handkerchief? ORLANDO Ay, and greater wonders than that. ROSALIND O, I know where you are: nay, 'tis true: there was never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame:' for your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage: they are in the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs cannot part them. ORLANDO They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. ROSALIND Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? ORLANDO I can live no longer by thinking. ROSALIND I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I speak not this that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are; neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three year old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her: I know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes tomorrow human as she is and without any danger. ORLANDO Speakest thou in sober meanings? ROSALIND By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your best array: bid your friends; for if you will be married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. PHEBE Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, To show the letter that I writ to you. ROSALIND I care not if I have: it is my study To seem despiteful and ungentle to you: You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; Look upon him, love him; he worships you. PHEBE Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. SILVIUS It is to be all made of sighs and tears; And so am I for Phebe. PHEBE And I for Ganymede. ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. ROSALIND And I for no woman. SILVIUS It is to be all made of faith and service; And so am I for Phebe. PHEBE And I for Ganymede. ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. ROSALIND And I for no woman. SILVIUS It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion and all made of wishes, All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance; And so am I for Phebe. PHEBE And so am I for Ganymede. ORLANDO And so am I for Rosalind. ROSALIND And so am I for no woman. PHEBE If this be so, why blame you me to love you? SILVIUS If this be so, why blame you me to love you? ORLANDO If this be so, why blame you me to love you? ROSALIND Who do you speak to, 'Why blame you me to love you?' ORLANDO To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. ROSALIND Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. [To SILVIUS] I will help you, if I can: [To PHEBE] I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. [To PHEBE] I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow: [To ORLANDO] I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow: [To SILVIUS] I will content you, if what pleases you contents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. [To ORLANDO] As you love Rosalind, meet: [To SILVIUS] as you love Phebe, meet: and as I love no woman, I'll meet. So fare you well: I have left you commands. SILVIUS I'll not fail, if I live. PHEBE Nor I. ORLANDO Nor I. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT V SCENE III The forest. [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] TOUCHSTONE To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will we be married. AUDREY I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here comes two of the banished duke's pages. [Enter two Pages] First Page Well met, honest gentleman. TOUCHSTONE By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. Second Page We are for you: sit i' the middle. First Page Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking or spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice? Second Page I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two gipsies on a horse. SONG. It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino These pretty country folks would lie, In spring time, &c. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In spring time, &c. And therefore take the present time, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; For love is crowned with the prime In spring time, &c. TOUCHSTONE Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. First Page You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we lost not our time. TOUCHSTONE By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and God mend your voices! Come, Audrey. [Exeunt] AS YOU LIKE IT ACT V SCENE IV The forest. [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, and CELIA] DUKE SENIOR Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised? ORLANDO I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. [Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE] ROSALIND Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged: You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here? DUKE SENIOR That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. ROSALIND And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? ORLANDO That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. ROSALIND You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? PHEBE That will I, should I die the hour after. ROSALIND But if you do refuse to marry me, You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? PHEBE So is the bargain. ROSALIND You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? SILVIUS Though to have her and death were both one thing. ROSALIND I have promised to make all this matter even. Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter; You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd: Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her. If she refuse me: and from hence I go, To make these doubts all even. [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] DUKE SENIOR I do remember in this shepherd boy Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. ORLANDO My lord, the first time that I ever saw him Methought he was a brother to your daughter: But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments Of many desperate studies by his uncle, Whom he reports to be a great magician, Obscured in the circle of this forest. [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] JAQUES There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. TOUCHSTONE Salutation and greeting to you all! JAQUES Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. TOUCHSTONE If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. JAQUES And how was that ta'en up? TOUCHSTONE Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. JAQUES How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. DUKE SENIOR I like him very well. TOUCHSTONE God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear: according as marriage binds and blood breaks: a poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster. DUKE SENIOR By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. TOUCHSTONE According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. JAQUES But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? TOUCHSTONE Upon a lie seven times removed:--bear your body more seeming, Audrey:--as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard: he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: this is called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word again 'it was not well cut,' he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the Quip Modest. If again 'it was not well cut,' he disabled my judgment: this is called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true: this is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not well cut,' he would say I lied: this is called the Counter-cheque Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. JAQUES And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? TOUCHSTONE I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we measured swords and parted. JAQUES Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? TOUCHSTONE O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheque Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If. JAQUES Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing and yet a fool. DUKE SENIOR He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. [Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA] [Still Music] HYMEN Then is there mirth in heaven, When earthly things made even Atone together. Good duke, receive thy daughter Hymen from heaven brought her, Yea, brought her hither, That thou mightst join her hand with his Whose heart within his bosom is. ROSALIND [To DUKE SENIOR] To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To ORLANDO] To you I give myself, for I am yours. DUKE SENIOR If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. ORLANDO If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. PHEBE If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love adieu! ROSALIND I'll have no father, if you be not he: I'll have no husband, if you be not he: Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. HYMEN Peace, ho! I bar confusion: 'Tis I must make conclusion Of these most strange events: Here's eight that must take hands To join in Hymen's bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part: You and you are heart in heart You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord: You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather. Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning; That reason wonder may diminish, How thus we met, and these things finish. SONG. Wedding is great Juno's crown: O blessed bond of board and bed! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; High wedlock then be honoured: Honour, high honour and renown, To Hymen, god of every town! DUKE SENIOR O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. PHEBE I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. [Enter JAQUES DE BOYS] JAQUES DE BOYS Let me have audience for a word or two: I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here and put him to the sword: And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; Where meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world, His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, And all their lands restored to them again That were with him exiled. This to be true, I do engage my life. DUKE SENIOR Welcome, young man; Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one his lands withheld, and to the other A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends That here were well begun and well begot: And after, every of this happy number That have endured shrewd days and nights with us Shall share the good of our returned fortune, According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity And fall into our rustic revelry. Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. JAQUES Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, The duke hath put on a religious life And thrown into neglect the pompous court? JAQUES DE BOYS He hath. JAQUES To him will I : out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. [To DUKE SENIOR] You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: [To ORLANDO] You to a love that your true faith doth merit: [To OLIVER] You to your land and love and great allies: [To SILVIUS] You to a long and well-deserved bed: [To TOUCHSTONE] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: I am for other than for dancing measures. DUKE SENIOR Stay, Jaques, stay. JAQUES To see no pastime I what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit] DUKE SENIOR Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. [A dance] AS YOU LIKE IT EPILOGUE ROSALIND It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women--as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them--that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT DRAMATIS PERSONAE ORSINO Duke of Illyria. (DUKE ORSINO:) SEBASTIAN brother to Viola. ANTONIO a sea captain, friend to Sebastian. A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. (Captain:) VALENTINE | | gentlemen attending on the Duke. CURIO | SIR TOBY BELCH uncle to Olivia. SIR ANDREW AGUECHEEK (SIR ANDREW:) MALVOLIO steward to Olivia. FABIAN | | servants to Olivia. FESTE a Clown (Clown:) | OLIVIA: VIOLA: MARIA Olivia's woman. Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants. (Priest:) (First Officer:) (Second Officer:) (Servant:) SCENE A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it. TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I SCENE I DUKE ORSINO's palace. [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords; Musicians attending] DUKE ORSINO If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, That, notwithstanding thy capacity Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, Of what validity and pitch soe'er, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical. CURIO Will you go hunt, my lord? DUKE ORSINO What, Curio? CURIO The hart. DUKE ORSINO Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, Methought she purged the air of pestilence! That instant was I turn'd into a hart; And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, E'er since pursue me. [Enter VALENTINE] How now! what news from her? VALENTINE So please my lord, I might not be admitted; But from her handmaid do return this answer: The element itself, till seven years' heat, Shall not behold her face at ample view; But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk And water once a day her chamber round With eye-offending brine: all this to season A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh And lasting in her sad remembrance. DUKE ORSINO O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame To pay this debt of love but to a brother, How will she love, when the rich golden shaft Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else That live in her; when liver, brain and heart, These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd Her sweet perfections with one self king! Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I SCENE II The sea-coast. [Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors] VIOLA What country, friends, is this? Captain This is Illyria, lady. VIOLA And what should I do in Illyria? My brother he is in Elysium. Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors? Captain It is perchance that you yourself were saved. VIOLA O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be. Captain True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance, Assure yourself, after our ship did split, When you and those poor number saved with you Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, Most provident in peril, bind himself, Courage and hope both teaching him the practise, To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves So long as I could see. VIOLA For saying so, there's gold: Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, Whereto thy speech serves for authority, The like of him. Know'st thou this country? Captain Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born Not three hours' travel from this very place. VIOLA Who governs here? Captain A noble duke, in nature as in name. VIOLA What is the name? Captain Orsino. VIOLA Orsino! I have heard my father name him: He was a bachelor then. Captain And so is now, or was so very late; For but a month ago I went from hence, And then 'twas fresh in murmur,--as, you know, What great ones do the less will prattle of,-- That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. VIOLA What's she? Captain A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her In the protection of his son, her brother, Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, They say, she hath abjured the company And sight of men. VIOLA O that I served that lady And might not be delivered to the world, Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, What my estate is! Captain That were hard to compass; Because she will admit no kind of suit, No, not the duke's. VIOLA There is a fair behavior in thee, captain; And though that nature with a beauteous wall Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee I will believe thou hast a mind that suits With this thy fair and outward character. I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, Conceal me what I am, and be my aid For such disguise as haply shall become The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke: Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him: It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing And speak to him in many sorts of music That will allow me very worth his service. What else may hap to time I will commit; Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. Captain Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. VIOLA I thank thee: lead me on. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I SCENE III OLIVIA'S house. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] SIR TOBY BELCH What a plague means my niece, to take the death of her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. MARIA By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great exceptions to your ill hours. SIR TOBY BELCH Why, let her except, before excepted. MARIA Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest limits of order. SIR TOBY BELCH Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be these boots too: an they be not, let them hang themselves in their own straps. MARIA That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. SIR TOBY BELCH Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek? MARIA Ay, he. SIR TOBY BELCH He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. MARIA What's that to the purpose? SIR TOBY BELCH Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. MARIA Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: he's a very fool and a prodigal. SIR TOBY BELCH Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages word for word without book, and hath all the good gifts of nature. MARIA He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent he would quickly have the gift of a grave. SIR TOBY BELCH By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors that say so of him. Who are they? MARIA They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. SIR TOBY BELCH With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat and drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench! Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. [Enter SIR ANDREW] SIR ANDREW Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch! SIR TOBY BELCH Sweet Sir Andrew! SIR ANDREW Bless you, fair shrew. MARIA And you too, sir. SIR TOBY BELCH Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. SIR ANDREW What's that? SIR TOBY BELCH My niece's chambermaid. SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. MARIA My name is Mary, sir. SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Mary Accost,-- SIR TOBY BELCH You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board her, woo her, assail her. SIR ANDREW By my troth, I would not undertake her in this company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'? MARIA Fare you well, gentlemen. SIR TOBY BELCH An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst never draw sword again. SIR ANDREW An you part so, mistress, I would I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have fools in hand? MARIA Sir, I have not you by the hand. SIR ANDREW Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. MARIA Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. SIR ANDREW Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor? MARIA It's dry, sir. SIR ANDREW Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? MARIA A dry jest, sir. SIR ANDREW Are you full of them? MARIA Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am barren. [Exit] SIR TOBY BELCH O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I see thee so put down? SIR ANDREW Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit. SIR TOBY BELCH No question. SIR ANDREW An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home to-morrow, Sir Toby. SIR TOBY BELCH Pourquoi, my dear knight? SIR ANDREW What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but followed the arts! SIR TOBY BELCH Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. SIR ANDREW Why, would that have mended my hair? SIR TOBY BELCH Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. SIR ANDREW But it becomes me well enough, does't not? SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs and spin it off. SIR ANDREW Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her. SIR TOBY BELCH She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't, man. SIR ANDREW I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques and revels sometimes altogether. SIR TOBY BELCH Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight? SIR ANDREW As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare with an old man. SIR TOBY BELCH What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? SIR ANDREW Faith, I can cut a caper. SIR TOBY BELCH And I can cut the mutton to't. SIR ANDREW And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria. SIR TOBY BELCH Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. SIR ANDREW Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? SIR TOBY BELCH What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? SIR ANDREW Taurus! That's sides and heart. SIR TOBY BELCH No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I SCENE IV DUKE ORSINO's palace. [Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire] VALENTINE If the duke continue these favours towards you, Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. VIOLA You either fear his humour or my negligence, that you call in question the continuance of his love: is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? VALENTINE No, believe me. VIOLA I thank you. Here comes the count. [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants] DUKE ORSINO Who saw Cesario, ho? VIOLA On your attendance, my lord; here. DUKE ORSINO Stand you a while aloof, Cesario, Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd To thee the book even of my secret soul: Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; Be not denied access, stand at her doors, And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow Till thou have audience. VIOLA Sure, my noble lord, If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow As it is spoke, she never will admit me. DUKE ORSINO Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds Rather than make unprofited return. VIOLA Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? DUKE ORSINO O, then unfold the passion of my love, Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: It shall become thee well to act my woes; She will attend it better in thy youth Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. VIOLA I think not so, my lord. DUKE ORSINO Dear lad, believe it; For they shall yet belie thy happy years, That say thou art a man: Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, And all is semblative a woman's part. I know thy constellation is right apt For this affair. Some four or five attend him; All, if you will; for I myself am best When least in company. Prosper well in this, And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, To call his fortunes thine. VIOLA I'll do my best To woo your lady: [Aside] yet, a barful strife! Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT I SCENE V OLIVIA'S house. [Enter MARIA and Clown] MARIA Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. Clown Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this world needs to fear no colours. MARIA Make that good. Clown He shall see none to fear. MARIA A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.' Clown Where, good Mistress Mary? MARIA In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. Clown Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents. MARIA Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or, to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? Clown Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, for turning away, let summer bear it out. MARIA You are resolute, then? Clown Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points. MARIA That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. Clown Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. MARIA Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. [Exit] Clown Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus? 'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.' [Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO] God bless thee, lady! OLIVIA Take the fool away. Clown Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. OLIVIA Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: besides, you grow dishonest. Clown Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing that's mended is but patched: virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue. If that this simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. OLIVIA Sir, I bade them take away you. Clown Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove you a fool. OLIVIA Can you do it? Clown Dexterously, good madonna. OLIVIA Make your proof. Clown I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse of virtue, answer me. OLIVIA Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. Clown Good madonna, why mournest thou? OLIVIA Good fool, for my brother's death. Clown I think his soul is in hell, madonna. OLIVIA I know his soul is in heaven, fool. Clown The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. OLIVIA What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend? MALVOLIO Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the better fool. Clown God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his word for two pence that you are no fool. OLIVIA How say you to that, Malvolio? MALVOLIO I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day with an ordinary fool that has no more brain than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better than the fools' zanies. OLIVIA Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste with a distempered appetite. To be generous, guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets: there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet man, though he do nothing but reprove. Clown Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou speakest well of fools! [Re-enter MARIA] MARIA Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much desires to speak with you. OLIVIA From the Count Orsino, is it? MARIA I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. OLIVIA Who of my people hold him in delay? MARIA Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. OLIVIA Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but madman: fie on him! [Exit MARIA] Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. [Exit MALVOLIO] Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and people dislike it. Clown Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a most weak pia mater. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH] OLIVIA By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin? SIR TOBY BELCH A gentleman. OLIVIA A gentleman! what gentleman? SIR TOBY BELCH 'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these pickle-herring! How now, sot! Clown Good Sir Toby! OLIVIA Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? SIR TOBY BELCH Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he? SIR TOBY BELCH Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. [Exit] OLIVIA What's a drunken man like, fool? Clown Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. OLIVIA Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's drowned: go, look after him. Clown He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look to the madman. [Exit] [Re-enter MALVOLIO] MALVOLIO Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to understand so much, and therefore comes to speak with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. OLIVIA Tell him he shall not speak with me. MALVOLIO Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to a bench, but he'll speak with you. OLIVIA What kind o' man is he? MALVOLIO Why, of mankind. OLIVIA What manner of man? MALVOLIO Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no. OLIVIA Of what personage and years is he? MALVOLIO Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him in standing water, between boy and man. He is very well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him. OLIVIA Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. MALVOLIO Gentlewoman, my lady calls. [Exit] [Re-enter MARIA] OLIVIA Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. [Enter VIOLA, and Attendants] VIOLA The honourable lady of the house, which is she? OLIVIA Speak to me; I shall answer for her. Your will? VIOLA Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away my speech, for besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very comptible, even to the least sinister usage. OLIVIA Whence came you, sir? VIOLA I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, that I may proceed in my speech. OLIVIA Are you a comedian? VIOLA No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you the lady of the house? OLIVIA If I do not usurp myself, I am. VIOLA Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will on with my speech in your praise, and then show you the heart of my message. OLIVIA Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. VIOLA Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. OLIVIA It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue. MARIA Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. VIOLA No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger. OLIVIA Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. VIOLA It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter. OLIVIA Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? VIOLA The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears, divinity, to any other's, profanation. OLIVIA Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. [Exeunt MARIA and Attendants] Now, sir, what is your text? VIOLA Most sweet lady,-- OLIVIA A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. Where lies your text? VIOLA In Orsino's bosom. OLIVIA In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? VIOLA To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. OLIVIA O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? VIOLA Good madam, let me see your face. OLIVIA Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate with my face? You are now out of your text: but we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't not well done? [Unveiling] VIOLA Excellently done, if God did all. OLIVIA 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. VIOLA 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. OLIVIA O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be inventoried, and every particle and utensil labelled to my will: as, item, two lips, indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were you sent hither to praise me? VIOLA I see you what you are, you are too proud; But, if you were the devil, you are fair. My lord and master loves you: O, such love Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd The nonpareil of beauty! OLIVIA How does he love me? VIOLA With adorations, fertile tears, With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. OLIVIA Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him: Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant; And in dimension and the shape of nature A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; He might have took his answer long ago. VIOLA If I did love you in my master's flame, With such a suffering, such a deadly life, In your denial I would find no sense; I would not understand it. OLIVIA Why, what would you? VIOLA Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night; Halloo your name to the reverberate hills And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me! OLIVIA You might do much. What is your parentage? VIOLA Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman. OLIVIA Get you to your lord; I cannot love him: let him send no more; Unless, perchance, you come to me again, To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. VIOLA I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse: My master, not myself, lacks recompense. Love make his heart of flint that you shall love; And let your fervor, like my master's, be Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. [Exit] OLIVIA 'What is your parentage?' 'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft! Unless the master were the man. How now! Even so quickly may one catch the plague? Methinks I feel this youth's perfections With an invisible and subtle stealth To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. What ho, Malvolio! [Re-enter MALVOLIO] MALVOLIO Here, madam, at your service. OLIVIA Run after that same peevish messenger, The county's man: he left this ring behind him, Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it. Desire him not to flatter with his lord, Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio. MALVOLIO Madam, I will. [Exit] OLIVIA I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; What is decreed must be, and be this so. [Exit] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT II SCENE I The sea-coast. [Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN] ANTONIO Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? SEBASTIAN By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. ANTONIO: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. SEBASTIAN No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges me in manners the rather to express myself. You must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, which I called Roderigo. My father was that Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; for some hour before you took me from the breach of the sea was my sister drowned. ANTONIO Alas the day! SEBASTIAN A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, though I could not with such estimable wonder overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. ANTONIO Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. SEBASTIAN O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. ANTONIO If you will not murder me for my love, let me be your servant. SEBASTIAN If you will not undo what you have done, that is, kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness, and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell. [Exit] ANTONIO The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! I have many enemies in Orsino's court, Else would I very shortly see thee there. But, come what may, I do adore thee so, That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. [Exit] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT II SCENE II A street. [Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following] MALVOLIO Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia? VIOLA Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since arrived but hither. MALVOLIO She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord into a desperate assurance she will none of him: and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to come again in his affairs, unless it be to report your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. VIOLA She took the ring of me: I'll none of it. MALVOLIO Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be it his that finds it. [Exit] VIOLA I left no ring with her: what means this lady? Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her! She made good view of me; indeed, so much, That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue, For she did speak in starts distractedly. She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion Invites me in this churlish messenger. None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis, Poor lady, she were better love a dream. Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. How easy is it for the proper-false In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we! For such as we are made of, such we be. How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly; And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. What will become of this? As I am man, My state is desperate for my master's love; As I am woman,--now alas the day!-- What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! O time! thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to untie! [Exit] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT II SCENE III OLIVIA's house. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW] SIR TOBY BELCH Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo surgere,' thou know'st,-- SIR ANDREW Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up late is to be up late. SIR TOBY BELCH A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can. To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the four elements? SIR ANDREW Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists of eating and drinking. SIR TOBY BELCH Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. Marian, I say! a stoup of wine! [Enter Clown] SIR ANDREW Here comes the fool, i' faith. Clown How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture of 'we three'? SIR TOBY BELCH Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. SIR ANDREW By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman: hadst it? Clown I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. SIR ANDREW Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all is done. Now, a song. SIR TOBY BELCH Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song. SIR ANDREW There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a-- Clown Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? SIR TOBY BELCH A love-song, a love-song. SIR ANDREW Ay, ay: I care not for good life. Clown [Sings] O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i' faith. SIR TOBY BELCH Good, good. Clown [Sings] What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure. SIR ANDREW A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. SIR TOBY BELCH A contagious breath. SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. SIR TOBY BELCH To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three souls out of one weaver? shall we do that? SIR ANDREW An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch. Clown By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. SIR ANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.' Clown 'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. SIR ANDREW 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.' Clown I shall never begin if I hold my peace. SIR ANDREW Good, i' faith. Come, begin. [Catch sung] [Enter MARIA] MARIA What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out of doors, never trust me. SIR TOBY BELCH My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? Tillyvally. Lady! [Sings] 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!' Clown Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. SIR ANDREW Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. SIR TOBY BELCH [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'-- MARIA For the love o' God, peace! [Enter MALVOLIO] MALVOLIO My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? SIR TOBY BELCH We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! MALVOLIO Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me tell you, that, though she harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell. SIR TOBY BELCH 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.' MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby. Clown 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.' MALVOLIO Is't even so? SIR TOBY BELCH 'But I will never die.' Clown Sir Toby, there you lie. MALVOLIO This is much credit to you. SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go?' Clown 'What an if you do?' SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?' Clown 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.' SIR TOBY BELCH Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? Clown Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the mouth too. SIR TOBY BELCH Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria! MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any thing more than contempt, you would not give means for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand. [Exit] MARIA Go shake your ears. SIR ANDREW 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to break promise with him and make a fool of him. SIR TOBY BELCH Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. MARIA Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with him: if I do not gull him into a nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: I know I can do it. SIR TOBY BELCH Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. MARIA Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan. SIR ANDREW O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog! SIR TOBY BELCH What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, dear knight? SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good enough. MARIA The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, that cons state without book and utters it by great swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find notable cause to work. SIR TOBY BELCH What wilt thou do? MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find himself most feelingly personated. I can write very like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we can hardly make distinction of our hands. SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent! I smell a device. SIR ANDREW I have't in my nose too. SIR TOBY BELCH He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece, and that she's in love with him. MARIA My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. SIR ANDREW And your horse now would make him an ass. MARIA Ass, I doubt not. SIR ANDREW O, 'twill be admirable! MARIA Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will work with him. I will plant you two, and let the fool make a third, where he shall find the letter: observe his construction of it. For this night, to bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. [Exit] SIR TOBY BELCH Good night, Penthesilea. SIR ANDREW Before me, she's a good wench. SIR TOBY BELCH She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: what o' that? SIR ANDREW I was adored once too. SIR TOBY BELCH Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for more money. SIR ANDREW If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. SIR TOBY BELCH Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i' the end, call me cut. SIR ANDREW If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. SIR TOBY BELCH Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT II SCENE IV DUKE ORSINO's palace. [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others] DUKE ORSINO Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends. Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night: Methought it did relieve my passion much, More than light airs and recollected terms Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: Come, but one verse. CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it. DUKE ORSINO Who was it? CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house. DUKE ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while. [Exit CURIO. Music plays] Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, In the sweet pangs of it remember me; For such as I am all true lovers are, Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, Save in the constant image of the creature That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune? VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat Where Love is throned. DUKE ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly: My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves: Hath it not, boy? VIOLA A little, by your favour. DUKE ORSINO What kind of woman is't? VIOLA Of your complexion. DUKE ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith? VIOLA About your years, my lord. DUKE ORSINO Too old by heaven: let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. VIOLA I think it well, my lord. DUKE ORSINO Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; For women are as roses, whose fair flower Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. VIOLA And so they are: alas, that they are so; To die, even when they to perfection grow! [Re-enter CURIO and Clown] DUKE ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain; The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. Clown Are you ready, sir? DUKE ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing. [Music] SONG. Clown Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there! DUKE ORSINO There's for thy pains. Clown No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir. DUKE ORSINO I'll pay thy pleasure then. Clown Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. DUKE ORSINO Give me now leave to leave thee. Clown Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such constancy put to sea, that their business might be every thing and their intent every where; for that's it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. [Exit] DUKE ORSINO Let all the rest give place. [CURIO and Attendants retire] Once more, Cesario, Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems That nature pranks her in attracts my soul. VIOLA But if she cannot love you, sir? DUKE ORSINO I cannot be so answer'd. VIOLA Sooth, but you must. Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, Hath for your love a great a pang of heart As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd? DUKE ORSINO There is no woman's sides Can bide the beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart So big, to hold so much; they lack retention Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, No motion of the liver, but the palate, That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt; But mine is all as hungry as the sea, And can digest as much: make no compare Between that love a woman can bear me And that I owe Olivia. VIOLA Ay, but I know-- DUKE ORSINO What dost thou know? VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe: In faith, they are as true of heart as we. My father had a daughter loved a man, As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, I should your lordship. DUKE ORSINO And what's her history? VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? We men may say more, swear more: but indeed Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love. DUKE ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy? VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. Sir, shall I to this lady? DUKE ORSINO Ay, that's the theme. To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, My love can give no place, bide no denay. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT II SCENE V OLIVIA's garden. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN] SIR TOBY BELCH Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. FABIAN Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be boiled to death with melancholy. SIR TOBY BELCH Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? FABIAN I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o' favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here. SIR TOBY BELCH To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew? SIR ANDREW An we do not, it is pity of our lives. SIR TOBY BELCH Here comes the little villain. [Enter MARIA] How now, my metal of India! MARIA Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there, [Throws down a letter] for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. [Exit] [Enter MALVOLIO] MALVOLIO 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more exalted respect than any one else that follows her. What should I think on't? SIR TOBY BELCH Here's an overweening rogue! FABIAN O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes! SIR ANDREW 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue! SIR TOBY BELCH Peace, I say. MALVOLIO To be Count Malvolio! SIR TOBY BELCH Ah, rogue! SIR ANDREW Pistol him, pistol him. SIR TOBY BELCH Peace, peace! MALVOLIO There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. SIR ANDREW Fie on him, Jezebel! FABIAN O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how imagination blows him. MALVOLIO Having been three months married to her, sitting in my state,-- SIR TOBY BELCH O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! MALVOLIO Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left Olivia sleeping,-- SIR TOBY BELCH Fire and brimstone! FABIAN O, peace, peace! MALVOLIO And then to have the humour of state; and after a demure travel of regard, telling them I know my place as I would they should do theirs, to for my kinsman Toby,-- SIR TOBY BELCH Bolts and shackles! FABIAN O peace, peace, peace! now, now. MALVOLIO Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby approaches; courtesies there to me,-- SIR TOBY BELCH Shall this fellow live? FABIAN Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. MALVOLIO I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar smile with an austere regard of control,-- SIR TOBY BELCH And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then? MALVOLIO Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'-- SIR TOBY BELCH What, what? MALVOLIO 'You must amend your drunkenness.' SIR TOBY BELCH Out, scab! FABIAN Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. MALVOLIO 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with a foolish knight,'-- SIR ANDREW That's me, I warrant you. MALVOLIO 'One Sir Andrew,'-- SIR ANDREW I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool. MALVOLIO What employment have we here? [Taking up the letter] FABIAN Now is the woodcock near the gin. SIR TOBY BELCH O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading aloud to him! MALVOLIO By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. SIR ANDREW Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that? MALVOLIO [Reads] 'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax. Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be? FABIAN This wins him, liver and all. MALVOLIO [Reads] Jove knows I love: But who? Lips, do not move; No man must know. 'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be thee, Malvolio? SIR TOBY BELCH Marry, hang thee, brock! MALVOLIO [Reads] I may command where I adore; But silence, like a Lucrece knife, With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. FABIAN A fustian riddle! SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent wench, say I. MALVOLIO 'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let me see, let me see, let me see. FABIAN What dish o' poison has she dressed him! SIR TOBY BELCH And with what wing the staniel cheques at it! MALVOLIO 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any formal capacity; there is no obstruction in this: and the end,--what should that alphabetical position portend? If I could make that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A, I,-- SIR TOBY BELCH O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent. FABIAN Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as rank as a fox. MALVOLIO M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name. FABIAN Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is excellent at faults. MALVOLIO M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; that suffers under probation A should follow but O does. FABIAN And O shall end, I hope. SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O! MALVOLIO And then I comes behind. FABIAN Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. MALVOLIO M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! here follows prose. [Reads] 'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell. She that would alter services with thee, THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.' Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man. I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; and in this she manifests herself to my love, and with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a postscript. [Reads] 'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.' Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do everything that thou wilt have me. [Exit] FABIAN I will not give my part of this sport for a pension of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. SIR TOBY BELCH I could marry this wench for this device. SIR ANDREW So could I too. SIR TOBY BELCH And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest. SIR ANDREW Nor I neither. FABIAN Here comes my noble gull-catcher. [Re-enter MARIA] SIR TOBY BELCH Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? SIR ANDREW Or o' mine either? SIR TOBY BELCH Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy bond-slave? SIR ANDREW I' faith, or I either? SIR TOBY BELCH Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when the image of it leaves him he must run mad. MARIA Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? SIR TOBY BELCH Like aqua-vitae with a midwife. MARIA If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark his first approach before my lady: he will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow me. SIR TOBY BELCH To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit! SIR ANDREW I'll make one too. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT III SCENE I OLIVIA's garden. [Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour] VIOLA Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by thy tabour? Clown No, sir, I live by the church. VIOLA Art thou a churchman? Clown No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by the church. VIOLA So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church. Clown You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward! VIOLA Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with words may quickly make them wanton. Clown I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir. VIOLA Why, man? Clown Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words are very rascals since bonds disgraced them. VIOLA Thy reason, man? Clown Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and words are grown so false, I am loath to prove reason with them. VIOLA I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing. Clown Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. VIOLA Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? Clown No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. VIOLA I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's. Clown Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft with your master as with my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there. VIOLA Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. Hold, there's expenses for thee. Clown Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard! VIOLA By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for one; [Aside] though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within? Clown Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? VIOLA Yes, being kept together and put to use. Clown I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. VIOLA I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged. Clown The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is within, sir. I will construe to them whence you come; who you are and what you would are out of my welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn. [Exit] VIOLA This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit: He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practise As full of labour as a wise man's art For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW] SIR TOBY BELCH Save you, gentleman. VIOLA And you, sir. SIR ANDREW Dieu vous garde, monsieur. VIOLA Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. SIR TOBY BELCH Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous you should enter, if your trade be to her. VIOLA I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the list of my voyage. SIR TOBY BELCH Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion. VIOLA My legs do better understand me, sir, than I understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. SIR TOBY BELCH I mean, to go, sir, to enter. VIOLA I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we are prevented. [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA] Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain odours on you! SIR ANDREW That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well. VIOLA My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant and vouchsafed ear. SIR ANDREW 'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em all three all ready. OLIVIA Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA] Give me your hand, sir. VIOLA My duty, madam, and most humble service. OLIVIA What is your name? VIOLA Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. OLIVIA My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth. VIOLA And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. OLIVIA For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! VIOLA Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf. OLIVIA O, by your leave, I pray you, I bade you never speak again of him: But, would you undertake another suit, I had rather hear you to solicit that Than music from the spheres. VIOLA Dear lady,-- OLIVIA Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, After the last enchantment you did here, A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you: Under your hard construction must I sit, To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, Which you knew none of yours: what might you think? Have you not set mine honour at the stake And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom, Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. VIOLA I pity you. OLIVIA That's a degree to love. VIOLA No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof, That very oft we pity enemies. OLIVIA Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again. O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud! If one should be a prey, how much the better To fall before the lion than the wolf! [Clock strikes] The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, Your were is alike to reap a proper man: There lies your way, due west. VIOLA Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition Attend your ladyship! You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? OLIVIA Stay: I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me. VIOLA That you do think you are not what you are. OLIVIA If I think so, I think the same of you. VIOLA Then think you right: I am not what I am. OLIVIA I would you were as I would have you be! VIOLA Would it be better, madam, than I am? I wish it might, for now I am your fool. OLIVIA O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon. Cesario, by the roses of the spring, By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better. VIOLA By innocence I swear, and by my youth I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, And that no woman has; nor never none Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. And so adieu, good madam: never more Will I my master's tears to you deplore. OLIVIA Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT III SCENE II OLIVIA's house. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN] SIR ANDREW No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. SIR TOBY BELCH Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. FABIAN You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me; I saw't i' the orchard. SIR TOBY BELCH Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. SIR ANDREW As plain as I see you now. FABIAN This was a great argument of love in her toward you. SIR ANDREW 'Slight, will you make an ass o' me? FABIAN I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of judgment and reason. SIR TOBY BELCH And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah was a sailor. FABIAN She did show favour to the youth in your sight only to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. You should then have accosted her; and with some excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should have banged the youth into dumbness. This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash off, and you are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by some laudable attempt either of valour or policy. SIR ANDREW An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a politician. SIR TOBY BELCH Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valour. FABIAN There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. SIR ANDREW Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? SIR TOBY BELCH Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it. SIR ANDREW Where shall I find you? SIR TOBY BELCH We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go. [Exit SIR ANDREW] FABIAN This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby. SIR TOBY BELCH I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand strong, or so. FABIAN We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll not deliver't? SIR TOBY BELCH Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy. FABIAN And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no great presage of cruelty. [Enter MARIA] SIR TOBY BELCH Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes. MARIA If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no Christian, that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. SIR TOBY BELCH And cross-gartered? MARIA Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school i' the church. I have dogged him, like his murderer. He does obey every point of the letter that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with the augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do, he'll smile and take't for a great favour. SIR TOBY BELCH Come, bring us, bring us where he is. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT III SCENE III A street. [Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] SEBASTIAN I would not by my will have troubled you; But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, I will no further chide you. ANTONIO I could not stay behind you: my desire, More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; And not all love to see you, though so much As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, But jealousy what might befall your travel, Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, Unguided and unfriended, often prove Rough and unhospitable: my willing love, The rather by these arguments of fear, Set forth in your pursuit. SEBASTIAN My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanks; and ever [ ] oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay: But, were my worth as is my conscience firm, You should find better dealing. What's to do? Shall we go see the reliques of this town? ANTONIO To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging. SEBASTIAN I am not weary, and 'tis long to night: I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes With the memorials and the things of fame That do renown this city. ANTONIO Would you'ld pardon me; I do not without danger walk these streets: Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys I did some service; of such note indeed, That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd. SEBASTIAN Belike you slew great number of his people. ANTONIO The offence is not of such a bloody nature; Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel Might well have given us bloody argument. It might have since been answer'd in repaying What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake, Most of our city did: only myself stood out; For which, if I be lapsed in this place, I shall pay dear. SEBASTIAN Do not then walk too open. ANTONIO It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse. In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet, Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge With viewing of the town: there shall you have me. SEBASTIAN Why I your purse? ANTONIO Haply your eye shall light upon some toy You have desire to purchase; and your store, I think, is not for idle markets, sir. SEBASTIAN I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you For an hour. ANTONIO To the Elephant. SEBASTIAN I do remember. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT III SCENE IV OLIVIA's garden. [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA] OLIVIA I have sent after him: he says he'll come; How shall I feast him? what bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd. I speak too loud. Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil, And suits well for a servant with my fortunes: Where is Malvolio? MARIA He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He is, sure, possessed, madam. OLIVIA Why, what's the matter? does he rave? MARIA No. madam, he does nothing but smile: your ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if he come; for, sure, the man is tainted in's wits. OLIVIA Go call him hither. [Exit MARIA] I am as mad as he, If sad and merry madness equal be. [Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO] How now, Malvolio! MALVOLIO Sweet lady, ho, ho. OLIVIA Smilest thou? I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. MALVOLIO Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is with me as the very true sonnet is, 'Please one, and please all.' OLIVIA Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee? MALVOLIO Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It did come to his hands, and commands shall be executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. OLIVIA Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? MALVOLIO To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee. OLIVIA God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so and kiss thy hand so oft? MARIA How do you, Malvolio? MALVOLIO At your request! yes; nightingales answer daws. MARIA Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady? MALVOLIO 'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ. OLIVIA What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? MALVOLIO 'Some are born great,'-- OLIVIA Ha! MALVOLIO 'Some achieve greatness,'-- OLIVIA What sayest thou? MALVOLIO 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.' OLIVIA Heaven restore thee! MALVOLIO 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'-- OLIVIA Thy yellow stockings! MALVOLIO 'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.' OLIVIA Cross-gartered! MALVOLIO 'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'-- OLIVIA Am I made? MALVOLIO 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.' OLIVIA Why, this is very midsummer madness. [Enter Servant] Servant Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he attends your ladyship's pleasure. OLIVIA I'll come to him. [Exit Servant] Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special care of him: I would not have him miscarry for the half of my dowry. [Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA] MALVOLIO O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she; 'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put thyself into the trick of singularity;' and consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to be thanked. [Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN] SIR TOBY BELCH Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him. FABIAN Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir? how is't with you, man? MALVOLIO Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go off. MARIA Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a care of him. MALVOLIO Ah, ha! does she so? SIR TOBY BELCH Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? What, man! defy the devil: consider, he's an enemy to mankind. MALVOLIO Do you know what you say? MARIA La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched! FABIAN Carry his water to the wise woman. MARIA Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say. MALVOLIO How now, mistress! MARIA O Lord! SIR TOBY BELCH Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do you not see you move him? let me alone with him. FABIAN No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is rough, and will not be roughly used. SIR TOBY BELCH Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck? MALVOLIO Sir! SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang him, foul collier! MARIA Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray. MALVOLIO My prayers, minx! MARIA No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. MALVOLIO Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow things: I am not of your element: you shall know more hereafter. [Exit] SIR TOBY BELCH Is't possible? FABIAN If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. SIR TOBY BELCH His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man. MARIA Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint. FABIAN Why, we shall make him mad indeed. MARIA The house will be the quieter. SIR TOBY BELCH Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My niece is already in the belief that he's mad: we may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt us to have mercy on him: at which time we will bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a finder of madmen. But see, but see. [Enter SIR ANDREW] FABIAN More matter for a May morning. SIR ANDREW Here's the challenge, read it: warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't. FABIAN Is't so saucy? SIR ANDREW Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read. SIR TOBY BELCH Give me. [Reads] 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.' FABIAN Good, and valiant. SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.' FABIAN A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law. SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.' FABIAN Very brief, and to exceeding good sense--less. SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me,'-- FABIAN Good. SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.' FABIAN Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good. SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, ANDREW AGUECHEEK. If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: I'll give't him. MARIA You may have very fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. SIR TOBY BELCH Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the orchard like a bum-baily: so soon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as thou drawest swear horrible; for it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him. Away! SIR ANDREW Nay, let me alone for swearing. [Exit] SIR TOBY BELCH Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good capacity and breeding; his employment between his lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, fury and impetuosity. This will so fright them both that they will kill one another by the look, like cockatrices. [Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA] FABIAN Here he comes with your niece: give them way till he take leave, and presently after him. SIR TOBY BELCH I will meditate the while upon some horrid message for a challenge. [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, FABIAN, and MARIA] OLIVIA I have said too much unto a heart of stone And laid mine honour too unchary out: There's something in me that reproves my fault; But such a headstrong potent fault it is, That it but mocks reproof. VIOLA With the same 'havior that your passion bears Goes on my master's grief. OLIVIA Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture; Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you; And I beseech you come again to-morrow. What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, That honour saved may upon asking give? VIOLA Nothing but this; your true love for my master. OLIVIA How with mine honour may I give him that Which I have given to you? VIOLA I will acquit you. OLIVIA Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well: A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. [Exit] [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN] SIR TOBY BELCH Gentleman, God save thee. VIOLA And you, sir. SIR TOBY BELCH That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end: dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly. VIOLA You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from any image of offence done to any man. SIR TOBY BELCH You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your guard; for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal. VIOLA I pray you, sir, what is he? SIR TOBY BELCH He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't. VIOLA I will return again into the house and desire some conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirk. SIR TOBY BELCH Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a very competent injury: therefore, get you on and give him his desire. Back you shall not to the house, unless you undertake that with me which with as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on, or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you. VIOLA This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me this courteous office, as to know of the knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose. SIR TOBY BELCH I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this gentleman till my return. [Exit] VIOLA Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? FABIAN I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more. VIOLA I beseech you, what manner of man is he? FABIAN Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by his form, as you are like to find him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk towards him? I will make your peace with him if I can. VIOLA I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I care not who knows so much of my mettle. [Exeunt] [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH, with SIR ANDREW] SIR TOBY BELCH Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy. SIR ANDREW Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. SIR ANDREW Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant and so cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet. SIR TOBY BELCH I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show on't: this shall end without the perdition of souls. [Aside] Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. [Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA] [To FABIAN] I have his horse to take up the quarrel: I have persuaded him the youth's a devil. FABIAN He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. SIR TOBY BELCH [To VIOLA] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight with you for's oath sake: marry, he hath better bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you. VIOLA [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would make me tell them how much I lack of a man. FABIAN Give ground, if you see him furious. SIR TOBY BELCH Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you; he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he will not hurt you. Come on; to't. SIR ANDREW Pray God, he keep his oath! VIOLA I do assure you, 'tis against my will. [They draw] [Enter ANTONIO] ANTONIO Put up your sword. If this young gentleman Have done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defy you. SIR TOBY BELCH You, sir! why, what are you? ANTONIO One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more Than you have heard him brag to you he will. SIR TOBY BELCH Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. [They draw] [Enter Officers] FABIAN O good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers. SIR TOBY BELCH I'll be with you anon. VIOLA Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. SIR ANDREW Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised you, I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily and reins well. First Officer This is the man; do thy office. Second Officer Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino. ANTONIO You do mistake me, sir. First Officer No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. Take him away: he knows I know him well. ANTONIO I must obey. [To VIOLA] This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. What will you do, now my necessity Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me Much more for what I cannot do for you Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed; But be of comfort. Second Officer Come, sir, away. ANTONIO I must entreat of you some of that money. VIOLA What money, sir? For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my lean and low ability I'll lend you something: my having is not much; I'll make division of my present with you: Hold, there's half my coffer. ANTONIO Will you deny me now? Is't possible that my deserts to you Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, Lest that it make me so unsound a man As to upbraid you with those kindnesses That I have done for you. VIOLA I know of none; Nor know I you by voice or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption Inhabits our frail blood. ANTONIO O heavens themselves! Second Officer Come, sir, I pray you, go. ANTONIO Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death, Relieved him with such sanctity of love, And to his image, which methought did promise Most venerable worth, did I devotion. First Officer What's that to us? The time goes by: away! ANTONIO But O how vile an idol proves this god Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. In nature there's no blemish but the mind; None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind: Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil. First Officer The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir. ANTONIO Lead me on. [Exit with Officers] VIOLA Methinks his words do from such passion fly, That he believes himself: so do not I. Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you! SIR TOBY BELCH Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws. VIOLA He named Sebastian: I my brother know Yet living in my glass; even such and so In favour was my brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: O, if it prove, Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love. [Exit] SIR TOBY BELCH A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his friend here in necessity and denying him; and for his cowardship, ask Fabian. FABIAN A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. SIR ANDREW 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him. SIR TOBY BELCH Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword. SIR ANDREW An I do not,-- FABIAN Come, let's see the event. SIR TOBY BELCH I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet. [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT IV SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house. [Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown] Clown Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? SEBASTIAN Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow: Let me be clear of thee. Clown Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. SEBASTIAN I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou know'st not me. Clown Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some great man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my lady: shall I vent to her that thou art coming? SEBASTIAN I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me: There's money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give worse payment. Clown By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men that give fools money get themselves a good report--after fourteen years' purchase. [Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN] SIR ANDREW Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you. SEBASTIAN Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all the people mad? SIR TOBY BELCH Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. Clown This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be in some of your coats for two pence. [Exit] SIR TOBY BELCH Come on, sir; hold. SIR ANDREW Nay, let him alone: I'll go another way to work with him; I'll have an action of battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. SEBASTIAN Let go thy hand. SIR TOBY BELCH Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on. SEBASTIAN I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword. SIR TOBY BELCH What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. [Enter OLIVIA] OLIVIA Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold! SIR TOBY BELCH Madam! OLIVIA Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight! Be not offended, dear Cesario. Rudesby, be gone! [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN] I prithee, gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway In this uncivil and thou unjust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go: Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, He started one poor heart of mine in thee. SEBASTIAN What relish is in this? how runs the stream? Or I am mad, or else this is a dream: Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! OLIVIA Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'ldst be ruled by me! SEBASTIAN Madam, I will. OLIVIA O, say so, and so be! [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT IV SCENE II OLIVIA's house. [Enter MARIA and Clown] MARIA Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. [Exit] Clown Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself in't; and I would I were the first that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor lean enough to be thought a good student; but to be said an honest man and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] SIR TOBY BELCH Jove bless thee, master Parson. Clown Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;' so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for, what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'? SIR TOBY BELCH To him, Sir Topas. Clown What, ho, I say! peace in this prison! SIR TOBY BELCH The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. MALVOLIO [Within] Who calls there? Clown Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio the lunatic. MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. Clown Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man! talkest thou nothing but of ladies? SIR TOBY BELCH Well said, Master Parson. MALVOLIO Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me here in hideous darkness. Clown Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy: sayest thou that house is dark? MALVOLIO As hell, Sir Topas. Clown Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, and the clearstores toward the south north are as lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of obstruction? MALVOLIO I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark. Clown Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than the Egyptians in their fog. MALVOLIO I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you are: make the trial of it in any constant question. Clown What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? MALVOLIO That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. Clown What thinkest thou of his opinion? MALVOLIO I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion. Clown Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas! SIR TOBY BELCH My most exquisite Sir Topas! Clown Nay, I am for all waters. MARIA Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and gown: he sees thee not. SIR TOBY BELCH To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I would he were, for I am now so far in offence with my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] Clown [Singing] 'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, Tell me how thy lady does.' MALVOLIO Fool! Clown 'My lady is unkind, perdy.' MALVOLIO Fool! Clown 'Alas, why is she so?' MALVOLIO Fool, I say! Clown 'She loves another'--Who calls, ha? MALVOLIO Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper: as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to thee for't. Clown Master Malvolio? MALVOLIO Ay, good fool. Clown Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? MALVOLIO Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused: I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Clown But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in your wits than a fool. MALVOLIO They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to face me out of my wits. Clown Advise you what you say; the minister is here. Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain bibble babble. MALVOLIO Sir Topas! Clown Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas. Merry, amen. I will, sir, I will. MALVOLIO Fool, fool, fool, I say! Clown Alas, sir, be patient. What say you sir? I am shent for speaking to you. MALVOLIO Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. Clown Well-a-day that you were, sir MALVOLIO By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and light; and convey what I will set down to my lady: it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing of letter did. Clown I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit? MALVOLIO Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. Clown Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink. MALVOLIO Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I prithee, be gone. Clown [Singing] I am gone, sir, And anon, sir, I'll be with you again, In a trice, Like to the old Vice, Your need to sustain; Who, with dagger of lath, In his rage and his wrath, Cries, ah, ha! to the devil: Like a mad lad, Pare thy nails, dad; Adieu, good man devil. [Exit] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT IV SCENE III OLIVIA's garden. [Enter SEBASTIAN] SEBASTIAN This is the air; that is the glorious sun; This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't; And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? I could not find him at the Elephant: Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. His counsel now might do me golden service; For though my soul disputes well with my sense, That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing As I perceive she does: there's something in't That is deceiveable. But here the lady comes. [Enter OLIVIA and Priest] OLIVIA Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, Now go with me and with this holy man Into the chantry by: there, before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith; That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace. He shall conceal it Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth. What do you say? SEBASTIAN I'll follow this good man, and go with you; And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. OLIVIA Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, That they may fairly note this act of mine! [Exeunt] TWELFTH NIGHT ACT V SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house. [Enter Clown and FABIAN] FABIAN Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. Clown Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. FABIAN Any thing. Clown Do not desire to see this letter. FABIAN This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my dog again. [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and Lords] DUKE ORSINO Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? Clown Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. DUKE ORSINO I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow? Clown Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse for my friends. DUKE ORSINO Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. Clown No, sir, the worse. DUKE ORSINO How can that be? Clown Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends, I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for my friends and the better for my foes. DUKE ORSINO Why, this is excellent. Clown By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be one of my friends. DUKE ORSINO Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold. Clown But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would you could make it another. DUKE ORSINO O, you give me ill counsel. Clown Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it. DUKE ORSINO Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a double-dealer: there's another. Clown Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex, sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; one, two, three. DUKE ORSINO You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: if you will let your lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further. Clown Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake it anon. [Exit] VIOLA Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. [Enter ANTONIO and Officers] DUKE ORSINO That face of his I do remember well; Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war: A bawbling vessel was he captain of, For shallow draught and bulk unprizable; With which such scathful grapple did he make With the most noble bottom of our fleet, That very envy and the tongue of loss Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter? First Officer Orsino, this is that Antonio That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; And this is he that did the Tiger board, When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In private brabble did we apprehend him. VIOLA He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side; But in conclusion put strange speech upon me: I know not what 'twas but distraction. DUKE ORSINO Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, Hast made thine enemies? ANTONIO Orsino, noble sir, Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me: Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, Though I confess, on base and ground enough, Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingrateful boy there by your side, From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was: His life I gave him and did thereto add My love, without retention or restraint, All his in dedication; for his sake Did I expose myself, pure for his love, Into the danger of this adverse town; Drew to defend him when he was beset: Where being apprehended, his false cunning, Not meaning to partake with me in danger, Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twenty years removed thing While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, Which I had recommended to his use Not half an hour before. VIOLA How can this be? DUKE ORSINO When came he to this town? ANTONIO To-day, my lord; and for three months before, No interim, not a minute's vacancy, Both day and night did we keep company. [Enter OLIVIA and Attendants] DUKE ORSINO Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth. But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are madness: Three months this youth hath tended upon me; But more of that anon. Take him aside. OLIVIA What would my lord, but that he may not have, Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. VIOLA Madam! DUKE ORSINO Gracious Olivia,-- OLIVIA What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord,-- VIOLA My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. OLIVIA If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear As howling after music. DUKE ORSINO Still so cruel? OLIVIA Still so constant, lord. DUKE ORSINO What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady, To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? OLIVIA Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. DUKE ORSINO Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy That sometimes savours nobly. But hear me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screws me from my true place in your favour, Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still; But this your minion, whom I know you love, And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, To spite a raven's heart within a dove. VIOLA And I, most jocund, apt and willingly, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. OLIVIA Where goes Cesario? VIOLA After him I love More than I love these eyes, more than my life, More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. If I do feign, you witnesses above Punish my life for tainting of my love! OLIVIA Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled! VIOLA Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? OLIVIA Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long? Call forth the holy father. DUKE ORSINO Come, away! OLIVIA Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. DUKE ORSINO Husband! OLIVIA Ay, husband: can he that deny? DUKE ORSINO Her husband, sirrah! VIOLA No, my lord, not I. OLIVIA Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up; Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st. [Enter Priest] O, welcome, father! Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, Here to unfold, though lately we intended To keep in darkness what occasion now Reveals before 'tis ripe, what thou dost know Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me. Priest A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave I have travell'd but two hours. DUKE ORSINO O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. VIOLA My lord, I do protest-- OLIVIA O, do not swear! Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. [Enter SIR ANDREW] SIR ANDREW For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently to Sir Toby. OLIVIA What's the matter? SIR ANDREW He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. OLIVIA Who has done this, Sir Andrew? SIR ANDREW The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. DUKE ORSINO My gentleman, Cesario? SIR ANDREW 'Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't by Sir Toby. VIOLA Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: You drew your sword upon me without cause; But I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not. SIR ANDREW If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and Clown] Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more: but if he had not been in drink, he would have tickled you othergates than he did. DUKE ORSINO How now, gentleman! how is't with you? SIR TOBY BELCH That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the end on't. Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot? Clown O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning. SIR TOBY BELCH Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I hate a drunken rogue. OLIVIA Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them? SIR ANDREW I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together. SIR TOBY BELCH Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull! OLIVIA Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. [Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW] [Enter SEBASTIAN] SEBASTIAN I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman: But, had it been the brother of my blood, I must have done no less with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that I do perceive it hath offended you: Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows We made each other but so late ago. DUKE ORSINO One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A natural perspective, that is and is not! SEBASTIAN Antonio, O my dear Antonio! How have the hours rack'd and tortured me, Since I have lost thee! ANTONIO Sebastian are you? SEBASTIAN Fear'st thou that, Antonio? ANTONIO How have you made division of yourself? An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? OLIVIA Most wonderful! SEBASTIAN Do I stand there? I never had a brother; Nor can there be that deity in my nature, Of here and every where. I had a sister, Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd. Of charity, what kin are you to me? What countryman? what name? what parentage? VIOLA Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; Such a Sebastian was my brother too, So went he suited to his watery tomb: If spirits can assume both form and suit You come to fright us. SEBASTIAN A spirit I am indeed; But am in that dimension grossly clad Which from the womb I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, And say 'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!' VIOLA My father had a mole upon his brow. SEBASTIAN And so had mine. VIOLA And died that day when Viola from her birth Had number'd thirteen years. SEBASTIAN O, that record is lively in my soul! He finished indeed his mortal act That day that made my sister thirteen years. VIOLA If nothing lets to make us happy both But this my masculine usurp'd attire, Do not embrace me till each circumstance Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump That I am Viola: which to confirm, I'll bring you to a captain in this town, Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help I was preserved to serve this noble count. All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath been between this lady and this lord. SEBASTIAN [To OLIVIA] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: But nature to her bias drew in that. You would have been contracted to a maid; Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. DUKE ORSINO Be not amazed; right noble is his blood. If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, I shall have share in this most happy wreck. [To VIOLA] Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. VIOLA And all those sayings will I overswear; And those swearings keep as true in soul As doth that orbed continent the fire That severs day from night. DUKE ORSINO Give me thy hand; And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. VIOLA The captain that did bring me first on shore Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. OLIVIA He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither: And yet, alas, now I remember me, They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. [Re-enter Clown with a letter, and FABIAN] A most extracting frenzy of mine own From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. How does he, sirrah? Clown Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves's end as well as a man in his case may do: has here writ a letter to you; I should have given't you to-day morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it skills not much when they are delivered. OLIVIA Open't, and read it. Clown Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers the madman. [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam,'-- OLIVIA How now! art thou mad? Clown No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox. OLIVIA Prithee, read i' thy right wits. Clown So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear. OLIVIA Read it you, sirrah. [To FABIAN] FABIAN [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: though you have put me into darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little unthought of and speak out of my injury. THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO.' OLIVIA Did he write this? Clown Ay, madam. DUKE ORSINO This savours not much of distraction. OLIVIA See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither. [Exit FABIAN] My lord so please you, these things further thought on, To think me as well a sister as a wife, One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, Here at my house and at my proper cost. DUKE ORSINO Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer. [To VIOLA] Your master quits you; and for your service done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me master for so long, Here is my hand: you shall from this time be Your master's mistress. OLIVIA A sister! you are she. [Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO] DUKE ORSINO Is this the madman? OLIVIA Ay, my lord, this same. How now, Malvolio! MALVOLIO Madam, you have done me wrong, Notorious wrong. OLIVIA Have I, Malvolio? no. MALVOLIO Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter. You must not now deny it is your hand: Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase; Or say 'tis not your seal, nor your invention: You can say none of this: well, grant it then And tell me, in the modesty of honour, Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you, To put on yellow stockings and to frown Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people; And, acting this in an obedient hope, Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck and gull That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why. OLIVIA Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, Though, I confess, much like the character But out of question 'tis Maria's hand. And now I do bethink me, it was she First told me thou wast mad; then camest in smiling, And in such forms which here were presupposed Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content: This practise hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee; But when we know the grounds and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge Of thine own cause. FABIAN Good madam, hear me speak, And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come Taint the condition of this present hour, Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confess, myself and Toby Set this device against Malvolio here, Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts We had conceived against him: Maria writ The letter at Sir Toby's great importance; In recompense whereof he hath married her. How with a sportful malice it was follow'd, May rather pluck on laughter than revenge; If that the injuries be justly weigh'd That have on both sides pass'd. OLIVIA Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee! Clown Why, 'some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them.' I was one, sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but that's all one. 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.' But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged:' and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. MALVOLIO I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. [Exit] OLIVIA He hath been most notoriously abused. DUKE ORSINO Pursue him and entreat him to a peace: He hath not told us of the captain yet: When that is known and golden time convents, A solemn combination shall be made Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; For so you shall be, while you are a man; But when in other habits you are seen, Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen. [Exeunt all, except Clown] Clown [Sings] When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. But when I came to man's estate, With hey, ho, &c. 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, For the rain, &c. But when I came, alas! to wive, With hey, ho, &c. By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain, &c. But when I came unto my beds, With hey, ho, &c. With toss-pots still had drunken heads, For the rain, &c. A great while ago the world begun, With hey, ho, &c. But that's all one, our play is done, And we'll strive to please you every day. [Exit] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA DRAMATIS PERSONAE PRIAM king of Troy. HECTOR | | TROILUS | | PARIS | his sons. | DEIPHOBUS | | HELENUS | MARGARELON a bastard son of Priam. AENEAS | | Trojan commanders. ANTENOR | CALCHAS a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks. PANDARUS uncle to Cressida. AGAMEMNON the Grecian general. MENELAUS his brother. ACHILLES | | AJAX | | ULYSSES | | Grecian princes. NESTOR | | DIOMEDES | | PATROCLUS | THERSITES a deformed and scurrilous Grecian. ALEXANDER servant to Cressida. Servant to Troilus. (Boy:) Servant to Paris. Servant to Diomedes. (Servant:) HELEN wife to Menelaus. ANDROMACHE wife to Hector. CASSANDRA daughter to Priam, a prophetess. CRESSIDA daughter to Calchas. Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. SCENE Troy, and the Grecian camp before it. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA PROLOGUE In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed, Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, Fraught with the ministers and instruments Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel. To Tenedos they come; And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city, Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, And Antenorides, with massy staples And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, Sperr up the sons of Troy. Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, Sets all on hazard: and hither am I come A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited In like conditions as our argument, To tell you, fair beholders, that our play Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, Beginning in the middle, starting thence away To what may be digested in a play. Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are: Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT I SCENE I Troy. Before Priam's palace. [Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS] TROILUS Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again: Why should I war without the walls of Troy, That find such cruel battle here within? Each Trojan that is master of his heart, Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. PANDARUS Will this gear ne'er be mended? TROILUS The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength, Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant; But I am weaker than a woman's tear, Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, Less valiant than the virgin in the night And skilless as unpractised infancy. PANDARUS Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding. TROILUS Have I not tarried? PANDARUS Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the bolting. TROILUS Have I not tarried? PANDARUS Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening. TROILUS Still have I tarried. PANDARUS Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word 'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the heating of the oven and the baking; nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. TROILUS Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. At Priam's royal table do I sit; And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,-- So, traitor! 'When she comes!' When is she thence? PANDARUS Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw her look, or any woman else. TROILUS I was about to tell thee:--when my heart, As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, I have, as when the sun doth light a storm, Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. PANDARUS An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's-- well, go to--there were no more comparison between the women: but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term it, praise her: but I would somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but-- TROILUS O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-- When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, Reply not in how many fathoms deep They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair;' Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, In whose comparison all whites are ink, Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me, As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me The knife that made it. PANDARUS I speak no more than truth. TROILUS Thou dost not speak so much. PANDARUS Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be not, she has the mends in her own hands. TROILUS Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus! PANDARUS I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought on of her and ill-thought on of you; gone between and between, but small thanks for my labour. TROILUS What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? PANDARUS Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me. TROILUS Say I she is not fair? PANDARUS I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter. TROILUS Pandarus,-- PANDARUS Not I. TROILUS Sweet Pandarus,-- PANDARUS Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I found it, and there an end. [Exit PANDARUS. An alarum] TROILUS Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds! Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, When with your blood you daily paint her thus. I cannot fight upon this argument; It is too starved a subject for my sword. But Pandarus,--O gods, how do you plague me! I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar; And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo. As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl: Between our Ilium and where she resides, Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood, Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark. [Alarum. Enter AENEAS] AENEAS How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield? TROILUS Because not there: this woman's answer sorts, For womanish it is to be from thence. What news, AEneas, from the field to-day? AENEAS That Paris is returned home and hurt. TROILUS By whom, AEneas? AENEAS Troilus, by Menelaus. TROILUS Let Paris bleed; 'tis but a scar to scorn; Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum] AENEAS Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day! TROILUS Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.' But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither? AENEAS In all swift haste. TROILUS Come, go we then together. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT I SCENE II The Same. A street. [Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER] CRESSIDA Who were those went by? ALEXANDER Queen Hecuba and Helen. CRESSIDA And whither go they? ALEXANDER Up to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the vale, To see the battle. Hector, whose patience Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was moved: He chid Andromache and struck his armourer, And, like as there were husbandry in war, Before the sun rose he was harness'd light, And to the field goes he; where every flower Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw In Hector's wrath. CRESSIDA What was his cause of anger? ALEXANDER The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; They call him Ajax. CRESSIDA Good; and what of him? ALEXANDER They say he is a very man per se, And stands alone. CRESSIDA So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. ALEXANDER This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without cause, and merry against the hair: he hath the joints of every thing, but everything so out of joint that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. CRESSIDA But how should this man, that makes me smile, make Hector angry? ALEXANDER They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. CRESSIDA Who comes here? ALEXANDER Madam, your uncle Pandarus. [Enter PANDARUS] CRESSIDA Hector's a gallant man. ALEXANDER As may be in the world, lady. PANDARUS What's that? what's that? CRESSIDA Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. PANDARUS Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of? Good morrow, Alexander. How do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? CRESSIDA This morning, uncle. PANDARUS What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? CRESSIDA Hector was gone, but Helen was not up. PANDARUS Even so: Hector was stirring early. CRESSIDA That were we talking of, and of his anger. PANDARUS Was he angry? CRESSIDA So he says here. PANDARUS True, he was so: I know the cause too: he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too. CRESSIDA What, is he angry too? PANDARUS Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. CRESSIDA O Jupiter! there's no comparison. PANDARUS What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a man if you see him? CRESSIDA Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him. PANDARUS Well, I say Troilus is Troilus. CRESSIDA Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector. PANDARUS No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees. CRESSIDA 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. PANDARUS Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were. CRESSIDA So he is. PANDARUS Condition, I had gone barefoot to India. CRESSIDA He is not Hector. PANDARUS Himself! no, he's not himself: would a' were himself! Well, the gods are above; time must friend or end: well, Troilus, well: I would my heart were in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus. CRESSIDA Excuse me. PANDARUS He is elder. CRESSIDA Pardon me, pardon me. PANDARUS Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year. CRESSIDA He shall not need it, if he have his own. PANDARUS Nor his qualities. CRESSIDA No matter. PANDARUS Nor his beauty. CRESSIDA 'Twould not become him; his own's better. PANDARUS You have no judgment, niece: Helen herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for a brown favour--for so 'tis, I must confess,-- not brown neither,-- CRESSIDA No, but brown. PANDARUS 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. CRESSIDA To say the truth, true and not true. PANDARUS She praised his complexion above Paris. CRESSIDA Why, Paris hath colour enough. PANDARUS So he has. CRESSIDA Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised him above, his complexion is higher than his; he having colour enough, and the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for a copper nose. PANDARUS I swear to you. I think Helen loves him better than Paris. CRESSIDA Then she's a merry Greek indeed. PANDARUS Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other day into the compassed window,--and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin,-- CRESSIDA Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his particulars therein to a total. PANDARUS Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector. CRESSIDA Is he so young a man and so old a lifter? PANDARUS But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin-- CRESSIDA Juno have mercy! how came it cloven? PANDARUS Why, you know 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. CRESSIDA O, he smiles valiantly. PANDARUS Does he not? CRESSIDA O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. PANDARUS Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,-- CRESSIDA Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll prove it so. PANDARUS Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg. CRESSIDA If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the shell. PANDARUS I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled his chin: indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confess,-- CRESSIDA Without the rack. PANDARUS And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. CRESSIDA Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. PANDARUS But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed that her eyes ran o'er. CRESSIDA With mill-stones. PANDARUS And Cassandra laughed. CRESSIDA But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too? PANDARUS And Hector laughed. CRESSIDA At what was all this laughing? PANDARUS Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. CRESSIDA An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed too. PANDARUS They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer. CRESSIDA What was his answer? PANDARUS Quoth she, 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white. CRESSIDA This is her question. PANDARUS That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and fifty hairs' quoth he, 'and one white: that white hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.' 'Jupiter!' quoth she, 'which of these hairs is Paris, my husband? 'The forked one,' quoth he, 'pluck't out, and give it him.' But there was such laughing! and Helen so blushed, an Paris so chafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed. CRESSIDA So let it now; for it has been while going by. PANDARUS Well, cousin. I told you a thing yesterday; think on't. CRESSIDA So I do. PANDARUS I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April. CRESSIDA And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May. [A retreat sounded] PANDARUS Hark! they are coming from the field: shall we stand up here, and see them as they pass toward Ilium? good niece, do, sweet niece Cressida. CRESSIDA At your pleasure. PANDARUS Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest. CRESSIDA Speak not so loud. [AENEAS passes] PANDARUS That's AEneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you: but mark Troilus; you shall see anon. [ANTENOR passes] CRESSIDA Who's that? PANDARUS That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough, he's one o' the soundest judgments in whosoever, and a proper man of person. When comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon: if he see me, you shall see him nod at me. CRESSIDA Will he give you the nod? PANDARUS You shall see. CRESSIDA If he do, the rich shall have more. [HECTOR passes] PANDARUS That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! there's a countenance! is't not a brave man? CRESSIDA O, a brave man! PANDARUS Is a' not? it does a man's heart good. Look you what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you see? look you there: there's no jesting; there's laying on, take't off who will, as they say: there be hacks! CRESSIDA Be those with swords? PANDARUS Swords! any thing, he cares not; an the devil come to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris. [PARIS passes] Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too, is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could see Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon. [HELENUS passes] CRESSIDA Who's that? PANDARUS That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus. CRESSIDA Can Helenus fight, uncle? PANDARUS Helenus? no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I marvel where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the people cry 'Troilus'? Helenus is a priest. CRESSIDA What sneaking fellow comes yonder? [TROILUS passes] PANDARUS Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry! CRESSIDA Peace, for shame, peace! PANDARUS Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon him, niece: look you how his sword is bloodied, and his helm more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks, and how he goes! O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot. CRESSIDA Here come more. [Forces pass] PANDARUS Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look: the eagles are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all Greece. CRESSIDA There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus. PANDARUS Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel. CRESSIDA Well, well. PANDARUS 'Well, well!' why, have you any discretion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? CRESSIDA Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date in the pie, for then the man's date's out. PANDARUS You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie. CRESSIDA Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a thousand watches. PANDARUS Say one of your watches. CRESSIDA Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's past watching. PANDARUS You are such another! [Enter Troilus's Boy] Boy Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. PANDARUS Where? Boy At your own house; there he unarms him. PANDARUS Good boy, tell him I come. [Exit boy] I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece. CRESSIDA Adieu, uncle. PANDARUS I'll be with you, niece, by and by. CRESSIDA To bring, uncle? PANDARUS Ay, a token from Troilus. CRESSIDA By the same token, you are a bawd. [Exit PANDARUS] Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise; But more in Troilus thousand fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be; Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing. That she beloved knows nought that knows not this: Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is: That she was never yet that ever knew Love got so sweet as when desire did sue. Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech: Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT I SCENE III The Grecian camp. Before Agamemnon's tent. [Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and others] AGAMEMNON Princes, What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks? The ample proposition that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below Fails in the promised largeness: cheques and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine and divert his grain Tortive and errant from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us That we come short of our suppose so far That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand; Sith every action that hath gone before, Whereof we have record, trial did draw Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, And that unbodied figure of the thought That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works, And call them shames? which are indeed nought else But the protractive trials of great Jove To find persistive constancy in men: The fineness of which metal is not found In fortune's love; for then the bold and coward, The wise and fool, the artist and unread, The hard and soft seem all affined and kin: But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, Puffing at all, winnows the light away; And what hath mass or matter, by itself Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. NESTOR With due observance of thy godlike seat, Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth, How many shallow bauble boats dare sail Upon her patient breast, making their way With those of nobler bulk! But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage The gentle Thetis, and anon behold The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, Bounding between the two moist elements, Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled, Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, And flies fled under shade, why, then the thing of courage As roused with rage with rage doth sympathize, And with an accent tuned in selfsame key Retorts to chiding fortune. ULYSSES Agamemnon, Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit. In whom the tempers and the minds of all Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks. Besides the applause and approbation To which, [To AGAMEMNON] most mighty for thy place and sway, [To NESTOR] And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life I give to both your speeches, which were such As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece Should hold up high in brass, and such again As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears To his experienced tongue, yet let it please both, Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. AGAMEMNON Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect That matter needless, of importless burden, Divide thy lips, than we are confident, When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, We shall hear music, wit and oracle. ULYSSES Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, But for these instances. The specialty of rule hath been neglected: And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. When that the general is not like the hive To whom the foragers shall all repair, What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre Observe degree, priority and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office and custom, in all line of order; And therefore is the glorious planet Sol In noble eminence enthroned and sphered Amidst the other; whose medicinable eye Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans cheque to good and bad: but when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues and what portents! what mutiny! What raging of the sea! shaking of earth! Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixure! O, when degree is shaked, Which is the ladder to all high designs, Then enterprise is sick! How could communities, Degrees in schools and brotherhoods in cities, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, The primogenitive and due of birth, Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, But by degree, stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores And make a sop of all this solid globe: Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead: Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then every thing includes itself in power, Power into will, will into appetite; And appetite, an universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce an universal prey, And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, This chaos, when degree is suffocate, Follows the choking. And this neglection of degree it is That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd By him one step below, he by the next, That next by him beneath; so every step, Exampled by the first pace that is sick Of his superior, grows to an envious fever Of pale and bloodless emulation: And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. NESTOR Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd The fever whereof all our power is sick. AGAMEMNON The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, What is the remedy? ULYSSES The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns The sinew and the forehand of our host, Having his ear full of his airy fame, Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent Lies mocking our designs: with him Patroclus Upon a lazy bed the livelong day Breaks scurril jests; And with ridiculous and awkward action, Which, slanderer, he imitation calls, He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, Thy topless deputation he puts on, And, like a strutting player, whose conceit Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,-- Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks, 'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquared, Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just. Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard, As he being drest to some oration.' That's done, as near as the extremest ends Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife: Yet god Achilles still cries 'Excellent! 'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, Arming to answer in a night alarm.' And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age Must be the scene of mirth; to cough and spit, And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, Shake in and out the rivet: and at this sport Sir Valour dies; cries 'O, enough, Patroclus; Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all In pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashion, All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, Severals and generals of grace exact, Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, Success or loss, what is or is not, serves As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. NESTOR And in the imitation of these twain-- Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns With an imperial voice--many are infect. Ajax is grown self-will'd, and bears his head In such a rein, in full as proud a place As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war, Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, To match us in comparisons with dirt, To weaken and discredit our exposure, How rank soever rounded in with danger. ULYSSES They tax our policy, and call it cowardice, Count wisdom as no member of the war, Forestall prescience, and esteem no act But that of hand: the still and mental parts, That do contrive how many hands shall strike, When fitness calls them on, and know by measure Of their observant toil the enemies' weight,-- Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war; So that the ram that batters down the wall, For the great swing and rudeness of his poise, They place before his hand that made the engine, Or those that with the fineness of their souls By reason guide his execution. NESTOR Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse Makes many Thetis' sons. [A tucket] AGAMEMNON What trumpet? look, Menelaus. MENELAUS From Troy. [Enter AENEAS] AGAMEMNON What would you 'fore our tent? AENEAS Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? AGAMEMNON Even this. AENEAS May one, that is a herald and a prince, Do a fair message to his kingly ears? AGAMEMNON With surety stronger than Achilles' arm 'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice Call Agamemnon head and general. AENEAS Fair leave and large security. How may A stranger to those most imperial looks Know them from eyes of other mortals? AGAMEMNON How! AENEAS Ay; I ask, that I might waken reverence, And bid the cheek be ready with a blush Modest as morning when she coldly eyes The youthful Phoebus: Which is that god in office, guiding men? Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? AGAMEMNON This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy Are ceremonious courtiers. AENEAS Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's accord, Nothing so full of heart. But peace, AEneas, Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips! The worthiness of praise distains his worth, If that the praised himself bring the praise forth: But what the repining enemy commends, That breath fame blows; that praise, sole sure, transcends. AGAMEMNON Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself AEneas? AENEAS Ay, Greek, that is my name. AGAMEMNON What's your affair I pray you? AENEAS Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. AGAMEMNON He hears naught privately that comes from Troy. AENEAS Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him: I bring a trumpet to awake his ear, To set his sense on the attentive bent, And then to speak. AGAMEMNON Speak frankly as the wind; It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour: That thou shalt know. Trojan, he is awake, He tells thee so himself. AENEAS Trumpet, blow loud, Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; And every Greek of mettle, let him know, What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. [Trumpet sounds] We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy A prince call'd Hector,--Priam is his father,-- Who in this dull and long-continued truce Is rusty grown: he bade me take a trumpet, And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords! If there be one among the fair'st of Greece That holds his honour higher than his ease, That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, That knows his valour, and knows not his fear, That loves his mistress more than in confession, With truant vows to her own lips he loves, And dare avow her beauty and her worth In other arms than hers,--to him this challenge. Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, Shall make it good, or do his best to do it, He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, Than ever Greek did compass in his arms, And will to-morrow with his trumpet call Midway between your tents and walls of Troy, To rouse a Grecian that is true in love: If any come, Hector shall honour him; If none, he'll say in Troy when he retires, The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth The splinter of a lance. Even so much. AGAMEMNON This shall be told our lovers, Lord AEneas; If none of them have soul in such a kind, We left them all at home: but we are soldiers; And may that soldier a mere recreant prove, That means not, hath not, or is not in love! If then one is, or hath, or means to be, That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. NESTOR Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now; But if there be not in our Grecian host One noble man that hath one spark of fire, To answer for his love, tell him from me I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn, And meeting him will tell him that my lady Was fairer than his grandam and as chaste As may be in the world: his youth in flood, I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. AENEAS Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth! ULYSSES Amen. AGAMEMNON Fair Lord AEneas, let me touch your hand; To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. Achilles shall have word of this intent; So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent: Yourself shall feast with us before you go And find the welcome of a noble foe. [Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR] ULYSSES Nestor! NESTOR What says Ulysses? ULYSSES I have a young conception in my brain; Be you my time to bring it to some shape. NESTOR What is't? ULYSSES This 'tis: Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride That hath to this maturity blown up In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd, Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, To overbulk us all. NESTOR Well, and how? ULYSSES This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, However it is spread in general name, Relates in purpose only to Achilles. NESTOR The purpose is perspicuous even as substance, Whose grossness little characters sum up: And, in the publication, make no strain, But that Achilles, were his brain as barren As banks of Libya,--though, Apollo knows, 'Tis dry enough,--will, with great speed of judgment, Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose Pointing on him. ULYSSES And wake him to the answer, think you? NESTOR Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you else oppose, That can from Hector bring his honour off, If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat, Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute With their finest palate: and trust to me, Ulysses, Our imputation shall be oddly poised In this wild action; for the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large. It is supposed He that meets Hector issues from our choice And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, Makes merit her election, and doth boil, As 'twere from us all, a man distill'd Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, What heart receives from hence the conquering part, To steel a strong opinion to themselves? Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, In no less working than are swords and bows Directive by the limbs. ULYSSES Give pardon to my speech: Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares, And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not, The lustre of the better yet to show, Shall show the better. Do not consent That ever Hector and Achilles meet; For both our honour and our shame in this Are dogg'd with two strange followers. NESTOR I see them not with my old eyes: what are they? ULYSSES What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, Were he not proud, we all should share with him: But he already is too insolent; And we were better parch in Afric sun Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd, Why then, we did our main opinion crush In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery; And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw The sort to fight with Hector: among ourselves Give him allowance for the better man; For that will physic the great Myrmidon Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends. If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail, Yet go we under our opinion still That we have better men. But, hit or miss, Our project's life this shape of sense assumes: Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes. NESTOR Ulysses, Now I begin to relish thy advice; And I will give a taste of it forthwith To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT II SCENE I A part of the Grecian camp. [Enter AJAX and THERSITES] AJAX Thersites! THERSITES Agamemnon, how if he had boils? full, all over, generally? AJAX Thersites! THERSITES And those boils did run? say so: did not the general run then? were not that a botchy core? AJAX Dog! THERSITES Then would come some matter from him; I see none now. AJAX Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? [Beating him] Feel, then. THERSITES The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord! AJAX Speak then, thou vinewedst leaven, speak: I will beat thee into handsomeness. THERSITES I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks! AJAX Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. THERSITES Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? AJAX The proclamation! THERSITES Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. AJAX Do not, porpentine, do not: my fingers itch. THERSITES I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had the scratching of thee; I would make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. AJAX I say, the proclamation! THERSITES Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as Cerberus is at Proserpine's beauty, ay, that thou barkest at him. AJAX Mistress Thersites! THERSITES Thou shouldest strike him. AJAX Cobloaf! THERSITES He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. AJAX [Beating him] You whoreson cur! THERSITES Do, do. AJAX Thou stool for a witch! THERSITES Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinego may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art here but to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no bowels, thou! AJAX You dog! THERSITES You scurvy lord! AJAX [Beating him] You cur! THERSITES Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] ACHILLES Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you thus? How now, Thersites! what's the matter, man? THERSITES You see him there, do you? ACHILLES Ay; what's the matter? THERSITES Nay, look upon him. ACHILLES So I do: what's the matter? THERSITES Nay, but regard him well. ACHILLES 'Well!' why, I do so. THERSITES But yet you look not well upon him; for whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. ACHILLES I know that, fool. THERSITES Ay, but that fool knows not himself. AJAX Therefore I beat thee. THERSITES Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his brain more than he has beat my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not worth the nineth part of a sparrow. This lord, Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say of him. ACHILLES What? THERSITES I say, this Ajax-- [Ajax offers to beat him] ACHILLES Nay, good Ajax. THERSITES Has not so much wit-- ACHILLES Nay, I must hold you. THERSITES As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he comes to fight. ACHILLES Peace, fool! THERSITES I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will not: he there: that he: look you there. AJAX O thou damned cur! I shall-- ACHILLES Will you set your wit to a fool's? THERSITES No, I warrant you; for a fools will shame it. PATROCLUS Good words, Thersites. ACHILLES What's the quarrel? AJAX I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. THERSITES I serve thee not. AJAX Well, go to, go to. THERSITES I serve here voluntarily. ACHILLES Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. THERSITES E'en so; a great deal of your wit, too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector have a great catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a' were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. ACHILLES What, with me too, Thersites? THERSITES There's Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you like draught-oxen and make you plough up the wars. ACHILLES What, what? THERSITES Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to! AJAX I shall cut out your tongue. THERSITES 'Tis no matter! I shall speak as much as thou afterwards. PATROCLUS No more words, Thersites; peace! THERSITES I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I? ACHILLES There's for you, Patroclus. THERSITES I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come any more to your tents: I will keep where there is wit stirring and leave the faction of fools. [Exit] PATROCLUS A good riddance. ACHILLES Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host: That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy To-morrow morning call some knight to arms That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare Maintain--I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell. AJAX Farewell. Who shall answer him? ACHILLES I know not: 'tis put to lottery; otherwise He knew his man. AJAX O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT II SCENE II Troy. A room in Priam's palace. [Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS] PRIAM After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: 'Deliver Helen, and all damage else-- As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed In hot digestion of this cormorant war-- Shall be struck off.' Hector, what say you to't? HECTOR Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I As far as toucheth my particular, Yet, dread Priam, There is no lady of more softer bowels, More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows?' Than Hector is: the wound of peace is surety, Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go: Since the first sword was drawn about this question, Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes, Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours: If we have lost so many tenths of ours, To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us, Had it our name, the value of one ten, What merit's in that reason which denies The yielding of her up? TROILUS Fie, fie, my brother! Weigh you the worth and honour of a king So great as our dread father in a scale Of common ounces? will you with counters sum The past proportion of his infinite? And buckle in a waist most fathomless With spans and inches so diminutive As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! HELENUS No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, You are so empty of them. Should not our father Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, Because your speech hath none that tells him so? TROILUS You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest; You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your reasons: You know an enemy intends you harm; You know a sword employ'd is perilous, And reason flies the object of all harm: Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds A Grecian and his sword, if he do set The very wings of reason to his heels And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason, Let's shut our gates and sleep: manhood and honour Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat their thoughts With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect Make livers pale and lustihood deject. HECTOR Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding. TROILUS What is aught, but as 'tis valued? HECTOR But value dwells not in particular will; It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god And the will dotes that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of the affected merit. TROILUS I take to-day a wife, and my election Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? there can be no evasion To blench from this and to stand firm by honour: We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, When we have soil'd them, nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce And did him service: he touch'd the ports desired, And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went-- As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go,'-- If you'll confess he brought home noble prize-- As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands And cried 'Inestimable!'--why do you now The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, And do a deed that fortune never did, Beggar the estimation which you prized Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base, That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep! But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol'n, That in their country did them that disgrace, We fear to warrant in our native place! CASSANDRA [Within] Cry, Trojans, cry! PRIAM What noise? what shriek is this? TROILUS 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. CASSANDRA [Within] Cry, Trojans! HECTOR It is Cassandra. [Enter CASSANDRA, raving] CASSANDRA Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, And I will fill them with prophetic tears. HECTOR Peace, sister, peace! CASSANDRA Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes A moiety of that mass of moan to come. Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a woe: Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit] HECTOR Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains Of divination in our sister work Some touches of remorse? or is your blood So madly hot that no discourse of reason, Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, Can qualify the same? TROILUS Why, brother Hector, We may not think the justness of each act Such and no other than event doth form it, Nor once deject the courage of our minds, Because Cassandra's mad: her brain-sick raptures Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel Which hath our several honours all engaged To make it gracious. For my private part, I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons: And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us Such things as might offend the weakest spleen To fight for and maintain! PARIS Else might the world convince of levity As well my undertakings as your counsels: But I attest the gods, your full consent Gave wings to my propension and cut off All fears attending on so dire a project. For what, alas, can these my single arms? What Propugnation is in one man's valour, To stand the push and enmity of those This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, Were I alone to pass the difficulties And had as ample power as I have will, Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, Nor faint in the pursuit. PRIAM Paris, you speak Like one besotted on your sweet delights: You have the honey still, but these the gall; So to be valiant is no praise at all. PARIS Sir, I propose not merely to myself The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; But I would have the soil of her fair rape Wiped off, in honourable keeping her. What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, Disgrace to your great worths and shame to me, Now to deliver her possession up On terms of base compulsion! Can it be That so degenerate a strain as this Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? There's not the meanest spirit on our party Without a heart to dare or sword to draw When Helen is defended, nor none so noble Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfamed Where Helen is the subject; then, I say, Well may we fight for her whom, we know well, The world's large spaces cannot parallel. HECTOR Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, And on the cause and question now in hand Have glozed, but superficially: not much Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought Unfit to hear moral philosophy: The reasons you allege do more conduce To the hot passion of distemper'd blood Than to make up a free determination 'Twixt right and wrong, for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision. Nature craves All dues be render'd to their owners: now, What nearer debt in all humanity Than wife is to the husband? If this law Of nature be corrupted through affection, And that great minds, of partial indulgence To their benumbed wills, resist the same, There is a law in each well-order'd nation To curb those raging appetites that are Most disobedient and refractory. If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, As it is known she is, these moral laws Of nature and of nations speak aloud To have her back return'd: thus to persist In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless, My spritely brethren, I propend to you In resolution to keep Helen still, For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance Upon our joint and several dignities. TROILUS Why, there you touch'd the life of our design: Were it not glory that we more affected Than the performance of our heaving spleens, I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, She is a theme of honour and renown, A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, Whose present courage may beat down our foes, And fame in time to come canonize us; For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose So rich advantage of a promised glory As smiles upon the forehead of this action For the wide world's revenue. HECTOR I am yours, You valiant offspring of great Priamus. I have a roisting challenge sent amongst The dun and factious nobles of the Greeks Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits: I was advertised their great general slept, Whilst emulation in the army crept: This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT II SCENE III The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. [Enter THERSITES, solus] THERSITES How now, Thersites! what lost in the labyrinth of thy fury! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He beats me, and I rail at him: O, worthy satisfaction! would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he railed at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a rare enginer! If Troy be not taken till these two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods and, Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy caduceus, if ye take not that little, little less than little wit from them that they have! which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the whole camp! or rather, the bone-ache! for that, methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war for a placket. I have said my prayers and devil Envy say Amen. What ho! my Lord Achilles! [Enter PATROCLUS] PATROCLUS Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail. THERSITES If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. Where's Achilles? PATROCLUS What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer? THERSITES Ay: the heavens hear me! [Enter ACHILLES] ACHILLES Who's there? PATROCLUS Thersites, my lord. ACHILLES Where, where? Art thou come? why, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to my table so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon? THERSITES Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, what's Achilles? PATROCLUS Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, what's thyself? THERSITES Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, what art thou? PATROCLUS Thou mayst tell that knowest. ACHILLES O, tell, tell. THERSITES I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' knower, and Patroclus is a fool. PATROCLUS You rascal! THERSITES Peace, fool! I have not done. ACHILLES He is a privileged man. Proceed, Thersites. THERSITES Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites is a fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. ACHILLES Derive this; come. THERSITES Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool, and Patroclus is a fool positive. PATROCLUS Why am I a fool? THERSITES Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes here? ACHILLES Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. Come in with me, Thersites. [Exit] THERSITES Here is such patchery, such juggling and such knavery! all the argument is a cuckold and a whore; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions and bleed to death upon. Now, the dry serpigo on the subject! and war and lechery confound all! [Exit] [Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and AJAX] AGAMEMNON Where is Achilles? PATROCLUS Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord. AGAMEMNON Let it be known to him that we are here. He shent our messengers; and we lay by Our appertainments, visiting of him: Let him be told so; lest perchance he think We dare not move the question of our place, Or know not what we are. PATROCLUS I shall say so to him. [Exit] ULYSSES We saw him at the opening of his tent: He is not sick. AJAX Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my head, 'tis pride: but why, why? let him show us the cause. A word, my lord. [Takes AGAMEMNON aside] NESTOR What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? ULYSSES Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. NESTOR Who, Thersites? ULYSSES He. NESTOR Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument. ULYSSES No, you see, he is his argument that has his argument, Achilles. NESTOR All the better; their fraction is more our wish than their faction: but it was a strong composure a fool could disunite. ULYSSES The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. [Re-enter PATROCLUS] NESTOR No Achilles with him. ULYSSES The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. PATROCLUS Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry, If any thing more than your sport and pleasure Did move your greatness and this noble state To call upon him; he hopes it is no other But for your health and your digestion sake, And after-dinner's breath. AGAMEMNON Hear you, Patroclus: We are too well acquainted with these answers: But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, Cannot outfly our apprehensions. Much attribute he hath, and much the reason Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues, Not virtuously on his own part beheld, Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss, Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him, We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin, If you do say we think him over-proud And under-honest, in self-assumption greater Than in the note of judgment; and worthier than himself Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, Disguise the holy strength of their command, And underwrite in an observing kind His humorous predominance; yea, watch His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if The passage and whole carriage of this action Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add, That if he overhold his price so much, We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine Not portable, lie under this report: 'Bring action hither, this cannot go to war: A stirring dwarf we do allowance give Before a sleeping giant.' Tell him so. PATROCLUS I shall; and bring his answer presently. [Exit] AGAMEMNON In second voice we'll not be satisfied; We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you. [Exit ULYSSES] AJAX What is he more than another? AGAMEMNON No more than what he thinks he is. AJAX Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a better man than I am? AGAMEMNON No question. AJAX Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is? AGAMEMNON No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether more tractable. AJAX Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I know not what pride is. AGAMEMNON Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. AJAX I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads. NESTOR Yet he loves himself: is't not strange? [Aside] [Re-enter ULYSSES] ULYSSES Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. AGAMEMNON What's his excuse? ULYSSES He doth rely on none, But carries on the stream of his dispose Without observance or respect of any, In will peculiar and in self-admission. AGAMEMNON Why will he not upon our fair request Untent his person and share the air with us? ULYSSES Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, He makes important: possess'd he is with greatness, And speaks not to himself but with a pride That quarrels at self-breath: imagined worth Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse That 'twixt his mental and his active parts Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages And batters down himself: what should I say? He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it Cry 'No recovery.' AGAMEMNON Let Ajax go to him. Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent: 'Tis said he holds you well, and will be led At your request a little from himself. ULYSSES O Agamemnon, let it not be so! We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes When they go from Achilles: shall the proud lord That bastes his arrogance with his own seam And never suffers matter of the world Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipp'd Of that we hold an idol more than he? No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired; Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, As amply titled as Achilles is, By going to Achilles: That were to enlard his fat already pride And add more coals to Cancer when he burns With entertaining great Hyperion. This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid, And say in thunder 'Achilles go to him.' NESTOR [Aside to DIOMEDES] O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him. DIOMEDES [Aside to NESTOR] And how his silence drinks up this applause! AJAX If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the face. AGAMEMNON O, no, you shall not go. AJAX An a' be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride: Let me go to him. ULYSSES Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. AJAX A paltry, insolent fellow! NESTOR How he describes himself! AJAX Can he not be sociable? ULYSSES The raven chides blackness. AJAX I'll let his humours blood. AGAMEMNON He will be the physician that should be the patient. AJAX An all men were o' my mind,-- ULYSSES Wit would be out of fashion. AJAX A' should not bear it so, a' should eat swords first: shall pride carry it? NESTOR An 'twould, you'ld carry half. ULYSSES A' would have ten shares. AJAX I will knead him; I'll make him supple. NESTOR He's not yet through warm: force him with praises: pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. ULYSSES [To AGAMEMNON] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. NESTOR Our noble general, do not do so. DIOMEDES You must prepare to fight without Achilles. ULYSSES Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm. Here is a man--but 'tis before his face; I will be silent. NESTOR Wherefore should you so? He is not emulous, as Achilles is. ULYSSES Know the whole world, he is as valiant. AJAX A whoreson dog, that shall pelter thus with us! Would he were a Trojan! NESTOR What a vice were it in Ajax now,-- ULYSSES If he were proud,-- DIOMEDES Or covetous of praise,-- ULYSSES Ay, or surly borne,-- DIOMEDES Or strange, or self-affected! ULYSSES Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure; Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck: Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature Thrice famed, beyond all erudition: But he that disciplined thy arms to fight, Let Mars divide eternity in twain, And give him half: and, for thy vigour, Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines Thy spacious and dilated parts: here's Nestor; Instructed by the antiquary times, He must, he is, he cannot but be wise: Put pardon, father Nestor, were your days As green as Ajax' and your brain so temper'd, You should not have the eminence of him, But be as Ajax. AJAX Shall I call you father? NESTOR Ay, my good son. DIOMEDES Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax. ULYSSES There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles Keeps thicket. Please it our great general To call together all his state of war; Fresh kings are come to Troy: to-morrow We must with all our main of power stand fast: And here's a lord,--come knights from east to west, And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. AGAMEMNON Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep: Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT III SCENE I Troy. Priam's palace. [Enter a Servant and PANDARUS] PANDARUS Friend, you! pray you, a word: do not you follow the young Lord Paris? Servant Ay, sir, when he goes before me. PANDARUS You depend upon him, I mean? Servant Sir, I do depend upon the lord. PANDARUS You depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs praise him. Servant The lord be praised! PANDARUS You know me, do you not? Servant Faith, sir, superficially. PANDARUS Friend, know me better; I am the Lord Pandarus. Servant I hope I shall know your honour better. PANDARUS I do desire it. Servant You are in the state of grace. PANDARUS Grace! not so, friend: honour and lordship are my titles. [Music within] What music is this? Servant I do but partly know, sir: it is music in parts. PANDARUS Know you the musicians? Servant Wholly, sir. PANDARUS Who play they to? Servant To the hearers, sir. PANDARUS At whose pleasure, friend Servant At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. PANDARUS Command, I mean, friend. Servant Who shall I command, sir? PANDARUS Friend, we understand not one another: I am too courtly and thou art too cunning. At whose request do these men play? Servant That's to 't indeed, sir: marry, sir, at the request of Paris my lord, who's there in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul,-- PANDARUS Who, my cousin Cressida? Servant No, sir, Helen: could you not find out that by her attributes? PANDARUS It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the Lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault upon him, for my business seethes. Servant Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase indeed! [Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended] PANDARUS Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair company! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen! fair thoughts be your fair pillow! HELEN Dear lord, you are full of fair words. PANDARUS You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair prince, here is good broken music. PARIS You have broke it, cousin: and, by my life, you shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full of harmony. PANDARUS Truly, lady, no. HELEN O, sir,-- PANDARUS Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. PARIS Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits. PANDARUS I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word? HELEN Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you sing, certainly. PANDARUS Well, sweet queen. you are pleasant with me. But, marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus,-- HELEN My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,-- PANDARUS Go to, sweet queen, to go:--commends himself most affectionately to you,-- HELEN You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, our melancholy upon your head! PANDARUS Sweet queen, sweet queen! that's a sweet queen, i' faith. HELEN And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. PANDARUS Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, no. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. HELEN My Lord Pandarus,-- PANDARUS What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen? PARIS What exploit's in hand? where sups he to-night? HELEN Nay, but, my lord,-- PANDARUS What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out with you. You must not know where he sups. PARIS I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. PANDARUS No, no, no such matter; you are wide: come, your disposer is sick. PARIS Well, I'll make excuse. PANDARUS Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick. PARIS I spy. PANDARUS You spy! what do you spy? Come, give me an instrument. Now, sweet queen. HELEN Why, this is kindly done. PANDARUS My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, sweet queen. HELEN She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris. PANDARUS He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain. HELEN Falling in, after falling out, may make them three. PANDARUS Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing you a song now. HELEN Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. PANDARUS Ay, you may, you may. HELEN Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! PANDARUS Love! ay, that it shall, i' faith. PARIS Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love. PANDARUS In good troth, it begins so. [Sings] Love, love, nothing but love, still more! For, O, love's bow Shoots buck and doe: The shaft confounds, Not that it wounds, But tickles still the sore. These lovers cry Oh! oh! they die! Yet that which seems the wound to kill, Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! So dying love lives still: Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha! Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha! Heigh-ho! HELEN In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose. PARIS He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love. PANDARUS Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers: is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's a-field to-day? PARIS Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-day, but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my brother Troilus went not? HELEN He hangs the lip at something: you know all, Lord Pandarus. PANDARUS Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse? PARIS To a hair. PANDARUS Farewell, sweet queen. HELEN Commend me to your niece. PANDARUS I will, sweet queen. [Exit] [A retreat sounded] PARIS They're come from field: let us to Priam's hall, To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles, With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd, Shall more obey than to the edge of steel Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more Than all the island kings,--disarm great Hector. HELEN 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris; Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty Gives us more palm in beauty than we have, Yea, overshines ourself. PARIS Sweet, above thought I love thee. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT III SCENE II The same. Pandarus' orchard. [Enter PANDARUS and Troilus's Boy, meeting] PANDARUS How now! where's thy master? at my cousin Cressida's? Boy No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither. PANDARUS O, here he comes. [Enter TROILUS] How now, how now! TROILUS Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Boy] PANDARUS Have you seen my cousin? TROILUS No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door, Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, And give me swift transportance to those fields Where I may wallow in the lily-beds Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings And fly with me to Cressid! PANDARUS Walk here i' the orchard, I'll bring her straight. [Exit] TROILUS I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense: what will it be, When that the watery palate tastes indeed Love's thrice repured nectar? death, I fear me, Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine, Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness, For the capacity of my ruder powers: I fear it much; and I do fear besides, That I shall lose distinction in my joys; As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps The enemy flying. [Re-enter PANDARUS] PANDARUS She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed with a sprite: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest villain: she fetches her breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow. [Exit] TROILUS Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom: My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; And all my powers do their bestowing lose, Like vassalage at unawares encountering The eye of majesty. [Re-enter PANDARUS with CRESSIDA] PANDARUS Come, come, what need you blush? shame's a baby. Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her that you have sworn to me. What, are you gone again? you must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, we'll put you i' the fills. Why do you not speak to her? Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! an 'twere dark, you'ld close sooner. So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now! a kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i' the river: go to, go to. TROILUS You have bereft me of all words, lady. PANDARUS Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll bereave you o' the deeds too, if she call your activity in question. What, billing again? Here's 'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably'-- Come in, come in: I'll go get a fire. [Exit] CRESSIDA Will you walk in, my lord? TROILUS O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus! CRESSIDA Wished, my lord! The gods grant,--O my lord! TROILUS What should they grant? what makes this pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our love? CRESSIDA More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes. TROILUS Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly. CRESSIDA Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to fear the worst oft cures the worse. TROILUS O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster. CRESSIDA Nor nothing monstrous neither? TROILUS Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite and the execution confined, that the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit. CRESSIDA They say all lovers swear more performance than they are able and yet reserve an ability that they never perform, vowing more than the perfection of ten and discharging less than the tenth part of one. They that have the voice of lions and the act of hares, are they not monsters? TROILUS Are there such? such are not we: praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go bare till merit crown it: no perfection in reversion shall have a praise in present: we will not name desert before his birth, and, being born, his addition shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst shall be a mock for his truth, and what truth can speak truest not truer than Troilus. CRESSIDA Will you walk in, my lord? [Re-enter PANDARUS] PANDARUS What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet? CRESSIDA Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you. PANDARUS I thank you for that: if my lord get a boy of you, you'll give him me. Be true to my lord: if he flinch, chide me for it. TROILUS You know now your hostages; your uncle's word and my firm faith. PANDARUS Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed, they are constant being won: they are burs, I can tell you; they'll stick where they are thrown. CRESSIDA Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart. Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day For many weary months. TROILUS Why was my Cressid then so hard to win? CRESSIDA Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord, With the first glance that ever--pardon me-- If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. I love you now; but not, till now, so much But I might master it: in faith, I lie; My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools! Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us, When we are so unsecret to ourselves? But, though I loved you well, I woo'd you not; And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man, Or that we women had men's privilege Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, For in this rapture I shall surely speak The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws My very soul of counsel! stop my mouth. TROILUS And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. PANDARUS Pretty, i' faith. CRESSIDA My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; 'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss: I am ashamed. O heavens! what have I done? For this time will I take my leave, my lord. TROILUS Your leave, sweet Cressid! PANDARUS Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,-- CRESSIDA Pray you, content you. TROILUS What offends you, lady? CRESSIDA Sir, mine own company. TROILUS You cannot shun Yourself. CRESSIDA Let me go and try: I have a kind of self resides with you; But an unkind self, that itself will leave, To be another's fool. I would be gone: Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. TROILUS Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely. CRESSIDA Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; And fell so roundly to a large confession, To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise, Or else you love not, for to be wise and love Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above. TROILUS O that I thought it could be in a woman-- As, if it can, I will presume in you-- To feed for aye her ramp and flames of love; To keep her constancy in plight and youth, Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind That doth renew swifter than blood decays! Or that persuasion could but thus convince me, That my integrity and truth to you Might be affronted with the match and weight Of such a winnow'd purity in love; How were I then uplifted! but, alas! I am as true as truth's simplicity And simpler than the infancy of truth. CRESSIDA In that I'll war with you. TROILUS O virtuous fight, When right with right wars who shall be most right! True swains in love shall in the world to come Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes, Full of protest, of oath and big compare, Want similes, truth tired with iteration, As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, Yet, after all comparisons of truth, As truth's authentic author to be cited, 'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse, And sanctify the numbers. CRESSIDA Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, When time is old and hath forgot itself, When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, And mighty states characterless are grated To dusty nothing, yet let memory, From false to false, among false maids in love, Upbraid my falsehood! when they've said 'as false As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,' 'Yea,' let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, 'As false as Cressid.' PANDARUS Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I'll be the witness. Here I hold your hand, here my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to another, since I have taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end after my name; call them all Pandars; let all constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen. TROILUS Amen. CRESSIDA Amen. PANDARUS Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber with a bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to death: away! And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear! [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT III SCENE III The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. [Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS] CALCHAS Now, princes, for the service I have done you, The advantage of the time prompts me aloud To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind That, through the sight I bear in things to love, I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession, Incurr'd a traitor's name; exposed myself, From certain and possess'd conveniences, To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me all That time, acquaintance, custom and condition Made tame and most familiar to my nature, And here, to do you service, am become As new into the world, strange, unacquainted: I do beseech you, as in way of taste, To give me now a little benefit, Out of those many register'd in promise, Which, you say, live to come in my behalf. AGAMEMNON What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand. CALCHAS You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor, Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear. Oft have you--often have you thanks therefore-- Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, Whom Troy hath still denied: but this Antenor, I know, is such a wrest in their affairs That their negotiations all must slack, Wanting his manage; and they will almost Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, In change of him: let him be sent, great princes, And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence Shall quite strike off all service I have done, In most accepted pain. AGAMEMNON Let Diomedes bear him, And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have What he requests of us. Good Diomed, Furnish you fairly for this interchange: Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready. DIOMEDES This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden Which I am proud to bear. [Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS] [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their tent] ULYSSES Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent: Please it our general to pass strangely by him, As if he were forgot; and, princes all, Lay negligent and loose regard upon him: I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him: If so, I have derision medicinable, To use between your strangeness and his pride, Which his own will shall have desire to drink: It may be good: pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride, for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees. AGAMEMNON We'll execute your purpose, and put on A form of strangeness as we pass along: So do each lord, and either greet him not, Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. ACHILLES What, comes the general to speak with me? You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. AGAMEMNON What says Achilles? would he aught with us? NESTOR Would you, my lord, aught with the general? ACHILLES No. NESTOR Nothing, my lord. AGAMEMNON The better. [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR] ACHILLES Good day, good day. MENELAUS How do you? how do you? [Exit] ACHILLES What, does the cuckold scorn me? AJAX How now, Patroclus! ACHILLES Good morrow, Ajax. AJAX Ha? ACHILLES Good morrow. AJAX Ay, and good next day too. [Exit] ACHILLES What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles? PATROCLUS They pass by strangely: they were used to bend To send their smiles before them to Achilles; To come as humbly as they used to creep To holy altars. ACHILLES What, am I poor of late? 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, Must fall out with men too: what the declined is He shall as soon read in the eyes of others As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, Show not their mealy wings but to the summer, And not a man, for being simply man, Hath any honour, but honour for those honours That are without him, as place, riches, favour, Prizes of accident as oft as merit: Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, Do one pluck down another and together Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me: Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy At ample point all that I did possess, Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out Something not worth in me such rich beholding As they have often given. Here is Ulysses; I'll interrupt his reading. How now Ulysses! ULYSSES Now, great Thetis' son! ACHILLES What are you reading? ULYSSES A strange fellow here Writes me: 'That man, how dearly ever parted, How much in having, or without or in, Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; As when his virtues shining upon others Heat them and they retort that heat again To the first giver.' ACHILLES This is not strange, Ulysses. The beauty that is borne here in the face The bearer knows not, but commends itself To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself, That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself, Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed Salutes each other with each other's form; For speculation turns not to itself, Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all. ULYSSES I do not strain at the position,-- It is familiar,--but at the author's drift; Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves That no man is the lord of any thing, Though in and of him there be much consisting, Till he communicate his parts to others: Nor doth he of himself know them for aught Till he behold them form'd in the applause Where they're extended; who, like an arch, reverberates The voice again, or, like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat. I was much wrapt in this; And apprehended here immediately The unknown Ajax. Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse, That has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are Most abject in regard and dear in use! What things again most dear in the esteem And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow-- An act that very chance doth throw upon him-- Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do, While some men leave to do! How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes! How one man eats into another's pride, While pride is fasting in his wantonness! To see these Grecian lords!--why, even already They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast And great Troy shrieking. ACHILLES I do believe it; for they pass'd by me As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me Good word nor look: what, are my deeds forgot? ULYSSES Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done: perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue: if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by And leave you hindmost; Or like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust that is a little gilt More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. The present eye praises the present object. Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; Since things in motion sooner catch the eye Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee, And still it might, and yet it may again, If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive And case thy reputation in thy tent; Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves And drave great Mars to faction. ACHILLES Of this my privacy I have strong reasons. ULYSSES But 'gainst your privacy The reasons are more potent and heroical: 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love With one of Priam's daughters. ACHILLES Ha! known! ULYSSES Is that a wonder? The providence that's in a watchful state Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold, Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps, Keeps place with thought and almost, like the gods, Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. There is a mystery--with whom relation Durst never meddle--in the soul of state; Which hath an operation more divine Than breath or pen can give expressure to: All the commerce that you have had with Troy As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord; And better would it fit Achilles much To throw down Hector than Polyxena: But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, When fame shall in our islands sound her trump, And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, 'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win, But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.' Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak; The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. [Exit] PATROCLUS To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you: A woman impudent and mannish grown Is not more loathed than an effeminate man In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this; They think my little stomach to the war And your great love to me restrains you thus: Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. ACHILLES Shall Ajax fight with Hector? PATROCLUS Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him. ACHILLES I see my reputation is at stake My fame is shrewdly gored. PATROCLUS O, then, beware; Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves: Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun. ACHILLES Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus: I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him To invite the Trojan lords after the combat To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing, An appetite that I am sick withal, To see great Hector in his weeds of peace, To talk with him and to behold his visage, Even to my full of view. [Enter THERSITES] A labour saved! THERSITES A wonder! ACHILLES What? THERSITES Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself. ACHILLES How so? THERSITES He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he raves in saying nothing. ACHILLES How can that be? THERSITES Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock,--a stride and a stand: ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should say 'There were wit in this head, an 'twould out;' and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not show without knocking. The man's undone forever; for if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, he'll break 't himself in vain-glory. He knows not me: I said 'Good morrow, Ajax;' and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think you of this man that takes me for the general? He's grown a very land-fish, language-less, a monster. A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin. ACHILLES Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. THERSITES Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not answering: speaking is for beggars; he wears his tongue in's arms. I will put on his presence: let Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the pageant of Ajax. ACHILLES To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector to come unarmed to my tent, and to procure safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honoured captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, et cetera. Do this. PATROCLUS Jove bless great Ajax! THERSITES Hum! PATROCLUS I come from the worthy Achilles,-- THERSITES Ha! PATROCLUS Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,-- THERSITES Hum! PATROCLUS And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon. THERSITES Agamemnon! PATROCLUS Ay, my lord. THERSITES Ha! PATROCLUS What say you to't? THERSITES God b' wi' you, with all my heart. PATROCLUS Your answer, sir. THERSITES If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. PATROCLUS Your answer, sir. THERSITES Fare you well, with all my heart. ACHILLES Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? THERSITES No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings on. ACHILLES Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. THERSITES Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more capable creature. ACHILLES My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; And I myself see not the bottom of it. [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] THERSITES Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance. [Exit] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT IV SCENE I Troy. A street. [Enter, from one side, AENEAS, and Servant with a torch; from the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, DIOMEDES, and others, with torches] PARIS See, ho! who is that there? DEIPHOBUS It is the Lord AEneas. AENEAS Is the prince there in person? Had I so good occasion to lie long As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business Should rob my bed-mate of my company. DIOMEDES That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord AEneas. PARIS A valiant Greek, AEneas,--take his hand,-- Witness the process of your speech, wherein You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, Did haunt you in the field. AENEAS Health to you, valiant sir, During all question of the gentle truce; But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance As heart can think or courage execute. DIOMEDES The one and other Diomed embraces. Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health! But when contention and occasion meet, By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life With all my force, pursuit and policy. AENEAS And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly With his face backward. In humane gentleness, Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear, No man alive can love in such a sort The thing he means to kill more excellently. DIOMEDES We sympathize: Jove, let AEneas live, If to my sword his fate be not the glory, A thousand complete courses of the sun! But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow! AENEAS We know each other well. DIOMEDES We do; and long to know each other worse. PARIS This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. What business, lord, so early? AENEAS I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not. PARIS His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek To Calchas' house, and there to render him, For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid: Let's have your company, or, if you please, Haste there before us: I constantly do think-- Or rather, call my thought a certain knowledge-- My brother Troilus lodges there to-night: Rouse him and give him note of our approach. With the whole quality wherefore: I fear We shall be much unwelcome. AENEAS That I assure you: Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece Than Cressid borne from Troy. PARIS There is no help; The bitter disposition of the time Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. AENEAS Good morrow, all. [Exit with Servant] PARIS And tell me, noble Diomed, faith, tell me true, Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, Myself or Menelaus? DIOMEDES Both alike: He merits well to have her, that doth seek her, Not making any scruple of her soilure, With such a hell of pain and world of charge, And you as well to keep her, that defend her, Not palating the taste of her dishonour, With such a costly loss of wealth and friends: He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins Are pleased to breed out your inheritors: Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more; But he as he, the heavier for a whore. PARIS You are too bitter to your countrywoman. DIOMEDES She's bitter to her country: hear me, Paris: For every false drop in her bawdy veins A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple Of her contaminated carrion weight, A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak, She hath not given so many good words breath As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death. PARIS Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy: But we in silence hold this virtue well, We'll but commend what we intend to sell. Here lies our way. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT IV SCENE II The same. Court of Pandarus' house. [Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA] TROILUS Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold. CRESSIDA Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; He shall unbolt the gates. TROILUS Trouble him not; To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses As infants' empty of all thought! CRESSIDA Good morrow, then. TROILUS I prithee now, to bed. CRESSIDA Are you a-weary of me? TROILUS O Cressida! but that the busy day, Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows, And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, I would not from thee. CRESSIDA Night hath been too brief. TROILUS Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love With wings more momentary-swift than thought. You will catch cold, and curse me. CRESSIDA Prithee, tarry: You men will never tarry. O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, And then you would have tarried. Hark! there's one up. PANDARUS [Within] What, 's all the doors open here? TROILUS It is your uncle. CRESSIDA A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: I shall have such a life! [Enter PANDARUS] PANDARUS How now, how now! how go maidenheads? Here, you maid! where's my cousin Cressid? CRESSIDA Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle! You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. PANDARUS To do what? to do what? let her say what: what have I brought you to do? CRESSIDA Come, come, beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, Nor suffer others. PANDARUS Ha! ha! Alas, poor wretch! ah, poor capocchia! hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! CRESSIDA Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' the head! [Knocking within] Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. My lord, come you again into my chamber: You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. TROILUS Ha, ha! CRESSIDA Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. [Knocking within] How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in: I would not for half Troy have you seen here. [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA] PANDARUS Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat down the door? How now! what's the matter? [Enter AENEAS] AENEAS Good morrow, lord, good morrow. PANDARUS Who's there? my Lord AEneas! By my troth, I knew you not: what news with you so early? AENEAS Is not Prince Troilus here? PANDARUS Here! what should he do here? AENEAS Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him: It doth import him much to speak with me. PANDARUS Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll be sworn: for my own part, I came in late. What should he do here? AENEAS Who!--nay, then: come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you're ware: you'll be so true to him, to be false to him: do not you know of him, but yet go fetch him hither; go. [Re-enter TROILUS] TROILUS How now! what's the matter? AENEAS My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, My matter is so rash: there is at hand Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, We must give up to Diomedes' hand The Lady Cressida. TROILUS Is it so concluded? AENEAS By Priam and the general state of Troy: They are at hand and ready to effect it. TROILUS How my achievements mock me! I will go meet them: and, my Lord AEneas, We met by chance; you did not find me here. AENEAS Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature Have not more gift in taciturnity. [Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS] PANDARUS Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: a plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck! [Re-enter CRESSIDA] CRESSIDA How now! what's the matter? who was here? PANDARUS Ah, ah! CRESSIDA Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone! Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? PANDARUS Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! CRESSIDA O the gods! what's the matter? PANDARUS Prithee, get thee in: would thou hadst ne'er been born! I knew thou wouldst be his death. O, poor gentleman! A plague upon Antenor! CRESSIDA Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees! beseech you, what's the matter? PANDARUS Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death; 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. CRESSIDA O you immortal gods! I will not go. PANDARUS Thou must. CRESSIDA I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; I know no touch of consanguinity; No kin no love, no blood, no soul so near me As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine! Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, Do to this body what extremes you can; But the strong base and building of my love Is as the very centre of the earth, Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep,-- PANDARUS Do, do. CRESSIDA Tear my bright hair and scratch my praised cheeks, Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT IV SCENE III The same. Street before Pandarus' house. [Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, and DIOMEDES] PARIS It is great morning, and the hour prefix'd Of her delivery to this valiant Greek Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, Tell you the lady what she is to do, And haste her to the purpose. TROILUS Walk into her house; I'll bring her to the Grecian presently: And to his hand when I deliver her, Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus A priest there offering to it his own heart. [Exit] PARIS I know what 'tis to love; And would, as I shall pity, I could help! Please you walk in, my lords. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT IV SCENE IV The same. Pandarus' house. [Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA] PANDARUS Be moderate, be moderate. CRESSIDA Why tell you me of moderation? The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, And violenteth in a sense as strong As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it? If I could temporize with my affection, Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, The like allayment could I give my grief. My love admits no qualifying dross; No more my grief, in such a precious loss. PANDARUS Here, here, here he comes. [Enter TROILUS] Ah, sweet ducks! CRESSIDA O Troilus! Troilus! [Embracing him] PANDARUS What a pair of spectacles is here! Let me embrace too. 'O heart,' as the goodly saying is, '--O heart, heavy heart, Why sigh'st thou without breaking? where he answers again, 'Because thou canst not ease thy smart By friendship nor by speaking.' There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse: we see it, we see it. How now, lambs? TROILUS Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, More bright in zeal than the devotion which Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me. CRESSIDA Have the gods envy? PANDARUS Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. CRESSIDA And is it true that I must go from Troy? TROILUS A hateful truth. CRESSIDA What, and from Troilus too? TROILUS From Troy and Troilus. CRESSIDA Is it possible? TROILUS And suddenly; where injury of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: We two, that with so many thousand sighs Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves With the rude brevity and discharge of one. Injurious time now with a robber's haste Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: As many farewells as be stars in heaven, With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, He fumbles up into a lose adieu, And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, Distasted with the salt of broken tears. AENEAS [Within] My lord, is the lady ready? TROILUS Hark! you are call'd: some say the Genius so Cries 'come' to him that instantly must die. Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. PANDARUS Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or my heart will be blown up by the root. [Exit] CRESSIDA I must then to the Grecians? TROILUS No remedy. CRESSIDA A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! When shall we see again? TROILUS Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,-- CRESSIDA I true! how now! what wicked deem is this? TROILUS Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, For it is parting from us: I speak not 'be thou true,' as fearing thee, For I will throw my glove to Death himself, That there's no maculation in thy heart: But 'be thou true,' say I, to fashion in My sequent protestation; be thou true, And I will see thee. CRESSIDA O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers As infinite as imminent! but I'll be true. TROILUS And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. CRESSIDA And you this glove. When shall I see you? TROILUS I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, To give thee nightly visitation. But yet be true. CRESSIDA O heavens! 'be true' again! TROILUS Hear while I speak it, love: The Grecian youths are full of quality; They're loving, well composed with gifts of nature, Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise: How novelty may move, and parts with person, Alas, a kind of godly jealousy-- Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin-- Makes me afeard. CRESSIDA O heavens! you love me not. TROILUS Die I a villain, then! In this I do not call your faith in question So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing, Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant: But I can tell that in each grace of these There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted. CRESSIDA Do you think I will? TROILUS No. But something may be done that we will not: And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, Presuming on their changeful potency. AENEAS [Within] Nay, good my lord,-- TROILUS Come, kiss; and let us part. PARIS [Within] Brother Troilus! TROILUS Good brother, come you hither; And bring AEneas and the Grecian with you. CRESSIDA My lord, will you be true? TROILUS Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, I with great truth catch mere simplicity; Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit Is 'plain and true;' there's all the reach of it. [Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, and DIOMEDES] Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady Which for Antenor we deliver you: At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, And by the way possess thee what she is. Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, Name Cressida and thy life shall be as safe As Priam is in Ilion. DIOMEDES Fair Lady Cressid, So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. TROILUS Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, To shame the zeal of my petition to thee In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. I charge thee use her well, even for my charge; For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, I'll cut thy throat. DIOMEDES O, be not moved, Prince Troilus: Let me be privileged by my place and message, To be a speaker free; when I am hence I'll answer to my lust: and know you, lord, I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth She shall be prized; but that you say 'be't so,' I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, 'no.' TROILUS Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed, This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. Lady, give me your hand, and, as we walk, To our own selves bend we our needful talk. [Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES] [Trumpet within] PARIS Hark! Hector's trumpet. AENEAS How have we spent this morning! The prince must think me tardy and remiss, That sore to ride before him to the field. PARIS 'Tis Troilus' fault: come, come, to field with him. DEIPHOBUS Let us make ready straight. AENEAS Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity, Let us address to tend on Hector's heels: The glory of our Troy doth this day lie On his fair worth and single chivalry. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT IV SCENE V The Grecian camp. Lists set out. [Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and others] AGAMEMNON Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, Anticipating time with starting courage. Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air May pierce the head of the great combatant And hale him hither. AJAX Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon: Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood; Thou blow'st for Hector. [Trumpet sounds] ULYSSES No trumpet answers. ACHILLES 'Tis but early days. AGAMEMNON Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas' daughter? ULYSSES 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; He rises on the toe: that spirit of his In aspiration lifts him from the earth. [Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA] AGAMEMNON Is this the Lady Cressid? DIOMEDES Even she. AGAMEMNON Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. NESTOR Our general doth salute you with a kiss. ULYSSES Yet is the kindness but particular; 'Twere better she were kiss'd in general. NESTOR And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. So much for Nestor. ACHILLES I'll take what winter from your lips, fair lady: Achilles bids you welcome. MENELAUS I had good argument for kissing once. PATROCLUS But that's no argument for kissing now; For this popp'd Paris in his hardiment, And parted thus you and your argument. ULYSSES O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! For which we lose our heads to gild his horns. PATROCLUS The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine: Patroclus kisses you. MENELAUS O, this is trim! PATROCLUS Paris and I kiss evermore for him. MENELAUS I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave. CRESSIDA In kissing, do you render or receive? PATROCLUS Both take and give. CRESSIDA I'll make my match to live, The kiss you take is better than you give; Therefore no kiss. MENELAUS I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one. CRESSIDA You're an odd man; give even or give none. MENELAUS An odd man, lady! every man is odd. CRESSIDA No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true, That you are odd, and he is even with you. MENELAUS You fillip me o' the head. CRESSIDA No, I'll be sworn. ULYSSES It were no match, your nail against his horn. May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? CRESSIDA You may. ULYSSES I do desire it. CRESSIDA Why, beg, then. ULYSSES Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss, When Helen is a maid again, and his. CRESSIDA I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. ULYSSES Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. DIOMEDES Lady, a word: I'll bring you to your father. [Exit with CRESSIDA] NESTOR A woman of quick sense. ULYSSES Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body. O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, That give accosting welcome ere it comes, And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts To every ticklish reader! set them down For sluttish spoils of opportunity And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within] ALL The Trojans' trumpet. AGAMEMNON Yonder comes the troop. [Enter HECTOR, armed; AENEAS, TROILUS, and other Trojans, with Attendants] AENEAS Hail, all you state of Greece! what shall be done To him that victory commands? or do you purpose A victor shall be known? will you the knights Shall to the edge of all extremity Pursue each other, or shall be divided By any voice or order of the field? Hector bade ask. AGAMEMNON Which way would Hector have it? AENEAS He cares not; he'll obey conditions. ACHILLES 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done, A little proudly, and great deal misprizing The knight opposed. AENEAS If not Achilles, sir, What is your name? ACHILLES If not Achilles, nothing. AENEAS Therefore Achilles: but, whate'er, know this: In the extremity of great and little, Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; The one almost as infinite as all, The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, And that which looks like pride is courtesy. This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood: In love whereof, half Hector stays at home; Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek. ACHILLES A maiden battle, then? O, I perceive you. [Re-enter DIOMEDES] AGAMEMNON Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord AEneas Consent upon the order of their fight, So be it; either to the uttermost, Or else a breath: the combatants being kin Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. [AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists] ULYSSES They are opposed already. AGAMEMNON What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy? ULYSSES The youngest son of Priam, a true knight, Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word, Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; Not soon provoked nor being provoked soon calm'd: His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath; Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes To tender objects, but he in heat of action Is more vindicative than jealous love: They call him Troilus, and on him erect A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. Thus says AEneas; one that knows the youth Even to his inches, and with private soul Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. [Alarum. Hector and Ajax fight] AGAMEMNON They are in action. NESTOR Now, Ajax, hold thine own! TROILUS Hector, thou sleep'st; Awake thee! AGAMEMNON His blows are well disposed: there, Ajax! DIOMEDES You must no more. [Trumpets cease] AENEAS Princes, enough, so please you. AJAX I am not warm yet; let us fight again. DIOMEDES As Hector pleases. HECTOR Why, then will I no more: Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, A cousin-german to great Priam's seed; The obligation of our blood forbids A gory emulation 'twixt us twain: Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so That thou couldst say 'This hand is Grecian all, And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister Bounds in my father's;' by Jove multipotent, Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member Wherein my sword had not impressure made Of our rank feud: but the just gods gainsay That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother, My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax: By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; Hector would have them fall upon him thus: Cousin, all honour to thee! AJAX I thank thee, Hector Thou art too gentle and too free a man: I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence A great addition earned in thy death. HECTOR Not Neoptolemus so mirable, On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st Oyes Cries 'This is he,' could promise to himself A thought of added honour torn from Hector. AENEAS There is expectance here from both the sides, What further you will do. HECTOR We'll answer it; The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewell. AJAX If I might in entreaties find success-- As seld I have the chance--I would desire My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. DIOMEDES 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. HECTOR AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me, And signify this loving interview To the expecters of our Trojan part; Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin; I will go eat with thee and see your knights. AJAX Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. HECTOR The worthiest of them tell me name by name; But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes Shall find him by his large and portly size. AGAMEMNON Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one That would be rid of such an enemy; But that's no welcome: understand more clear, What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion; But in this extant moment, faith and troth, Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing, Bids thee, with most divine integrity, From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. HECTOR I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon. AGAMEMNON [To TROILUS] My well-famed lord of Troy, no less to you. MENELAUS Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting: You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. HECTOR Who must we answer? AENEAS The noble Menelaus. HECTOR O, you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks! Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath; Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove: She's well, but bade me not commend her to you. MENELAUS Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme. HECTOR O, pardon; I offend. NESTOR I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft Labouring for destiny make cruel way Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee, As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, Despising many forfeits and subduements, When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air, Not letting it decline on the declined, That I have said to some my standers by 'Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!' And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I seen; But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, And once fought with him: he was a soldier good; But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, Never saw like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. AENEAS 'Tis the old Nestor. HECTOR Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time: Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. NESTOR I would my arms could match thee in contention, As they contend with thee in courtesy. HECTOR I would they could. NESTOR Ha! By this white beard, I'ld fight with thee to-morrow. Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time. ULYSSES I wonder now how yonder city stands When we have here her base and pillar by us. HECTOR I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, Since first I saw yourself and Diomed In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. ULYSSES Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: My prophecy is but half his journey yet; For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet. HECTOR I must not believe you: There they stand yet, and modestly I think, The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it. ULYSSES So to him we leave it. Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome: After the general, I beseech you next To feast with me and see me at my tent. ACHILLES I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, And quoted joint by joint. HECTOR Is this Achilles? ACHILLES I am Achilles. HECTOR Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee. ACHILLES Behold thy fill. HECTOR Nay, I have done already. ACHILLES Thou art too brief: I will the second time, As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. HECTOR O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; But there's more in me than thou understand'st. Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? ACHILLES Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there? That I may give the local wound a name And make distinct the very breach whereout Hector's great spirit flew: answer me, heavens! HECTOR It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, To answer such a question: stand again: Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly As to prenominate in nice conjecture Where thou wilt hit me dead? ACHILLES I tell thee, yea. HECTOR Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag; His insolence draws folly from my lips; But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, Or may I never-- AJAX Do not chafe thee, cousin: And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, Till accident or purpose bring you to't: You may have every day enough of Hector If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. HECTOR I pray you, let us see you in the field: We have had pelting wars, since you refused The Grecians' cause. ACHILLES Dost thou entreat me, Hector? To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; To-night all friends. HECTOR Thy hand upon that match. AGAMEMNON First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; There in the full convive we: afterwards, As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall Concur together, severally entreat him. Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, That this great soldier may his welcome know. [Exeunt all except TROILUS and ULYSSES] TROILUS My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? ULYSSES At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus: There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view On the fair Cressid. TROILUS Shall sweet lord, be bound to you so much, After we part from Agamemnon's tent, To bring me thither? ULYSSES You shall command me, sir. As gentle tell me, of what honour was This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there That wails her absence? TROILUS O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth: But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE I The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] ACHILLES I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. PATROCLUS Here comes Thersites. [Enter THERSITES] ACHILLES How now, thou core of envy! Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? THERSITES Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol of idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee. ACHILLES From whence, fragment? THERSITES Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. PATROCLUS Who keeps the tent now? THERSITES The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. PATROCLUS Well said, adversity! and what need these tricks? THERSITES Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet. PATROCLUS Male varlet, you rogue! what's that? THERSITES Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, limekilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries! PATROCLUS Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? THERSITES Do I curse thee? PATROCLUS Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no. THERSITES No! why art thou then exasperate, thou idle immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered with such waterflies, diminutives of nature! PATROCLUS Out, gall! THERSITES Finch-egg! ACHILLES My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, A token from her daughter, my fair love, Both taxing me and gaging me to keep An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it: Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay; My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent: This night in banqueting must all be spent. Away, Patroclus! [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] THERSITES With too much blood and too little brain, these two may run mad; but, if with too much brain and too little blood they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough and one that loves quails; but he has not so much brain as earwax: and the goodly transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull,--the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg,--to what form but that he is, should wit larded with malice and malice forced with wit turn him to? To an ass, were nothing; he is both ass and ox: to an ox, were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire against destiny. Ask me not, what I would be, if I were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus! Hey-day! spirits and fires! [Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights] AGAMEMNON We go wrong, we go wrong. AJAX No, yonder 'tis; There, where we see the lights. HECTOR I trouble you. AJAX No, not a whit. ULYSSES Here comes himself to guide you. [Re-enter ACHILLES] ACHILLES Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all. AGAMEMNON So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night. Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. HECTOR Thanks and good night to the Greeks' general. MENELAUS Good night, my lord. HECTOR Good night, sweet lord Menelaus. THERSITES Sweet draught: 'sweet' quoth 'a! sweet sink, sweet sewer. ACHILLES Good night and welcome, both at once, to those That go or tarry. AGAMEMNON Good night. [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS] ACHILLES Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, Keep Hector company an hour or two. DIOMEDES I cannot, lord; I have important business, The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector. HECTOR Give me your hand. ULYSSES [Aside to TROILUS] Follow his torch; he goes to Calchas' tent: I'll keep you company. TROILUS Sweet sir, you honour me. HECTOR And so, good night. [Exit DIOMEDES; ULYSSES and TROILUS following] ACHILLES Come, come, enter my tent. [Exeunt ACHILLES, HECTOR, AJAX, and NESTOR] THERSITES That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers than I will a serpent when he hisses: he will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound: but when he performs, astronomers foretell it; it is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his word. I will rather leave to see Hector, than not to dog him: they say he keeps a Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: I'll after. Nothing but lechery! all incontinent varlets! [Exit] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE II The same. Before Calchas' tent. [Enter DIOMEDES] DIOMEDES What, are you up here, ho? speak. CALCHAS [Within] Who calls? DIOMEDES Calchas, I think. Where's your daughter? CALCHAS [Within] She comes to you. [Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance; after them, THERSITES] ULYSSES Stand where the torch may not discover us. [Enter CRESSIDA] TROILUS Cressid comes forth to him. DIOMEDES How now, my charge! CRESSIDA Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you. [Whispers] TROILUS Yea, so familiar! ULYSSES She will sing any man at first sight. THERSITES And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; she's noted. DIOMEDES Will you remember? CRESSIDA Remember! yes. DIOMEDES Nay, but do, then; And let your mind be coupled with your words. TROILUS What should she remember? ULYSSES List. CRESSIDA Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. THERSITES Roguery! DIOMEDES Nay, then,-- CRESSIDA I'll tell you what,-- DIOMEDES Foh, foh! come, tell a pin: you are forsworn. CRESSIDA In faith, I cannot: what would you have me do? THERSITES A juggling trick,--to be secretly open. DIOMEDES What did you swear you would bestow on me? CRESSIDA I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath; Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. DIOMEDES Good night. TROILUS Hold, patience! ULYSSES How now, Trojan! CRESSIDA Diomed,-- DIOMEDES No, no, good night: I'll be your fool no more. TROILUS Thy better must. CRESSIDA Hark, one word in your ear. TROILUS O plague and madness! ULYSSES You are moved, prince; let us depart, I pray you, Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; The time right deadly; I beseech you, go. TROILUS Behold, I pray you! ULYSSES Nay, good my lord, go off: You flow to great distraction; come, my lord. TROILUS I pray thee, stay. ULYSSES You have not patience; come. TROILUS I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's torments I will not speak a word! DIOMEDES And so, good night. CRESSIDA Nay, but you part in anger. TROILUS Doth that grieve thee? O wither'd truth! ULYSSES Why, how now, lord! TROILUS By Jove, I will be patient. CRESSIDA Guardian!--why, Greek! DIOMEDES Foh, foh! adieu; you palter. CRESSIDA In faith, I do not: come hither once again. ULYSSES You shake, my lord, at something: will you go? You will break out. TROILUS She strokes his cheek! ULYSSES Come, come. TROILUS Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: There is between my will and all offences A guard of patience: stay a little while. THERSITES How the devil Luxury, with his fat rump and potato-finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! DIOMEDES But will you, then? CRESSIDA In faith, I will, la; never trust me else. DIOMEDES Give me some token for the surety of it. CRESSIDA I'll fetch you one. [Exit] ULYSSES You have sworn patience. TROILUS Fear me not, sweet lord; I will not be myself, nor have cognition Of what I feel: I am all patience. [Re-enter CRESSIDA] THERSITES Now the pledge; now, now, now! CRESSIDA Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve. TROILUS O beauty! where is thy faith? ULYSSES My lord,-- TROILUS I will be patient; outwardly I will. CRESSIDA You look upon that sleeve; behold it well. He loved me--O false wench!--Give't me again. DIOMEDES Whose was't? CRESSIDA It is no matter, now I have't again. I will not meet with you to-morrow night: I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more. THERSITES Now she sharpens: well said, whetstone! DIOMEDES I shall have it. CRESSIDA What, this? DIOMEDES Ay, that. CRESSIDA O, all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge! Thy master now lies thinking in his bed Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove, And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me; He that takes that doth take my heart withal. DIOMEDES I had your heart before, this follows it. TROILUS I did swear patience. CRESSIDA You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not; I'll give you something else. DIOMEDES I will have this: whose was it? CRESSIDA It is no matter. DIOMEDES Come, tell me whose it was. CRESSIDA 'Twas one's that loved me better than you will. But, now you have it, take it. DIOMEDES Whose was it? CRESSIDA By all Diana's waiting-women yond, And by herself, I will not tell you whose. DIOMEDES To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. TROILUS Wert thou the devil, and worest it on thy horn, It should be challenged. CRESSIDA Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past: and yet it is not; I will not keep my word. DIOMEDES Why, then, farewell; Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. CRESSIDA You shall not go: one cannot speak a word, But it straight starts you. DIOMEDES I do not like this fooling. THERSITES Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes not you pleases me best. DIOMEDES What, shall I come? the hour? CRESSIDA Ay, come:--O Jove!--do come:--I shall be plagued. DIOMEDES Farewell till then. CRESSIDA Good night: I prithee, come. [Exit DIOMEDES] Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee But with my heart the other eye doth see. Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find, The error of our eye directs our mind: What error leads must err; O, then conclude Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude. [Exit] THERSITES A proof of strength she could not publish more, Unless she said ' My mind is now turn'd whore.' ULYSSES All's done, my lord. TROILUS It is. ULYSSES Why stay we, then? TROILUS To make a recordation to my soul Of every syllable that here was spoke. But if I tell how these two did co-act, Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? Sith yet there is a credence in my heart, An esperance so obstinately strong, That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears, As if those organs had deceptious functions, Created only to calumniate. Was Cressid here? ULYSSES I cannot conjure, Trojan. TROILUS She was not, sure. ULYSSES Most sure she was. TROILUS Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. ULYSSES Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now. TROILUS Let it not be believed for womanhood! Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, For depravation, to square the general sex By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid. ULYSSES What hath she done, prince, that can soil our mothers? TROILUS Nothing at all, unless that this were she. THERSITES Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes? TROILUS This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida: If beauty have a soul, this is not she; If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, If sanctimony be the gods' delight, If there be rule in unity itself, This is not she. O madness of discourse, That cause sets up with and against itself! Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt Without perdition, and loss assume all reason Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid. Within my soul there doth conduce a fight Of this strange nature that a thing inseparate Divides more wider than the sky and earth, And yet the spacious breadth of this division Admits no orifex for a point as subtle As Ariachne's broken woof to enter. Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates; Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven: Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself; The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolved, and loosed; And with another knot, five-finger-tied, The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, The fragments, scraps, the bits and greasy relics Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed. ULYSSES May worthy Troilus be half attach'd With that which here his passion doth express? TROILUS Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well In characters as red as Mars his heart Inflamed with Venus: never did young man fancy With so eternal and so fix'd a soul. Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, So much by weight hate I her Diomed: That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm; Were it a casque composed by Vulcan's skill, My sword should bite it: not the dreadful spout Which shipmen do the hurricano call, Constringed in mass by the almighty sun, Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear In his descent than shall my prompted sword Falling on Diomed. THERSITES He'll tickle it for his concupy. TROILUS O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, And they'll seem glorious. ULYSSES O, contain yourself Your passion draws ears hither. [Enter AENEAS] AENEAS I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. TROILUS Have with you, prince. My courteous lord, adieu. Farewell, revolted fair! and, Diomed, Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head! ULYSSES I'll bring you to the gates. TROILUS Accept distracted thanks. [Exeunt TROILUS, AENEAS, and ULYSSES] THERSITES Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; nothing else holds fashion: a burning devil take them! [Exit] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE III Troy. Before Priam's palace. [Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE] ANDROMACHE When was my lord so much ungently temper'd, To stop his ears against admonishment? Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. HECTOR You train me to offend you; get you in: By all the everlasting gods, I'll go! ANDROMACHE My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day. HECTOR No more, I say. [Enter CASSANDRA] CASSANDRA Where is my brother Hector? ANDROMACHE Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent. Consort with me in loud and dear petition, Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream'd Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. CASSANDRA O, 'tis true. HECTOR Ho! bid my trumpet sound! CASSANDRA No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother. HECTOR Be gone, I say: the gods have heard me swear. CASSANDRA The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows: They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. ANDROMACHE O, be persuaded! do not count it holy To hurt by being just: it is as lawful, For we would give much, to use violent thefts, And rob in the behalf of charity. CASSANDRA It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold: Unarm, sweet Hector. HECTOR Hold you still, I say; Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate: Lie every man holds dear; but the brave man Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. [Enter TROILUS] How now, young man! mean'st thou to fight to-day? ANDROMACHE Cassandra, call my father to persuade. [Exit CASSANDRA] HECTOR No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth; I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry: Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. Unarm thee, go, and doubt thou not, brave boy, I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy. TROILUS Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, Which better fits a lion than a man. HECTOR What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me for it. TROILUS When many times the captive Grecian falls, Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, You bid them rise, and live. HECTOR O,'tis fair play. TROILUS Fool's play, by heaven, Hector. HECTOR How now! how now! TROILUS For the love of all the gods, Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers, And when we have our armours buckled on, The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords, Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth. HECTOR Fie, savage, fie! TROILUS Hector, then 'tis wars. HECTOR Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. TROILUS Who should withhold me? Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears; Not you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way, But by my ruin. [Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM] CASSANDRA Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast: He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, Fall all together. PRIAM Come, Hector, come, go back: Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had visions; Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt To tell thee that this day is ominous: Therefore, come back. HECTOR AEneas is a-field; And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, Even in the faith of valour, to appear This morning to them. PRIAM Ay, but thou shalt not go. HECTOR I must not break my faith. You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, Let me not shame respect; but give me leave To take that course by your consent and voice, Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam. CASSANDRA O Priam, yield not to him! ANDROMACHE Do not, dear father. HECTOR Andromache, I am offended with you: Upon the love you bear me, get you in. [Exit ANDROMACHE] TROILUS This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl Makes all these bodements. CASSANDRA O, farewell, dear Hector! Look, how thou diest! look, how thy eye turns pale! Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents! Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out! How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth! Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement, Like witless antics, one another meet, And all cry, Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector! TROILUS Away! away! CASSANDRA Farewell: yet, soft! Hector! take my leave: Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit] HECTOR You are amazed, my liege, at her exclaim: Go in and cheer the town: we'll forth and fight, Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night. PRIAM Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee! [Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR. Alarums] TROILUS They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe, I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. [Enter PANDARUS] PANDARUS Do you hear, my lord? do you hear? TROILUS What now? PANDARUS Here's a letter come from yond poor girl. TROILUS Let me read. PANDARUS A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl; and what one thing, what another, that I shall leave you one o' these days: and I have a rheum in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell what to think on't. What says she there? TROILUS Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart: The effect doth operate another way. [Tearing the letter] Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. My love with words and errors still she feeds; But edifies another with her deeds. [Exeunt severally] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE IV Plains between Troy and the Grecian camp. [Alarums: excursions. Enter THERSITES] THERSITES Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable varlets Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of Troy there in his helm: I would fain see them meet; that that same young Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send that Greekish whore-masterly villain, with the sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeveless errand. O' the t'other side, the policy of those crafty swearing rascals, that stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is not proved worthy a blackberry: they set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles: and now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm to-day; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. Soft! here comes sleeve, and t'other. [Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following] TROILUS Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx, I would swim after. DIOMEDES Thou dost miscall retire: I do not fly, but advantageous care Withdrew me from the odds of multitude: Have at thee! THERSITES Hold thy whore, Grecian!--now for thy whore, Trojan!--now the sleeve, now the sleeve! [Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES, fighting] [Enter HECTOR] HECTOR What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match? Art thou of blood and honour? THERSITES No, no, I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave: a very filthy rogue. HECTOR I do believe thee: live. [Exit] THERSITES God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a plague break thy neck for frightening me! What's become of the wenching rogues? I think they have swallowed one another: I would laugh at that miracle: yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. I'll seek them. [Exit] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE V Another part of the plains. [Enter DIOMEDES and a Servant] DIOMEDES Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid: Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; Tell her I have chastised the amorous Trojan, And am her knight by proof. Servant I go, my lord. [Exit] [Enter AGAMEMNON] AGAMEMNON Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon Hath Doreus prisoner, And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, Upon the pashed corses of the kings Epistrophus and Cedius: Polyxenes is slain, Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt, Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomed, To reinforcement, or we perish all. [Enter NESTOR] NESTOR Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame. There is a thousand Hectors in the field: Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot, And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, Fall down before him, like the mower's swath: Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes, Dexterity so obeying appetite That what he will he does, and does so much That proof is call'd impossibility. [Enter ULYSSES] ULYSSES O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: Patroclus' wounds have roused his drowsy blood, Together with his mangled Myrmidons, That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to him, Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it, Roaring for Troilus, who hath done to-day Mad and fantastic execution, Engaging and redeeming of himself With such a careless force and forceless care As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, Bade him win all. [Enter AJAX] AJAX Troilus! thou coward Troilus! [Exit] DIOMEDES Ay, there, there. NESTOR So, so, we draw together. [Enter ACHILLES] ACHILLES Where is this Hector? Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face; Know what it is to meet Achilles angry: Hector? where's Hector? I will none but Hector. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE VI Another part of the plains. [Enter AJAX] AJAX Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head! [Enter DIOMEDES] DIOMEDES Troilus, I say! where's Troilus? AJAX What wouldst thou? DIOMEDES I would correct him. AJAX Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! what, Troilus! [Enter TROILUS] TROILUS O traitor Diomed! turn thy false face, thou traitor, And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse! DIOMEDES Ha, art thou there? AJAX I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed. DIOMEDES He is my prize; I will not look upon. TROILUS Come, both you cogging Greeks; have at you both! [Exeunt, fighting] [Enter HECTOR] HECTOR Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother! [Enter ACHILLES] ACHILLES Now do I see thee, ha! have at thee, Hector! HECTOR Pause, if thou wilt. ACHILLES I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan: Be happy that my arms are out of use: My rest and negligence befriends thee now, But thou anon shalt hear of me again; Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit] HECTOR Fare thee well: I would have been much more a fresher man, Had I expected thee. How now, my brother! [Re-enter TROILUS] TROILUS Ajax hath ta'en AEneas: shall it be? No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, He shall not carry him: I'll be ta'en too, Or bring him off: fate, hear me what I say! I reck not though I end my life to-day. [Exit] [Enter one in sumptuous armour] HECTOR Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a goodly mark: No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well; I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all, But I'll be master of it: wilt thou not, beast, abide? Why, then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE VII Another part of the plains. [Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons] ACHILLES Come here about me, you my Myrmidons; Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel: Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath: And when I have the bloody Hector found, Empale him with your weapons round about; In fellest manner execute your aims. Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye: It is decreed Hector the great must die. [Exeunt] [Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting: then THERSITES] THERSITES The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it. Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double- henned sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game: ware horns, ho! [Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS] [Enter MARGARELON] MARGARELON Turn, slave, and fight. THERSITES What art thou? MARGARELON A bastard son of Priam's. THERSITES I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: farewell, bastard. [Exit] MARGARELON The devil take thee, coward! [Exit] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE VIII Another part of the plains. [Enter HECTOR] HECTOR Most putrefied core, so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath: Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death. [Puts off his helmet and hangs his shield behind him] [Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons] ACHILLES Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: Even with the vail and darking of the sun, To close the day up, Hector's life is done. HECTOR I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek. ACHILLES Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. [HECTOR falls] So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down! Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, 'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.' [A retreat sounded] Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part. MYRMIDONS The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. ACHILLES The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth, And, stickler-like, the armies separates. My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. [Sheathes his sword] Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE IX Another part of the plains. [Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and others, marching. Shouts within] AGAMEMNON Hark! hark! what shout is that? NESTOR Peace, drums! [Within] Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles. DIOMEDES The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles. AJAX If it be so, yet bragless let it be; Great Hector was a man as good as he. AGAMEMNON March patiently along: let one be sent To pray Achilles see us at our tent. If in his death the gods have us befriended, Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. [Exeunt, marching] TROILUS AND CRESSIDA ACT V SCENE X Another part of the plains. [Enter AENEAS and Trojans] AENEAS Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: Never go home; here starve we out the night. [Enter TROILUS] TROILUS Hector is slain. ALL Hector! the gods forbid! TROILUS He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail, In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field. Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed! Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy! I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on! AENEAS My lord, you do discomfort all the host! TROILUS You understand me not that tell me so: I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death, But dare all imminence that gods and men Address their dangers in. Hector is gone: Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead: There is a word will Priam turn to stone; Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth, and, in a word, Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away: Hector is dead; there is no more to say. Stay yet. You vile abominable tents, Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, Let Titan rise as early as he dare, I'll through and through you! and, thou great-sized coward, No space of earth shall sunder our two hates: I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. [Exeunt AENEAS and Trojans] [As TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other side, PANDARUS] PANDARUS But hear you, hear you! TROILUS Hence, broker-lackey! ignomy and shame Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! [Exit] PANDARUS A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! why should our endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see: Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; And being once subdued in armed tail, Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted cloths. As many as be here of pander's hall, Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall; Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, Some two months hence my will shall here be made: It should be now, but that my fear is this, Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss: Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, And at that time bequeathe you my diseases. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE DRAMATIS PERSONAE VINCENTIO the Duke. (DUKE VINCENTIO:) ANGELO Deputy. ESCALUS an ancient Lord. CLAUDIO a young gentleman. LUCIO a fantastic. Two other gentlemen. (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) Provost. PETER (FRIAR PETER:) | | two friars. THOMAS (FRIAR THOMAS:) | A Justice. VARRIUS: ELBOW a simple constable. FROTH a foolish gentleman. POMPEY servant to Mistress Overdone. ABHORSON an executioner. BARNARDINE a dissolute prisoner. ISABELLA sister to Claudio. MARIANA betrothed to Angelo. JULIET beloved of Claudio. FRANCISCA a nun. MISTRESS OVERDONE a bawd. Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendant. (Servant:) (Messenger:) SCENE Vienna. MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE I An apartment in the DUKE'S palace. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, ESCALUS, Lords and Attendants] DUKE VINCENTIO Escalus. ESCALUS My lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Of government the properties to unfold, Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse; Since I am put to know that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you: then no more remains, But that to your sufficiency [ ] [ ] as your Worth is able, And let them work. The nature of our people, Our city's institutions, and the terms For common justice, you're as pregnant in As art and practise hath enriched any That we remember. There is our commission, From which we would not have you warp. Call hither, I say, bid come before us Angelo. [Exit an Attendant] What figure of us think you he will bear? For you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply, Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love, And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power: what think you of it? ESCALUS If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample grace and honour, It is Lord Angelo. DUKE VINCENTIO Look where he comes. [Enter ANGELO] ANGELO Always obedient to your grace's will, I come to know your pleasure. DUKE VINCENTIO Angelo, There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advertise; Hold therefore, Angelo:-- In our remove be thou at full ourself; Mortality and mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus, Though first in question, is thy secondary. Take thy commission. ANGELO Now, good my lord, Let there be some more test made of my metal, Before so noble and so great a figure Be stamp'd upon it. DUKE VINCENTIO No more evasion: We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours. Our haste from hence is of so quick condition That it prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, As time and our concernings shall importune, How it goes with us, and do look to know What doth befall you here. So, fare you well; To the hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions. ANGELO Yet give leave, my lord, That we may bring you something on the way. DUKE VINCENTIO My haste may not admit it; Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do With any scruple; your scope is as mine own So to enforce or qualify the laws As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand: I'll privily away. I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes: Through it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and Aves vehement; Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. ANGELO The heavens give safety to your purposes! ESCALUS Lead forth and bring you back in happiness! DUKE I thank you. Fare you well. [Exit] ESCALUS I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave To have free speech with you; and it concerns me To look into the bottom of my place: A power I have, but of what strength and nature I am not yet instructed. ANGELO 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together, And we may soon our satisfaction have Touching that point. ESCALUS I'll wait upon your honour. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE II A Street. [Enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen] LUCIO If the duke with the other dukes come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall upon the king. First Gentleman Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungary's! Second Gentleman Amen. LUCIO Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped one out of the table. Second Gentleman 'Thou shalt not steal'? LUCIO Ay, that he razed. First Gentleman Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition well that prays for peace. Second Gentleman I never heard any soldier dislike it. LUCIO I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where grace was said. Second Gentleman No? a dozen times at least. First Gentleman What, in metre? LUCIO In any proportion or in any language. First Gentleman I think, or in any religion. LUCIO Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace. First Gentleman Well, there went but a pair of shears between us. LUCIO I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet. Thou art the list. First Gentleman And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou'rt a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now? LUCIO I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee. First Gentleman I think I have done myself wrong, have I not? Second Gentleman Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free. LUCIO Behold, behold. where Madam Mitigation comes! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to-- Second Gentleman To what, I pray? LUCIO Judge. Second Gentleman To three thousand dolours a year. First Gentleman Ay, and more. LUCIO A French crown more. First Gentleman Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error; I am sound. LUCIO Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee. [Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE] First Gentleman How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica? MISTRESS OVERDONE Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all. Second Gentleman Who's that, I pray thee? MISTRESS OVERDONE Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio. First Gentleman Claudio to prison? 'tis not so. MISTRESS OVERDONE Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested, saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head to be chopped off. LUCIO But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art thou sure of this? MISTRESS OVERDONE I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam Julietta with child. LUCIO Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping. Second Gentleman Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose. First Gentleman But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation. LUCIO Away! let's go learn the truth of it. [Exeunt LUCIO and Gentlemen] MISTRESS OVERDONE Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. [Enter POMPEY] How now! what's the news with you? POMPEY Yonder man is carried to prison. MISTRESS OVERDONE Well; what has he done? POMPEY A woman. MISTRESS OVERDONE But what's his offence? POMPEY Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. MISTRESS OVERDONE What, is there a maid with child by him? POMPEY No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you? MISTRESS OVERDONE What proclamation, man? POMPEY All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down. MISTRESS OVERDONE And what shall become of those in the city? POMPEY They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. MISTRESS OVERDONE But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down? POMPEY To the ground, mistress. MISTRESS OVERDONE Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth! What shall become of me? POMPEY Come; fear you not: good counsellors lack no clients: though you change your place, you need not change your trade; I'll be your tapster still. Courage! there will be pity taken on you: you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be considered. MISTRESS OVERDONE What's to do here, Thomas tapster? let's withdraw. POMPEY Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison; and there's Madam Juliet. [Exeunt] [Enter Provost, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and Officers] CLAUDIO Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world? Bear me to prison, where I am committed. Provost I do it not in evil disposition, But from Lord Angelo by special charge. CLAUDIO Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offence by weight The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will; On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. [Re-enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen] LUCIO Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint? CLAUDIO From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty: As surfeit is the father of much fast, So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die. LUCIO If could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy offence, Claudio? CLAUDIO What but to speak of would offend again. LUCIO What, is't murder? CLAUDIO No. LUCIO Lechery? CLAUDIO Call it so. Provost Away, sir! you must go. CLAUDIO One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you. LUCIO A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so look'd after? CLAUDIO Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract I got possession of Julietta's bed: You know the lady; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order: this we came not to, Only for propagation of a dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends, From whom we thought it meet to hide our love Till time had made them for us. But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment With character too gross is writ on Juliet. LUCIO With child, perhaps? CLAUDIO Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the duke-- Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness, Or whether that the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride, Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur; Whether the tyranny be in his place, Or in his emmence that fills it up, I stagger in:--but this new governor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round And none of them been worn; and, for a name, Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name. LUCIO I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to him. CLAUDIO I have done so, but he's not to be found. I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: This day my sister should the cloister enter And there receive her approbation: Acquaint her with the danger of my state: Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him: I have great hope in that; for in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect, Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade. LUCIO I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. CLAUDIO I thank you, good friend Lucio. LUCIO Within two hours. CLAUDIO Come, officer, away! [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE III A monastery. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO and FRIAR THOMAS] DUKE VINCENTIO No, holy father; throw away that thought; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth. FRIAR THOMAS May your grace speak of it? DUKE VINCENTIO My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever loved the life removed And held in idle price to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps. I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo, A man of stricture and firm abstinence, My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell'd to Poland; For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, And so it is received. Now, pious sir, You will demand of me why I do this? FRIAR THOMAS Gladly, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO We have strict statutes and most biting laws. The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds, Which for this nineteen years we have let slip; Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children's sight For terror, not to use, in time the rod Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; And liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum. FRIAR THOMAS It rested in your grace To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased: And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd Than in Lord Angelo. DUKE VINCENTIO I do fear, too dreadful: Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permissive pass And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, my father, I have on Angelo imposed the office; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, And yet my nature never in the fight To do in slander. And to behold his sway, I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee, Supply me with the habit and instruct me How I may formally in person bear me Like a true friar. More reasons for this action At our more leisure shall I render you; Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise; Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT I SCENE IV A nunnery. [Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA] ISABELLA And have you nuns no farther privileges? FRANCISCA Are not these large enough? ISABELLA Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more; But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare. LUCIO [Within] Ho! Peace be in this place! ISABELLA Who's that which calls? FRANCISCA It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him; You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn. When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men But in the presence of the prioress: Then, if you speak, you must not show your face, Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again; I pray you, answer him. [Exit] ISABELLA Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls [Enter LUCIO] LUCIO Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this place and the fair sister To her unhappy brother Claudio? ISABELLA Why 'her unhappy brother'? let me ask, The rather for I now must make you know I am that Isabella and his sister. LUCIO Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. ISABELLA Woe me! for what? LUCIO For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks: He hath got his friend with child. ISABELLA Sir, make me not your story. LUCIO It is true. I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted. By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a saint. ISABELLA You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. LUCIO Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: Your brother and his lover have embraced: As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. ISABELLA Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet? LUCIO Is she your cousin? ISABELLA Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names By vain though apt affection. LUCIO She it is. ISABELLA O, let him marry her. LUCIO This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand and hope of action: but we do learn By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings-out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense, But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind, study and fast. He--to give fear to use and liberty, Which have for long run by the hideous law, As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act, Under whose heavy sense your brother's life Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; And follows close the rigour of the statute, To make him an example. All hope is gone, Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business 'Twixt you and your poor brother. ISABELLA Doth he so seek his life? LUCIO Has censured him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. ISABELLA Alas! what poor ability's in me To do him good? LUCIO Assay the power you have. ISABELLA My power? Alas, I doubt-- LUCIO Our doubts are traitors And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them. ISABELLA I'll see what I can do. LUCIO But speedily. ISABELLA I will about it straight; No longer staying but to give the mother Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you: Commend me to my brother: soon at night I'll send him certain word of my success. LUCIO I take my leave of you. ISABELLA Good sir, adieu. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE I A hall In ANGELO's house. [Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, and a Justice, Provost, Officers, and other Attendants, behind] ANGELO We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch and not their terror. ESCALUS Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman Whom I would save, had a most noble father! Let but your honour know, Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, That, in the working of your own affections, Had time cohered with place or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose, Whether you had not sometime in your life Err'd in this point which now you censure him, And pull'd the law upon you. ANGELO 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. I not deny, The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice, That justice seizes: what know the laws That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't Because we see it; but what we do not see We tread upon, and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offence For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, When I, that censure him, do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. ESCALUS Be it as your wisdom will. ANGELO Where is the provost? Provost Here, if it like your honour. ANGELO See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Exit Provost] ESCALUS [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone. [Enter ELBOW, and Officers with FROTH and POMPEY] ELBOW Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away. ANGELO How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter? ELBOW If it Please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. ANGELO Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors? ELBOW If it? please your honour, I know not well what they are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have. ESCALUS This comes off well; here's a wise officer. ANGELO Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow? POMPEY He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. ANGELO What are you, sir? ELBOW He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too. ESCALUS How know you that? ELBOW My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,-- ESCALUS How? thy wife? ELBOW Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,-- ESCALUS Dost thou detest her therefore? ELBOW I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. ESCALUS How dost thou know that, constable? ELBOW Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there. ESCALUS By the woman's means? ELBOW Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. POMPEY Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. ELBOW Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it. ESCALUS Do you hear how he misplaces? POMPEY Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes; sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes,-- ESCALUS Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. POMPEY No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you three-pence again. FROTH No, indeed. POMPEY Very well: you being then, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,-- FROTH Ay, so I did indeed. POMPEY Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you,-- FROTH All this is true. POMPEY Why, very well, then,-- ESCALUS Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her. POMPEY Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. ESCALUS No, sir, nor I mean it not. POMPEY Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir; a man of four-score pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth? FROTH All-hallond eve. POMPEY Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight to sit, have you not? FROTH I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter. POMPEY Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths. ANGELO This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave. And leave you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all. ESCALUS I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. [Exit ANGELO] Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more? POMPEY Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once. ELBOW I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. POMPEY I beseech your honour, ask me. ESCALUS Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her? POMPEY I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face. Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face? ESCALUS Ay, sir, very well. POMPEY Nay; I beseech you, mark it well. ESCALUS Well, I do so. POMPEY Doth your honour see any harm in his face? ESCALUS Why, no. POMPEY I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour. ESCALUS He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it? ELBOW First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman. POMPEY By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all. ELBOW Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the time has yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child. POMPEY Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. ESCALUS Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is this true? ELBOW O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee. ESCALUS If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your action of slander too. ELBOW Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? ESCALUS Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are. ELBOW Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue. ESCALUS Where were you born, friend? FROTH Here in Vienna, sir. ESCALUS Are you of fourscore pounds a year? FROTH Yes, an't please you, sir. ESCALUS So. What trade are you of, sir? POMPHEY Tapster; a poor widow's tapster. ESCALUS Your mistress' name? POMPHEY Mistress Overdone. ESCALUS Hath she had any more than one husband? POMPEY Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. ESCALUS Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. FROTH I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn in. ESCALUS Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. [Exit FROTH] Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your name, Master tapster? POMPEY Pompey. ESCALUS What else? POMPEY Bum, sir. ESCALUS Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you. POMPEY Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. ESCALUS How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade? POMPEY If the law would allow it, sir. ESCALUS But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. POMPEY Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city? ESCALUS No, Pompey. POMPEY Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. ESCALUS There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: it is but heading and hanging. POMPEY If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so. ESCALUS Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well. POMPEY I thank your worship for your good counsel: [Aside] but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade: The valiant heart is not whipt out of his trade. [Exit] ESCALUS Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable? ELBOW Seven year and a half, sir. ESCALUS I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time. You say, seven years together? ELBOW And a half, sir. ESCALUS Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you wrong to put you so oft upon 't: are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it? ELBOW Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all. ESCALUS Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. ELBOW To your worship's house, sir? ESCALUS To my house. Fare you well. [Exit ELBOW] What's o'clock, think you? Justice Eleven, sir. ESCALUS I pray you home to dinner with me. Justice I humbly thank you. ESCALUS It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy. Justice Lord Angelo is severe. ESCALUS It is but needful: Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: But yet,--poor Claudio! There is no remedy. Come, sir. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE II Another room in the same. [Enter Provost and a Servant] Servant He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight I'll tell him of you. Provost Pray you, do. [Exit Servant] I'll know His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream! All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he To die for't! [Enter ANGELO] ANGELO Now, what's the matter. Provost? Provost Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow? ANGELO Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again? Provost Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom. ANGELO Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spared. Provost I crave your honour's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour. ANGELO Dispose of her To some more fitter place, and that with speed. [Re-enter Servant] Servant Here is the sister of the man condemn'd Desires access to you. ANGELO Hath he a sister? Provost Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. ANGELO Well, let her be admitted. [Exit Servant] See you the fornicatress be removed: Let have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for't. [Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO] Provost God save your honour! ANGELO Stay a little while. [To ISABELLA] You're welcome: what's your will? ISABELLA I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. ANGELO Well; what's your suit? ISABELLA There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice; For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt will and will not. ANGELO Well; the matter? ISABELLA I have a brother is condemn'd to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. Provost [Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces! ANGELO Condemn the fault and not the actor of it? Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done: Mine were the very cipher of a function, To fine the faults whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor. ISABELLA O just but severe law! I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour! LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown: You are too cold; if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say! ISABELLA Must he needs die? ANGELO Maiden, no remedy. ISABELLA Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. ANGELO I will not do't. ISABELLA But can you, if you would? ANGELO Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. ISABELLA But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him? ANGELO He's sentenced; 'tis too late. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] You are too cold. ISABELLA Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word. May call it back again. Well, believe this, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you and you as he, You would have slipt like him; but he, like you, Would not have been so stern. ANGELO Pray you, be gone. ISABELLA I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. ANGELO Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. ISABELLA Alas, alas! Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. ANGELO Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I condemn your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow. ISABELLA To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you; Who is it that hath died for this offence? There's many have committed it. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Ay, well said. ANGELO The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept: Those many had not dared to do that evil, If the first that did the edict infringe Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils, Either new, or by remissness new-conceived, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born, Are now to have no successive degrees, But, ere they live, to end. ISABELLA Yet show some pity. ANGELO I show it most of all when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall; And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. ISABELLA So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] That's well said. ISABELLA Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder; Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent; He's coming; I perceive 't. Provost [Aside] Pray heaven she win him! ISABELLA We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, But in the less foul profanation. LUCIO Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o, that. ISABELLA That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Art avised o' that? more on 't. ANGELO Why do you put these sayings upon me? ISABELLA Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life. ANGELO [Aside] She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well. ISABELLA Gentle my lord, turn back. ANGELO I will bethink me: come again tomorrow. ISABELLA Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back. ANGELO How! bribe me? ISABELLA Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] You had marr'd all else. ISABELLA Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor As fancy values them; but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven and enter there Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. ANGELO Well; come to me to-morrow. LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Go to; 'tis well; away! ISABELLA Heaven keep your honour safe! ANGELO [Aside] Amen: For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. ISABELLA At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? ANGELO At any time 'fore noon. ISABELLA 'Save your honour! [Exeunt ISABELLA, LUCIO, and Provost] ANGELO From thee, even from thy virtue! What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie! What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully for those things That make her good? O, let her brother live! Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again, And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite. Even till now, When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE III A room in a prison. [Enter, severally, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as a friar, and Provost] DUKE VINCENTIO Hail to you, provost! so I think you are. Provost I am the provost. What's your will, good friar? DUKE VINCENTIO Bound by my charity and my blest order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison. Do me the common right To let me see them and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. Provost I would do more than that, if more were needful. [Enter JULIET] Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine, Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: she is with child; And he that got it, sentenced; a young man More fit to do another such offence Than die for this. DUKE VINCENTIO When must he die? Provost As I do think, to-morrow. I have provided for you: stay awhile, [To JULIET] And you shall be conducted. DUKE VINCENTIO Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? JULIET I do; and bear the shame most patiently. DUKE VINCENTIO I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound, Or hollowly put on. JULIET I'll gladly learn. DUKE VINCENTIO Love you the man that wrong'd you? JULIET Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. DUKE VINCENTIO So then it seems your most offenceful act Was mutually committed? JULIET Mutually. DUKE VINCENTIO Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. JULIET I do confess it, and repent it, father. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven, Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it, But as we stand in fear,-- JULIET I do repent me, as it is an evil, And take the shame with joy. DUKE VINCENTIO There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you, Benedicite! [Exit] JULIET Must die to-morrow! O injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! Provost 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT II SCENE IV A room in ANGELO's house. [Enter ANGELO] ANGELO When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name; And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied Is like a good thing, being often read, Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride, Could I with boot change for an idle plume, Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood: Let's write good angel on the devil's horn: 'Tis not the devil's crest. [Enter a Servant] How now! who's there? Servant One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. ANGELO Teach her the way. [Exit Servant] O heavens! Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself, And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons; Come all to help him, and so stop the air By which he should revive: and even so The general, subject to a well-wish'd king, Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. [Enter ISABELLA] How now, fair maid? ISABELLA I am come to know your pleasure. ANGELO That you might know it, would much better please me Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. ISABELLA Even so. Heaven keep your honour! ANGELO Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be, As long as you or I yet he must die. ISABELLA Under your sentence? ANGELO Yea. ISABELLA When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted That his soul sicken not. ANGELO Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made As to put metal in restrained means To make a false one. ISABELLA 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. ANGELO Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she that he hath stain'd? ISABELLA Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul. ANGELO I talk not of your soul: our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. ISABELLA How say you? ANGELO Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this: I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life: Might there not be a charity in sin To save this brother's life? ISABELLA Please you to do't, I'll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. ANGELO Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity. ISABELLA That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. ANGELO Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so craftily; and that's not good. ISABELLA Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. ANGELO Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright When it doth tax itself; as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me; To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: Your brother is to die. ISABELLA So. ANGELO And his offence is so, as it appears, Accountant to the law upon that pain. ISABELLA True. ANGELO Admit no other way to save his life,-- As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,--that you, his sister, Finding yourself desired of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-building law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer; What would you do? ISABELLA As much for my poor brother as myself: That is, were I under the terms of death, The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld yield My body up to shame. ANGELO Then must your brother die. ISABELLA And 'twere the cheaper way: Better it were a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. ANGELO Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so? ISABELLA Ignomy in ransom and free pardon Are of two houses: lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. ANGELO You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant; And rather proved the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice. ISABELLA O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. ANGELO We are all frail. ISABELLA Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he Owe and succeed thy weakness. ANGELO Nay, women are frail too. ISABELLA Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. ANGELO I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex,-- Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,--let me be bold; I do arrest your words. Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; If you be one, as you are well express'd By all external warrants, show it now, By putting on the destined livery. ISABELLA I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. ANGELO Plainly conceive, I love you. ISABELLA My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me that he shall die for it. ANGELO He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. ISABELLA I know your virtue hath a licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. ANGELO Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. ISABELLA Ha! little honour to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud What man thou art. ANGELO Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' the state, Will so your accusation overweigh, That you shall stifle in your own report And smell of calumny. I have begun, And now I give my sensual race the rein: Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes, That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will; Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit] ISABELLA To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, Either of condemnation or approof; Bidding the law make court'sy to their will: Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother: Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour. That, had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up, Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: More than our brother is our chastity. I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT III SCENE I A room in the prison. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before, CLAUDIO, and Provost] DUKE VINCENTIO So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? CLAUDIO The miserable have no other medicine But only hope: I've hope to live, and am prepared to die. DUKE VINCENTIO Be absolute for death; either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences, That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble; For all the accommodations that thou bear'st Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none; For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. CLAUDIO I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: let it come on. ISABELLA [Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company! Provost Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome. DUKE VINCENTIO Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. CLAUDIO Most holy sir, I thank you. [Enter ISABELLA] ISABELLA My business is a word or two with Claudio. Provost And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister. DUKE VINCENTIO Provost, a word with you. Provost As many as you please. DUKE VINCENTIO Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. [Exeunt DUKE VINCENTIO and Provost] CLAUDIO Now, sister, what's the comfort? ISABELLA Why, As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger: Therefore your best appointment make with speed; To-morrow you set on. CLAUDIO Is there no remedy? ISABELLA None, but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. CLAUDIO But is there any? ISABELLA Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death. CLAUDIO Perpetual durance? ISABELLA Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determined scope. CLAUDIO But in what nature? ISABELLA In such a one as, you consenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. CLAUDIO Let me know the point. ISABELLA O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. CLAUDIO Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms. ISABELLA There spake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the head and follies doth emmew As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. CLAUDIO The prenzie Angelo! ISABELLA O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio? If I would yield him my virginity, Thou mightst be freed. CLAUDIO O heavens! it cannot be. ISABELLA Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence, So to offend him still. This night's the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest to-morrow. CLAUDIO Thou shalt not do't. ISABELLA O, were it but my life, I'ld throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. CLAUDIO Thanks, dear Isabel. ISABELLA Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow. CLAUDIO Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin, Or of the deadly seven, it is the least. ISABELLA Which is the least? CLAUDIO If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fined? O Isabel! ISABELLA What says my brother? CLAUDIO Death is a fearful thing. ISABELLA And shamed life a hateful. CLAUDIO Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury and imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death. ISABELLA Alas, alas! CLAUDIO Sweet sister, let me live: What sin you do to save a brother's life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue. ISABELLA O you beast! O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Is't not a kind of incest, to take life From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair! For such a warped slip of wilderness Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance! Die, perish! Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed: I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee. CLAUDIO Nay, hear me, Isabel. ISABELLA O, fie, fie, fie! Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade. Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: 'Tis best thou diest quickly. CLAUDIO O hear me, Isabella! [Re-enter DUKE VINCENTIO] DUKE VINCENTIO Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. ISABELLA What is your will? DUKE VINCENTIO Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit. ISABELLA I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile. [Walks apart] DUKE VINCENTIO Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready. CLAUDIO Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it. DUKE VINCENTIO Hold you there: farewell. [Exit CLAUDIO] Provost, a word with you! [Re-enter Provost] Provost What's your will, father DUKE VINCENTIO That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. Provost In good time. [Exit Provost. ISABELLA comes forward] DUKE VINCENTIO The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? ISABELLA I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. DUKE VINCENTIO That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. ISABELLA Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. DUKE VINCENTIO Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea? ISABELLA I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. DUKE VINCENTIO She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. ISABELLA Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her? DUKE VINCENTIO Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. ISABELLA What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? DUKE VINCENTIO It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. ISABELLA Show me how, good father. DUKE VINCENTIO This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer yourself to this advantage, first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course,--and now follows all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it? ISABELLA The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. DUKE VINCENTIO It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's: there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. ISABELLA I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT III SCENE II The street before the prison. [Enter, on one side, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, and Officers with POMPEY] ELBOW Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. DUKE VINCENTIO O heavens! what stuff is here POMPEY 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. ELBOW Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar. DUKE VINCENTIO And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir? ELBOW Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy. DUKE VINCENTIO Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. POMPEY Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove-- DUKE VINCENTIO Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer: Correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit. ELBOW He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. DUKE VINCENTIO That we were all, as some would seem to be, From our faults, as faults from seeming, free! ELBOW His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir. POMPEY I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a friend of mine. [Enter LUCIO] LUCIO How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What sayest thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The trick of it? DUKE VINCENTIO Still thus, and thus; still worse! LUCIO How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha? POMPEY Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. LUCIO Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? POMPEY Yes, faith, sir. LUCIO Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how? ELBOW For being a bawd, for being a bawd. LUCIO Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house. POMPEY I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. LUCIO No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. 'Bless you, friar. DUKE VINCENTIO And you. LUCIO Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? ELBOW Come your ways, sir; come. POMPEY You will not bail me, then, sir? LUCIO Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? what news? ELBOW Come your ways, sir; come. LUCIO Go to kennel, Pompey; go. [Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and Officers] What news, friar, of the duke? DUKE VINCENTIO I know none. Can you tell me of any? LUCIO Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you? DUKE VINCENTIO I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well. LUCIO It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to 't. DUKE VINCENTIO He does well in 't. LUCIO A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar. DUKE VINCENTIO It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. LUCIO Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation: is it true, think you? DUKE VINCENTIO How should he be made, then? LUCIO Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion generative; that's infallible. DUKE VINCENTIO You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. DUKE VINCENTIO I never heard the absent duke much detected for women; he was not inclined that way. LUCIO O, sir, you are deceived. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis not possible. LUCIO Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. DUKE VINCENTIO You do him wrong, surely. LUCIO Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the duke: and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. DUKE VINCENTIO What, I prithee, might be the cause? LUCIO No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips: but this I can let you understand, the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise. DUKE VINCENTIO Wise! why, no question but he was. LUCIO A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. DUKE VINCENTIO Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking: the very stream of his life and the business he hath helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice. LUCIO Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE VINCENTIO Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. LUCIO Come, sir, I know what I know. DUKE VINCENTIO I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your name? LUCIO Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke. DUKE VINCENTIO He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. LUCIO I fear you not. DUKE VINCENTIO O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again. LUCIO I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? DUKE VINCENTIO Why should he die, sir? LUCIO Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would the duke we talk of were returned again: the ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light: would he were returned! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell. [Exit] DUKE VINCENTIO No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But who comes here? [Enter ESCALUS, Provost, and Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE] ESCALUS Go; away with her to prison! MISTRESS OVERDONE Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man; good my lord. ESCALUS Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. Provost A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your honour. MISTRESS OVERDONE My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the duke's time; he promised her marriage: his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me! ESCALUS That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; no more words. [Exeunt Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation. if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Provost So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. ESCALUS Good even, good father. DUKE VINCENTIO Bliss and goodness on you! ESCALUS Of whence are you? DUKE VINCENTIO Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time: I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his holiness. ESCALUS What news abroad i' the world? DUKE VINCENTIO None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accurst: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke? ESCALUS One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. DUKE VINCENTIO What pleasure was he given to? ESCALUS Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. DUKE VINCENTIO He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I by my good leisure have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. ESCALUS You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice. DUKE VINCENTIO If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. ESCALUS I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. DUKE VINCENTIO Peace be with you! [Exeunt ESCALUS and Provost] He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness made in crimes, Making practise on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most ponderous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply: With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despised; So disguise shall, by the disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE I The moated grange at ST. LUKE's. [Enter MARIANA and a Boy] [Boy sings] Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. MARIANA Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away: Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. [Exit Boy] [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish You had not found me here so musical: Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. I pray, you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me here to-day? much upon this time have I promised here to meet. MARIANA You have not been inquired after: I have sat here all day. [Enter ISABELLA] DUKE VINCENTIO I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself. MARIANA I am always bound to you. [Exit] DUKE VINCENTIO Very well met, and well come. What is the news from this good deputy? ISABELLA He hath a garden circummured with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; And to that vineyard is a planched gate, That makes his opening with this bigger key: This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads; There have I made my promise Upon the heavy middle of the night To call upon him. DUKE VINCENTIO But shall you on your knowledge find this way? ISABELLA I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't: With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o'er. DUKE VINCENTIO Are there no other tokens Between you 'greed concerning her observance? ISABELLA No, none, but only a repair i' the dark; And that I have possess'd him my most stay Can be but brief; for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along, That stays upon me, whose persuasion is I come about my brother. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth! [Re-enter MARIANA] I pray you, be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good. ISABELLA I do desire the like. DUKE VINCENTIO Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? MARIANA Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. DUKE VINCENTIO Take, then, this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall attend your leisure: but make haste; The vaporous night approaches. MARIANA Will't please you walk aside? [Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA] DUKE VINCENTIO O place and greatness! millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report Run with these false and most contrarious quests Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dreams And rack thee in their fancies. [Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA] Welcome, how agreed? ISABELLA She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. DUKE VINCENTIO It is not my consent, But my entreaty too. ISABELLA Little have you to say When you depart from him, but, soft and low, 'Remember now my brother.' MARIANA Fear me not. DUKE VINCENTIO Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract: To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go: Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE II A room in the prison. [Enter Provost and POMPEY] Provost Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? POMPEY If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head. Provost Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a notorious bawd. POMPEY Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. Provost What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there? [Enter ABHORSON] ABHORSON Do you call, sir? Provost Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. ABHORSON A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery. Provost Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. [Exit] POMPEY Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? ABHORSON Ay, sir; a mystery POMPEY Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. ABHORSON Sir, it is a mystery. POMPEY Proof? ABHORSON Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief. [Re-enter Provost] Provost Are you agreed? POMPEY Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. Provost You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock. ABHORSON Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. POMPEY I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. Provost Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: [Exeunt POMPEY and ABHORSON] The one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. [Enter CLAUDIO] Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? CLAUDIO As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones: He will not wake. Provost Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within] But, hark, what noise? Heaven give your spirits comfort! [Exit CLAUDIO] By and by. I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] Welcome father. DUKE VINCENTIO The best and wholesomest spirts of the night Envelope you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late? Provost None, since the curfew rung. DUKE VINCENTIO Not Isabel? Provost No. DUKE VINCENTIO They will, then, ere't be long. Provost What comfort is for Claudio? DUKE VINCENTIO There's some in hope. Provost It is a bitter deputy. DUKE VINCENTIO Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd Even with the stroke and line of his great justice: He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his power To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; But this being so, he's just. [Knocking within] Now are they come. [Exit Provost] This is a gentle provost: seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. [Knocking within] How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes. [Re-enter Provost] Provost There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in: he is call'd up. DUKE VINCENTIO Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die to-morrow? Provost None, sir, none. DUKE VINCENTIO As near the dawning, provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning. Provost Happily You something know; yet I believe there comes No countermand; no such example have we: Besides, upon the very siege of justice Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Profess'd the contrary. [Enter a Messenger] This is his lordship's man. DUKE VINCENTIO And here comes Claudio's pardon. Messenger [Giving a paper] My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it, it is almost day. Provost I shall obey him. [Exit Messenger] DUKE VINCENTIO [Aside] This is his pardon, purchased by such sin For which the pardoner himself is in. Hence hath offence his quick celerity, When it is born in high authority: When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended, That for the fault's love is the offender friended. Now, sir, what news? Provost I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before. DUKE VINCENTIO Pray you, let's hear. Provost [Reads] 'Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and in the afternoon Barnardine: for my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed; with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.' What say you to this, sir? DUKE VINCENTIO What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the afternoon? Provost A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old. DUKE VINCENTIO How came it that the absent duke had not either delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so. Provost His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and, indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. DUKE VINCENTIO It is now apparent? Provost Most manifest, and not denied by himself. DUKE VINCENTIO Hath he born himself penitently in prison? how seems he to be touched? Provost A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. DUKE VINCENTIO He wants advice. Provost He will hear none: he hath evermore had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming warrant for it: it hath not moved him at all. DUKE VINCENTIO More of him anon. There is written in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but, in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. Provost Pray, sir, in what? DUKE VINCENTIO In the delaying death. Provost A lack, how may I do it, having the hour limited, and an express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest. DUKE VINCENTIO By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head born to Angelo. Provost Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. DUKE VINCENTIO O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death: you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life. Provost Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath. DUKE VINCENTIO Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy? Provost To him, and to his substitutes. DUKE VINCENTIO You will think you have made no offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing? Provost But what likelihood is in that? DUKE VINCENTIO Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the duke: you know the character, I doubt not; and the signet is not strange to you. Provost I know them both. DUKE VINCENTIO The contents of this is the return of the duke: you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure; where you shall find, within these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not; for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor; perchance of the duke's death; perchance entering into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be: all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE III Another room in the same. [Enter POMPEY] POMPEY I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession: one would think it were Mistress Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here's young Master Rash; he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he made five marks, ready money: marry, then ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.' [Enter ABHORSON] ABHORSON Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. POMPEY Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged. Master Barnardine! ABHORSON What, ho, Barnardine! BARNARDINE [Within] A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you? POMPEY Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. BARNARDINE [Within] Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy. ABHORSON Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. POMPEY Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. ABHORSON Go in to him, and fetch him out. POMPEY He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle. ABHORSON Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? POMPEY Very ready, sir. [Enter BARNARDINE] BARNARDINE How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you? ABHORSON Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come. BARNARDINE You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for 't. POMPEY O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day. ABHORSON Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do we jest now, think you? [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you and pray with you. BARNARDINE Friar, not I I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certain. DUKE VINCENTIO O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you Look forward on the journey you shall go. BARNARDINE I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion. DUKE VINCENTIO But hear you. BARNARDINE Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day. [Exit] DUKE VINCENTIO Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart! After him, fellows; bring him to the block. [Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY] [Re-enter Provost] Provost Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? DUKE VINCENTIO A creature unprepared, unmeet for death; And to transport him in the mind he is Were damnable. Provost Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head Just of his colour. What if we do omit This reprobate till he were well inclined; And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? DUKE VINCENTIO O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides! Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done, And sent according to command; whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. Provost This shall be done, good father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon: And how shall we continue Claudio, To save me from the danger that might come If he were known alive? DUKE VINCENTIO Let this be done. Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting To the under generation, you shall find Your safety manifested. Provost I am your free dependant. DUKE VINCENTIO Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. [Exit Provost] Now will I write letters to Angelo,-- The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home, And that, by great injunctions, I am bound To enter publicly: him I'll desire To meet me at the consecrated fount A league below the city; and from thence, By cold gradation and well-balanced form, We shall proceed with Angelo. [Re-enter Provost] Provost Here is the head; I'll carry it myself. DUKE VINCENTIO Convenient is it. Make a swift return; For I would commune with you of such things That want no ear but yours. Provost I'll make all speed. [Exit] ISABELLA [Within] Peace, ho, be here! DUKE VINCENTIO The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know If yet her brother's pardon be come hither: But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of despair, When it is least expected. [Enter ISABELLA] ISABELLA Ho, by your leave! DUKE VINCENTIO Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. ISABELLA The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon? DUKE VINCENTIO He hath released him, Isabel, from the world: His head is off and sent to Angelo. ISABELLA Nay, but it is not so. DUKE VINCENTIO It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter, In your close patience. ISABELLA O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! DUKE VINCENTIO You shall not be admitted to his sight. ISABELLA Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel! Injurious world! most damned Angelo! DUKE VINCENTIO This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find By every syllable a faithful verity: The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes; One of our convent, and his confessor, Gives me this instance: already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go, And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour. ISABELLA I am directed by you. DUKE VINCENTIO This letter, then, to Friar Peter give; 'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return: Say, by this token, I desire his company At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter: Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart; trust not my holy order, If I pervert your course. Who's here? [Enter LUCIO] LUCIO Good even. Friar, where's the provost? DUKE VINCENTIO Not within, sir. LUCIO O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set me to 't. But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother: if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived. [Exit ISABELLA] DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them. LUCIO Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do: he's a better woodman than thou takest him for. DUKE VINCENTIO Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well. LUCIO Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. DUKE VINCENTIO You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough. LUCIO I was once before him for getting a wench with child. DUKE VINCENTIO Did you such a thing? LUCIO Yes, marry, did I but I was fain to forswear it; they would else have married me to the rotten medlar. DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. LUCIO By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end: if bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE IV A room in ANGELO's house. [Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS] ESCALUS Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other. ANGELO In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness: pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted! And why meet him at the gates, and redeliver our authorities there ESCALUS I guess not. ANGELO And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering, that if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? ESCALUS He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of complaints, and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us. ANGELO Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed betimes i' the morn; I'll call you at your house: give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him. ESCALUS I shall, sir. Fare you well. ANGELO Good night. [Exit ESCALUS] This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid! And by an eminent body that enforced The law against it! But that her tender shame Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no; For my authority bears of a credent bulk, That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should have lived, Save that riotous youth, with dangerous sense, Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge, By so receiving a dishonour'd life With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived! A lack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right: we would, and we would not. [Exit] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE V Fields without the town. [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO in his own habit, and FRIAR PETER] DUKE VINCENTIO These letters at fit time deliver me [Giving letters] The provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, And hold you ever to our special drift; Though sometimes you do blench from this to that, As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house, And tell him where I stay: give the like notice To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; But send me Flavius first. FRIAR PETER It shall be speeded well. [Exit] [Enter VARRIUS] DUKE VINCENTIO I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste: Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT IV SCENE VI Street near the city gate. [Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA] ISABELLA To speak so indirectly I am loath: I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, That is your part: yet I am advised to do it; He says, to veil full purpose. MARIANA Be ruled by him. ISABELLA Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physic That's bitter to sweet end. MARIANA I would Friar Peter-- ISABELLA O, peace! the friar is come. [Enter FRIAR PETER] FRIAR PETER Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the duke, He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded; The generous and gravest citizens Have hent the gates, and very near upon The duke is entering: therefore, hence, away! [Exeunt] MEASURE FOR MEASURE ACT V SCENE I The city gate. [MARIANA veiled, ISABELLA, and FRIAR PETER, at their stand. Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, VARRIUS, Lords, ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO, Provost, Officers, and Citizens, at several doors] DUKE VINCENTIO My very worthy cousin, fairly met! Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. ANGELO | | Happy return be to your royal grace! ESCALUS | DUKE VINCENTIO Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you; and we hear Such goodness of your justice, that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital. ANGELO You make my bonds still greater. DUKE VINCENTIO O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand, And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, You must walk by us on our other hand; And good supporters are you. [FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA come forward] FRIAR PETER Now is your time: speak loud and kneel before him. ISABELLA Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid! O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object Till you have heard me in my true complaint And given me justice, justice, justice, justice! DUKE VINCENTIO Relate your wrongs; in what? by whom? be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice: Reveal yourself to him. ISABELLA O worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil: Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believed, Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here! ANGELO My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm: She hath been a suitor to me for her brother Cut off by course of justice,-- ISABELLA By course of justice! ANGELO And she will speak most bitterly and strange. ISABELLA Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak: That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; Is it not strange and strange? DUKE VINCENTIO Nay, it is ten times strange. ISABELLA It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning. DUKE VINCENTIO Away with her! Poor soul, She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. ISABELLA O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness! Make not impossible That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince: If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, Had I more name for badness. DUKE VINCENTIO By mine honesty, If she be mad,--as I believe no other,-- Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness. ISABELLA O gracious duke, Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason For inequality; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true. DUKE VINCENTIO Many that are not mad Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say? ISABELLA I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio As then the messenger,-- LUCIO That's I, an't like your grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desired her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon. ISABELLA That's he indeed. DUKE VINCENTIO You were not bid to speak. LUCIO No, my good lord; Nor wish'd to hold my peace. DUKE VINCENTIO I wish you now, then; Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect. LUCIO I warrant your honour. DUKE VINCENTIO The warrants for yourself; take heed to't. ISABELLA This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,-- LUCIO Right. DUKE VINCENTIO It may be right; but you are i' the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed. ISABELLA I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy,-- DUKE VINCENTIO That's somewhat madly spoken. ISABELLA Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter. DUKE VINCENTIO Mended again. The matter; proceed. ISABELLA In brief, to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me, and how I replied,-- For this was of much length,--the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter: He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother; and, after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head. DUKE VINCENTIO This is most likely! ISABELLA O, that it were as like as it is true! DUKE VINCENTIO By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour In hateful practise. First, his integrity Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on: Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou camest here to complain. ISABELLA And is this all? Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance! Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! DUKE VINCENTIO I know you'ld fain be gone. An officer! To prison with her! Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practise. Who knew of Your intent and coming hither? ISABELLA One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. DUKE VINCENTIO A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick? LUCIO My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar; I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. DUKE VINCENTIO Words against me? this is a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. LUCIO But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. FRIAR PETER Blessed be your royal grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accused your substitute, Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot. DUKE VINCENTIO We did believe no less. Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? FRIAR PETER I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. LUCIO My lord, most villanously; believe it. FRIAR PETER Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick my lord, Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false; and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear, Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman. To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accused, Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it. DUKE VINCENTIO Good friar, let's hear it. [ISABELLA is carried off guarded; and MARIANA comes forward] Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo; In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face, and after speak. MARIANA Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me. DUKE VINCENTIO What, are you married? MARIANA No, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Are you a maid? MARIANA No, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO A widow, then? MARIANA Neither, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife? LUCIO My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. DUKE VINCENTIO Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause To prattle for himself. LUCIO Well, my lord. MARIANA My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married; And I confess besides I am no maid: I have known my husband; yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me. LUCIO He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better. DUKE VINCENTIO For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! LUCIO Well, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO This is no witness for Lord Angelo. MARIANA Now I come to't my lord She that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him my lord, with such a time When I'll depose I had him in mine arms With all the effect of love. ANGELO Charges she more than me? MARIANA Not that I know. DUKE VINCENTIO No? you say your husband. MARIANA Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's. ANGELO This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. MARIANA My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling] This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on; This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagined person. DUKE VINCENTIO Know you this woman? LUCIO Carnally, she says. DUKE VINCENTIO Sirrah, no more! LUCIO Enough, my lord. ANGELO My lord, I must confess I know this woman: And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity: since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. MARIANA Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument! ANGELO I did but smile till now: Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on: let me have way, my lord, To find this practise out. DUKE VINCENTIO Ay, with my heart And punish them to your height of pleasure. Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Escalus, Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived. There is another friar that set them on; Let him be sent for. FRIAR PETER Would he were here, my lord! for he indeed Hath set the women on to this complaint: Your provost knows the place where he abides And he may fetch him. DUKE VINCENTIO Go do it instantly. [Exit Provost] And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best, In any chastisement: I for a while will leave you; But stir not you till you have well determined Upon these slanderers. ESCALUS My lord, we'll do it throughly. [Exit DUKE] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? LUCIO 'Cucullus non facit monachum:' honest in nothing but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke. ESCALUS We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow. LUCIO As any in Vienna, on my word. ESCALUS Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I'll handle her. LUCIO Not better than he, by her own report. ESCALUS Say you? LUCIO Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly, she'll be ashamed. ESCALUS I will go darkly to work with her. LUCIO That's the way; for women are light at midnight. [Re-enter Officers with ISABELLA; and Provost with the DUKE VINCENTIO in his friar's habit] ESCALUS Come on, mistress: here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said. LUCIO My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here with the provost. ESCALUS In very good time: speak not you to him till we call upon you. LUCIO Mum. ESCALUS Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did. DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis false. ESCALUS How! know you where you are? DUKE VINCENTIO Respect to your great place! and let the devil Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne! Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me speak. ESCALUS The duke's in us; and we will hear you speak: Look you speak justly. DUKE VINCENTIO Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox? Good night to your redress! Is the duke gone? Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust, Thus to retort your manifest appeal, And put your trial in the villain's mouth Which here you come to accuse. LUCIO This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. ESCALUS Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar, Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain? and then to glance from him To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice? Take him hence; to the rack with him! We'll touse you Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. What 'unjust'! DUKE VINCENTIO Be not so hot; the duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he Dare rack his own: his subject am I not, Nor here provincial. My business in this state Made me a looker on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o'er-run the stew; laws for all faults, But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, As much in mock as mark. ESCALUS Slander to the state! Away with him to prison! ANGELO What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of? LUCIO 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman baldpate: do you know me? DUKE VINCENTIO I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke. LUCIO O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke? DUKE VINCENTIO Most notedly, sir. LUCIO Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? DUKE VINCENTIO You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. LUCIO O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches? DUKE VINCENTIO I protest I love the duke as I love myself. ANGELO Hark, how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses! ESCALUS Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with him to prison! Where is the provost? Away with him to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion! DUKE VINCENTIO [To Provost] Stay, sir; stay awhile. ANGELO What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. LUCIO Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will't not off? [Pulls off the friar's hood, and discovers DUKE VINCENTIO] DUKE VINCENTIO Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke. First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. [To LUCIO] Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. LUCIO This may prove worse than hanging. DUKE VINCENTIO [To ESCALUS] What you have spoke I pardon: sit you down: We'll borrow place of him. [To ANGELO] Sir, by your leave. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. ANGELO O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your grace, like power divine, Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession: Immediate sentence then and sequent death Is all the grace I beg. DUKE VINCENTIO Come hither, Mariana. Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? ANGELO I was, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again. Go with him, provost. [Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER and Provost] ESCALUS My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it. DUKE VINCENTIO Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince: as I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service. ISABELLA O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty! DUKE VINCENTIO You are pardon'd, Isabel: And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel why I obscured myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him! That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. ISABELLA I do, my lord. [Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and Provost] DUKE VINCENTIO For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,-- Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,-- The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, 'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!' Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE. Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. Away with him! MARIANA O my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. DUKE VINCENTIO It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life And choke your good to come; for his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. MARIANA O my dear lord, I crave no other, nor no better man. DUKE VINCENTIO Never crave him; we are definitive. MARIANA Gentle my liege,-- [Kneeling] DUKE VINCENTIO You do but lose your labour. Away with him to death! [To LUCIO] Now, sir, to you. MARIANA O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I'll lend you all my life to do you service. DUKE VINCENTIO Against all sense you do importune her: Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. MARIANA Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband. O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? DUKE VINCENTIO He dies for Claudio's death. ISABELLA Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling] Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother lived: I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me: since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died: For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects; Intents but merely thoughts. MARIANA Merely, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say. I have bethought me of another fault. Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? Provost It was commanded so. DUKE VINCENTIO Had you a special warrant for the deed? Provost No, my good lord; it was by private message. DUKE VINCENTIO For which I do discharge you of your office: Give up your keys. Provost Pardon me, noble lord: I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice; For testimony whereof, one in the prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. DUKE VINCENTIO What's he? Provost His name is Barnardine. DUKE VINCENTIO I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit Provost] ESCALUS I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. ANGELO I am sorry that such sorrow I procure: And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy; 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. [Re-enter Provost, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO muffled, and JULIET] DUKE VINCENTIO Which is that Barnardine? Provost This, my lord. DUKE VINCENTIO There was a friar told me of this man. Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. That apprehends no further than this world, And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd: But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. Friar, advise him; I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that? Provost This is another prisoner that I saved. Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; As like almost to Claudio as himself. [Unmuffles CLAUDIO] DUKE VINCENTIO [To ISABELLA] If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon'd; and, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand and say you will be mine. He is my brother too: but fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe; Methinks I see a quickening in his eye. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well: Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself; And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. [To LUCIO] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman; Wherein have I so deserved of you, That you extol me thus? LUCIO 'Faith, my lord. I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipt. DUKE VINCENTIO Whipt first, sir, and hanged after. Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow, As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child, let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd. LUCIO I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. DUKE VINCENTIO Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; And see our pleasure herein executed. LUCIO Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. DUKE VINCENTIO Slandering a prince deserves it. [Exit Officers with LUCIO] She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo: I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: There's more behind that is more gratulate. Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy: We shill employ thee in a worthier place. Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio's: The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good; Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine. So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL DRAMATIS PERSONAE KING OF FRANCE (KING:) DUKE OF FLORENCE (DUKE:) BERTRAM Count of Rousillon. LAFEU an old lord. PAROLLES a follower of Bertram. Steward | | servants to the Countess of Rousillon. Clown | A Page. (Page:) COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON mother to Bertram. (COUNTESS:) HELENA a gentlewoman protected by the Countess. An old Widow of Florence. (Widow:) DIANA daughter to the Widow. VIOLENTA | | neighbours and friends to the Widow. MARIANA | Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine. (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) (Fourth Lord:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (First Soldier:) (Gentleman:) SCENE Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT I SCENE I Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of Rousillon, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in black] COUNTESS In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. BERTRAM And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. LAFEU You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such abundance. COUNTESS What hope is there of his majesty's amendment? LAFEU He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. COUNTESS This young gentlewoman had a father,--O, that 'had'! how sad a passage 'tis!--whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king's disease. LAFEU How called you the man you speak of, madam? COUNTESS He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. LAFEU He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. BERTRAM What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? LAFEU A fistula, my lord. BERTRAM I heard not of it before. LAFEU I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? COUNTESS His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness. LAFEU Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. COUNTESS 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than have it. HELENA I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. LAFEU Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. COUNTESS If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEU How understand we that? COUNTESS Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be cheque'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord; 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him. LAFEU He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. COUNTESS Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. [Exit] BERTRAM [To HELENA] The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. LAFEU Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father. [Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU] HELENA O, were that all! I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favour in't but Bertram's. I am undone: there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table; heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here? [Enter PAROLLES] [Aside] One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. PAROLLES Save you, fair queen! HELENA And you, monarch! PAROLLES No. HELENA And no. PAROLLES Are you meditating on virginity? HELENA Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? PAROLLES Keep him out. HELENA But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance. PAROLLES There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up. HELENA Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men? PAROLLES Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with 't! HELENA I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. PAROLLES There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin: virginity murders itself and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose by't: out with 't! within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: away with 't! HELENA How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? PAROLLES Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with 't while 'tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion: richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear: will you anything with it? HELENA Not my virginity yet [ ] There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother and a mistress and a friend, A phoenix, captain and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; His humble ambition, proud humility, His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms, That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-- I know not what he shall. God send him well! The court's a learning place, and he is one-- PAROLLES What one, i' faith? HELENA That I wish well. 'Tis pity-- PAROLLES What's pity? HELENA That wishing well had not a body in't, Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends, And show what we alone must think, which never Return us thanks. [Enter Page] Page Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit] PAROLLES Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. HELENA Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. PAROLLES Under Mars, I. HELENA I especially think, under Mars. PAROLLES Why under Mars? HELENA The wars have so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars. PAROLLES When he was predominant. HELENA When he was retrograde, I think, rather. PAROLLES Why think you so? HELENA You go so much backward when you fight. PAROLLES That's for advantage. HELENA So is running away, when fear proposes the safety; but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. PAROLLES I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee; so, farewell. [Exit] HELENA Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose What hath been cannot be: who ever strove So show her merit, that did miss her love? The king's disease--my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT I SCENE II Paris. The KING's palace. [Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France, with letters, and divers Attendants] KING The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; Have fought with equal fortune and continue A braving war. First Lord So 'tis reported, sir. KING Nay, 'tis most credible; we here received it A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, With caution that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business and would seem To have us make denial. First Lord His love and wisdom, Approved so to your majesty, may plead For amplest credence. KING He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes: Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part. Second Lord It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. KING What's he comes here? [Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES] First Lord It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. KING Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. BERTRAM My thanks and duty are your majesty's. KING I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship First tried our soldiership! He did look far Into the service of the time and was Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; But on us both did haggish age steal on And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour; So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awaked them, and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him He used as creatures of another place And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility, In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times; Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward. BERTRAM His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech. KING Would I were with him! He would always say-- Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them, To grow there and to bear,--'Let me not live,'-- This his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out,--'Let me not live,' quoth he, 'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd; I after him do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive, To give some labourers room. Second Lord You are loved, sir: They that least lend it you shall lack you first. KING I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count, Since the physician at your father's died? He was much famed. BERTRAM Some six months since, my lord. KING If he were living, I would try him yet. Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out With several applications; nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son's no dearer. BERTRAM Thank your majesty. [Exeunt. Flourish] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT I SCENE III Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown] COUNTESS I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman? Steward Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them. COUNTESS What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: the complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe: 'tis my slowness that I do not; for I know you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. Clown 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. COUNTESS Well, sir. Clown No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damned: but, if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. COUNTESS Wilt thou needs be a beggar? Clown I do beg your good will in this case. COUNTESS In what case? Clown In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no heritage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o' my body; for they say barnes are blessings. COUNTESS Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. Clown My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives. COUNTESS Is this all your worship's reason? Clown Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons such as they are. COUNTESS May the world know them? Clown I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent. COUNTESS Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. Clown I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake. COUNTESS Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clown You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team and gives me leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam the Papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd. COUNTESS Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? Clown A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find; Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind. COUNTESS Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. Steward May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you: of her I am to speak. COUNTESS Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen, I mean. Clown Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this King Priam's joy? With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then; Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There's yet one good in ten. COUNTESS What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. Clown One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying o' the song: would God would serve the world so all the year! we'ld find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! An we might have a good woman born but one every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out, ere a' pluck one. COUNTESS You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. Clown That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither. [Exit] COUNTESS Well, now. Steward I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. COUNTESS Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds: there is more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand. Steward Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would not extend his might, only where qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surprised, without rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. This she delivered in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. COUNTESS You have discharged this honestly; keep it to yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this before, which hung so tottering in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, leave me: stall this in your bosom; and I thank you for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. [Exit Steward] [Enter HELENA] Even so it was with me when I was young: If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on't: I observe her now. HELENA What is your pleasure, madam? COUNTESS You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. HELENA Mine honourable mistress. COUNTESS Nay, a mother: Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,' Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,' That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seen Adoption strives with nature and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds: You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, Yet I express to you a mother's care: God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, That this distemper'd messenger of wet, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? Why? that you are my daughter? HELENA That I am not. COUNTESS I say, I am your mother. HELENA Pardon, madam; The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honour'd name; No note upon my parents, his all noble: My master, my dear lord he is; and I His servant live, and will his vassal die: He must not be my brother. COUNTESS Nor I your mother? HELENA You are my mother, madam; would you were,-- So that my lord your son were not my brother,-- Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers, I care no more for than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister. Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? COUNTESS Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law: God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see The mystery of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis gross You love my son; invention is ashamed, Against the proclamation of thy passion, To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look thy cheeks Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviors That in their kind they speak it: only sin And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, Tell me truly. HELENA Good madam, pardon me! COUNTESS Do you love my son? HELENA Your pardon, noble mistress! COUNTESS Love you my son? HELENA Do not you love him, madam? COUNTESS Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd. HELENA Then, I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: Be not offended; for it hurts not him That he is loved of me: I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit; Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love For loving where you do: but if yourself, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian Was both herself and love: O, then, give pity To her, whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose; That seeks not to find that her search implies, But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! COUNTESS Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,-- To go to Paris? HELENA Madam, I had. COUNTESS Wherefore? tell true. HELENA I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, As notes whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note: amongst the rest, There is a remedy, approved, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The king is render'd lost. COUNTESS This was your motive For Paris, was it? speak. HELENA My lord your son made me to think of this; Else Paris and the medicine and the king Had from the conversation of my thoughts Haply been absent then. COUNTESS But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? he and his physicians Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off The danger to itself? HELENA There's something in't, More than my father's skill, which was the greatest Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be sanctified By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'ld venture The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure By such a day and hour. COUNTESS Dost thou believe't? HELENA Ay, madam, knowingly. COUNTESS Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, Means and attendants and my loving greetings To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE I Paris. The KING's palace. [Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING, attended with divers young Lords taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM, and PAROLLES] KING Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles Do not throw from you: and you, my lords, farewell: Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain, all The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received, And is enough for both. First Lord 'Tis our hope, sir, After well enter'd soldiers, to return And find your grace in health. KING No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy,-- Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy,--see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. Second Lord Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! KING Those girls of Italy, take heed of them: They say, our French lack language to deny, If they demand: beware of being captives, Before you serve. Both Our hearts receive your warnings. KING Farewell. Come hither to me. [Exit, attended] First Lord O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! PAROLLES 'Tis not his fault, the spark. Second Lord O, 'tis brave wars! PAROLLES Most admirable: I have seen those wars. BERTRAM I am commanded here, and kept a coil with 'Too young' and 'the next year' and ''tis too early.' PAROLLES An thy mind stand to't, boy, steal away bravely. BERTRAM I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up and no sword worn But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away. First Lord There's honour in the theft. PAROLLES Commit it, count. Second Lord I am your accessary; and so, farewell. BERTRAM I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. First Lord Farewell, captain. Second Lord Sweet Monsieur Parolles! PAROLLES Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his reports for me. First Lord We shall, noble captain. [Exeunt Lords] PAROLLES Mars dote on you for his novices! what will ye do? BERTRAM Stay: the king. [Re-enter KING. BERTRAM and PAROLLES retire] PAROLLES [To BERTRAM] Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to them: for they wear themselves in the cap of the time, there do muster true gait, eat, speak, and move under the influence of the most received star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell. BERTRAM And I will do so. PAROLLES Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. [Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES] [Enter LAFEU] LAFEU [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. KING I'll fee thee to stand up. LAFEU Then here's a man stands, that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy, And that at my bidding you could so stand up. KING I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't. LAFEU Good faith, across: but, my good lord 'tis thus; Will you be cured of your infirmity? KING No. LAFEU O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if My royal fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch, Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand, And write to her a love-line. KING What 'her' is this? LAFEU Why, Doctor She: my lord, there's one arrived, If you will see her: now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that, in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more Than I dare blame my weakness: will you see her For that is her demand, and know her business? That done, laugh well at me. KING Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration; that we with thee May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wondering how thou took'st it. LAFEU Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. [Exit] KING Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. [Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA] LAFEU Nay, come your ways. KING This haste hath wings indeed. LAFEU Nay, come your ways: This is his majesty; say your mind to him: A traitor you do look like; but such traitors His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle, That dare leave two together; fare you well. [Exit] KING Now, fair one, does your business follow us? HELENA Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father; In what he did profess, well found. KING I knew him. HELENA The rather will I spare my praises towards him: Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death Many receipts he gave me: chiefly one. Which, as the dearest issue of his practise, And of his old experience the oily darling, He bade me store up, as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so; And hearing your high majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it and my appliance With all bound humbleness. KING We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidible estate; I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics, or to dissever so Our great self and our credit, to esteem A senseless help when help past sense we deem. HELENA My duty then shall pay me for my pains: I will no more enforce mine office on you. Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one, to bear me back a again. KING I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live: But what at full I know, thou know'st no part, I knowing all my peril, thou no art. HELENA What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister: So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes; great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits. KING I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid: Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. HELENA Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd: It is not so with Him that all things knows As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim; But know I think and think I know most sure My art is not past power nor you past cure. KING Are thou so confident? within what space Hopest thou my cure? HELENA The great'st grace lending grace Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free and sickness freely die. KING Upon thy certainty and confidence What darest thou venture? HELENA Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; nay, worse--if worse--extended With vilest torture let my life be ended. KING Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerful sound within an organ weak: And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate Worth name of life in thee hath estimate, Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call: Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die. HELENA If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, And well deserved: not helping, death's my fee; But, if I help, what do you promise me? KING Make thy demand. HELENA But will you make it even? KING Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. HELENA Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. KING Here is my hand; the premises observed, Thy will by my performance shall be served: So make the choice of thy own time, for I, Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know could not be more to trust, From whence thou camest, how tended on: but rest Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest. Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy meed. [Flourish. Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE II Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS and Clown] COUNTESS Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. Clown I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught: I know my business is but to the court. COUNTESS To the court! why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court! Clown Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all men. COUNTESS Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. Clown It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks, the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock. COUNTESS Will your answer serve fit to all questions? Clown As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin. COUNTESS Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all questions? Clown From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question. COUNTESS It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands. Clown But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask me if I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn. COUNTESS To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? Clown O Lord, sir! There's a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them. COUNTESS Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. Clown O Lord, sir! Thick, thick, spare not me. COUNTESS I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. Clown O Lord, sir! Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. COUNTESS You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. Clown O Lord, sir! spare not me. COUNTESS Do you cry, 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and 'spare not me?' Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't. Clown I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, sir!' I see things may serve long, but not serve ever. COUNTESS I play the noble housewife with the time To entertain't so merrily with a fool. Clown O Lord, sir! why, there't serves well again. COUNTESS An end, sir; to your business. Give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back: Commend me to my kinsmen and my son: This is not much. Clown Not much commendation to them. COUNTESS Not much employment for you: you understand me? Clown Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs. COUNTESS Haste you again. [Exeunt severally] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE III Paris. The KING's palace. [Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES] LAFEU They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar, things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. PAROLLES Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times. BERTRAM And so 'tis. LAFEU To be relinquish'd of the artists,-- PAROLLES So I say. LAFEU Both of Galen and Paracelsus. PAROLLES So I say. LAFEU Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-- PAROLLES Right; so I say. LAFEU That gave him out incurable,-- PAROLLES Why, there 'tis; so say I too. LAFEU Not to be helped,-- PAROLLES Right; as 'twere, a man assured of a-- LAFEU Uncertain life, and sure death. PAROLLES Just, you say well; so would I have said. LAFEU I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. PAROLLES It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you shall read it in--what do you call there? LAFEU A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. PAROLLES That's it; I would have said the very same. LAFEU Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, I speak in respect-- PAROLLES Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a most facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the-- LAFEU Very hand of heaven. PAROLLES Ay, so I say. LAFEU In a most weak-- [pausing] and debile minister, great power, great transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alone the recovery of the king, as to be-- [pausing] generally thankful. PAROLLES I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king. [Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and PAROLLES retire] LAFEU Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: why, he's able to lead her a coranto. PAROLLES Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen? LAFEU 'Fore God, I think so. KING Go, call before me all the lords in court. Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive The confirmation of my promised gift, Which but attends thy naming. [Enter three or four Lords] Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice I have to use: thy frank election make; Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. HELENA To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall, when Love please! marry, to each, but one! LAFEU I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture, My mouth no more were broken than these boys', And writ as little beard. KING Peruse them well: Not one of those but had a noble father. HELENA Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restored the king to health. All We understand it, and thank heaven for you. HELENA I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest, That I protest I simply am a maid. Please it your majesty, I have done already: The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, 'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever; We'll ne'er come there again.' KING Make choice; and, see, Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. HELENA Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? First Lord And grant it. HELENA Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. LAFEU I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace for my life. HELENA The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak, too threateningly replies: Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes and her humble love! Second Lord No better, if you please. HELENA My wish receive, Which great Love grant! and so, I take my leave. LAFEU Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the Turk, to make eunuchs of. HELENA Be not afraid that I your hand should take; I'll never do you wrong for your own sake: Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed! LAFEU These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 'em. HELENA You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood. Fourth Lord Fair one, I think not so. LAFEU There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk wine: but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. HELENA [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I give Me and my service, ever whilst I live, Into your guiding power. This is the man. KING Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife. BERTRAM My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes. KING Know'st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me? BERTRAM Yes, my good lord; But never hope to know why I should marry her. KING Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed. BERTRAM But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father's charge. A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain Rather corrupt me ever! KING 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest, A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest Of virtue for the name: but do not so: From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed: Where great additions swell's, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour. Good alone Is good without a name. Vileness is so: The property by what it is should go, Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; In these to nature she's immediate heir, And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, Which challenges itself as honour's born And is not like the sire: honours thrive, When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? If thou canst like this creature as a maid, I can create the rest: virtue and she Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. BERTRAM I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't. KING Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. HELENA That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad: Let the rest go. KING My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love and her desert; that canst not dream, We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, It is in us to plant thine honour where We please to have it grow. Cheque thy contempt: Obey our will, which travails in thy good: Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice, Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer. BERTRAM Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit My fancy to your eyes: when I consider What great creation and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now The praised of the king; who, so ennobled, Is as 'twere born so. KING Take her by the hand, And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate A balance more replete. BERTRAM I take her hand. KING Good fortune and the favour of the king Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her, Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. [Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES] LAFEU [Advancing] Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. PAROLLES Your pleasure, sir? LAFEU Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. PAROLLES Recantation! My lord! my master! LAFEU Ay; is it not a language I speak? PAROLLES A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master! LAFEU Are you companion to the Count Rousillon? PAROLLES To any count, to all counts, to what is man. LAFEU To what is count's man: count's master is of another style. PAROLLES You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. LAFEU I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee. PAROLLES What I dare too well do, I dare not do. LAFEU I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou't scarce worth. PAROLLES Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,-- LAFEU Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if--Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well: thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. PAROLLES My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. LAFEU Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. PAROLLES I have not, my lord, deserved it. LAFEU Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not bate thee a scruple. PAROLLES Well, I shall be wiser. LAFEU Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default, he is a man I know. PAROLLES My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. LAFEU I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal: for doing I am past: as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. [Exit] PAROLLES Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would of--I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again. [Re-enter LAFEU] LAFEU Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news for you: you have a new mistress. PAROLLES I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs: he is my good lord: whom I serve above is my master. LAFEU Who? God? PAROLLES Ay, sir. LAFEU The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee: I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. PAROLLES This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. LAFEU Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond and no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you. [Exit] PAROLLES Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good; let it be concealed awhile. [Re-enter BERTRAM] BERTRAM Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! PAROLLES What's the matter, sweet-heart? BERTRAM Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her. PAROLLES What, what, sweet-heart? BERTRAM O my Parolles, they have married me! I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. PAROLLES France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot: to the wars! BERTRAM There's letters from my mother: what the import is, I know not yet. PAROLLES Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars! He wears his honour in a box unseen, That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, Spending his manly marrow in her arms, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades; Therefore, to the war! BERTRAM It shall be so: I'll send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled; write to the king That which I durst not speak; his present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife. PAROLLES Will this capriccio hold in thee? art sure? BERTRAM Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. I'll send her straight away: to-morrow I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. PAROLLES Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard: A young man married is a man that's marr'd: Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: The king has done you wrong: but, hush, 'tis so. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE IV Paris. The KING's palace. [Enter HELENA and Clown] HELENA My mother greets me kindly; is she well? Clown She is not well; but yet she has her health: she's very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be given, she's very well and wants nothing i', the world; but yet she is not well. HELENA If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's not very well? Clown Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. HELENA What two things? Clown One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! the other that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! [Enter PAROLLES] PAROLLES Bless you, my fortunate lady! HELENA I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. PAROLLES You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady? Clown So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say. PAROLLES Why, I say nothing. Clown Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing: to say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which is within a very little of nothing. PAROLLES Away! thou'rt a knave. Clown You should have said, sir, before a knave thou'rt a knave; that's, before me thou'rt a knave: this had been truth, sir. PAROLLES Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee. Clown Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure and the increase of laughter. PAROLLES A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. Madam, my lord will go away to-night; A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; But puts it off to a compell'd restraint; Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy And pleasure drown the brim. HELENA What's his will else? PAROLLES That you will take your instant leave o' the king And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strengthen'd with what apology you think May make it probable need. HELENA What more commands he? PAROLLES That, having this obtain'd, you presently Attend his further pleasure. HELENA In every thing I wait upon his will. PAROLLES I shall report it so. HELENA I pray you. [Exit PAROLLES] Come, sirrah. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT II SCENE V Paris. The KING's palace. [Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM] LAFEU But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. BERTRAM Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. LAFEU You have it from his own deliverance. BERTRAM And by other warranted testimony. LAFEU Then my dial goes not true: I took this lark for a bunting. BERTRAM I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge and accordingly valiant. LAFEU I have then sinned against his experience and transgressed against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes: I pray you, make us friends; I will pursue the amity. [Enter PAROLLES] PAROLLES [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir. LAFEU Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? PAROLLES Sir? LAFEU O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM [Aside to PAROLLES] Is she gone to the king? PAROLLES She is. BERTRAM Will she away to-night? PAROLLES As you'll have her. BERTRAM I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin. LAFEU A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. God save you, captain. BERTRAM Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? PAROLLES I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure. LAFEU You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. LAFEU And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewell, monsieur: I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. [Exit] PAROLLES An idle lord. I swear. BERTRAM I think so. PAROLLES Why, do you not know him? BERTRAM Yes, I do know him well, and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. [Enter HELENA] HELENA I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the king and have procured his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you. BERTRAM I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office On my particular. Prepared I was not For such a business; therefore am I found So much unsettled: this drives me to entreat you That presently you take our way for home; And rather muse than ask why I entreat you, For my respects are better than they seem And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself at the first view To you that know them not. This to my mother: [Giving a letter] 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so I leave you to your wisdom. HELENA Sir, I can nothing say, But that I am your most obedient servant. BERTRAM Come, come, no more of that. HELENA And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd To equal my great fortune. BERTRAM Let that go: My haste is very great: farewell; hie home. HELENA Pray, sir, your pardon. BERTRAM Well, what would you say? HELENA I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. BERTRAM What would you have? HELENA Something; and scarce so much: nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord: Faith yes; Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. BERTRAM I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. HELENA I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. BERTRAM Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell. [Exit HELENA] Go thou toward home; where I will never come Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum. Away, and for our flight. PAROLLES Bravely, coragio! [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE I Florence. The DUKE's palace. [Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence attended; the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers. DUKE So that from point to point now have you heard The fundamental reasons of this war, Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after. First Lord Holy seems the quarrel Upon your grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. DUKE Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. Second Lord Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man, That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion: therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guess'd. DUKE Be it his pleasure. First Lord But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic. DUKE Welcome shall they be; And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell: To-morrow to the field. [Flourish. Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE II Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS and Clown] COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. Clown By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. COUNTESS By what observance, I pray you? Clown Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. COUNTESS Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. [Opening a letter] Clown I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. COUNTESS What have we here? Clown E'en that you have there. [Exit] COUNTESS [Reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not' eternal. You shall hear I am run away: know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM. This is not well, rash and unbridled boy. To fly the favours of so good a king; To pluck his indignation on thy head By the misprising of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire. [Re-enter Clown] Clown O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady! COUNTESS What is the matter? Clown Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I thought he would. COUNTESS Why should he be killed? Clown So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more: for my part, I only hear your son was run away. [Exit] [Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen] First Gentleman Save you, good madam. HELENA Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. Second Gentleman Do not say so. COUNTESS Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, That the first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you? Second Gentleman Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. HELENA Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. [Reads] When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.' This is a dreadful sentence. COUNTESS Brought you this letter, gentlemen? First Gentleman Ay, madam; And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain. COUNTESS I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my son; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? Second Gentleman Ay, madam. COUNTESS And to be a soldier? Second Gentleman Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't, The duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. COUNTESS Return you thither? First Gentleman Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. HELENA [Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France. 'Tis bitter. COUNTESS Find you that there? HELENA Ay, madam. First Gentleman 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his heart was not consenting to. COUNTESS Nothing in France, until he have no wife! There's nothing here that is too good for him But only she; and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? First Gentleman A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known. COUNTESS Parolles, was it not? First Gentleman Ay, my good lady, he. COUNTESS A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. First Gentleman Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much, Which holds him much to have. COUNTESS You're welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you Written to bear along. Second Gentleman We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. COUNTESS Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near! [Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen] HELENA 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' Nothing in France, until he has no wife! Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France; Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I That chase thee from thy country and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air, That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to't; And, though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: better 'twere I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all: I will be gone; My being here it is that holds thee hence: Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house And angels officed all: I will be gone, That pitiful rumour may report my flight, To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE III Florence. Before the DUKE's palace. [Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets] DUKE The general of our horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. BERTRAM Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake To the extreme edge of hazard. DUKE Then go thou forth; And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! BERTRAM This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE IV Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS and Steward] COUNTESS Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done, By sending me a letter? Read it again. Steward [Reads] I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone: Ambitious love hath so in me offended, That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie: Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervor sanctify: His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth: He is too good and fair for death and me: Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. COUNTESS Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. Steward Pardon me, madam: If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes, Pursuit would be but vain. COUNTESS What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief. Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger: When haply he shall hear that she is gone, He will return; and hope I may that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love: which of them both Is dearest to me. I have no skill in sense To make distinction: provide this messenger: My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE V Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off. [Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, and MARIANA, with other Citizens] Widow Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we shall lose all the sight. DIANA They say the French count has done most honourable service. Widow It is reported that he has taken their greatest commander; and that with his own hand he slew the duke's brother. [Tucket] We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. MARIANA Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as honesty. Widow I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion. MARIANA I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost. DIANA You shall not need to fear me. Widow I hope so. [Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim] Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at my house; thither they send one another: I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound? HELENA To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? Widow At the Saint Francis here beside the port. HELENA Is this the way? Widow Ay, marry, is't. [A march afar] Hark you! they come this way. If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodged; The rather, for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself. HELENA Is it yourself? Widow If you shall please so, pilgrim. HELENA I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. Widow You came, I think, from France? HELENA I did so. Widow Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service. HELENA His name, I pray you. DIANA The Count Rousillon: know you such a one? HELENA But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him: His face I know not. DIANA Whatsome'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, As 'tis reported, for the king had married him Against his liking: think you it is so? HELENA Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady. DIANA There is a gentleman that serves the count Reports but coarsely of her. HELENA What's his name? DIANA Monsieur Parolles. HELENA O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated: all her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examined. DIANA Alas, poor lady! 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. Widow I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is, Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her A shrewd turn, if she pleased. HELENA How do you mean? May be the amorous count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. Widow He does indeed; And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard In honestest defence. MARIANA The gods forbid else! Widow So, now they come: [Drum and Colours] [Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army] That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; That, Escalus. HELENA Which is the Frenchman? DIANA He; That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow. I would he loved his wife: if he were honester He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman? HELENA I like him well. DIANA 'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave That leads him to these places: were I his lady, I would Poison that vile rascal. HELENA Which is he? DIANA That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy? HELENA Perchance he's hurt i' the battle. PAROLLES Lose our drum! well. MARIANA He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us. Widow Marry, hang you! MARIANA And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! [Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army] Widow The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, Already at my house. HELENA I humbly thank you: Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking Shall be for me; and, to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin Worthy the note. BOTH We'll take your offer kindly. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE VI Camp before Florence. [Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords] Second Lord Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way. First Lord If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no more in your respect. Second Lord On my life, my lord, a bubble. BERTRAM Do you think I am so far deceived in him? Second Lord Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment. First Lord It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business in a main danger fail you. BERTRAM I would I knew in what particular action to try him. First Lord None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. Second Lord I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly surprise him; such I will have, whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination: if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in any thing. First Lord O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't: when your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. [Enter PAROLLES] Second Lord [Aside to BERTRAM] O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch off his drum in any hand. BERTRAM How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your disposition. First Lord A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. PAROLLES 'But a drum'! is't 'but a drum'? A drum so lost! There was excellent command,--to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers! First Lord That was not to be blamed in the command of the service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. BERTRAM Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. PAROLLES It might have been recovered. BERTRAM It might; but it is not now. PAROLLES It is to be recovered: but that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or 'hic jacet.' BERTRAM Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: if you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it. and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. PAROLLES By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. BERTRAM But you must not now slumber in it. PAROLLES I'll about it this evening: and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me. BERTRAM May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it? PAROLLES I know not what the success will be, my lord; but the attempt I vow. BERTRAM I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. PAROLLES I love not many words. [Exit] Second Lord No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do and dares better be damned than to do't? First Lord You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it is that he will steal himself into a man's favour and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. BERTRAM Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto? Second Lord None in the world; but return with an invention and clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we have almost embossed him; you shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect. First Lord We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night. Second Lord I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught. BERTRAM Your brother he shall go along with me. Second Lord As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. [Exit] BERTRAM Now will I lead you to the house, and show you The lass I spoke of. First Lord But you say she's honest. BERTRAM That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, Tokens and letters which she did re-send; And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature: Will you go see her? First Lord With all my heart, my lord. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT III SCENE VII Florence. The Widow's house. [Enter HELENA and Widow] HELENA If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further, But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. Widow Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses; And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. HELENA Nor would I wish you. First, give me trust, the count he is my husband, And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. Widow I should believe you: For you have show'd me that which well approves You're great in fortune. HELENA Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay and pay again When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter, Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent, As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will nought deny That she'll demand: a ring the county wears, That downward hath succeeded in his house From son to son, some four or five descents Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire, To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, Howe'er repented after. Widow Now I see The bottom of your purpose. HELENA You see it lawful, then: it is no more, But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent: after this, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is passed already. Widow I have yielded: Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, That time and place with this deceit so lawful May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts and songs composed To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves; for he persists As if his life lay on't. HELENA Why then to-night Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed And lawful meaning in a lawful act, Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: But let's about it. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE I Without the Florentine camp. [Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other Soldiers in ambush] Second Lord He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will: though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us whom we must produce for an interpreter. First Soldier Good captain, let me be the interpreter. Second Lord Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice? First Soldier No, sir, I warrant you. Second Lord But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again? First Soldier E'en such as you speak to me. Second Lord He must think us some band of strangers i' the adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. [Enter PAROLLES] PAROLLES Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knocked too often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. Second Lord This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. PAROLLES What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it; they will say, 'Came you off with so little?' and great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butter-woman's mouth and buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. Second Lord Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is? PAROLLES I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. Second Lord We cannot afford you so. PAROLLES Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem. Second Lord 'Twould not do. PAROLLES Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. Second Lord Hardly serve. PAROLLES Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel. Second Lord How deep? PAROLLES Thirty fathom. Second Lord Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. PAROLLES I would I had any drum of the enemy's: I would swear I recovered it. Second Lord You shall hear one anon. PAROLLES A drum now of the enemy's,-- [Alarum within] Second Lord Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. All Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo. PAROLLES O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes. [They seize and blindfold him] First Soldier Boskos thromuldo boskos. PAROLLES I know you are the Muskos' regiment: And I shall lose my life for want of language; If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll Discover that which shall undo the Florentine. First Soldier Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerely bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. PAROLLES O! First Soldier O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche. Second Lord Oscorbidulchos volivorco. First Soldier The general is content to spare thee yet; And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life. PAROLLES O, let me live! And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that Which you will wonder at. First Soldier But wilt thou faithfully? PAROLLES If I do not, damn me. First Soldier Acordo linta. Come on; thou art granted space. [Exit, with PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within] Second Lord Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother, We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them. Second Soldier Captain, I will. Second Lord A' will betray us all unto ourselves: Inform on that. Second Soldier So I will, sir. Second Lord Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE II Florence. The Widow's house. [Enter BERTRAM and DIANA] BERTRAM They told me that your name was Fontibell. DIANA No, my good lord, Diana. BERTRAM Titled goddess; And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, In your fine frame hath love no quality? If quick fire of youth light not your mind, You are no maiden, but a monument: When you are dead, you should be such a one As you are now, for you are cold and stem; And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet self was got. DIANA She then was honest. BERTRAM So should you be. DIANA No: My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. BERTRAM No more o' that; I prithee, do not strive against my vows: I was compell'd to her; but I love thee By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service. DIANA Ay, so you serve us Till we serve you; but when you have our roses, You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves And mock us with our bareness. BERTRAM How have I sworn! DIANA 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell me, If I should swear by God's great attributes, I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths, When I did love you ill? This has no holding, To swear by him whom I protest to love, That I will work against him: therefore your oaths Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd, At least in my opinion. BERTRAM Change it, change it; Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy; And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, But give thyself unto my sick desires, Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever. DIANA I see that men make ropes in such a scarre That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. BERTRAM I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power To give it from me. DIANA Will you not, my lord? BERTRAM It is an honour 'longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world In me to lose. DIANA Mine honour's such a ring: My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion Honour on my part, Against your vain assault. BERTRAM Here, take my ring: My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I'll be bid by thee. DIANA When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window: I'll order take my mother shall not hear. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me: My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them When back again this ring shall be deliver'd: And on your finger in the night I'll put Another ring, that what in time proceeds May token to the future our past deeds. Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won A wife of me, though there my hope be done. BERTRAM A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. [Exit] DIANA For which live long to thank both heaven and me! You may so in the end. My mother told me just how he would woo, As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry that will, I live and die a maid: Only in this disguise I think't no sin To cozen him that would unjustly win. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE III The Florentine camp. [Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers] First Lord You have not given him his mother's letter? Second Lord I have delivered it an hour since: there is something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he changed almost into another man. First Lord He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. Second Lord Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. First Lord When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it. Second Lord He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. First Lord Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, what things are we! Second Lord Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons, we still see them reveal themselves, till they attain to their abhorred ends, so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. First Lord Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? Second Lord Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. First Lord That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see his company anatomized, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. Second Lord We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. First Lord In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? Second Lord I hear there is an overture of peace. First Lord Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. Second Lord What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel higher, or return again into France? First Lord I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his council. Second Lord Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal of his act. First Lord Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. Second Lord How is this justified? First Lord The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true, even to the point of her death: her death itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by the rector of the place. Second Lord Hath the count all this intelligence? First Lord Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, so to the full arming of the verity. Second Lord I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. First Lord How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! Second Lord And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquired for him shall at home be encountered with a shame as ample. First Lord The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. [Enter a Messenger] How now! where's your master? Servant He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next morning for France. The duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the king. Second Lord They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. First Lord They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. Here's his lordship now. [Enter BERTRAM] How now, my lord! is't not after midnight? BERTRAM I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congied with the duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. Second Lord If the business be of any difficulty, and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. BERTRAM I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit module, he has deceived me, like a double-meaning prophesier. Second Lord Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night, poor gallant knave. BERTRAM No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? Second Lord I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood; he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk: he hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' the stocks: and what think you he hath confessed? BERTRAM Nothing of me, has a'? Second Lord His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face: if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it. [Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier] BERTRAM A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of me: hush, hush! First Lord Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa First Soldier He calls for the tortures: what will you say without 'em? PAROLLES I will confess what I know without constraint: if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. First Soldier Bosko chimurcho. First Lord Boblibindo chicurmurco. First Soldier You are a merciful general. Our general bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. PAROLLES And truly, as I hope to live. First Soldier [Reads] 'First demand of him how many horse the duke is strong.' What say you to that? PAROLLES Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit and as I hope to live. First Soldier Shall I set down your answer so? PAROLLES Do: I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will. BERTRAM All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! First Lord You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist,--that was his own phrase,--that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape of his dagger. Second Lord I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean. nor believe he can have every thing in him by wearing his apparel neatly. First Soldier Well, that's set down. PAROLLES Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say true,--or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth. First Lord He's very near the truth in this. BERTRAM But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he delivers it. PAROLLES Poor rogues, I pray you, say. First Soldier Well, that's set down. PAROLLES I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the rogues are marvellous poor. First Soldier [Reads] 'Demand of him, of what strength they are a-foot.' What say you to that? PAROLLES By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake snow from off their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. BERTRAM What shall be done to him? First Lord Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the duke. First Soldier Well, that's set down. [Reads] 'You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the duke; what his valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to revolt.' What say you to this? what do you know of it? PAROLLES I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the inter'gatories: demand them singly. First Soldier Do you know this Captain Dumain? PAROLLES I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's fool with child,--a dumb innocent, that could not say him nay. BERTRAM Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. First Soldier Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp? PAROLLES Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. First Lord Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon. First Soldier What is his reputation with the duke? PAROLLES The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' the band: I think I have his letter in my pocket. First Soldier Marry, we'll search. PAROLLES In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there, or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters in my tent. First Soldier Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I read it to you? PAROLLES I do not know if it be it or no. BERTRAM Our interpreter does it well. First Lord Excellently. First Soldier [Reads] 'Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,'-- PAROLLES That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again. First Soldier Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. PAROLLES My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity and devours up all the fry it finds. BERTRAM Damnable both-sides rogue! First Soldier [Reads] 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; After he scores, he never pays the score: Half won is match well made; match, and well make it; He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before; And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this, Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss: For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it, Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, PAROLLES.' BERTRAM He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme in's forehead. Second Lord This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist and the armipotent soldier. BERTRAM I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me. First Soldier I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be fain to hang you. PAROLLES My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to die; but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live. First Soldier We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answered to his reputation with the duke and to his valour: what is his honesty? PAROLLES He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus: he professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with such volubility, that you would think truth were a fool: drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has every thing that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have, he has nothing. First Lord I begin to love him for this. BERTRAM For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him for me, he's more and more a cat. First Soldier What say you to his expertness in war? PAROLLES Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English tragedians; to belie him, I will not, and more of his soldiership I know not; except, in that country he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of this I am not certain. First Lord He hath out-villained villany so far, that the rarity redeems him. BERTRAM A pox on him, he's a cat still. First Soldier His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. PAROLLES Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. First Soldier What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? Second Lord Why does be ask him of me? First Soldier What's he? PAROLLES E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil: he excels his brother for a coward, yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: in a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming on he has the cramp. First Soldier If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine? PAROLLES Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon. First Soldier I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. PAROLLES [Aside] I'll no more drumming; a plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the count, have I run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? First Soldier There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the general says, you that have so traitorously discovered the secrets of your army and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. PAROLLES O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! First Lord That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unblinding him] So, look about you: know you any here? BERTRAM Good morrow, noble captain. Second Lord God bless you, Captain Parolles. First Lord God save you, noble captain. Second Lord Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France. First Lord Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you: but fare you well. [Exeunt BERTRAM and Lords] First Soldier You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that has a knot on't yet PAROLLES Who cannot be crushed with a plot? First Soldier If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France too: we shall speak of you there. [Exit with Soldiers] PAROLLES Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall: simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this, for it will come to pass that every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them. [Exit] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE IV Florence. The Widow's house. [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA] HELENA That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne 'tis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel: Time was, I did him a desired office, Dear almost as his life; which gratitude Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd His grace is at Marseilles; to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead: the army breaking, My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, And by the leave of my good lord the king, We'll be before our welcome. Widow Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome. HELENA Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love: doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts Defiles the pitchy night: so lust doth play With what it loathes for that which is away. But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf. DIANA Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to suffer. HELENA Yet, I pray you: But with the word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us: All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown; Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT IV SCENE V Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown] LAFEU No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced by the king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. COUNTESS I would I had not known him; it was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. If she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I could not have owed her a more rooted love. LAFEU 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. Clown Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the salad, or rather, the herb of grace. LAFEU They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs. Clown I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. LAFEU Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool? Clown A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. LAFEU Your distinction? Clown I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service. LAFEU So you were a knave at his service, indeed. Clown And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. LAFEU I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. Clown At your service. LAFEU No, no, no. Clown Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. LAFEU Who's that? a Frenchman? Clown Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy is more hotter in France than there. LAFEU What prince is that? Clown The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of darkness; alias, the devil. LAFEU Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; serve him still. Clown I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter: some that humble themselves may; but the many will be too chill and tender, and they'll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. LAFEU Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well looked to, without any tricks. Clown If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature. [Exit] LAFEU A shrewd knave and an unhappy. COUNTESS So he is. My lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. LAFEU I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did first propose: his highness hath promised me to do it: and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? COUNTESS With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected. LAFEU His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such intelligence hath seldom failed. COUNTESS It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night: I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me till they meet together. LAFEU Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted. COUNTESS You need but plead your honourable privilege. LAFEU Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but I thank my God it holds yet. [Re-enter Clown] Clown O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under't or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. LAFEU A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour; so belike is that. Clown But it is your carbonadoed face. LAFEU Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk with the young noble soldier. Clown Faith there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT V SCENE I Marseilles. A street. [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two Attendants] HELENA But this exceeding posting day and night Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it: But since you have made the days and nights as one, To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, Be bold you do so grow in my requital As nothing can unroot you. In happy time; [Enter a Gentleman] This man may help me to his majesty's ear, If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. Gentleman And you. HELENA Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. Gentleman I have been sometimes there. HELENA I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen From the report that goes upon your goodness; An therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful. Gentleman What's your will? HELENA That it will please you To give this poor petition to the king, And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence. Gentleman The king's not here. HELENA Not here, sir! Gentleman Not, indeed: He hence removed last night and with more haste Than is his use. Widow Lord, how we lose our pains! HELENA ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet, Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. I do beseech you, whither is he gone? Gentleman Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; Whither I am going. HELENA I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the king before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand, Which I presume shall render you no blame But rather make you thank your pains for it. I will come after you with what good speed Our means will make us means. Gentleman This I'll do for you. HELENA And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again. Go, go, provide. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT V SCENE II Rousillon. Before the COUNT's palace. [Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following] PAROLLES Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. Clown Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Prithee, allow the wind. PAROLLES Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor. Clown Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further. PAROLLES Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Clown Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself. [Enter LAFEU] Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat,--but not a musk-cat,--that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort and leave him to your lordship. [Exit] PAROLLES My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratched. LAFEU And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you: let the justices make you and fortune friends: I am for other business. PAROLLES I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. LAFEU You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word. PAROLLES My name, my good lord, is Parolles. LAFEU You beg more than 'word,' then. Cox my passion! give me your hand. How does your drum? PAROLLES O my good lord, you were the first that found me! LAFEU Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. PAROLLES It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. LAFEU Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound] The king's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. PAROLLES I praise God for you. [Exeunt] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL ACT V SCENE III Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. [Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two French Lords, with Attendants] KING We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home. COUNTESS 'Tis past, my liege; And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it and burns on. KING My honour'd lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Though my revenges were high bent upon him, And watch'd the time to shoot. LAFEU This I must say, But first I beg my pardon, the young lord Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve Humbly call'd mistress. KING Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill All repetition: let him not ask our pardon; The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper than oblivion we do bury The incensing relics of it: let him approach, A stranger, no offender; and inform him So 'tis our will he should. Gentleman I shall, my liege. [Exit] KING What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? LAFEU All that he is hath reference to your highness. KING Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me That set him high in fame. [Enter BERTRAM] LAFEU He looks well on't. KING I am not a day of season, For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail In me at once: but to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; The time is fair again. BERTRAM My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. KING All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this lord? BERTRAM Admiringly, my liege, at first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp'd the line of every other favour; Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen; Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object: thence it came That she whom all men praised and whom myself, Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it. KING Well excused: That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away From the great compt: but love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offence, Crying, 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave: Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends and after weep their dust Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon. Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin: The main consents are had; and here we'll stay To see our widower's second marriage-day. COUNTESS Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! LAFEU Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested, give a favour from you To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. [BERTRAM gives a ring] By my old beard, And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this, The last that e'er I took her at court, I saw upon her finger. BERTRAM Hers it was not. KING Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave her Of what should stead her most? BERTRAM My gracious sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers. COUNTESS Son, on my life, I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it At her life's rate. LAFEU I am sure I saw her wear it. BERTRAM You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it: In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceased In heavy satisfaction and would never Receive the ring again. KING Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, Hath not in nature's mystery more science Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety That she would never put it from her finger, Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, Where you have never come, or sent it us Upon her great disaster. BERTRAM She never saw it. KING Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; And makest conjectural fears to come into me Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so;-- And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, More than to see this ring. Take him away. [Guards seize BERTRAM] My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him! We'll sift this matter further. BERTRAM If you shall prove This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where yet she never was. [Exit, guarded] KING I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. [Enter a Gentleman] Gentleman Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not: Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath for four or five removes come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know Is here attending: her business looks in her With an importing visage; and she told me, In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern Your highness with herself. KING [Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: grant it me, O king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPILET. LAFEU I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this: I'll none of him. KING The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu, To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors: Go speedily and bring again the count. I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd. COUNTESS Now, justice on the doers! [Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded] KING I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry. [Enter Widow and DIANA] What woman's that? DIANA I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet: My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied. Widow I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedy. KING Come hither, count; do you know these women? BERTRAM My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I know them: do they charge me further? DIANA Why do you look so strange upon your wife? BERTRAM She's none of mine, my lord. DIANA If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; You give away myself, which is known mine; For I by vow am so embodied yours, That she which marries you must marry me, Either both or none. LAFEU Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her. BERTRAM My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour Than for to think that I would sink it here. KING Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour Than in my thought it lies. DIANA Good my lord, Ask him upon his oath, if he does think He had not my virginity. KING What say'st thou to her? BERTRAM She's impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp. DIANA He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so, He might have bought me at a common price: Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, Whose high respect and rich validity Did lack a parallel; yet for all that He gave it to a commoner o' the camp, If I be one. COUNTESS He blushes, and 'tis it: Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue, Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife; That ring's a thousand proofs. KING Methought you said You saw one here in court could witness it. DIANA I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles. LAFEU I saw the man to-day, if man he be. KING Find him, and bring him hither. [Exit an Attendant] BERTRAM What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd; Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he'll utter, That will speak any thing? KING She hath that ring of yours. BERTRAM I think she has: certain it is I liked her, And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth: She knew her distance and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; And I had that which any inferior might At market-price have bought. DIANA I must be patient: You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, May justly diet me. I pray you yet; Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband; Send for your ring, I will return it home, And give me mine again. BERTRAM I have it not. KING What ring was yours, I pray you? DIANA Sir, much like The same upon your finger. KING Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. DIANA And this was it I gave him, being abed. KING The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a casement. DIANA I have spoke the truth. [Enter PAROLLES] BERTRAM My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. KING You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you. Is this the man you speak of? DIANA Ay, my lord. KING Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master, Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off, By him and by this woman here what know you? PAROLLES So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have. KING Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman? PAROLLES Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? KING How, I pray you? PAROLLES He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. KING How is that? PAROLLES He loved her, sir, and loved her not. KING As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this! PAROLLES I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command. LAFEU He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. DIANA Do you know he promised me marriage? PAROLLES Faith, I know more than I'll speak. KING But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest? PAROLLES Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time that I knew of their going to bed, and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not speak what I know. KING Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside. This ring, you say, was yours? DIANA Ay, my good lord. KING Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? DIANA It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. KING Who lent it you? DIANA It was not lent me neither. KING Where did you find it, then? DIANA I found it not. KING If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? DIANA I never gave it him. LAFEU This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure. KING This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife. DIANA It might be yours or hers, for aught I know. KING Take her away; I do not like her now; To prison with her: and away with him. Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour. DIANA I'll never tell you. KING Take her away. DIANA I'll put in bail, my liege. KING I think thee now some common customer. DIANA By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. KING Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while? DIANA Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty: He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't; I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life; I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. KING She does abuse our ears: to prison with her. DIANA Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir: [Exit Widow] The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abused me, as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: He knows himself my bed he hath defiled; And at that time he got his wife with child: Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick: And now behold the meaning. [Re-enter Widow, with HELENA] KING Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is't real that I see? HELENA No, my good lord; 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing. BERTRAM Both, both. O, pardon! HELENA O my good lord, when I was like this maid, I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring; And, look you, here's your letter; this it says: 'When from my finger you can get this ring And are by me with child,' &c. This is done: Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? BERTRAM If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. HELENA If it appear not plain and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you! O my dear mother, do I see you living? LAFEU Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon: [To PAROLLES] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so, I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. KING Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow. [To DIANA] If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; For I can guess that by thy honest aid Thou keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. Of that and all the progress, more or less, Resolvedly more leisure shall express: All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish] ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL EPILOGUE KING The king's a beggar, now the play is done: All is well ended, if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day: Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE DRAMATIS PERSONAE ANTIOCHUS king of Antioch. PERICLES prince of Tyre. HELICANUS | | two lords of Tyre. ESCANES | SIMONIDES king of Pentapolis. CLEON governor of Tarsus. LYSIMACHUS governor of Mytilene. CERIMON a lord of Ephesus. THALIARD a lord of Antioch. PHILEMON servant to Cerimon. LEONINE servant to Dionyza. Marshal. (Marshal:) A Pandar. (Pandar:) BOULT his servant. The Daughter of Antiochus. (Daughter:) DIONYZA wife to Cleon. THAISA daughter to Simonides. MARINA daughter to Pericles and Thaisa. LYCHORIDA nurse to Marina. A Bawd. (Bawd:) Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates, Fishermen, and Messengers. (Lord:) (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) (Third Lord:) (First Knight:) (Second Knight:) (Third Knight:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (First Sailor:) (Second Sailor:) (First Pirate:) (Second Pirate:) (Third Pirate:) (First Fisherman:) (Second Fisherman:) (Third Fisherman:) (Messenger:) DIANA: GOWER as Chorus. SCENE Dispersedly in various countries. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I [Enter GOWER] [Before the palace of Antioch] To sing a song that old was sung, From ashes ancient Gower is come; Assuming man's infirmities, To glad your ear, and please your eyes. It hath been sung at festivals, On ember-eves and holy-ales; And lords and ladies in their lives Have read it for restoratives: The purchase is to make men glorious; Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius. If you, born in these latter times, When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes. And that to hear an old man sing May to your wishes pleasure bring I life would wish, and that I might Waste it for you, like taper-light. This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat: The fairest in all Syria, I tell you what mine authors say: This king unto him took a fere, Who died and left a female heir, So buxom, blithe, and full of face, As heaven had lent her all his grace; With whom the father liking took, And her to incest did provoke: Bad child; worse father! to entice his own To evil should be done by none: But custom what they did begin Was with long use account no sin. The beauty of this sinful dame Made many princes thither frame, To seek her as a bed-fellow, In marriage-pleasures play-fellow: Which to prevent he made a law, To keep her still, and men in awe, That whoso ask'd her for his wife, His riddle told not, lost his life: So for her many a wight did die, As yon grim looks do testify. What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye I give, my cause who best can justify. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE I Antioch. A room in the palace. [Enter ANTIOCHUS, Prince PERICLES, and followers] ANTIOCHUS Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received The danger of the task you undertake. PERICLES I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, Think death no hazard in this enterprise. ANTIOCHUS Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, For the embracements even of Jove himself; At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd, Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, The senate-house of planets all did sit, To knit in her their best perfections. [Music. Enter the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] PERICLES See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring, Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king Of every virtue gives renown to men! Her face the book of praises, where is read Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence Sorrow were ever razed and testy wrath Could never be her mild companion. You gods that made me man, and sway in love, That have inflamed desire in my breast To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, Or die in the adventure, be my helps, As I am son and servant to your will, To compass such a boundless happiness! ANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles,-- PERICLES That would be son to great Antiochus. ANTIOCHUS Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view Her countless glory, which desert must gain; And which, without desert, because thine eye Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die. Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself, Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, That without covering, save yon field of stars, Here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist For going on death's net, whom none resist. PERICLES Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught My frail mortality to know itself, And by those fearful objects to prepare This body, like to them, to what I must; For death remember'd should be like a mirror, Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error. I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe, Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did; So I bequeath a happy peace to you And all good men, as every prince should do; My riches to the earth from whence they came; But my unspotted fire of love to you. [To the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] Thus ready for the way of life or death, I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus. ANTIOCHUS Scorning advice, read the conclusion then: Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed. Daughter Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous! Of all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness! PERICLES Like a bold champion, I assume the lists, Nor ask advice of any other thought But faithfulness and courage. [He reads the riddle] I am no viper, yet I feed On mother's flesh which did me breed. I sought a husband, in which labour I found that kindness in a father: He's father, son, and husband mild; I mother, wife, and yet his child. How they may be, and yet in two, As you will live, resolve it you. Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, Why cloud they not their sights perpetually, If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still, [Takes hold of the hand of the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] Were not this glorious casket stored with ill: But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt For he's no man on whom perfections wait That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate. You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings; Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, Would draw heaven down, and all the gods, to hearken: But being play'd upon before your time, Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. Good sooth, I care not for you. ANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life. For that's an article within our law, As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired: Either expound now, or receive your sentence. PERICLES Great king, Few love to hear the sins they love to act; 'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it. Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown: For vice repeated is like the wandering wind. Blows dust in other's eyes, to spread itself; And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear: To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't. Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will; And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill? It is enough you know; and it is fit, What being more known grows worse, to smother it. All love the womb that their first being bred, Then give my tongue like leave to love my head. ANTIOCHUS [Aside] Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found the meaning: But I will gloze with him.--Young prince of Tyre, Though by the tenor of our strict edict, Your exposition misinterpreting, We might proceed to cancel of your days; Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: Forty days longer we do respite you; If by which time our secret be undone, This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son: And until then your entertain shall be As doth befit our honour and your worth. [Exeunt all but PERICLES] PERICLES How courtesy would seem to cover sin, When what is done is like an hypocrite, The which is good in nothing but in sight! If it be true that I interpret false, Then were it certain you were not so bad As with foul incest to abuse your soul; Where now you're both a father and a son, By your untimely claspings with your child, Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father; And she an eater of her mother's flesh, By the defiling of her parent's bed; And both like serpents are, who though they feed On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men Blush not in actions blacker than the night, Will shun no course to keep them from the light. One sin, I know, another doth provoke; Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke: Poison and treason are the hands of sin, Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame: Then, lest my lie be cropp'd to keep you clear, By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear. [Exit] [Re-enter ANTIOCHUS] ANTIOCHUS He hath found the meaning, for which we mean To have his head. He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin In such a loathed manner; And therefore instantly this prince must die: For by his fall my honour must keep high. Who attends us there? [Enter THALIARD] THALIARD Doth your highness call? ANTIOCHUS Thaliard, You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes Her private actions to your secrecy; And for your faithfulness we will advance you. Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold; We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him: It fits thee not to ask the reason why, Because we bid it. Say, is it done? THALIARD My lord, 'Tis done. ANTIOCHUS Enough. [Enter a Messenger] Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste. Messenger My lord, prince Pericles is fled. [Exit] ANTIOCHUS As thou Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot From a well-experienced archer hits the mark His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.' THALIARD My lord, If I can get him within my pistol's length, I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness. ANTIOCHUS Thaliard, adieu! [Exit THALIARD] Till Pericles be dead, My heart can lend no succor to my head. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE II Tyre. A room in the palace. [Enter PERICLES] PERICLES [To Lords without] Let none disturb us.--Why should this change of thoughts, The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, Be my so used a guest as not an hour, In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet? Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them, And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, Whose aim seems far too short to hit me here: Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. Then it is thus: the passions of the mind, That have their first conception by mis-dread, Have after-nourishment and life by care; And what was first but fear what might be done, Grows elder now and cares it be not done. And so with me: the great Antiochus, 'Gainst whom I am too little to contend, Since he's so great can make his will his act, Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence; Nor boots it me to say I honour him. If he suspect I may dishonour him: And what may make him blush in being known, He'll stop the course by which it might be known; With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land, And with the ostent of war will look so huge, Amazement shall drive courage from the state; Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist, And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence: Which care of them, not pity of myself, Who am no more but as the tops of trees, Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them, Makes both my body pine and soul to languish, And punish that before that he would punish. [Enter HELICANUS, with other Lords] First Lord Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast! Second Lord And keep your mind, till you return to us, Peaceful and comfortable! HELICANUS Peace, peace, and give experience tongue. They do abuse the king that flatter him: For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; The thing which is flatter'd, but a spark, To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing; Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace, He flatters you, makes war upon your life. Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; I cannot be much lower than my knees. PERICLES All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook What shipping and what lading's in our haven, And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords] Helicanus, thou Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks? HELICANUS An angry brow, dread lord. PERICLES If there be such a dart in princes' frowns, How durst thy tongue move anger to our face? HELICANUS How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence They have their nourishment? PERICLES Thou know'st I have power To take thy life from thee. HELICANUS [Kneeling] I have ground the axe myself; Do you but strike the blow. PERICLES Rise, prithee, rise. Sit down: thou art no flatterer: I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid That kings should let their ears hear their faults hid! Fit counsellor and servant for a prince, Who by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant, What wouldst thou have me do? HELICANUS To bear with patience Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself. PERICLES Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus, That minister'st a potion unto me That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself. Attend me, then: I went to Antioch, Where as thou know'st, against the face of death, I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty. From whence an issue I might propagate, Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects. Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder; The rest--hark in thine ear--as black as incest: Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father Seem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou know'st this, 'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss. Such fear so grew in me, I hither fled, Under the covering of a careful night, Who seem'd my good protector; and, being here, Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears Decrease not, but grow faster than the years: And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth, That I should open to the listening air How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms, And make pretence of wrong that I have done him: When all, for mine, if I may call offence, Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence: Which love to all, of which thyself art one, Who now reprovest me for it,-- HELICANUS Alas, sir! PERICLES Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks, Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts How I might stop this tempest ere it came; And finding little comfort to relieve them, I thought it princely charity to grieve them. HELICANUS Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak. Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear, And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, Who either by public war or private treason Will take away your life. Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, Till that his rage and anger be forgot, Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life. Your rule direct to any; if to me. Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be. PERICLES I do not doubt thy faith; But should he wrong my liberties in my absence? HELICANUS We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth, From whence we had our being and our birth. PERICLES Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee; And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. The care I had and have of subjects' good On thee I lay whose wisdom's strength can bear it. I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath: Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both: But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe, That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince, Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE III Tyre. An ante-chamber in the palace. [Enter THALIARD] THALIARD So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I kill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to be hanged at home: 'tis dangerous. Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that, being bid to ask what he would of the king, desired he might know none of his secrets: now do I see he had some reason for't; for if a king bid a man be a villain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to be one! Hush! here come the lords of Tyre. [Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES, with other Lords of Tyre] HELICANUS You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, Further to question me of your king's departure: His seal'd commission, left in trust with me, Doth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel. THALIARD [Aside] How! the king gone! HELICANUS If further yet you will be satisfied, Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves, He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. Being at Antioch-- THALIARD [Aside] What from Antioch? HELICANUS Royal Antiochus--on what cause I know not-- Took some displeasure at him; at least he judged so: And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd, To show his sorrow, he'ld correct himself; So puts himself unto the shipman's toil, With whom each minute threatens life or death. THALIARD [Aside] Well, I perceive I shall not be hang'd now, although I would; But since he's gone, the king's seas must please: He 'scaped the land, to perish at the sea. I'll present myself. Peace to the lords of Tyre! HELICANUS Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome. THALIARD From him I come With message unto princely Pericles; But since my landing I have understood Your lord has betook himself to unknown travels, My message must return from whence it came. HELICANUS We have no reason to desire it, Commended to our master, not to us: Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT I SCENE IV Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house. [Enter CLEON, the governor of Tarsus, with DIONYZA, and others] CLEON My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, And by relating tales of others' griefs, See if 'twill teach us to forget our own? DIONYZA That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it; For who digs hills because they do aspire Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher. O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are; Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes, But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise. CLEON O Dionyza, Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it, Or can conceal his hunger till he famish? Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep, Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder; That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want, They may awake their helps to comfort them. I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years, And wanting breath to speak help me with tears. DIONYZA I'll do my best, sir. CLEON This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government, A city on whom plenty held full hand, For riches strew'd herself even in the streets; Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds, And strangers ne'er beheld but wondered at; Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd, Like one another's glass to trim them by: Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight, And not so much to feed on as delight; All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great, The name of help grew odious to repeat. DIONYZA O, 'tis too true. CLEON But see what heaven can do! By this our change, These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air, Were all too little to content and please, Although they gave their creatures in abundance, As houses are defiled for want of use, They are now starved for want of exercise: Those palates who, not yet two summers younger, Must have inventions to delight the taste, Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it: Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes, Thought nought too curious, are ready now To eat those little darlings whom they loved. So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life: Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping; Here many sink, yet those which see them fall Have scarce strength left to give them burial. Is not this true? DIONYZA Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it. CLEON O, let those cities that of plenty's cup And her prosperities so largely taste, With their superfluous riots, hear these tears! The misery of Tarsus may be theirs. [Enter a Lord] Lord Where's the lord governor? CLEON Here. Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste, For comfort is too far for us to expect. Lord We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore, A portly sail of ships make hitherward. CLEON I thought as much. One sorrow never comes but brings an heir, That may succeed as his inheritor; And so in ours: some neighbouring nation, Taking advantage of our misery, Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power, To beat us down, the which are down already; And make a conquest of unhappy me, Whereas no glory's got to overcome. Lord That's the least fear; for, by the semblance Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace, And come to us as favourers, not as foes. CLEON Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. But bring they what they will and what they can, What need we fear? The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there. Go tell their general we attend him here, To know for what he comes, and whence he comes, And what he craves. Lord I go, my lord. [Exit] CLEON Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist; If wars, we are unable to resist. [Enter PERICLES with Attendants] PERICLES Lord governor, for so we hear you are, Let not our ships and number of our men Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes. We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, And seen the desolation of your streets: Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, But to relieve them of their heavy load; And these our ships, you happily may think Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within With bloody veins, expecting overthrow, Are stored with corn to make your needy bread, And give them life whom hunger starved half dead. All The gods of Greece protect you! And we'll pray for you. PERICLES Arise, I pray you, rise: We do not look for reverence, but to love, And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men. CLEON The which when any shall not gratify, Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils! Till when,--the which I hope shall ne'er be seen,-- Your grace is welcome to our town and us. PERICLES Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile, Until our stars that frown lend us a smile. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II [Enter GOWER] GOWER Here have you seen a mighty king His child, I wis, to incest bring; A better prince and benign lord, That will prove awful both in deed and word. Be quiet then as men should be, Till he hath pass'd necessity. I'll show you those in troubles reign, Losing a mite, a mountain gain. The good in conversation, To whom I give my benison, Is still at Tarsus, where each man Thinks all is writ he speken can; And, to remember what he does, Build his statue to make him glorious: But tidings to the contrary Are brought your eyes; what need speak I? DUMB SHOW. [Enter at one door PERICLES talking with CLEON; all the train with them. Enter at another door a Gentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; PERICLES shows the letter to CLEON; gives the Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exit PERICLES at one door, and CLEON at another] Good Helicane, that stay'd at home, Not to eat honey like a drone From others' labours; for though he strive To killen bad, keep good alive; And to fulfil his prince' desire, Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: How Thaliard came full bent with sin And had intent to murder him; And that in Tarsus was not best Longer for him to make his rest. He, doing so, put forth to seas, Where when men been, there's seldom ease; For now the wind begins to blow; Thunder above and deeps below Make such unquiet, that the ship Should house him safe is wreck'd and split; And he, good prince, having all lost, By waves from coast to coast is tost: All perishen of man, of pelf, Ne aught escapen but himself; Till fortune, tired with doing bad, Threw him ashore, to give him glad: And here he comes. What shall be next, Pardon old Gower,--this longs the text. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE I Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side. [Enter PERICLES, wet] PERICLES Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you; And I, as fits my nature, do obey you: Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath Nothing to think on but ensuing death: Let it suffice the greatness of your powers To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; And having thrown him from your watery grave, Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave. [Enter three FISHERMEN] First Fisherman What, ho, Pilch! Second Fisherman Ha, come and bring away the nets! First Fisherman What, Patch-breech, I say! Third Fisherman What say you, master? First Fisherman Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll fetch thee with a wanion. Third Fisherman Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before us even now. First Fisherman Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves. Third Fisherman Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say they're half fish, half flesh: a plague on them, they ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. First Fisherman Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones: I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; a' plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all at a mouthful: such whales have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping till they've swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells, and all. PERICLES [Aside] A pretty moral. Third Fisherman But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day in the belfry. Second Fisherman Why, man? Third Fisherman Because he should have swallowed me too: and when I had been in his belly, I would have kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, church, and parish up again. But if the good King Simonides were of my mind,-- PERICLES [Aside] Simonides! Third Fisherman We would purge the land of these drones, that rob the bee of her honey. PERICLES [Aside] How from the finny subject of the sea These fishers tell the infirmities of men; And from their watery empire recollect All that may men approve or men detect! Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. Second Fisherman Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be a day fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody look after it. PERICLES May see the sea hath cast upon your coast. Second Fisherman What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our way! PERICLES A man whom both the waters and the wind, In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball For them to play upon, entreats you pity him: He asks of you, that never used to beg. First Fisherman No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our country Greece gets more with begging than we can do with working. Second Fisherman Canst thou catch any fishes, then? PERICLES I never practised it. Second Fisherman Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't. PERICLES What I have been I have forgot to know; But what I am, want teaches me to think on: A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill, And have no more of life than may suffice To give my tongue that heat to ask your help; Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, For that I am a man, pray see me buried. First Fisherman Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid! I have a gown here; come, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks, and thou shalt be welcome. PERICLES I thank you, sir. Second Fisherman Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg. PERICLES I did but crave. Second Fisherman But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, and so I shall 'scape whipping. PERICLES Why, are all your beggars whipped, then? Second Fisherman O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the net. [Exit with Third Fisherman] PERICLES [Aside] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour! First Fisherman Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are? PERICLES Not well. First Fisherman Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and our king the good Simonides. PERICLES The good King Simonides, do you call him. First Fisherman Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his peaceable reign and good government. PERICLES He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of good by his government. How far is his court distant from this shore? First Fisherman Marry, sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is her birth-day; and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love. PERICLES Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there. First Fisherman O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for--his wife's soul. [Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net] Second Fisherman Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and 'tis turned to a rusty armour. PERICLES An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it. Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses, Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself; And though it was mine own, part of my heritage, Which my dead father did bequeath to me. With this strict charge, even as he left his life, 'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield Twixt me and death;'--and pointed to this brace;-- 'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity-- The which the gods protect thee from!--may defend thee.' It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it; Till the rough seas, that spare not any man, Took it in rage, though calm'd have given't again: I thank thee for't: my shipwreck now's no ill, Since I have here my father's gift in's will. First Fisherman What mean you, sir? PERICLES To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth, For it was sometime target to a king; I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly, And for his sake I wish the having of it; And that you'ld guide me to your sovereign's court, Where with it I may appear a gentleman; And if that ever my low fortune's better, I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor. First Fisherman Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady? PERICLES I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms. First Fisherman Why, do 'e take it, and the gods give thee good on't! Second Fisherman Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up this garment through the rough seams of the waters: there are certain condolements, certain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from whence you had it. PERICLES Believe 't, I will. By your furtherance I am clothed in steel; And, spite of all the rapture of the sea, This jewel holds his building on my arm: Unto thy value I will mount myself Upon a courser, whose delightful steps Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided Of a pair of bases. Second Fisherman We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself. PERICLES Then honour be but a goal to my will, This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE II The same. A public way or platform leading to the lists. A pavilion by the side of it for the reception of King, Princess, Lords, &c. [Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, and Attendants] SIMONIDES Are the knights ready to begin the triumph? First Lord They are, my liege; And stay your coming to present themselves. SIMONIDES Return them, we are ready; and our daughter, In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat For men to see, and seeing wonder at. [Exit a Lord] THAISA It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express My commendations great, whose merit's less. SIMONIDES It's fit it should be so; for princes are A model which heaven makes like to itself: As jewels lose their glory if neglected, So princes their renowns if not respected. 'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain The labour of each knight in his device. THAISA Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform. [Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire presents his shield to the Princess] SIMONIDES Who is the first that doth prefer himself? THAISA A knight of Sparta, my renowned father; And the device he bears upon his shield Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun The word, 'Lux tua vita mihi.' SIMONIDES He loves you well that holds his life of you. [The Second Knight passes over] Who is the second that presents himself? THAISA A prince of Macedon, my royal father; And the device he bears upon his shield Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady; The motto thus, in Spanish, 'Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.' [The Third Knight passes over] SIMONIDES And what's the third? THAISA The third of Antioch; And his device, a wreath of chivalry; The word, 'Me pompae provexit apex.' [The Fourth Knight passes over] SIMONIDES What is the fourth? THAISA A burning torch that's turned upside down; The word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.' SIMONIDES Which shows that beauty hath his power and will, Which can as well inflame as it can kill. [The Fifth Knight passes over] THAISA The fifth, an hand environed with clouds, Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried; The motto thus, 'Sic spectanda fides.' [The Sixth Knight, PERICLES, passes over] SIMONIDES And what's The sixth and last, the which the knight himself With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd? THAISA He seems to be a stranger; but his present is A wither'd branch, that's only green at top; The motto, 'In hac spe vivo.' SIMONIDES A pretty moral; From the dejected state wherein he is, He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. First Lord He had need mean better than his outward show Can any way speak in his just commend; For by his rusty outside he appears To have practised more the whipstock than the lance. Second Lord He well may be a stranger, for he comes To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished. Third Lord And on set purpose let his armour rust Until this day, to scour it in the dust. SIMONIDES Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan The outward habit by the inward man. But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw Into the gallery. [Exeunt] [Great shouts within and all cry 'The mean knight!'] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE III The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared. [Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, Attendants, and Knights, from tilting] SIMONIDES Knights, To say you're welcome were superfluous. To place upon the volume of your deeds, As in a title-page, your worth in arms, Were more than you expect, or more than's fit, Since every worth in show commends itself. Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast: You are princes and my guests. THAISA But you, my knight and guest; To whom this wreath of victory I give, And crown you king of this day's happiness. PERICLES 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit. SIMONIDES Call it by what you will, the day is yours; And here, I hope, is none that envies it. In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, but others to exceed; And you are her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o' the feast,-- For, daughter, so you are,--here take your place: Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. KNIGHTS We are honour'd much by good Simonides. SIMONIDES Your presence glads our days: honour we love; For who hates honour hates the gods above. Marshal Sir, yonder is your place. PERICLES Some other is more fit. First Knight Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes Envy the great nor do the low despise. PERICLES You are right courteous knights. SIMONIDES Sit, sir, sit. PERICLES By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, These cates resist me, she but thought upon. THAISA By Juno, that is queen of marriage, All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury. Wishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant gentleman. SIMONIDES He's but a country gentleman; Has done no more than other knights have done; Has broken a staff or so; so let it pass. THAISA To me he seems like diamond to glass. PERICLES Yon king's to me like to my father's picture, Which tells me in that glory once he was; Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne, And he the sun, for them to reverence; None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights, Did vail their crowns to his supremacy: Where now his son's like a glow-worm in the night, The which hath fire in darkness, none in light: Whereby I see that Time's the king of men, He's both their parent, and he is their grave, And gives them what he will, not what they crave. SIMONIDES What, are you merry, knights? Knights Who can be other in this royal presence? SIMONIDES Here, with a cup that's stored unto the brim,-- As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,-- We drink this health to you. KNIGHTS We thank your grace. SIMONIDES Yet pause awhile: Yon knight doth sit too melancholy, As if the entertainment in our court Had not a show might countervail his worth. Note it not you, Thaisa? THAISA What is it To me, my father? SIMONIDES O, attend, my daughter: Princes in this should live like gods above, Who freely give to every one that comes To honour them: And princes not doing so are like to gnats, Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at. Therefore to make his entrance more sweet, Here, say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him. THAISA Alas, my father, it befits not me Unto a stranger knight to be so bold: He may my proffer take for an offence, Since men take women's gifts for impudence. SIMONIDES How! Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. THAISA [Aside] Now, by the gods, he could not please me better. SIMONIDES And furthermore tell him, we desire to know of him, Of whence he is, his name and parentage. THAISA The king my father, sir, has drunk to you. PERICLES I thank him. THAISA Wishing it so much blood unto your life. PERICLES I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely. THAISA And further he desires to know of you, Of whence you are, your name and parentage. PERICLES A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles; My education been in arts and arms; Who, looking for adventures in the world, Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, And after shipwreck driven upon this shore. THAISA He thanks your grace; names himself Pericles, A gentleman of Tyre, Who only by misfortune of the seas Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore. SIMONIDES Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune, And will awake him from his melancholy. Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, And waste the time, which looks for other revels. Even in your armours, as you are address'd, Will very well become a soldier's dance. I will not have excuse, with saying this Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads, Since they love men in arms as well as beds. [The Knights dance] So, this was well ask'd,'twas so well perform'd. Come, sir; Here is a lady that wants breathing too: And I have heard, you knights of Tyre Are excellent in making ladies trip; And that their measures are as excellent. PERICLES In those that practise them they are, my lord. SIMONIDES O, that's as much as you would be denied Of your fair courtesy. [The Knights and Ladies dance] Unclasp, unclasp: Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well. [To PERICLES] But you the best. Pages and lights, to conduct These knights unto their several lodgings! [To PERICLES] Yours, sir, We have given order to be next our own. PERICLES I am at your grace's pleasure. SIMONIDES Princes, it is too late to talk of love; And that's the mark I know you level at: Therefore each one betake him to his rest; To-morrow all for speeding do their best. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE IV Tyre. A room in the Governor's house. [Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES] HELICANUS No, Escanes, know this of me, Antiochus from incest lived not free: For which, the most high gods not minding longer To withhold the vengeance that they had in store, Due to this heinous capital offence, Even in the height and pride of all his glory, When he was seated in a chariot Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him, A fire from heaven came and shrivell'd up Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk, That all those eyes adored them ere their fall Scorn now their hand should give them burial. ESCANES 'Twas very strange. HELICANUS And yet but justice; for though This king were great, his greatness was no guard To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. ESCANES 'Tis very true. [Enter two or three Lords] First Lord See, not a man in private conference Or council has respect with him but he. Second Lord It shall no longer grieve without reproof. Third Lord And cursed be he that will not second it. First Lord Follow me, then. Lord Helicane, a word. HELICANUS With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords. First Lord Know that our griefs are risen to the top, And now at length they overflow their banks. HELICANUS Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince you love. First Lord Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane; But if the prince do live, let us salute him, Or know what ground's made happy by his breath. If in the world he live, we'll seek him out; If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there; And be resolved he lives to govern us, Or dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral, And leave us to our free election. Second Lord Whose death indeed's the strongest in our censure: And knowing this kingdom is without a head,-- Like goodly buildings left without a roof Soon fall to ruin,--your noble self, That best know how to rule and how to reign, We thus submit unto,--our sovereign. All Live, noble Helicane! HELICANUS For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages: If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear. Take I your wish, I leap into the seas, Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease. A twelvemonth longer, let me entreat you to Forbear the absence of your king: If in which time expired, he not return, I shall with aged patience bear your yoke. But if I cannot win you to this love, Go search like nobles, like noble subjects, And in your search spend your adventurous worth; Whom if you find, and win unto return, You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. First Lord To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield; And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us, We with our travels will endeavour us. HELICANUS Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands: When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT II SCENE V Pentapolis. A room in the palace. [Enter SIMONIDES, reading a letter, at one door: the Knights meet him] First Knight Good morrow to the good Simonides. SIMONIDES Knights, from my daughter this I let you know, That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake A married life. Her reason to herself is only known, Which yet from her by no means can I get. Second Knight May we not get access to her, my lord? SIMONIDES 'Faith, by no means; she has so strictly tied Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible. One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery; This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd And on her virgin honour will not break it. Third Knight Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves. [Exeunt Knights] SIMONIDES So, They are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter: She tells me here, she'd wed the stranger knight, Or never more to view nor day nor light. 'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine; I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in't, Not minding whether I dislike or no! Well, I do commend her choice; And will no longer have it be delay'd. Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it. [Enter PERICLES] PERICLES All fortune to the good Simonides! SIMONIDES To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you For your sweet music this last night: I do Protest my ears were never better fed With such delightful pleasing harmony. PERICLES It is your grace's pleasure to commend; Not my desert. SIMONIDES Sir, you are music's master. PERICLES The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. SIMONIDES Let me ask you one thing: What do you think of my daughter, sir? PERICLES A most virtuous princess. SIMONIDES And she is fair too, is she not? PERICLES As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair. SIMONIDES Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you; Ay, so well, that you must be her master, And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it. PERICLES I am unworthy for her schoolmaster. SIMONIDES She thinks not so; peruse this writing else. PERICLES [Aside] What's here? A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre! 'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life. O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord, A stranger and distressed gentleman, That never aim'd so high to love your daughter, But bent all offices to honour her. SIMONIDES Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art A villain. PERICLES By the gods, I have not: Never did thought of mine levy offence; Nor never did my actions yet commence A deed might gain her love or your displeasure. SIMONIDES Traitor, thou liest. PERICLES Traitor! SIMONIDES Ay, traitor. PERICLES Even in his throat--unless it be the king-- That calls me traitor, I return the lie. SIMONIDES [Aside] Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. PERICLES My actions are as noble as my thoughts, That never relish'd of a base descent. I came unto your court for honour's cause, And not to be a rebel to her state; And he that otherwise accounts of me, This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy. SIMONIDES No? Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. [Enter THAISA] PERICLES Then, as you are as virtuous as fair, Resolve your angry father, if my tongue Did ere solicit, or my hand subscribe To any syllable that made love to you. THAISA Why, sir, say if you had, Who takes offence at that would make me glad? SIMONIDES Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory? [Aside] I am glad on't with all my heart.-- I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection. Will you, not having my consent, Bestow your love and your affections Upon a stranger? [Aside] who, for aught I know, May be, nor can I think the contrary, As great in blood as I myself.-- Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame Your will to mine,--and you, sir, hear you, Either be ruled by me, or I will make you-- Man and wife: Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too: And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy; And for a further grief,--God give you joy!-- What, are you both pleased? THAISA Yes, if you love me, sir. PERICLES Even as my life, or blood that fosters it. SIMONIDES What, are you both agreed? BOTH Yes, if it please your majesty. SIMONIDES It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed; And then with what haste you can get you to bed. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III [Enter GOWER] GOWER Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout; No din but snores the house about, Made louder by the o'er-fed breast Of this most pompous marriage-feast. The cat, with eyne of burning coal, Now crouches fore the mouse's hole; And crickets sing at the oven's mouth, E'er the blither for their drouth. Hymen hath brought the bride to bed. Where, by the loss of maidenhead, A babe is moulded. Be attent, And time that is so briefly spent With your fine fancies quaintly eche: What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech. DUMB SHOW. [Enter, PERICLES and SIMONIDES at one door, with Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and gives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to him. Then enter THAISA with child, with LYCHORIDA a nurse. The KING shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and PERICLES takes leave of her father, and depart with LYCHORIDA and their Attendants. Then exeunt SIMONIDES and the rest] By many a dern and painful perch Of Pericles the careful search, By the four opposing coigns Which the world together joins, Is made with all due diligence That horse and sail and high expense Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre, Fame answering the most strange inquire, To the court of King Simonides Are letters brought, the tenor these: Antiochus and his daughter dead; The men of Tyrus on the head Of Helicanus would set on The crown of Tyre, but he will none: The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress; Says to 'em, if King Pericles Come not home in twice six moons, He, obedient to their dooms, Will take the crown. The sum of this, Brought hither to Pentapolis, Y-ravished the regions round, And every one with claps can sound, 'Our heir-apparent is a king! Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?' Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: His queen with child makes her desire-- Which who shall cross?--along to go: Omit we all their dole and woe: Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, And so to sea. Their vessel shakes On Neptune's billow; half the flood Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood Varies again; the grisly north Disgorges such a tempest forth, That, as a duck for life that dives, So up and down the poor ship drives: The lady shrieks, and well-a-near Does fall in travail with her fear: And what ensues in this fell storm Shall for itself itself perform. I nill relate, action may Conveniently the rest convey; Which might not what by me is told. In your imagination hold This stage the ship, upon whose deck The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE I: [Enter PERICLES, on shipboard] PERICLES Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges, Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, Having call'd them from the deep! O, still Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida, How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously; Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle Is as a whisper in the ears of death, Unheard. Lychorida!--Lucina, O Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle To those that cry by night, convey thy deity Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs Of my queen's travails! [Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant] Now, Lychorida! LYCHORIDA Here is a thing too young for such a place, Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I Am like to do: take in your arms this piece Of your dead queen. PERICLES How, how, Lychorida! LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. Here's all that is left living of your queen, A little daughter: for the sake of it, Be manly, and take comfort. PERICLES O you gods! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, And snatch them straight away? We here below Recall not what we give, and therein may Use honour with you. LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir, Even for this charge. PERICLES Now, mild may be thy life! For a more blustrous birth had never babe: Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world That ever was prince's child. Happy what follows! Thou hast as chiding a nativity As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, To herald thee from the womb: even at the first Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods Throw their best eyes upon't! [Enter two Sailors] First Sailor What courage, sir? God save you! PERICLES Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw; It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, I would it would be quiet. First Sailor Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself. Second Sailor But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not. First Sailor Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead. PERICLES That's your superstition. First Sailor Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still observed: and we are strong in custom. Therefore briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight. PERICLES As you think meet. Most wretched queen! LYCHORIDA Here she lies, sir. PERICLES A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear; No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; Where, for a monument upon thy bones, And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida, Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper, My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit LYCHORIDA] Second Sailor Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked and bitumed ready. PERICLES I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this? Second Sailor We are near Tarsus. PERICLES Thither, gentle mariner. Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it? Second Sailor By break of day, if the wind cease. PERICLES O, make for Tarsus! There will I visit Cleon, for the babe Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner: I'll bring the body presently. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE II Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. [Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked] CERIMON Philemon, ho! [Enter PHILEMON] PHILEMON Doth my lord call? CERIMON Get fire and meat for these poor men: 'T has been a turbulent and stormy night. Servant I have been in many; but such a night as this, Till now, I ne'er endured. CERIMON Your master will be dead ere you return; There's nothing can be minister'd to nature That can recover him. [To PHILEMON] Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell me how it works. [Exeunt all but CERIMON] [Enter two Gentlemen] First Gentleman Good morrow. Second Gentleman Good morrow to your lordship. CERIMON Gentlemen, Why do you stir so early? First Gentleman Sir, Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, Shook as the earth did quake; The very principals did seem to rend, And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear Made me to quit the house. Second Gentleman That is the cause we trouble you so early; 'Tis not our husbandry. CERIMON O, you say well. First Gentleman But I much marvel that your lordship, having Rich tire about you, should at these early hours Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 'Tis most strange, Nature should be so conversant with pain, Being thereto not compell'd. CERIMON I hold it ever, Virtue and cunning were endowments greater Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs May the two latter darken and expend; But immortality attends the former. Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever Have studied physic, through which secret art, By turning o'er authorities, I have, Together with my practise, made familiar To me and to my aid the blest infusions That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; And I can speak of the disturbances That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me A more content in course of true delight Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, To please the fool and death. Second Gentleman Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth Your charity, and hundreds call themselves Your creatures, who by you have been restored: And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay. [Enter two or three Servants with a chest] First Servant So; lift there. CERIMON What is that? First Servant Sir, even now Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest: 'Tis of some wreck. CERIMON Set 't down, let's look upon't. Second Gentleman 'Tis like a coffin, sir. CERIMON Whate'er it be, 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight: If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold, 'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us. Second Gentleman 'Tis so, my lord. CERIMON How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed! Did the sea cast it up? First Servant I never saw so huge a billow, sir, As toss'd it upon shore. CERIMON Wrench it open; Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense. Second Gentleman A delicate odour. CERIMON As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it. O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse! First Gentleman Most strange! CERIMON Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured With full bags of spices! A passport too! Apollo, perfect me in the characters! [Reads from a scroll] 'Here I give to understand, If e'er this coffin drive a-land, I, King Pericles, have lost This queen, worth all our mundane cost. Who finds her, give her burying; She was the daughter of a king: Besides this treasure for a fee, The gods requite his charity!' If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight. Second Gentleman Most likely, sir. CERIMON Nay, certainly to-night; For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within: Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet. [Exit a Servant] Death may usurp on nature many hours, And yet the fire of life kindle again The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian That had nine hours lien dead, Who was by good appliance recovered. [Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire] Well said, well said; the fire and cloths. The rough and woeful music that we have, Cause it to sound, beseech you. The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block! The music there!--I pray you, give her air. Gentlemen. This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced Above five hours: see how she gins to blow Into life's flower again! First Gentleman The heavens, Through you, increase our wonder and set up Your fame forever. CERIMON She is alive; behold, Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels Which Pericles hath lost, Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; The diamonds of a most praised water Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live, And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, Rare as you seem to be. [She moves] THAISA O dear Diana, Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this? Second Gentleman Is not this strange? First Gentleman Most rare. CERIMON Hush, my gentle neighbours! Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come; And AEsculapius guide us! [Exeunt, carrying her away] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house. [Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with MARINA in her arms] PERICLES Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods Make up the rest upon you! CLEON Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, Yet glance full wanderingly on us. DIONYZA O your sweet queen! That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither, To have bless'd mine eyes with her! PERICLES We cannot but obey The powers above us. Could I rage and roar As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom, For she was born at sea, I have named so, here I charge your charity withal, leaving her The infant of your care; beseeching you To give her princely training, that she may be Manner'd as she is born. CLEON Fear not, my lord, but think Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, For which the people's prayers still fall upon you, Must in your child be thought on. If neglection Should therein make me vile, the common body, By you relieved, would force me to my duty: But if to that my nature need a spur, The gods revenge it upon me and mine, To the end of generation! PERICLES I believe you; Your honour and your goodness teach me to't, Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, By bright Diana, whom we honour, all Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain, Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave. Good madam, make me blessed in your care In bringing up my child. DIONYZA I have one myself, Who shall not be more dear to my respect Than yours, my lord. PERICLES Madam, my thanks and prayers. CLEON We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore, Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and The gentlest winds of heaven. PERICLES I will embrace Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears: Look to your little mistress, on whose grace You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT III SCENE IV Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. [Enter CERIMON and THAISA] CERIMON Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, Lay with you in your coffer: which are now At your command. Know you the character? THAISA It is my lord's. That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, Even on my eaning time; but whether there Deliver'd, by the holy gods, I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles, My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, A vestal livery will I take me to, And never more have joy. CERIMON Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak, Diana's temple is not distant far, Where you may abide till your date expire. Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine Shall there attend you. THAISA My recompense is thanks, that's all; Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV [Enter GOWER] GOWER Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre, Welcomed and settled to his own desire. His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus, Unto Diana there a votaress. Now to Marina bend your mind, Whom our fast-growing scene must find At Tarsus, and by Cleon train'd In music, letters; who hath gain'd Of education all the grace, Which makes her both the heart and place Of general wonder. But, alack, That monster envy, oft the wrack Of earned praise, Marina's life Seeks to take off by treason's knife. And in this kind hath our Cleon One daughter, and a wench full grown, Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maid Hight Philoten: and it is said For certain in our story, she Would ever with Marina be: Be't when she weaved the sleided silk With fingers long, small, white as milk; Or when she would with sharp needle wound The cambric, which she made more sound By hurting it; or when to the lute She sung, and made the night-bird mute, That still records with moan; or when She would with rich and constant pen Vail to her mistress Dian; still This Philoten contends in skill With absolute Marina: so With the dove of Paphos might the crow Vie feathers white. Marina gets All praises, which are paid as debts, And not as given. This so darks In Philoten all graceful marks, That Cleon's wife, with envy rare, A present murderer does prepare For good Marina, that her daughter Might stand peerless by this slaughter. The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, Lychorida, our nurse, is dead: And cursed Dionyza hath The pregnant instrument of wrath Prest for this blow. The unborn event I do commend to your content: Only I carry winged time Post on the lame feet of my rhyme; Which never could I so convey, Unless your thoughts went on my way. Dionyza does appear, With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE I Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore. [Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE] DIONYZA Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't: 'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon, To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, Which is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom, Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be A soldier to thy purpose. LEONINE I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature. DIONYZA The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here she comes weeping for her only mistress' death. Thou art resolved? LEONINE I am resolved. [Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers] MARINA No, I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds, Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave, While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid, Born in a tempest, when my mother died, This world to me is like a lasting storm, Whirring me from my friends. DIONYZA How now, Marina! why do you keep alone? How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have A nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's changed With this unprofitable woe! Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it. Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there, And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come, Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. MARINA No, I pray you; I'll not bereave you of your servant. DIONYZA Come, come; I love the king your father, and yourself, With more than foreign heart. We every day Expect him here: when he shall come and find Our paragon to all reports thus blasted, He will repent the breadth of his great voyage; Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you, Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve That excellent complexion, which did steal The eyes of young and old. Care not for me I can go home alone. MARINA Well, I will go; But yet I have no desire to it. DIONYZA Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least: Remember what I have said. LEONINE I warrant you, madam. DIONYZA I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while: Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood: What! I must have a care of you. MARINA My thanks, sweet madam. [Exit DIONYZA] Is this wind westerly that blows? LEONINE South-west. MARINA When I was born, the wind was north. LEONINE Was't so? MARINA My father, as nurse said, did never fear, But cried 'Good seaman!' to the sailors, galling His kingly hands, haling ropes; And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea That almost burst the deck. LEONINE When was this? MARINA When I was born: Never was waves nor wind more violent; And from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, 'wilt out?' And with a dropping industry they skip From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and The master calls, and trebles their confusion. LEONINE Come, say your prayers. MARINA What mean you? LEONINE If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it: pray; but be not tedious, For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn To do my work with haste. MARINA Why will you kill me? LEONINE To satisfy my lady. MARINA Why would she have me kill'd? Now, as I can remember, by my troth, I never did her hurt in all my life: I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn To any living creature: believe me, la, I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: I trod upon a worm against my will, But I wept for it. How have I offended, Wherein my death might yield her any profit, Or my life imply her any danger? LEONINE My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. MARINA You will not do't for all the world, I hope. You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, When you caught hurt in parting two that fought: Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now: Your lady seeks my life; come you between, And save poor me, the weaker. LEONINE I am sworn, And will dispatch. [He seizes her] [Enter Pirates] First Pirate Hold, villain! [LEONINE runs away] Second Pirate A prize! a prize! Third Pirate Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard suddenly. [Exeunt Pirates with MARINA] [Re-enter LEONINE] LEONINE These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes; And they have seized Marina. Let her go: There's no hope she will return. I'll swear she's dead, And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further: Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, Not carry her aboard. If she remain, Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE II Mytilene. A room in a brothel. [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT] Pandar Boult! BOULT Sir? Pandar Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart by being too wenchless. Bawd We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten. Pandar Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper. Bawd Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of poor bastards,--as, I think, I have brought up some eleven-- BOULT Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again. But shall I search the market? Bawd What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden. Pandar Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o' conscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage. BOULT Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat for worms. But I'll go search the market. [Exit] Pandar Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. Bawd Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old? Pandar O, our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor the commodity wages not with the danger: therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched. Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods will be strong with us for giving over. Bawd Come, other sorts offend as well as we. Pandar As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade; it's no calling. But here comes Boult. [Re-enter BOULT, with the Pirates and MARINA] BOULT [To MARINA] Come your ways. My masters, you say she's a virgin? First Pirate O, sir, we doubt it not. BOULT Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest. Bawd Boult, has she any qualities? BOULT She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes: there's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused. Bawd What's her price, Boult? BOULT I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces. Pandar Well, follow me, my masters, you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her entertainment. [Exeunt Pandar and Pirates] Bawd Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry 'He that will give most shall have her first.' Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you. BOULT Performance shall follow. [Exit] MARINA Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow! He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates, Not enough barbarous, had not o'erboard thrown me For to seek my mother! Bawd Why lament you, pretty one? MARINA That I am pretty. Bawd Come, the gods have done their part in you. MARINA I accuse them not. Bawd You are light into my hands, where you are like to live. MARINA The more my fault To scape his hands where I was like to die. Bawd Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. MARINA No. Bawd Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears? MARINA Are you a woman? Bawd What would you have me be, an I be not a woman? MARINA An honest woman, or not a woman. Bawd Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you're a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you. MARINA The gods defend me! Bawd If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir you up. Boult's returned. [Re-enter BOULT] Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? BOULT I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd And I prithee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort? BOULT 'Faith, they listened to me as they would have hearkened to their father's testament. There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to her very description. Bawd We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on. BOULT To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers i' the hams? Bawd Who, Monsieur Veroles? BOULT Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow. Bawd Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease hither: here he does but repair it. I know he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the sun. BOULT Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we should lodge them with this sign. Bawd [To MARINA] Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must seem to do that fearfully which you commit willingly, despise profit where you have most gain. To weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your lovers: seldom but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere profit. MARINA I understand you not. BOULT O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practise. Bawd Thou sayest true, i' faith, so they must; for your bride goes to that with shame which is her way to go with warrant. BOULT 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,-- Bawd Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit. BOULT I may so. Bawd Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the manner of your garments well. BOULT Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet. Bawd Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature flamed this piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report. BOULT I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night. Bawd Come your ways; follow me. MARINA If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. Diana, aid my purpose! Bawd What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us? [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house. [Enter CLEON and DIONYZA] DIONYZA Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone? CLEON O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon! DIONYZA I think You'll turn a child again. CLEON Were I chief lord of all this spacious world, I'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady, Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess To equal any single crown o' the earth I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine! Whom thou hast poison'd too: If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say When noble Pericles shall demand his child? DIONYZA That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, To foster it, nor ever to preserve. She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it? Unless you play the pious innocent, And for an honest attribute cry out 'She died by foul play.' CLEON O, go to. Well, well, Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Do like this worst. DIONYZA Be one of those that think The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence, And open this to Pericles. I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how coward a spirit. CLEON To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, Though not his prime consent, he did not flow From honourable sources. DIONYZA Be it so, then: Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did disdain my child, and stood between Her and her fortunes: none would look on her, But cast their gazes on Marina's face; Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin Not worth the time of day. It pierced me through; And though you call my course unnatural, You not your child well loving, yet I find It greets me as an enterprise of kindness Perform'd to your sole daughter. CLEON Heavens forgive it! DIONYZA And as for Pericles, What should he say? We wept after her hearse, And yet we mourn: her monument Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs In glittering golden characters express A general praise to her, and care in us At whose expense 'tis done. CLEON Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face, Seize with thine eagle's talons. DIONYZA You are like one that superstitiously Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies: But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE IV: [Enter GOWER, before the monument of MARINA at Tarsus] GOWER Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for't; Making, to take your imagination, From bourn to bourn, region to region. By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime To use one language in each several clime Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you, The stages of our story. Pericles Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, Attended on by many a lord and knight. To see his daughter, all his life's delight. Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late Advanced in time to great and high estate, Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, Old Helicanus goes along behind. Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought This king to Tarsus,--think his pilot thought; So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,-- To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. Like motes and shadows see them move awhile; Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. DUMB SHOW. [Enter PERICLES, at one door, with all his train; CLEON and DIONYZA, at the other. CLEON shows PERICLES the tomb; whereat PERICLES makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA] See how belief may suffer by foul show! This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe; And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'ershower'd, Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs: He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit. The epitaph is for Marina writ By wicked Dionyza. [Reads the inscription on MARINA's monument] 'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here, Who wither'd in her spring of year. She was of Tyrus the king's daughter, On whom foul death hath made this slaughter; Marina was she call'd; and at her birth, Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth: Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd, Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd: Wherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint, Make raging battery upon shores of flint.' No visor does become black villany So well as soft and tender flattery. Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, And bear his courses to be ordered By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day In her unholy service. Patience, then, And think you now are all in Mytilene. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE V Mytilene. A street before the brothel. [Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen] First Gentleman Did you ever hear the like? Second Gentleman No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone. First Gentleman But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing? Second Gentleman No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses: shall's go hear the vestals sing? First Gentleman I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting for ever. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT IV SCENE VI The same. A room in the brothel. [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT] Pandar Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she had ne'er come here. Bawd Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must either get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, her knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. BOULT 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our cavaliers, and make our swearers priests. Pandar Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me! Bawd 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised. BOULT We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would but give way to customers. [Enter LYSIMACHUS] LYSIMACHUS How now! How a dozen of virginities? Bawd Now, the gods to-bless your honour! BOULT I am glad to see your honour in good health. LYSIMACHUS You may so; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now! wholesome iniquity have you that a man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon? Bawd We have here one, sir, if she would--but there never came her like in Mytilene. LYSIMACHUS If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say. Bawd Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough. LYSIMACHUS Well, call forth, call forth. BOULT For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but-- LYSIMACHUS What, prithee? BOULT O, sir, I can be modest. LYSIMACHUS That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it gives a good report to a number to be chaste. [Exit BOULT] Bawd Here comes that which grows to the stalk; never plucked yet, I can assure you. [Re-enter BOULT with MARINA] Is she not a fair creature? LYSIMACHUS 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea. Well, there's for you: leave us. Bawd I beseech your honour, give me leave: a word, and I'll have done presently. LYSIMACHUS I beseech you, do. Bawd [To MARINA] First, I would have you note, this is an honourable man. MARINA I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him. Bawd Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man whom I am bound to. MARINA If he govern the country, you are bound to him indeed; but how honourable he is in that, I know not. Bawd Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will you use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold. MARINA What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive. LYSIMACHUS Ha' you done? Bawd My lord, she's not paced yet: you must take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will leave his honour and her together. Go thy ways. [Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and BOULT] LYSIMACHUS Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade? MARINA What trade, sir? LYSIMACHUS Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend. MARINA I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it. LYSIMACHUS How long have you been of this profession? MARINA E'er since I can remember. LYSIMACHUS Did you go to 't so young? Were you a gamester at five or at seven? MARINA Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. LYSIMACHUS Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a creature of sale. MARINA Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, and will come into 't? I hear say you are of honourable parts, and are the governor of this place. LYSIMACHUS Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am? MARINA Who is my principal? LYSIMACHUS Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard something of my power, and so stand aloof for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, my authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place: come, come. MARINA If you were born to honour, show it now; If put upon you, make the judgment good That thought you worthy of it. LYSIMACHUS How's this? how's this? Some more; be sage. MARINA For me, That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune Have placed me in this sty, where, since I came, Diseases have been sold dearer than physic, O, that the gods Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, Though they did change me to the meanest bird That flies i' the purer air! LYSIMACHUS I did not think Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou couldst. Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for thee: Persever in that clear way thou goest, And the gods strengthen thee! MARINA The good gods preserve you! LYSIMACHUS For me, be you thoughten That I came with no ill intent; for to me The very doors and windows savour vilely. Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. Hold, here's more gold for thee. A curse upon him, die he like a thief, That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost Hear from me, it shall be for thy good. [Re-enter BOULT] BOULT I beseech your honour, one piece for me. LYSIMACHUS Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! Your house, but for this virgin that doth prop it, Would sink and overwhelm you. Away! [Exit] BOULT How's this? We must take another course with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope, shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways. MARINA Whither would you have me? BOULT I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common hangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We'll have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say. [Re-enter Bawd] Bawd How now! what's the matter? BOULT Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus. Bawd O abominable! BOULT She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods. Bawd Marry, hang her up for ever! BOULT The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a snowball; saying his prayers too. Bawd Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure: crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable. BOULT An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. MARINA Hark, hark, you gods! Bawd She conjures: away with her! Would she had never come within my doors! Marry, hang you! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the way of women-kind? Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays! [Exit] BOULT Come, mistress; come your ways with me. MARINA Whither wilt thou have me? BOULT To take from you the jewel you hold so dear. MARINA Prithee, tell me one thing first. BOULT Come now, your one thing. MARINA What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? BOULT Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress. MARINA Neither of these are so bad as thou art, Since they do better thee in their command. Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend Of hell would not in reputation change: Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib; To the choleric fisting of every rogue Thy ear is liable; thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs. BOULT What would you have me do? go to the wars, would you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one? MARINA Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty OLD receptacles, or common shores, of filth; Serve by indenture to the common hangman: Any of these ways are yet better than this; For what thou professest, a baboon, could he speak, Would own a name too dear. O, that the gods Would safely deliver me from this place! Here, here's gold for thee. If that thy master would gain by thee, Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance, With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast: And I will undertake all these to teach. I doubt not but this populous city will Yield many scholars. BOULT But can you teach all this you speak of? MARINA Prove that I cannot, take me home again, And prostitute me to the basest groom That doth frequent your house. BOULT Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can place thee, I will. MARINA But amongst honest women. BOULT 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them. But since my master and mistress have bought you, there's no going but by their consent: therefore I will make them acquainted with your purpose, and I doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough. Come, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V [Enter GOWER] GOWER Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances Into an honest house, our story says. She sings like one immortal, and she dances As goddess-like to her admired lays; Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her needle composes Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry, That even her art sisters the natural roses; Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry: That pupils lacks she none of noble race, Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place; And to her father turn our thoughts again, Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost; Whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived Here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast Suppose him now at anchor. The city strived God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense; And to him in his barge with fervor hies. In your supposing once more put your sight Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark: Where what is done in action, more, if might, Shall be discover'd; please you, sit and hark. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V SCENE I On board PERICLES' ship, off Mytilene. A close pavilion on deck, with a curtain before it; PERICLES within it, reclined on a couch. A barge lying beside the Tyrian vessel. [Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian vessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS] Tyrian Sailor [To the Sailor of Mytilene] Where is lord Helicanus? he can resolve you. O, here he is. Sir, there's a barge put off from Mytilene, And in it is Lysimachus the governor, Who craves to come aboard. What is your will? HELICANUS That he have his. Call up some gentlemen. Tyrian Sailor Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls. [Enter two or three Gentlemen] First Gentleman Doth your lordship call? HELICANUS Gentlemen, there's some of worth would come aboard; I pray ye, greet them fairly. [The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, and go on board the barge] [Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords; with the Gentlemen and the two Sailors] Tyrian Sailor Sir, This is the man that can, in aught you would, Resolve you. LYSIMACHUS Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you! HELICANUS And you, sir, to outlive the age I am, And die as I would do. LYSIMACHUS You wish me well. Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs, Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, I made to it, to know of whence you are. HELICANUS First, what is your place? LYSIMACHUS I am the governor of this place you lie before. HELICANUS Sir, Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king; A man who for this three months hath not spoken To any one, nor taken sustenance But to prorogue his grief. LYSIMACHUS Upon what ground is his distemperature? HELICANUS 'Twould be too tedious to repeat; But the main grief springs from the loss Of a beloved daughter and a wife. LYSIMACHUS May we not see him? HELICANUS You may; But bootless is your sight: he will not speak To any. LYSIMACHUS Yet let me obtain my wish. HELICANUS Behold him. [PERICLES discovered] This was a goodly person, Till the disaster that, one mortal night, Drove him to this. LYSIMACHUS Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you! Hail, royal sir! HELICANUS It is in vain; he will not speak to you. First Lord Sir, We have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager, Would win some words of him. LYSIMACHUS 'Tis well bethought. She questionless with her sweet harmony And other chosen attractions, would allure, And make a battery through his deafen'd parts, Which now are midway stopp'd: She is all happy as the fairest of all, And, with her fellow maids is now upon The leafy shelter that abuts against The island's side. [Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of LYSIMACHUS] HELICANUS Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit That bears recovery's name. But, since your kindness We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you That for our gold we may provision have, Wherein we are not destitute for want, But weary for the staleness. LYSIMACHUS O, sir, a courtesy Which if we should deny, the most just gods For every graff would send a caterpillar, And so afflict our province. Yet once more Let me entreat to know at large the cause Of your king's sorrow. HELICANUS Sit, sir, I will recount it to you: But, see, I am prevented. [Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with MARINA, and a young Lady] LYSIMACHUS O, here is The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one! Is't not a goodly presence? HELICANUS She's a gallant lady. LYSIMACHUS She's such a one, that, were I well assured Came of a gentle kind and noble stock, I'ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed. Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty Expect even here, where is a kingly patient: If that thy prosperous and artificial feat Can draw him but to answer thee in aught, Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay As thy desires can wish. MARINA Sir, I will use My utmost skill in his recovery, Provided That none but I and my companion maid Be suffer'd to come near him. LYSIMACHUS Come, let us leave her; And the gods make her prosperous! [MARINA sings] LYSIMACHUS Mark'd he your music? MARINA No, nor look'd on us. LYSIMACHUS See, she will speak to him. MARINA Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear. PERICLES Hum, ha! MARINA I am a maid, My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, But have been gazed on like a comet: she speaks, My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd. Though wayward fortune did malign my state, My derivation was from ancestors Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: But time hath rooted out my parentage, And to the world and awkward casualties Bound me in servitude. [Aside] I will desist; But there is something glows upon my cheek, And whispers in mine ear, 'Go not till he speak.' PERICLES My fortunes--parentage--good parentage-- To equal mine!--was it not thus? what say you? MARINA I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage, You would not do me violence. PERICLES I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me. You are like something that--What country-woman? Here of these shores? MARINA No, nor of any shores: Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am No other than I appear. PERICLES I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping. My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one My daughter might have been: my queen's square brows; Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight; As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like And cased as richly; in pace another Juno; Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, The more she gives them speech. Where do you live? MARINA Where I am but a stranger: from the deck You may discern the place. PERICLES Where were you bred? And how achieved you these endowments, which You make more rich to owe? MARINA If I should tell my history, it would seem Like lies disdain'd in the reporting. PERICLES Prithee, speak: Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will believe thee, And make my senses credit thy relation To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends? Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back-- Which was when I perceived thee--that thou camest From good descending? MARINA So indeed I did. PERICLES Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury, And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine, If both were open'd. MARINA Some such thing I said, and said no more but what my thoughts Did warrant me was likely. PERICLES Tell thy story; If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling Extremity out of act. What were thy friends? How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin? Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me. MARINA My name is Marina. PERICLES O, I am mock'd, And thou by some incensed god sent hither To make the world to laugh at me. MARINA Patience, good sir, Or here I'll cease. PERICLES Nay, I'll be patient. Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me, To call thyself Marina. MARINA The name Was given me by one that had some power, My father, and a king. PERICLES How! a king's daughter? And call'd Marina? MARINA You said you would believe me; But, not to be a troubler of your peace, I will end here. PERICLES But are you flesh and blood? Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy? Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born? And wherefore call'd Marina? MARINA Call'd Marina For I was born at sea. PERICLES At sea! what mother? MARINA My mother was the daughter of a king; Who died the minute I was born, As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft Deliver'd weeping. PERICLES O, stop there a little! [Aside] This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be: My daughter's buried. Well: where were you bred? I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story, And never interrupt you. MARINA You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er. PERICLES I will believe you by the syllable Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave: How came you in these parts? where were you bred? MARINA The king my father did in Tarsus leave me; Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife, Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't, A crew of pirates came and rescued me; Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir, Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? It may be, You think me an impostor: no, good faith; I am the daughter to King Pericles, If good King Pericles be. PERICLES Ho, Helicanus! HELICANUS Calls my lord? PERICLES Thou art a grave and noble counsellor, Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst, What this maid is, or what is like to be, That thus hath made me weep? HELICANUS I know not; but Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene Speaks nobly of her. LYSIMACHUS She would never tell Her parentage; being demanded that, She would sit still and weep. PERICLES O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir; Give me a gash, put me to present pain; Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me O'erbear the shores of my mortality, And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither, Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget; Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus, And found at sea again! O Helicanus, Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud As thunder threatens us: this is Marina. What was thy mother's name? tell me but that, For truth can never be confirm'd enough, Though doubts did ever sleep. MARINA First, sir, I pray, What is your title? PERICLES I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now My drown'd queen's name, as in the rest you said Thou hast been godlike perfect, The heir of kingdoms and another like To Pericles thy father. MARINA Is it no more to be your daughter than To say my mother's name was Thaisa? Thaisa was my mother, who did end The minute I began. PERICLES Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child. Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus; She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been, By savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all; When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge She is thy very princess. Who is this? HELICANUS Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene, Who, hearing of your melancholy state, Did come to see you. PERICLES I embrace you. Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding. O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music? Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt, How sure you are my daughter. But, what music? HELICANUS My lord, I hear none. PERICLES None! The music of the spheres! List, my Marina. LYSIMACHUS It is not good to cross him; give him way. PERICLES Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear? LYSIMACHUS My lord, I hear. [Music] PERICLES Most heavenly music! It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber Hangs upon mine eyes: let me rest. [Sleeps] LYSIMACHUS A pillow for his head: So, leave him all. Well, my companion friends, If this but answer to my just belief, I'll well remember you. [Exeunt all but PERICLES] [DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision] DIANA My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither, And do upon mine altar sacrifice. There, when my maiden priests are met together, Before the people all, Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife: To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call And give them repetition to the life. Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe; Do it, and happy; by my silver bow! Awake, and tell thy dream. [Disappears] PERICLES Celestial Dian, goddess argentine, I will obey thee. Helicanus! [Re-enter HELICANUS, LYSIMACHUS, and MARINA] HELICANUS Sir? PERICLES My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike The inhospitable Cleon; but I am For other service first: toward Ephesus Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why. [To LYSIMACHUS] Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, And give you gold for such provision As our intents will need? LYSIMACHUS Sir, With all my heart; and, when you come ashore, I have another suit. PERICLES You shall prevail, Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems You have been noble towards her. LYSIMACHUS Sir, lend me your arm. PERICLES Come, my Marina. [Exeunt] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V SCENE II: [Enter GOWER, before the temple of DIANA at Ephesus] GOWER Now our sands are almost run; More a little, and then dumb. This, my last boon, give me, For such kindness must relieve me, That you aptly will suppose What pageantry, what feats, what shows, What minstrelsy, and pretty din, The regent made in Mytilene To greet the king. So he thrived, That he is promised to be wived To fair Marina; but in no wise Till he had done his sacrifice, As Dian bade: whereto being bound, The interim, pray you, all confound. In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, And wishes fall out as they're will'd. At Ephesus, the temple see, Our king and all his company. That he can hither come so soon, Is by your fancy's thankful doom. [Exit] PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE ACT V SCENE III The temple of Diana at Ephesus; THAISA standing near the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending. [Enter PERICLES, with his train; LYSIMACHUS, HELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady] PERICLES Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command, I here confess myself the king of Tyre; Who, frighted from my country, did wed At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa. At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess, Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years He sought to murder: but her better stars Brought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she Made known herself my daughter. THAISA Voice and favour! You are, you are--O royal Pericles! [Faints] PERICLES What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen! CERIMON Noble sir, If you have told Diana's altar true, This is your wife. PERICLES Reverend appearer, no; I threw her overboard with these very arms. CERIMON Upon this coast, I warrant you. PERICLES 'Tis most certain. CERIMON Look to the lady; O, she's but o'erjoy'd. Early in blustering morn this lady was Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin, Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her Here in Diana's temple. PERICLES May we see them? CERIMON Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house, Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered. THAISA O, let me look! If he be none of mine, my sanctity Will to my sense bend no licentious ear, But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake, Like him you are: did you not name a tempest, A birth, and death? PERICLES The voice of dead Thaisa! THAISA That Thaisa am I, supposed dead And drown'd. PERICLES Immortal Dian! THAISA Now I know you better. When we with tears parted Pentapolis, The king my father gave you such a ring. [Shows a ring] PERICLES This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness Makes my past miseries sports: you shall do well, That on the touching of her lips I may Melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried A second time within these arms. MARINA My heart Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. [Kneels to THAISA] PERICLES Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina For she was yielded there. THAISA Blest, and mine own! HELICANUS Hail, madam, and my queen! THAISA I know you not. PERICLES You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre, I left behind an ancient substitute: Can you remember what I call'd the man? I have named him oft. THAISA 'Twas Helicanus then. PERICLES Still confirmation: Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. Now do I long to hear how you were found; How possibly preserved; and who to thank, Besides the gods, for this great miracle. THAISA Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, Through whom the gods have shown their power; that can From first to last resolve you. PERICLES Reverend sir, The gods can have no mortal officer More like a god than you. Will you deliver How this dead queen re-lives? CERIMON I will, my lord. Beseech you, first go with me to my house, Where shall be shown you all was found with her; How she came placed here in the temple; No needful thing omitted. PERICLES Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, This ornament Makes me look dismal will I clip to form; And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify. THAISA Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir, My father's dead. PERICLES Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen, We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves Will in that kingdom spend our following days: Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay To hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way. [Exeunt] [Enter GOWER] GOWER In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard Of monstrous lust the due and just reward: In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen, Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen, Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last: In Helicanus may you well descry A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: In reverend Cerimon there well appears The worth that learned charity aye wears: For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name Of Pericles, to rage the city turn, That him and his they in his palace burn; The gods for murder seemed so content To punish them; although not done, but meant. So, on your patience evermore attending, New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE DRAMATIS PERSONAE LEONTES king of Sicilia. MAMILLIUS young prince of Sicilia. CAMILLO | | ANTIGONUS | | Four Lords of Sicilia. CLEOMENES | | DION | POLIXENES King of Bohemia. FLORIZEL Prince of Bohemia. ARCHIDAMUS a Lord of Bohemia. Old Shepherd reputed father of Perdita. (Shepherd:) Clown his son. AUTOLYCUS a rogue. A Mariner. (Mariner:) A Gaoler. (Gaoler:) HERMIONE queen to Leontes. PERDITA daughter to Leontes and Hermione. PAULINA wife to Antigonus. EMILIA a lady attending on Hermione, MOPSA | | Shepherdesses. DORCAS | Other Lords and Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, and Servants, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses. (First Lord:) (Gentleman:) (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) (Third Gentleman:) (First Lady:) (Second Lady:) (Officer:) (Servant:) (First Servant:) (Second Servant:) Time as Chorus. SCENE Sicilia, and Bohemia. THE WINTER'S TALE ACT I SCENE I Antechamber in LEONTES' palace. [Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS] ARCHIDAMUS If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia. CAMILLO I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him. ARCHIDAMUS Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be justified in our loves; for indeed-- CAMILLO Beseech you,-- ARCHIDAMUS Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence--in so rare--I know not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us. CAMILLO You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely. ARCHIDAMUS Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. CAMILLO Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attorneyed with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves! ARCHIDAMUS I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note. CAMILLO I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man. ARCHIDAMUS Would they else be content to die? CAMILLO Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live. ARCHIDAMUS If the king had no son, they would desire to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT I SCENE II A room of state in the same. [Enter LEONTES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, POLIXENES, CAMILLO, and Attendants] POLIXENES Nine changes of the watery star hath been The shepherd's note since we have left our throne Without a burthen: time as long again Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks; And yet we should, for perpetuity, Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I multiply With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe That go before it. LEONTES Stay your thanks a while; And pay them when you part. POLIXENES Sir, that's to-morrow. I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance Or breed upon our absence; that may blow No sneaping winds at home, to make us say 'This is put forth too truly:' besides, I have stay'd To tire your royalty. LEONTES We are tougher, brother, Than you can put us to't. POLIXENES No longer stay. LEONTES One seven-night longer. POLIXENES Very sooth, to-morrow. LEONTES We'll part the time between's then; and in that I'll no gainsaying. POLIXENES Press me not, beseech you, so. There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world, So soon as yours could win me: so it should now, Were there necessity in your request, although 'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder Were in your love a whip to me; my stay To you a charge and trouble: to save both, Farewell, our brother. LEONTES Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. HERMIONE I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction The by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him, He's beat from his best ward. LEONTES Well said, Hermione. HERMIONE To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him go; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia You take my lord, I'll give him my commission To let him there a month behind the gest Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes, I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind What lady-she her lord. You'll stay? POLIXENES No, madam. HERMIONE Nay, but you will? POLIXENES I may not, verily. HERMIONE Verily! You put me off with limber vows; but I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths, Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily, You shall not go: a lady's 'Verily' 's As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet? Force me to keep you as a prisoner, Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you? My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,' One of them you shall be. POLIXENES Your guest, then, madam: To be your prisoner should import offending; Which is for me less easy to commit Than you to punish. HERMIONE Not your gaoler, then, But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys: You were pretty lordings then? POLIXENES We were, fair queen, Two lads that thought there was no more behind But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal. HERMIONE Was not my lord The verier wag o' the two? POLIXENES We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun, And bleat the one at the other: what we changed Was innocence for innocence; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd That any did. Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven Boldly 'not guilty;' the imposition clear'd Hereditary ours. HERMIONE By this we gather You have tripp'd since. POLIXENES O my most sacred lady! Temptations have since then been born to's; for In those unfledged days was my wife a girl; Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes Of my young play-fellow. HERMIONE Grace to boot! Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; The offences we have made you do we'll answer, If you first sinn'd with us and that with us You did continue fault and that you slipp'd not With any but with us. LEONTES Is he won yet? HERMIONE He'll stay my lord. LEONTES At my request he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest To better purpose. HERMIONE Never? LEONTES Never, but once. HERMIONE What! have I twice said well? when was't before? I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages: you may ride's With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal: My last good deed was to entreat his stay: What was my first? it has an elder sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! But once before I spoke to the purpose: when? Nay, let me have't; I long. LEONTES Why, that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white hand And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter 'I am yours for ever.' HERMIONE 'Tis grace indeed. Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice: The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; The other for some while a friend. LEONTES [Aside] Too hot, too hot! To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances; But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment May a free face put on, derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, And well become the agent; 't may, I grant; But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, As now they are, and making practised smiles, As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, Art thou my boy? MAMILLIUS Ay, my good lord. LEONTES I' fecks! Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy nose? They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain: And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf Are all call'd neat.--Still virginalling Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf! Art thou my calf? MAMILLIUS Yes, if you will, my lord. LEONTES Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have, To be full like me: yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs; women say so, That will say anything but were they false As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?-- Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: Thou dost make possible things not so held, Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?-- With what's unreal thou coactive art, And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost, And that beyond commission, and I find it, And that to the infection of my brains And hardening of my brows. POLIXENES What means Sicilia? HERMIONE He something seems unsettled. POLIXENES How, my lord! What cheer? how is't with you, best brother? HERMIONE You look as if you held a brow of much distraction Are you moved, my lord? LEONTES No, in good earnest. How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous: How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend, Will you take eggs for money? MAMILLIUS No, my lord, I'll fight. LEONTES You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother, Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours? POLIXENES If at home, sir, He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter, Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy, My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: He makes a July's day short as December, And with his varying childness cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood. LEONTES So stands this squire Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, How thou lovest us, show in our brother's welcome; Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: Next to thyself and my young rover, he's Apparent to my heart. HERMIONE If you would seek us, We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there? LEONTES To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found, Be you beneath the sky. [Aside] I am angling now, Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to! How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband! [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants] Gone already! Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd one! Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There have been, Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd, As mine, against their will. Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it, From east, west, north and south: be it concluded, No barricado for a belly; know't; It will let in and out the enemy With bag and baggage: many thousand on's Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy! MAMILLIUS I am like you, they say. LEONTES Why that's some comfort. What, Camillo there? CAMILLO Ay, my good lord. LEONTES Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man. [Exit MAMILLIUS] Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. CAMILLO You had much ado to make his anchor hold: When you cast out, it still came home. LEONTES Didst note it? CAMILLO He would not stay at your petitions: made His business more material. LEONTES Didst perceive it? [Aside] They're here with me already, whispering, rounding 'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone, When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo, That he did stay? CAMILLO At the good queen's entreaty. LEONTES At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinent But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine? For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks: not noted, is't, But of the finer natures? by some severals Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes Perchance are to this business purblind? say. CAMILLO Business, my lord! I think most understand Bohemia stays here longer. LEONTES Ha! CAMILLO Stays here longer. LEONTES Ay, but why? CAMILLO To satisfy your highness and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress. LEONTES Satisfy! The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy! Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been Deceived in thy integrity, deceived In that which seems so. CAMILLO Be it forbid, my lord! LEONTES To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or, If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining From course required; or else thou must be counted A servant grafted in my serious trust And therein negligent; or else a fool That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And takest it all for jest. CAMILLO My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Among the infinite doings of the world, Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful-negligent, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, Where of the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord, Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass By its own visage: if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine. LEONTES Ha' not you seen, Camillo,-- But that's past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,--or heard,-- For to a vision so apparent rumour Cannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think,-- My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't. CAMILLO I would not be a stander-by to hear My sovereign mistress clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart, You never spoke what did become you less Than this; which to reiterate were sin As deep as that, though true. LEONTES Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career Of laughing with a sigh?--a note infallible Of breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing. CAMILLO Good my lord, be cured Of this diseased opinion, and betimes; For 'tis most dangerous. LEONTES Say it be, 'tis true. CAMILLO No, no, my lord. LEONTES It is; you lie, you lie: I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave, Or else a hovering temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both: were my wife's liver Infected as her life, she would not live The running of one glass. CAMILLO Who does infect her? LEONTES Why, he that wears her like a medal, hanging About his neck, Bohemia: who, if I Had servants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine honour as their profits, Their own particular thrifts, they would do that Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form Have benched and reared to worship, who mayst see Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, How I am galled,--mightst bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink; Which draught to me were cordial. CAMILLO Sir, my lord, I could do this, and that with no rash potion, But with a lingering dram that should not work Maliciously like poison: but I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have loved thee,-- LEONTES Make that thy question, and go rot! Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation, sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets, Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps, Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, Who I do think is mine and love as mine, Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this? Could man so blench? CAMILLO I must believe you, sir: I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't; Provided that, when he's removed, your highness Will take again your queen as yours at first, Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours. LEONTES Thou dost advise me Even so as I mine own course have set down: I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. CAMILLO My lord, Go then; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen. I am his cupbearer: If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant. LEONTES This is all: Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart; Do't not, thou split'st thine own. CAMILLO I'll do't, my lord. LEONTES I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me. [Exit] CAMILLO O miserable lady! But, for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't Is the obedience to a master, one Who in rebellion with himself will have All that are his so too. To do this deed, Promotion follows. If I could find example Of thousands that had struck anointed kings And flourish'd after, I'ld not do't; but since Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one, Let villany itself forswear't. I must Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now! Here comes Bohemia. [Re-enter POLIXENES] POLIXENES This is strange: methinks My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? Good day, Camillo. CAMILLO Hail, most royal sir! POLIXENES What is the news i' the court? CAMILLO None rare, my lord. POLIXENES The king hath on him such a countenance As he had lost some province and a region Loved as he loves himself: even now I met him With customary compliment; when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changeth thus his manners. CAMILLO I dare not know, my lord. POLIXENES How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not? Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must. And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your changed complexions are to me a mirror Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter'd with 't. CAMILLO There is a sickness Which puts some of us in distemper, but I cannot name the disease; and it is caught Of you that yet are well. POLIXENES How! caught of me! Make me not sighted like the basilisk: I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,-- As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents' noble names, In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you, If you know aught which does behove my knowledge Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not In ignorant concealment. CAMILLO I may not answer. POLIXENES A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee, by all the parts of man Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare What incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; Which way to be prevented, if to be; If not, how best to bear it. CAMILLO Sir, I will tell you; Since I am charged in honour and by him That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel, Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry lost, and so good night! POLIXENES On, good Camillo. CAMILLO I am appointed him to murder you. POLIXENES By whom, Camillo? CAMILLO By the king. POLIXENES For what? CAMILLO He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, As he had seen't or been an instrument To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen Forbiddenly. POLIXENES O, then my best blood turn To an infected jelly and my name Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! Turn then my freshest reputation to A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd, Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection That e'er was heard or read! CAMILLO Swear his thought over By each particular star in heaven and By all their influences, you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon As or by oath remove or counsel shake The fabric of his folly, whose foundation Is piled upon his faith and will continue The standing of his body. POLIXENES How should this grow? CAMILLO I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty, That lies enclosed in this trunk which you Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night! Your followers I will whisper to the business, And will by twos and threes at several posterns Clear them o' the city. For myself, I'll put My fortunes to your service, which are here By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain; For, by the honour of my parents, I Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon His execution sworn. POLIXENES I do believe thee: I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand: Be pilot to me and thy places shall Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and My people did expect my hence departure Two days ago. This jealousy Is for a precious creature: as she's rare, Must it be great, and as his person's mighty, Must it be violent, and as he does conceive He is dishonour'd by a man which ever Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me: Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo; I will respect thee as a father if Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid. CAMILLO It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the posterns: please your highness To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT II SCENE I A room in LEONTES' palace. [Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies] HERMIONE Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, 'Tis past enduring. First Lady Come, my gracious lord, Shall I be your playfellow? MAMILLIUS No, I'll none of you. First Lady Why, my sweet lord? MAMILLIUS You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if I were a baby still. I love you better. Second Lady And why so, my lord? MAMILLIUS Not for because Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best, so that there be not Too much hair there, but in a semicircle Or a half-moon made with a pen. Second Lady Who taught you this? MAMILLIUS I learnt it out of women's faces. Pray now What colour are your eyebrows? First Lady Blue, my lord. MAMILLIUS Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. First Lady Hark ye; The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall Present our services to a fine new prince One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us, If we would have you. Second Lady She is spread of late Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! HERMIONE What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now I am for you again: pray you, sit by us, And tell 's a tale. MAMILLIUS Merry or sad shall't be? HERMIONE As merry as you will. MAMILLIUS A sad tale's best for winter: I have one Of sprites and goblins. HERMIONE Let's have that, good sir. Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it. MAMILLIUS There was a man-- HERMIONE Nay, come, sit down; then on. MAMILLIUS Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly; Yond crickets shall not hear it. HERMIONE Come on, then, And give't me in mine ear. [Enter LEONTES, with ANTIGONUS, Lords and others] LEONTES Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him? First Lord Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them Even to their ships. LEONTES How blest am I In my just censure, in my true opinion! Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed In being so blest! There may be in the cup A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge Is not infected: but if one present The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider. Camillo was his help in this, his pander: There is a plot against my life, my crown; All's true that is mistrusted: that false villain Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him: He has discover'd my design, and I Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick For them to play at will. How came the posterns So easily open? First Lord By his great authority; Which often hath no less prevail'd than so On your command. LEONTES I know't too well. Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse him: Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you Have too much blood in him. HERMIONE What is this? sport? LEONTES Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; Away with him! and let her sport herself With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes Has made thee swell thus. HERMIONE But I'ld say he had not, And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, Howe'er you lean to the nayward. LEONTES You, my lords, Look on her, mark her well; be but about To say 'she is a goodly lady,' and The justice of your bearts will thereto add 'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:' Praise her but for this her without-door form, Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands That calumny doth use--O, I am out-- That mercy does, for calumny will sear Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha's, When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between Ere you can say 'she's honest:' but be 't known, From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, She's an adulteress. HERMIONE Should a villain say so, The most replenish'd villain in the world, He were as much more villain: you, my lord, Do but mistake. LEONTES You have mistook, my lady, Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing! Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, Should a like language use to all degrees And mannerly distinguishment leave out Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said She's an adulteress; I have said with whom: More, she's a traitor and Camillo is A federary with her, and one that knows What she should shame to know herself But with her most vile principal, that she's A bed-swerver, even as bad as those That vulgars give bold'st titles, ay, and privy To this their late escape. HERMIONE No, by my life. Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord, You scarce can right me throughly then to say You did mistake. LEONTES No; if I mistake In those foundations which I build upon, The centre is not big enough to bear A school-boy's top. Away with her! to prison! He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty But that he speaks. HERMIONE There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex Commonly are; the want of which vain dew Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have That honourable grief lodged here which burns Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords, With thoughts so qualified as your charities Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so The king's will be perform'd! LEONTES Shall I be heard? HERMIONE Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness, My women may be with me; for you see My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools; There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress Has deserved prison, then abound in tears As I come out: this action I now go on Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord: I never wish'd to see you sorry; now I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave. LEONTES Go, do our bidding; hence! [Exit HERMIONE, guarded; with Ladies] First Lord Beseech your highness, call the queen again. ANTIGONUS Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer, Yourself, your queen, your son. First Lord For her, my lord, I dare my life lay down and will do't, sir, Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean, In this which you accuse her. ANTIGONUS If it prove She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her; For every inch of woman in the world, Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, If she be. LEONTES Hold your peaces. First Lord Good my lord,-- ANTIGONUS It is for you we speak, not for ourselves: You are abused and by some putter-on That will be damn'd for't; would I knew the villain, I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd, I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven The second and the third, nine, and some five; If this prove true, they'll pay for't: by mine honour, I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see, To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; And I had rather glib myself than they Should not produce fair issue. LEONTES Cease; no more. You smell this business with a sense as cold As is a dead man's nose: but I do see't and feel't As you feel doing thus; and see withal The instruments that feel. ANTIGONUS If it be so, We need no grave to bury honesty: There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy earth. LEONTES What! lack I credit? First Lord I had rather you did lack than I, my lord, Upon this ground; and more it would content me To have her honour true than your suspicion, Be blamed for't how you might. LEONTES Why, what need we Commune with you of this, but rather follow Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness Imparts this; which if you, or stupefied Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves We need no more of your advice: the matter, The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all Properly ours. ANTIGONUS And I wish, my liege, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, Without more overture. LEONTES How could that be? Either thou art most ignorant by age, Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, Added to their familiarity, Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture, That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation But only seeing, all other circumstances Made up to the deed, doth push on this proceeding: Yet, for a greater confirmation, For in an act of this importance 'twere Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch'd in post To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know Of stuff'd sufficiency: now from the oracle They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had, Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? First Lord Well done, my lord. LEONTES Though I am satisfied and need no more Than what I know, yet shall the oracle Give rest to the minds of others, such as he Whose ignorant credulity will not Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good From our free person she should be confined, Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; We are to speak in public; for this business Will raise us all. ANTIGONUS [Aside] To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth were known. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT II SCENE II A prison. [Enter PAULINA, a Gentleman, and Attendants] PAULINA The keeper of the prison, call to him; let him have knowledge who I am. [Exit Gentleman] Good lady, No court in Europe is too good for thee; What dost thou then in prison? [Re-enter Gentleman, with the Gaoler] Now, good sir, You know me, do you not? Gaoler For a worthy lady And one whom much I honour. PAULINA Pray you then, Conduct me to the queen. Gaoler I may not, madam: To the contrary I have express commandment. PAULINA Here's ado, To lock up honesty and honour from The access of gentle visitors! Is't lawful, pray you, To see her women? any of them? Emilia? Gaoler So please you, madam, To put apart these your attendants, I Shall bring Emilia forth. PAULINA I pray now, call her. Withdraw yourselves. [Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants] Gaoler And, madam, I must be present at your conference. PAULINA Well, be't so, prithee. [Exit Gaoler] Here's such ado to make no stain a stain As passes colouring. [Re-enter Gaoler, with EMILIA] Dear gentlewoman, How fares our gracious lady? EMILIA As well as one so great and so forlorn May hold together: on her frights and griefs, Which never tender lady hath born greater, She is something before her time deliver'd. PAULINA A boy? EMILIA A daughter, and a goodly babe, Lusty and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner, I am innocent as you.' PAULINA I dare be sworn These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king, beshrew them! He must be told on't, and he shall: the office Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me: If I prove honey-mouth'd let my tongue blister And never to my red-look'd anger be The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, Commend my best obedience to the queen: If she dares trust me with her little babe, I'll show't the king and undertake to be Her advocate to the loud'st. We do not know How he may soften at the sight o' the child: The silence often of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails. EMILIA Most worthy madam, Your honour and your goodness is so evident That your free undertaking cannot miss A thriving issue: there is no lady living So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship To visit the next room, I'll presently Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; Who but to-day hammer'd of this design, But durst not tempt a minister of honour, Lest she should be denied. PAULINA Tell her, Emilia. I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from't As boldness from my bosom, let 't not be doubted I shall do good. EMILIA Now be you blest for it! I'll to the queen: please you, come something nearer. Gaoler Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur to pass it, Having no warrant. PAULINA You need not fear it, sir: This child was prisoner to the womb and is By law and process of great nature thence Freed and enfranchised, not a party to The anger of the king nor guilty of, If any be, the trespass of the queen. Gaoler I do believe it. PAULINA Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I will stand betwixt you and danger. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT II SCENE III A room in LEONTES' palace. [Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Servants] LEONTES Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If The cause were not in being,--part o' the cause, She the adulteress; for the harlot king Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she I can hook to me: say that she were gone, Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest Might come to me again. Who's there? First Servant My lord? LEONTES How does the boy? First Servant He took good rest to-night; 'Tis hoped his sickness is discharged. LEONTES To see his nobleness! Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, He straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply, Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself, Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, And downright languish'd. Leave me solely: go, See how he fares. [Exit Servant] Fie, fie! no thought of him: The thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty, And in his parties, his alliance; let him be Until a time may serve: for present vengeance, Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow: They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor Shall she within my power. [Enter PAULINA, with a child] First Lord You must not enter. PAULINA Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul, More free than he is jealous. ANTIGONUS That's enough. Second Servant Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded None should come at him. PAULINA Not so hot, good sir: I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, That creep like shadows by him and do sigh At each his needless heavings, such as you Nourish the cause of his awaking: I Do come with words as medicinal as true, Honest as either, to purge him of that humour That presses him from sleep. LEONTES What noise there, ho? PAULINA No noise, my lord; but needful conference About some gossips for your highness. LEONTES How! Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, I charged thee that she should not come about me: I knew she would. ANTIGONUS I told her so, my lord, On your displeasure's peril and on mine, She should not visit you. LEONTES What, canst not rule her? PAULINA From all dishonesty he can: in this, Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me for committing honour, trust it, He shall not rule me. ANTIGONUS La you now, you hear: When she will take the rein I let her run; But she'll not stumble. PAULINA Good my liege, I come; And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess Myself your loyal servant, your physician, Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare Less appear so in comforting your evils, Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come From your good queen. LEONTES Good queen! PAULINA Good queen, my lord, Good queen; I say good queen; And would by combat make her good, so were I A man, the worst about you. LEONTES Force her hence. PAULINA Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes First hand me: on mine own accord I'll off; But first I'll do my errand. The good queen, For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. [Laying down the child] LEONTES Out! A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door: A most intelligencing bawd! PAULINA Not so: I am as ignorant in that as you In so entitling me, and no less honest Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, As this world goes, to pass for honest. LEONTES Traitors! Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard. Thou dotard! thou art woman-tired, unroosted By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard; Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. PAULINA For ever Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou Takest up the princess by that forced baseness Which he has put upon't! LEONTES He dreads his wife. PAULINA So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt You'ld call your children yours. LEONTES A nest of traitors! ANTIGONUS I am none, by this good light. PAULINA Nor I, nor any But one that's here, and that's himself, for he The sacred honour of himself, his queen's, His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and will not-- For, as the case now stands, it is a curse He cannot be compell'd to't--once remove The root of his opinion, which is rotten As ever oak or stone was sound. LEONTES A callat Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband And now baits me! This brat is none of mine; It is the issue of Polixenes: Hence with it, and together with the dam Commit them to the fire! PAULINA It is yours; And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords, Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, The trick of's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, His smiles, The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger: And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's! LEONTES A gross hag And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her tongue. ANTIGONUS Hang all the husbands That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject. LEONTES Once more, take her hence. PAULINA A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more. LEONTES I'll ha' thee burnt. PAULINA I care not: It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel usage of your queen, Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something savours Of tyranny and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world. LEONTES On your allegiance, Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her! PAULINA I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove send her A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands? You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so: farewell; we are gone. [Exit] LEONTES Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. My child? away with't! Even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence And see it instantly consumed with fire; Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight: Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life, With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; The bastard brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; For thou set'st on thy wife. ANTIGONUS I did not, sir: These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in't. Lords We can: my royal liege, He is not guilty of her coming hither. LEONTES You're liars all. First Lord Beseech your highness, give us better credit: We have always truly served you, and beseech you So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg, As recompense of our dear services Past and to come, that you do change this purpose, Which being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. LEONTES I am a feather for each wind that blows: Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel And call me father? better burn it now Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither; You that have been so tenderly officious With Lady Margery, your midwife there, To save this bastard's life,--for 'tis a bastard, So sure as this beard's grey, --what will you adventure To save this brat's life? ANTIGONUS Any thing, my lord, That my ability may undergo And nobleness impose: at least thus much: I'll pawn the little blood which I have left To save the innocent: any thing possible. LEONTES It shall be possible. Swear by this sword Thou wilt perform my bidding. ANTIGONUS I will, my lord. LEONTES Mark and perform it, see'st thou! for the fail Of any point in't shall not only be Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife, Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee, As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry This female bastard hence and that thou bear it To some remote and desert place quite out Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it, Without more mercy, to its own protection And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture, That thou commend it strangely to some place Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up. ANTIGONUS I swear to do this, though a present death Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe: Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say Casting their savageness aside have done Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed does require! And blessing Against this cruelty fight on thy side, Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! [Exit with the child] LEONTES No, I'll not rear Another's issue. [Enter a Servant] Servant Please your highness, posts From those you sent to the oracle are come An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court. First Lord So please you, sir, their speed Hath been beyond account. LEONTES Twenty-three days They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; Summon a session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady, for, as she hath Been publicly accused, so shall she have A just and open trial. While she lives My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me, And think upon my bidding. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III SCENE I A sea-port in Sicilia. [Enter CLEOMENES and DION] CLEOMENES The climate's delicate, the air most sweet, Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears. DION I shall report, For most it caught me, the celestial habits, Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly It was i' the offering! CLEOMENES But of all, the burst And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense. That I was nothing. DION If the event o' the journey Prove as successful to the queen,--O be't so!-- As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, The time is worth the use on't. CLEOMENES Great Apollo Turn all to the best! These proclamations, So forcing faults upon Hermione, I little like. DION The violent carriage of it Will clear or end the business: when the oracle, Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up, Shall the contents discover, something rare Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses! And gracious be the issue! [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III SCENE II A court of Justice. [Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers] LEONTES This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce, Even pushes 'gainst our heart: the party tried The daughter of a king, our wife, and one Of us too much beloved. Let us be clear'd Of being tyrannous, since we so openly Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, Even to the guilt or the purgation. Produce the prisoner. Officer It is his highness' pleasure that the queen Appear in person here in court. Silence! [Enter HERMIONE guarded; PAULINA and Ladies attending] LEONTES Read the indictment. Officer [Reads] Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal husband: the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night. HERMIONE Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation and The testimony on my part no other But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me To say 'not guilty:' mine integrity Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, Be so received. But thus: if powers divine Behold our human actions, as they do, I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush and tyranny Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, Who least will seem to do so, my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy; which is more Than history can pattern, though devised And play'd to take spectators. For behold me A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne a great king's daughter, The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace, How merited to be so; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond The bound of honour, or in act or will That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry fie upon my grave! LEONTES I ne'er heard yet That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first. HERMIONE That's true enough; Through 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. LEONTES You will not own it. HERMIONE More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, With whom I am accused, I do confess I loved him as in honour he required, With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me, with a love even such, So and no other, as yourself commanded: Which not to have done I think had been in me Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd For me to try how: all I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man; And why he left your court, the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. LEONTES You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in's absence. HERMIONE Sir, You speak a language that I understand not: My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I'll lay down. LEONTES Your actions are my dreams; You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame,-- Those of your fact are so--so past all truth: Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, No father owning it,--which is, indeed, More criminal in thee than it,--so thou Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage Look for no less than death. HERMIONE Sir, spare your threats: The bug which you would fright me with I seek. To me can life be no commodity: The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, I do give lost; for I do feel it gone, But know not how it went. My second joy And first-fruits of my body, from his presence I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third comfort Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast, The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, Haled out to murder: myself on every post Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried Here to this place, i' the open air, before I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, Tell me what blessings I have here alive, That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed. But yet hear this: mistake me not; no life, I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour, Which I would free, if I shall be condemn'd Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law. Your honours all, I do refer me to the oracle: Apollo be my judge! First Lord This your request Is altogether just: therefore bring forth, And in Apollos name, his oracle. [Exeunt certain Officers] HERMIONE The Emperor of Russia was my father: O that he were alive, and here beholding His daughter's trial! that he did but see The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes Of pity, not revenge! [Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION] Officer You here shall swear upon this sword of justice, That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought The seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then, You have not dared to break the holy seal Nor read the secrets in't. CLEOMENES | | All this we swear. DION | LEONTES Break up the seals and read. Officer [Reads] Hermione is chaste; Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; and the king shall live without an heir, if that which is lost be not found. Lords Now blessed be the great Apollo! HERMIONE Praised! LEONTES Hast thou read truth? Officer Ay, my lord; even so As it is here set down. LEONTES There is no truth at all i' the oracle: The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood. [Enter Servant] Servant My lord the king, the king! LEONTES What is the business? Servant O sir, I shall be hated to report it! The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear Of the queen's speed, is gone. LEONTES How! gone! Servant Is dead. LEONTES Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. [HERMIONE swoons] How now there! PAULINA This news is mortal to the queen: look down And see what death is doing. LEONTES Take her hence: Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover: I have too much believed mine own suspicion: Beseech you, tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. [Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERMIONE] Apollo, pardon My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle! I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy; For, being transported by my jealousies To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose Camillo for the minister to poison My friend Polixenes: which had been done, But that the good mind of Camillo tardied My swift command, though I with death and with Reward did threaten and encourage him, Not doing 't and being done: he, most humane And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest Unclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here, Which you knew great, and to the hazard Of all encertainties himself commended, No richer than his honour: how he glisters Thorough my rust! and how his pity Does my deeds make the blacker! [Re-enter PAULINA] PAULINA Woe the while! O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, Break too. First Lord What fit is this, good lady? PAULINA What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? In leads or oils? what old or newer torture Must I receive, whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny Together working with thy jealousies, Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For girls of nine, O, think what they have done And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray'dst Polixenes,'twas nothing; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much, Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour, To have him kill a king: poor trespasses, More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter To be or none or little; though a devil Would have shed water out of fire ere done't: Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts, Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart That could conceive a gross and foolish sire Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no, Laid to thy answer: but the last,--O lords, When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen, The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead, and vengeance for't Not dropp'd down yet. First Lord The higher powers forbid! PAULINA I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye, Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee To nothing but despair. A thousand knees Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, Upon a barren mountain and still winter In storm perpetual, could not move the gods To look that way thou wert. LEONTES Go on, go on Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved All tongues to talk their bitterest. First Lord Say no more: Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault I' the boldness of your speech. PAULINA I am sorry for't: All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help Should be past grief: do not receive affliction At my petition; I beseech you, rather Let me be punish'd, that have minded you Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: The love I bore your queen--lo, fool again!-- I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; I'll not remember you of my own lord, Who is lost too: take your patience to you, And I'll say nothing. LEONTES Thou didst speak but well When most the truth; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen and son: One grave shall be for both: upon them shall The causes of their death appear, unto Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there Shall be my recreation: so long as nature Will bear up with this exercise, so long I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me Unto these sorrows. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT III SCENE III Bohemia. A desert country near the sea. [Enter ANTIGONUS with a Child, and a Mariner] ANTIGONUS Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia? Mariner Ay, my lord: and fear We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry And frown upon 's. ANTIGONUS Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before I call upon thee. Mariner Make your best haste, and go not Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather; Besides, this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon't. ANTIGONUS Go thou away: I'll follow instantly. Mariner I am glad at heart To be so rid o' the business. [Exit] ANTIGONUS Come, poor babe: I have heard, but not believed, the spirits o' the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon Did this break-from her: 'Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition, Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, Places remote enough are in Bohemia, There weep and leave it crying; and, for the babe Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, I prithee, call't. For this ungentle business Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself and thought This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys: Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squared by this. I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that Apollo would, this being indeed the issue Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! There lie, and there thy character: there these; Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, And still rest thine. The storm begins; poor wretch, That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have A lullaby too rough: I never saw The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: I am gone for ever. [Exit, pursued by a bear] [Enter a Shepherd] Shepherd I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting--Hark you now! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some 'scape: though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, some behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! [Enter Clown] Clown Hilloa, loa! Shepherd What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ailest thou, man? Clown I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. Shepherd Why, boy, how is it? Clown I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but that's not the point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land-service, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather. Shepherd Name of mercy, when was this, boy? Clown Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it now. Shepherd Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! Clown I would you had been by the ship side, to have helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing. Shepherd Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things dying, I with things newborn. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy; open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: open't. What's within, boy? Clown You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! Shepherd This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good boy, the next way home. Clown Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury it. Shepherd That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the sight of him. Clown Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground. Shepherd 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE I: [Enter Time, the Chorus] Time I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error, Now take upon me, in the name of Time, To use my wings. Impute it not a crime To me or my swift passage, that I slide O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap, since it is in my power To o'erthrow law and in one self-born hour To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass The same I am, ere ancient'st order was Or what is now received: I witness to The times that brought them in; so shall I do To the freshest things now reigning and make stale The glistering of this present, as my tale Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, I turn my glass and give my scene such growing As you had slept between: Leontes leaving, The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving That he shuts up himself, imagine me, Gentle spectators, that I now may be In fair Bohemia, and remember well, I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel I now name to you; and with speed so pace To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace Equal with wondering: what of her ensues I list not prophecy; but let Time's news Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter, And what to her adheres, which follows after, Is the argument of Time. Of this allow, If ever you have spent time worse ere now; If never, yet that Time himself doth say He wishes earnestly you never may. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE II Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES. [Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO] POLIXENES I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to grant this. CAMILLO It is fifteen years since I saw my country: though I have for the most part been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent king, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which is another spur to my departure. POLIXENES As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now: the need I have of thee thine own goodness hath made; better not to have had thee than thus to want thee: thou, having made me businesses which none without thee can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself or take away with thee the very services thou hast done; which if I have not enough considered, as too much I cannot, to be more thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose very naming punishes me with the remembrance of that penitent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king, my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen and children are even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when sawest thou the Prince Florizel, my son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues. CAMILLO Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I have missingly noted, he is of late much retired from court and is less frequent to his princely exercises than formerly he hath appeared. POLIXENES I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some care; so far that I have eyes under my service which look upon his removedness; from whom I have this intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate. CAMILLO I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage. POLIXENES That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place; where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. CAMILLO I willingly obey your command. POLIXENES My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE III A road near the Shepherd's cottage. [Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] AUTOLYCUS When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. The lark, that tirra-lyra chants, With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay. I have served Prince Florizel and in my time wore three-pile; but now I am out of service: But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? The pale moon shines by night: And when I wander here and there, I then do most go right. If tinkers may have leave to live, And bear the sow-skin budget, Then my account I well may, give, And in the stocks avouch it. My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful on the highway: beating and hanging are terrors to me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. A prize! a prize! [Enter Clown] Clown Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred shorn. what comes the wool to? AUTOLYCUS [Aside] If the springe hold, the cock's mine. Clown I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden pies; mace; dates?--none, that's out of my note; nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' the sun. AUTOLYCUS O that ever I was born! [Grovelling on the ground] Clown I' the name of me-- AUTOLYCUS O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and then, death, death! Clown Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off. AUTOLYCUS O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received, which are mighty ones and millions. Clown Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a great matter. AUTOLYCUS I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me. Clown What, by a horseman, or a footman? AUTOLYCUS A footman, sweet sir, a footman. Clown Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, tenderly, O! Clown Alas, poor soul! AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out. Clown How now! canst stand? AUTOLYCUS [Picking his pocket] Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office. Clown Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. AUTOLYCUS No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my heart. Clown What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? AUTOLYCUS A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court. Clown His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide. AUTOLYCUS Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; then a process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile where my land and living lies; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. Clown Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. AUTOLYCUS Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put me into this apparel. Clown Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run. AUTOLYCUS I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant him. Clown How do you now? AUTOLYCUS Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's. Clown Shall I bring thee on the way? AUTOLYCUS No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. Clown Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing. AUTOLYCUS Prosper you, sweet sir! [Exit Clown] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I make not this cheat bring out another and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name put in the book of virtue! [Sings] Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT IV SCENE IV The Shepherd's cottage. [Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA] FLORIZEL These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the queen on't. PERDITA Sir, my gracious lord, To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts In every mess have folly and the feeders Digest it with a custom, I should blush To see you so attired, sworn, I think, To show myself a glass. FLORIZEL I bless the time When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father's ground. PERDITA Now Jove afford you cause! To me the difference forges dread; your greatness Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble To think your father, by some accident, Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates! How would he look, to see his work so noble Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence? FLORIZEL Apprehend Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god, Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, As I seem now. Their transformations Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts Burn hotter than my faith. PERDITA O, but, sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speak, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life. FLORIZEL Thou dearest Perdita, With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair, Or not my father's. For I cannot be Mine own, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle; Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing That you behold the while. Your guests are coming: Lift up your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptial which We two have sworn shall come. PERDITA O lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious! FLORIZEL See, your guests approach: Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth. [Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised] Shepherd Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire With labour and the thing she took to quench it, She would to each one sip. You are retired, As if you were a feasted one and not The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is A way to make us better friends, more known. Come, quench your blushes and present yourself That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on, And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, As your good flock shall prosper. PERDITA [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome: It is my father's will I should take on me The hostess-ship o' the day. [To CAMILLO] You're welcome, sir. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long: Grace and remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our shearing! POLIXENES Shepherdess, A fair one are you--well you fit our ages With flowers of winter. PERDITA Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. POLIXENES Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them? PERDITA For I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature. POLIXENES Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean: so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature. PERDITA So it is. POLIXENES Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, And do not call them bastards. PERDITA I'll not put The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; No more than were I painted I would wish This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. You're very welcome. CAMILLO I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing. PERDITA Out, alas! You'd be so lean, that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day; and yours, and yours, That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er! FLORIZEL What, like a corse? PERDITA No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried, But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers: Methinks I play as I have seen them do In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine Does change my disposition. FLORIZEL What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing, I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms, Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so, And own no other function: each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, That all your acts are queens. PERDITA O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth, And the true blood which peepeth fairly through't, Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, You woo'd me the false way. FLORIZEL I think you have As little skill to fear as I have purpose To put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray: Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair, That never mean to part. PERDITA I'll swear for 'em. POLIXENES This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place. CAMILLO He tells her something That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is The queen of curds and cream. Clown Come on, strike up! DORCAS Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with! MOPSA Now, in good time! Clown Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. Come, strike up! [Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses] POLIXENES Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this Which dances with your daughter? Shepherd They call him Doricles; and boasts himself To have a worthy feeding: but I have it Upon his own report and I believe it; He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter: I think so too; for never gazed the moon Upon the water as he'll stand and read As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain. I think there is not half a kiss to choose Who loves another best. POLIXENES She dances featly. Shepherd So she does any thing; though I report it, That should be silent: if young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreams of. [Enter Servant] Servant O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the door, you would never dance again after a tabour and pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's ears grew to his tunes. Clown He could never come better; he shall come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably. Servant He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, as it were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man;' puts him off, slights him, with 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.' POLIXENES This is a brave fellow. Clown Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? Servant He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't. Clown Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing. PERDITA Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes. [Exit Servant] Clown You have of these pedlars, that have more in them than you'ld think, sister. PERDITA Ay, good brother, or go about to think. [Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] AUTOLYCUS Lawn as white as driven snow; Cyprus black as e'er was crow; Gloves as sweet as damask roses; Masks for faces and for noses; Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber; Golden quoifs and stomachers, For my lads to give their dears: Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel: Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy. Clown If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves. MOPSA I was promised them against the feast; but they come not too late now. DORCAS He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars. MOPSA He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has paid you more, which will shame you to give him again. Clown Is there no manners left among maids? will they wear their plackets where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour your tongues, and not a word more. MOPSA I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace and a pair of sweet gloves. Clown Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way and lost all my money? AUTOLYCUS And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; therefore it behoves men to be wary. Clown Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here. AUTOLYCUS I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge. Clown What hast here? ballads? MOPSA Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. AUTOLYCUS Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and toads carbonadoed. MOPSA Is it true, think you? AUTOLYCUS Very true, and but a month old. DORCAS Bless me from marrying a usurer! AUTOLYCUS Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were present. Why should I carry lies abroad? MOPSA Pray you now, buy it. Clown Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. AUTOLYCUS Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true. DORCAS Is it true too, think you? AUTOLYCUS Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than my pack will hold. Clown Lay it by too: another. AUTOLYCUS This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. MOPSA Let's have some merry ones. AUTOLYCUS Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man:' there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you. MOPSA We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear; 'tis in three parts. DORCAS We had the tune on't a month ago. AUTOLYCUS I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my occupation; have at it with you. [SONG] AUTOLYCUS Get you hence, for I must go Where it fits not you to know. DORCAS Whither? MOPSA O, whither? DORCAS Whither? MOPSA It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell. DORCAS Me too, let me go thither. MOPSA Or thou goest to the orange or mill. DORCAS If to either, thou dost ill. AUTOLYCUS Neither. DORCAS What, neither? AUTOLYCUS Neither. DORCAS Thou hast sworn my love to be. MOPSA Thou hast sworn it more to me: Then whither goest? say, whither? Clown We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: my father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar, let's have the first choice. Follow me, girls. [Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA] AUTOLYCUS And you shall pay well for 'em. [Follows singing] Will you buy any tape, Or lace for your cape, My dainty duck, my dear-a? Any silk, any thread, Any toys for your head, Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a? Come to the pedlar; Money's a medler. That doth utter all men's ware-a. [Exit] [Re-enter Servant] Servant Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair, they call themselves Saltiers, and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling, it will please plentifully. Shepherd Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you. POLIXENES You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen. Servant One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier. Shepherd Leave your prating: since these good men are pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. Servant Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit] [Here a dance of twelve Satyrs] POLIXENES O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. [To CAMILLO] Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them. He's simple and tells much. [To FLORIZEL] How now, fair shepherd! Your heart is full of something that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young And handed love as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it To her acceptance; you have let him go And nothing marted with him. If your lass Interpretation should abuse and call this Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited For a reply, at least if you make a care Of happy holding her. FLORIZEL Old sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd Up in my heart; which I have given already, But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime loved! I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as dove's down and as white as it, Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow that's bolted By the northern blasts twice o'er. POLIXENES What follows this? How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before! I have put you out: But to your protestation; let me hear What you profess. FLORIZEL Do, and be witness to 't. POLIXENES And this my neighbour too? FLORIZEL And he, and more Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and all: That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love; for her employ them all; Commend them and condemn them to her service Or to their own perdition. POLIXENES Fairly offer'd. CAMILLO This shows a sound affection. Shepherd But, my daughter, Say you the like to him? PERDITA I cannot speak So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his. Shepherd Take hands, a bargain! And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't: I give my daughter to him, and will make Her portion equal his. FLORIZEL O, that must be I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet; Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, Contract us 'fore these witnesses. Shepherd Come, your hand; And, daughter, yours. POLIXENES Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; Have you a father? FLORIZEL I have: but what of him? POLIXENES Knows he of this? FLORIZEL He neither does nor shall. POLIXENES Methinks a father Is at the nuptial of his son a guest That best becomes the table. Pray you once more, Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid With age and altering rheums? can he speak? hear? Know man from man? dispute his own estate? Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing But what he did being childish? FLORIZEL No, good sir; He has his health and ampler strength indeed Than most have of his age. POLIXENES By my white beard, You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial: reason my son Should choose himself a wife, but as good reason The father, all whose joy is nothing else But fair posterity, should hold some counsel In such a business. FLORIZEL I yield all this; But for some other reasons, my grave sir, Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My father of this business. POLIXENES Let him know't. FLORIZEL He shall not. POLIXENES Prithee, let him. FLORIZEL No, he must not. Shepherd Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice. FLORIZEL Come, come, he must not. Mark our contract. POLIXENES Mark your divorce, young sir, [Discovering himself] Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir, That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traitor, I am sorry that by hanging thee I can But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know The royal fool thou copest with,-- Shepherd O, my heart! POLIXENES I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, If I may ever know thou dost but sigh That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession; Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words: Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.-- Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him too, That makes himself, but for our honour therein, Unworthy thee,--if ever henceforth thou These rural latches to his entrance open, Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, I will devise a death as cruel for thee As thou art tender to't. [Exit] PERDITA Even here undone! I was not much afeard; for once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly, The selfsame sun that shines upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage but Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone? I told you what would come of this: beseech you, Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,-- Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, But milk my ewes and weep. CAMILLO Why, how now, father! Speak ere thou diest. Shepherd I cannot speak, nor think Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir! You have undone a man of fourscore three, That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea, To die upon the bed my father died, To lie close by his honest bones: but now Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch, That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst adventure To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone! If I might die within this hour, I have lived To die when I desire. [Exit] FLORIZEL Why look you so upon me? I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am; More straining on for plucking back, not following My leash unwillingly. CAMILLO Gracious my lord, You know your father's temper: at this time He will allow no speech, which I do guess You do not purpose to him; and as hardly Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: Then, till the fury of his highness settle, Come not before him. FLORIZEL I not purpose it. I think, Camillo? CAMILLO Even he, my lord. PERDITA How often have I told you 'twould be thus! How often said, my dignity would last But till 'twere known! FLORIZEL It cannot fail but by The violation of my faith; and then Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks: From my succession wipe me, father; I Am heir to my affection. CAMILLO Be advised. FLORIZEL I am, and by my fancy: if my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, Do bid it welcome. CAMILLO This is desperate, sir. FLORIZEL So call it: but it does fulfil my vow; I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you, As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend, When he shall miss me,--as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more,--cast your good counsels Upon his passion; let myself and fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know And so deliver, I am put to sea With her whom here I cannot hold on shore; And most opportune to our need I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting. CAMILLO O my lord! I would your spirit were easier for advice, Or stronger for your need. FLORIZEL Hark, Perdita [Drawing her aside] I'll hear you by and by. CAMILLO He's irremoveable, Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if His going I could frame to serve my turn, Save him from danger, do him love and honour, Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia And that unhappy king, my master, whom I so much thirst to see. FLORIZEL Now, good Camillo; I am so fraught with curious business that I leave out ceremony. CAMILLO Sir, I think You have heard of my poor services, i' the love That I have borne your father? FLORIZEL Very nobly Have you deserved: it is my father's music To speak your deeds, not little of his care To have them recompensed as thought on. CAMILLO Well, my lord, If you may please to think I love the king And through him what is nearest to him, which is Your gracious self, embrace but my direction: If your more ponderous and settled project May suffer alteration, on mine honour, I'll point you where you shall have such receiving As shall become your highness; where you may Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, There's no disjunction to be made, but by-- As heavens forefend!--your ruin; marry her, And, with my best endeavours in your absence, Your discontenting father strive to qualify And bring him up to liking. FLORIZEL How, Camillo, May this, almost a miracle, be done? That I may call thee something more than man And after that trust to thee. CAMILLO Have you thought on A place whereto you'll go? FLORIZEL Not any yet: But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies Of every wind that blows. CAMILLO Then list to me: This follows, if you will not change your purpose But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, And there present yourself and your fair princess, For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes: She shall be habited as it becomes The partner of your bed. Methinks I see Leontes opening his free arms and weeping His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness, As 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one He chides to hell and bids the other grow Faster than thought or time. FLORIZEL Worthy Camillo, What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him? CAMILLO Sent by the king your father To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you as from your father shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down: The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say; that he shall not perceive But that you have your father's bosom there And speak his very heart. FLORIZEL I am bound to you: There is some sap in this. CAMILLO A cause more promising Than a wild dedication of yourselves To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain To miseries enough; no hope to help you, But as you shake off one to take another; Nothing so certain as your anchors, who Do their best office, if they can but stay you Where you'll be loath to be: besides you know Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters. PERDITA One of these is true: I think affliction may subdue the cheek, But not take in the mind. CAMILLO Yea, say you so? There shall not at your father's house these seven years Be born another such. FLORIZEL My good Camillo, She is as forward of her breeding as She is i' the rear our birth. CAMILLO I cannot say 'tis pity She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress To most that teach. PERDITA Your pardon, sir; for this I'll blush you thanks. FLORIZEL My prettiest Perdita! But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, Preserver of my father, now of me, The medicine of our house, how shall we do? We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son, Nor shall appear in Sicilia. CAMILLO My lord, Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes Do all lie there: it shall be so my care To have you royally appointed as if The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, That you may know you shall not want, one word. [They talk aside] [Re-enter AUTOLYCUS] AUTOLYCUS Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use I remembered. My clown, who wants but something to be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words; which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears: you might have pinched a placket, it was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse; I could have filed keys off that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their festival purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army. [CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward] CAMILLO Nay, but my letters, by this means being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. FLORIZEL And those that you'll procure from King Leontes-- CAMILLO Shall satisfy your father. PERDITA Happy be you! All that you speak shows fair. CAMILLO Who have we here? [Seeing AUTOLYCUS] We'll make an instrument of this, omit Nothing may give us aid. AUTOLYCUS If they have overheard me now, why, hanging. CAMILLO How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear not, man; here's no harm intended to thee. AUTOLYCUS I am a poor fellow, sir. CAMILLO Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty we must make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly, --thou must think there's a necessity in't,--and change garments with this gentleman: though the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot. AUTOLYCUS I am a poor fellow, sir. [Aside] I know ye well enough. CAMILLO Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half flayed already. AUTOLYCUS Are you in earnest, sir? [Aside] I smell the trick on't. FLORIZEL Dispatch, I prithee. AUTOLYCUS Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with conscience take it. CAMILLO Unbuckle, unbuckle. [FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments] Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy Come home to ye!--you must retire yourself Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face, Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken The truth of your own seeming; that you may-- For I do fear eyes over--to shipboard Get undescried. PERDITA I see the play so lies That I must bear a part. CAMILLO No remedy. Have you done there? FLORIZEL Should I now meet my father, He would not call me son. CAMILLO Nay, you shall have no hat. [Giving it to PERDITA] Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. AUTOLYCUS Adieu, sir. FLORIZEL O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! Pray you, a word. CAMILLO [Aside] What I do next, shall be to tell the king Of this escape and whither they are bound; Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail To force him after: in whose company I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight I have a woman's longing. FLORIZEL Fortune speed us! Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. CAMILLO The swifter speed the better. [Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO] AUTOLYCUS I understand the business, I hear it: to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange had this been without boot! What a boot is here with this exchange! Sure the gods do this year connive at us, and we may do any thing extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity, stealing away from his father with his clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it; and therein am I constant to my profession. [Re-enter Clown and Shepherd] Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain: every lane's end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man work. Clown See, see; what a man you are now! There is no other way but to tell the king she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood. Shepherd Nay, but hear me. Clown Nay, but hear me. Shepherd Go to, then. Clown She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show those things you found about her, those secret things, all but what she has with her: this being done, let the law go whistle: I warrant you. Shepherd I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his son's pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make me the king's brother-in-law. Clown Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have been to him and then your blood had been the dearer by I know how much an ounce. AUTOLYCUS [Aside] Very wisely, puppies! Shepherd Well, let us to the king: there is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard. AUTOLYCUS [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master. Clown Pray heartily he be at palace. AUTOLYCUS [Aside] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement. [Takes off his false beard] How now, rustics! whither are you bound? Shepherd To the palace, an it like your worship. AUTOLYCUS Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be known, discover. Clown We are but plain fellows, sir. AUTOLYCUS A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying: it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the lie: but we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; therefore they do not give us the lie. Clown Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner. Shepherd Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir? AUTOLYCUS Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? receives not thy nose court-odor from me? reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou, for that I insinuate, or toaze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier cap-a-pe; and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to open thy affair. Shepherd My business, sir, is to the king. AUTOLYCUS What advocate hast thou to him? Shepherd I know not, an't like you. Clown Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say you have none. Shepherd None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. AUTOLYCUS How blessed are we that are not simple men! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdain. Clown This cannot be but a great courtier. Shepherd His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely. Clown He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking on's teeth. AUTOLYCUS The fardel there? what's i' the fardel? Wherefore that box? Shepherd Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box, which none must know but the king; and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him. AUTOLYCUS Age, thou hast lost thy labour. Shepherd Why, sir? AUTOLYCUS The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air himself: for, if thou beest capable of things serious, thou must know the king is full of grief. Shepard So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have married a shepherd's daughter. AUTOLYCUS If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly: the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster. Clown Think you so, sir? AUTOLYCUS Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman: which though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue a ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death is too soft for him, say I draw our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy. Clown Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear. an't like you, sir? AUTOLYCUS He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest; then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead; then recovered again with aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall be be set against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at, their offences being so capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain men, what you have to the king: being something gently considered, I'll bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfs; and if it be in man besides the king to effect your suits, here is man shall do it. Clown He seems to be of great authority: close with him, give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold: show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember 'stoned,' and 'flayed alive.' Shepherd An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you. AUTOLYCUS After I have done what I promised? Shepherd Ay, sir. AUTOLYCUS Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business? Clown In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. AUTOLYCUS O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: hang him, he'll be made an example. Clown Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does when the business is performed, and remain, as he says, your pawn till it be brought you. AUTOLYCUS I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; go on the right hand: I will but look upon the hedge and follow you. Clown We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest. Shepherd Let's before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good. [Exeunt Shepherd and Clown] AUTOLYCUS If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion, gold and a means to do the prince my master good; which who knows how that may turn back to my advancement? I will bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he think it fit to shore them again and that the complaint they have to the king concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far officious; for I am proof against that title and what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present them: there may be matter in it. [Exit] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT V SCENE I A room in LEONTES' palace. [Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, and Servants] CLEOMENES Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make, Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down More penitence than done trespass: at the last, Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself. LEONTES Whilst I remember Her and her virtues, I cannot forget My blemishes in them, and so still think of The wrong I did myself; which was so much, That heirless it hath made my kingdom and Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man Bred his hopes out of. PAULINA True, too true, my lord: If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or from the all that are took something good, To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd Would be unparallel'd. LEONTES I think so. Kill'd! She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strikest me Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good now, Say so but seldom. CLEOMENES Not at all, good lady: You might have spoken a thousand things that would Have done the time more benefit and graced Your kindness better. PAULINA You are one of those Would have him wed again. DION If you would not so, You pity not the state, nor the remembrance Of his most sovereign name; consider little What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue, May drop upon his kingdom and devour Incertain lookers on. What were more holy Than to rejoice the former queen is well? What holier than, for royalty's repair, For present comfort and for future good, To bless the bed of majesty again With a sweet fellow to't? PAULINA There is none worthy, Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is't not the tenor of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an heir Till his lost child be found? which that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our human reason As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me; who, on my life, Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel My lord should to the heavens be contrary, Oppose against their wills. [To LEONTES] Care not for issue; The crown will find an heir: great Alexander Left his to the worthiest; so his successor Was like to be the best. LEONTES Good Paulina, Who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour, O, that ever I Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even now, I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes, Have taken treasure from her lips-- PAULINA And left them More rich for what they yielded. LEONTES Thou speak'st truth. No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse, And better used, would make her sainted spirit Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, Where we're offenders now, appear soul-vex'd, And begin, 'Why to me?' PAULINA Had she such power, She had just cause. LEONTES She had; and would incense me To murder her I married. PAULINA I should so. Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'ld bid you mark Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't You chose her; then I'ld shriek, that even your ears Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd Should be 'Remember mine.' LEONTES Stars, stars, And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife; I'll have no wife, Paulina. PAULINA Will you swear Never to marry but by my free leave? LEONTES Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit! PAULINA Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath. CLEOMENES You tempt him over-much. PAULINA Unless another, As like Hermione as is her picture, Affront his eye. CLEOMENES Good madam,-- PAULINA I have done. Yet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir, No remedy, but you will,--give me the office To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young As was your former; but she shall be such As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy To see her in your arms. LEONTES My true Paulina, We shall not marry till thou bid'st us. PAULINA That Shall be when your first queen's again in breath; Never till then. [Enter a Gentleman] Gentleman One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access To your high presence. LEONTES What with him? he comes not Like to his father's greatness: his approach, So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us 'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced By need and accident. What train? Gentleman But few, And those but mean. LEONTES His princess, say you, with him? Gentleman Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, That e'er the sun shone bright on. PAULINA O Hermione, As every present time doth boast itself Above a better gone, so must thy grave Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself Have said and writ so, but your writing now Is colder than that theme, 'She had not been, Nor was not to be equall'd;'--thus your verse Flow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, To say you have seen a better. Gentleman Pardon, madam: The one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,-- The other, when she has obtain'd your eye, Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal Of all professors else, make proselytes Of who she but bid follow. PAULINA How! not women? Gentleman Women will love her, that she is a woman More worth than any man; men, that she is The rarest of all women. LEONTES Go, Cleomenes; Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends, Bring them to our embracement. Still, 'tis strange [Exeunt CLEOMENES and others] He thus should steal upon us. PAULINA Had our prince, Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd Well with this lord: there was not full a month Between their births. LEONTES Prithee, no more; cease; thou know'st He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that which may Unfurnish me of reason. They are come. [Re-enter CLEOMENES and others, with FLORIZEL and PERDITA] Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince; For she did print your royal father off, Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one, Your father's image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother, As I did him, and speak of something wildly By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome! And your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas! I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth Might thus have stood begetting wonder as You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost-- All mine own folly--the society, Amity too, of your brave father, whom, Though bearing misery, I desire my life Once more to look on him. FLORIZEL By his command Have I here touch'd Sicilia and from him Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, Can send his brother: and, but infirmity Which waits upon worn times hath something seized His wish'd ability, he had himself The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his Measured to look upon you; whom he loves-- He bade me say so--more than all the sceptres And those that bear them living. LEONTES O my brother, Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee stir Afresh within me, and these thy offices, So rarely kind, are as interpreters Of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither, As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage, At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, To greet a man not worth her pains, much less The adventure of her person? FLORIZEL Good my lord, She came from Libya. LEONTES Where the warlike Smalus, That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved? FLORIZEL Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence, A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd, To execute the charge my father gave me For visiting your highness: my best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd; Who for Bohemia bend, to signify Not only my success in Libya, sir, But my arrival and my wife's in safety Here where we are. LEONTES The blessed gods Purge all infection from our air whilst you Do climate here! You have a holy father, A graceful gentleman; against whose person, So sacred as it is, I have done sin: For which the heavens, taking angry note, Have left me issueless; and your father's blest, As he from heaven merits it, with you Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on, Such goodly things as you! [Enter a Lord] Lord Most noble sir, That which I shall report will bear no credit, Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, Bohemia greets you from himself by me; Desires you to attach his son, who has-- His dignity and duty both cast off-- Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with A shepherd's daughter. LEONTES Where's Bohemia? speak. Lord Here in your city; I now came from him: I speak amazedly; and it becomes My marvel and my message. To your court Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, Of this fair couple, meets he on the way The father of this seeming lady and Her brother, having both their country quitted With this young prince. FLORIZEL Camillo has betray'd me; Whose honour and whose honesty till now Endured all weathers. Lord Lay't so to his charge: He's with the king your father. LEONTES Who? Camillo? Lord Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now Has these poor men in question. Never saw I Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth; Forswear themselves as often as they speak: Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them With divers deaths in death. PERDITA O my poor father! The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have Our contract celebrated. LEONTES You are married? FLORIZEL We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: The odds for high and low's alike. LEONTES My lord, Is this the daughter of a king? FLORIZEL She is, When once she is my wife. LEONTES That 'once' I see by your good father's speed Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, Most sorry, you have broken from his liking Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, That you might well enjoy her. FLORIZEL Dear, look up: Though Fortune, visible an enemy, Should chase us with my father, power no jot Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir, Remember since you owed no more to time Than I do now: with thought of such affections, Step forth mine advocate; at your request My father will grant precious things as trifles. LEONTES Would he do so, I'ld beg your precious mistress, Which he counts but a trifle. PAULINA Sir, my liege, Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month 'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes Than what you look on now. LEONTES I thought of her, Even in these looks I made. [To FLORIZEL] But your petition Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father: Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, I am friend to them and you: upon which errand I now go toward him; therefore follow me And mark what way I make: come, good my lord. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT V SCENE II Before LEONTES' palace. [Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman] AUTOLYCUS Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation? First Gentleman I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it: whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all commanded out of the chamber; only this methought I heard the shepherd say, he found the child. AUTOLYCUS I would most gladly know the issue of it. First Gentleman I make a broken delivery of the business; but the changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture; they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the one, it must needs be. [Enter another Gentleman] Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more. The news, Rogero? Second Gentleman Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. [Enter a third Gentleman] Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he can deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news which is called true is so like an old tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king found his heir? Third Gentleman Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance: that which you hear you'll swear you see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of Queen Hermione's, her jewel about the neck of it, the letters of Antigonus found with it which they know to be his character, the majesty of the creature in resemblance of the mother, the affection of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding, and many other evidences proclaim her with all certainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings? Second Gentleman No. Third Gentleman Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one joy crown another, so and in such manner that it seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands, with countenances of such distraction that they were to be known by garment, not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother, thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his daughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it and undoes description to do it. Second Gentleman What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child? Third Gentleman Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this avouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows. First Gentleman What became of his bark and his followers? Third Gentleman Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and in the view of the shepherd: so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found. But O, the noble combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband, another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled: she lifted the princess from the earth, and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin her to her heart that she might no more be in danger of losing. First Gentleman The dignity of this act was worth the audience of kings and princes; for by such was it acted. Third Gentleman One of the prettiest touches of all and that which angled for mine eyes, caught the water though not the fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to't bravely confessed and lamented by the king, how attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 'Alas,' I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world could have seen 't, the woe had been universal. First Gentleman Are they returned to the court? Third Gentleman No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina,--a piece many years in doing and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself eternity and could put breath into his work, would beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of answer: thither with all greediness of affection are they gone, and there they intend to sup. Second Gentleman I thought she had some great matter there in hand; for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither and with our company piece the rejoicing? First Gentleman Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? every wink of an eye some new grace will be born: our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along. [Exeunt Gentlemen] AUTOLYCUS Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince: told him I heard them talk of a fardel and I know not what: but he at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter, so he then took her to be, who began to be much sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather continuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I been the finder out of this secret, it would not have relished among my other discredits. [Enter Shepherd and Clown] Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. Shepherd Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born. Clown You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes? say you see them not and think me still no gentleman born: you were best say these robes are not gentlemen born: give me the lie, do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. AUTOLYCUS I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. Clown Ay, and have been so any time these four hours. Shepherd And so have I, boy. Clown So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my father; for the king's son took me by the hand, and called me brother; and then the two kings called my father brother; and then the prince my brother and the princess my sister called my father father; and so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like tears that ever we shed. Shepherd We may live, son, to shed many more. Clown Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are. AUTOLYCUS I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship and to give me your good report to the prince my master. Shepherd Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen. Clown Thou wilt amend thy life? AUTOLYCUS Ay, an it like your good worship. Clown Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. Shepherd You may say it, but not swear it. Clown Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it. Shepherd How if it be false, son? Clown If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be drunk: but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst be a tall fellow of thy hands. AUTOLYCUS I will prove so, sir, to my power. Clown Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy good masters. [Exeunt] THE WINTER'S TALE ACT V SCENE III A chapel in PAULINA'S house. [Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants] LEONTES O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort That I have had of thee! PAULINA What, sovereign sir, I did not well I meant well. All my services You have paid home: but that you have vouchsafed, With your crown'd brother and these your contracted Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, It is a surplus of your grace, which never My life may last to answer. LEONTES O Paulina, We honour you with trouble: but we came To see the statue of our queen: your gallery Have we pass'd through, not without much content In many singularities; but we saw not That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother. PAULINA As she lived peerless, So her dead likeness, I do well believe, Excels whatever yet you look'd upon Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare To see the life as lively mock'd as ever Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well. [PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE standing like a statue] I like your silence, it the more shows off Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege, Comes it not something near? LEONTES Her natural posture! Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she In thy not chiding, for she was as tender As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing So aged as this seems. POLIXENES O, not by much. PAULINA So much the more our carver's excellence; Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her As she lived now. LEONTES As now she might have done, So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, Even with such life of majesty, warm life, As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her! I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me For being more stone than it? O royal piece, There's magic in thy majesty, which has My evils conjured to remembrance and From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, Standing like stone with thee. PERDITA And give me leave, And do not say 'tis superstition, that I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady, Dear queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss. PAULINA O, patience! The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry. CAMILLO My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, So many summers dry; scarce any joy Did ever so long live; no sorrow But kill'd itself much sooner. POLIXENES Dear my brother, Let him that was the cause of this have power To take off so much grief from you as he Will piece up in himself. PAULINA Indeed, my lord, If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought you,--for the stone is mine-- I'ld not have show'd it. LEONTES Do not draw the curtain. PAULINA No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy May think anon it moves. LEONTES Let be, let be. Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already-- What was he that did make it? See, my lord, Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins Did verily bear blood? POLIXENES Masterly done: The very life seems warm upon her lip. LEONTES The fixture of her eye has motion in't, As we are mock'd with art. PAULINA I'll draw the curtain: My lord's almost so far transported that He'll think anon it lives. LEONTES O sweet Paulina, Make me to think so twenty years together! No settled senses of the world can match The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone. PAULINA I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but I could afflict you farther. LEONTES Do, Paulina; For this affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her. PAULINA Good my lord, forbear: The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; You'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? LEONTES No, not these twenty years. PERDITA So long could I Stand by, a looker on. PAULINA Either forbear, Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you For more amazement. If you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed, descend And take you by the hand; but then you'll think-- Which I protest against--I am assisted By wicked powers. LEONTES What you can make her do, I am content to look on: what to speak, I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy To make her speak as move. PAULINA It is required You do awake your faith. Then all stand still; On: those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart. LEONTES Proceed: No foot shall stir. PAULINA Music, awake her; strike! [Music] 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away, Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs: [HERMIONE comes down] Start not; her actions shall be holy as You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her Until you see her die again; for then You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: When she was young you woo'd her; now in age Is she become the suitor? LEONTES O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating. POLIXENES She embraces him. CAMILLO She hangs about his neck: If she pertain to life let her speak too. POLIXENES Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived, Or how stolen from the dead. PAULINA That she is living, Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old tale: but it appears she lives, Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady; Our Perdita is found. HERMIONE You gods, look down And from your sacred vials pour your graces Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own. Where hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I, Knowing by Paulina that the oracle Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved Myself to see the issue. PAULINA There's time enough for that; Lest they desire upon this push to trouble Your joys with like relation. Go together, You precious winners all; your exultation Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost. LEONTES O, peace, Paulina! Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I by thine a wife: this is a match, And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine; But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her, As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far-- For him, I partly know his mind--to find thee An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty Is richly noted and here justified By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place. What! look upon my brother: both your pardons, That e'er I put between your holy looks My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law, And son unto the king, who, heavens directing, Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely Each one demand an answer to his part Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first We were dissever'd: hastily lead away. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE DRAMATIS PERSONAE CYMBELINE king of Britain. CLOTEN son to the Queen by a former husband. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS a gentleman, husband to Imogen. BELARIUS a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. GUIDERIUS | sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names | of Polydote and Cadwal, supposed sons to ARVIRAGUS | Morgan. PHILARIO friend to Posthumus, | | Italians. IACHIMO friend to Philario, | CAIUS LUCIUS general of the Roman forces. PISANIO servant to Posthumus. CORNELIUS a physician. A Roman Captain. (Captain:) Two British Captains. (First Captain:) (Second Captain:) A Frenchman, friend to Philario. (Frenchman:) Two Lords of Cymbeline's court. (First Lord:) (Second Lord:) Two Gentlemen of the same. (First Gentleman:) (Second Gentleman:) Two Gaolers. (First Gaoler:) (Second Gaoler:) QUEEN wife to Cymbeline. IMOGEN daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen. HELEN a lady attending on Imogen. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. (Lord:) (Lady:) (First Lady:) (First Senator:) (Second Senator:) (First Tribune:) (Soothsayer:) (Messenger:) Apparitions. (Sicilius Leonatus:) (Mother:) (First Brother:) (Second Brother:) (Jupiter:) SCENE Britain; Rome. CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE I Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. [Enter two Gentlemen] First Gentleman You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the king. Second Gentleman But what's the matter? First Gentleman His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow That late he married--hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all Is outward sorrow; though I think the king Be touch'd at very heart. Second Gentleman None but the king? First Gentleman He that hath lost her too; so is the queen, That most desired the match; but not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. Second Gentleman And why so? First Gentleman He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her-- I mean, that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd--is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he. Second Gentleman You speak him far. First Gentleman I do extend him, sir, within himself, Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly. Second Gentleman What's his name and birth? First Gentleman I cannot delve him to the root: his father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius whom He served with glory and admired success, So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being, and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased As he was born. The king he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd, And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court-- Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved, A sample to the youngest, to the more mature A glass that feated them, and to the graver A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, For whom he now is banish'd, her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is. Second Gentleman I honour him Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king? First Gentleman His only child. He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing, Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old, I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went. Second Gentleman How long is this ago? First Gentleman Some twenty years. Second Gentleman That a king's children should be so convey'd, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow, That could not trace them! First Gentleman Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. Second Gentleman I do well believe you. First Gentleman We must forbear: here comes the gentleman, The queen, and princess. [Exeunt] [Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN] QUEEN No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended king, I will be known your advocate: marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. QUEEN You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king Hath charged you should not speak together. [Exit] IMOGEN O Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing-- Always reserved my holy duty--what His rage can do on me: you must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth: My residence in Rome at one Philario's, Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, Though ink be made of gall. [Re-enter QUEEN] QUEEN Be brief, I pray you: If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure. [Aside] Yet I'll move him To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pays dear for my offences. [Exit] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! IMOGEN Nay, stay a little: Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How, how! another? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up my embracements from a next With bonds of death! [Putting on the ring] Remain, remain thou here While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles I still win of you: for my sake wear this; It is a manacle of love; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting a bracelet upon her arm] IMOGEN O the gods! When shall we see again? [Enter CYMBELINE and Lords] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Alack, the king! CYMBELINE Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away! Thou'rt poison to my blood. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The gods protect you! And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. [Exit] IMOGEN There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. CYMBELINE O disloyal thing, That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st A year's age on me. IMOGEN I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. CYMBELINE Past grace? obedience? IMOGEN Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. CYMBELINE That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! IMOGEN O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. CYMBELINE Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness. IMOGEN No; I rather added A lustre to it. CYMBELINE O thou vile one! IMOGEN Sir, It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: You bred him as my playfellow, and he is A man worth any woman, overbuys me Almost the sum he pays. CYMBELINE What, art thou mad? IMOGEN Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son! CYMBELINE Thou foolish thing! [Re-enter QUEEN] They were again together: you have done Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up. QUEEN Beseech your patience. Peace, Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice. CYMBELINE Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, Die of this folly! [Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords] QUEEN Fie! you must give way. [Enter PISANIO] Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? PISANIO My lord your son drew on my master. QUEEN Ha! No harm, I trust, is done? PISANIO There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought And had no help of anger: they were parted By gentlemen at hand. QUEEN I am very glad on't. IMOGEN Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part. To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! I would they were in Afric both together; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer-back. Why came you from your master? PISANIO On his command: he would not suffer me To bring him to the haven; left these notes Of what commands I should be subject to, When 't pleased you to employ me. QUEEN This hath been Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour He will remain so. PISANIO I humbly thank your highness. QUEEN Pray, walk awhile. IMOGEN About some half-hour hence, I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE II The same. A public place. [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords] First Lord Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. CLOTEN If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? Second Lord [Aside] No, 'faith; not so much as his patience. First Lord Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt. Second Lord [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the backside the town. CLOTEN The villain would not stand me. Second Lord [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. First Lord Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but he added to your having; gave you some ground. Second Lord [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! CLOTEN I would they had not come between us. Second Lord [Aside] So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground. CLOTEN And that she should love this fellow and refuse me! Second Lord [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. First Lord Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. Second Lord [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. CLOTEN Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some hurt done! Second Lord [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. CLOTEN You'll go with us? First Lord I'll attend your lordship. CLOTEN Nay, come, let's go together. Second Lord Well, my lord. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE III A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO] IMOGEN I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven, And question'dst every sail: if he should write And not have it, 'twere a paper lost, As offer'd mercy is. What was the last That he spake to thee? PISANIO It was his queen, his queen! IMOGEN Then waved his handkerchief? PISANIO And kiss'd it, madam. IMOGEN Senseless Linen! happier therein than I! And that was all? PISANIO No, madam; for so long As he could make me with this eye or ear Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship. IMOGEN Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow, or less, ere left To after-eye him. PISANIO Madam, so I did. IMOGEN I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but To look upon him, till the diminution Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle, Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air, and then Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, When shall we hear from him? PISANIO Be assured, madam, With his next vantage. IMOGEN I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him How I would think on him at certain hours Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him, At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him; or ere I could Give him that parting kiss which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father And like the tyrannous breathing of the north Shakes all our buds from growing. [Enter a Lady] Lady The queen, madam, Desires your highness' company. IMOGEN Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. I will attend the queen. PISANIO Madam, I shall. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE IV Rome. Philario's house. [Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard] IACHIMO Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items. PHILARIO You speak of him when he was less furnished than now he is with that which makes him both without and within. Frenchman I have seen him in France: we had very many there could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. IACHIMO This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. Frenchman And then his banishment. IACHIMO Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps acquaintance? PHILARIO His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life. Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS] I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing. Frenchman Sir, we have known together in Orleans. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. Frenchman Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so slight and trivial a nature. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences: but upon my mended judgment--if I offend not to say it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight. Frenchman 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, and by such two that would by all likelihood have confounded one the other, or have fallen both. IACHIMO Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? Frenchman Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses; this gentleman at that time vouching--and upon warrant of bloody affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies in France. IACHIMO That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's opinion by this worn out. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS She holds her virtue still and I my mind. IACHIMO You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing, though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. IACHIMO As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand comparison--had been something too fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld. I could not but believe she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone. IACHIMO What do you esteem it at? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS More than the world enjoys. IACHIMO Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outprized by a trifle. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. IACHIMO Which the gods have given you? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Which, by their graces, I will keep. IACHIMO You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable estimations; the one is but frail and the other casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt you have store of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. PHILARIO Let us leave here, gentlemen. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. IACHIMO With five times so much conversation, I should get ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No, no. IACHIMO I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it something: but I make my wager rather against your confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS You are a great deal abused in too bold a persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worthy of by your attempt. IACHIMO What's that? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it, deserve more; a punishment too. PHILARIO Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly; let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be better acquainted. IACHIMO Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the approbation of what I have spoke! POSTHUMUS LEONATUS What lady would you choose to assail? IACHIMO Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. IACHIMO You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some religion in you, that you fear. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a graver purpose, I hope. IACHIMO I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo what's spoken, I swear. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring. PHILARIO I will have it no lay. IACHIMO By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours: provided I have your commendation for my more free entertainment. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I embrace these conditions; let us have articles betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if you make your voyage upon her and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she remain unseduced, you not making it appear otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you have made to her chastity you shall answer me with your sword. IACHIMO Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two wagers recorded. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Agreed. [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO] Frenchman Will this hold, think you? PHILARIO Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE V Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS] QUEEN Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers; Make haste: who has the note of them? First Lady I, madam. QUEEN Dispatch. [Exeunt Ladies] Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs? CORNELIUS Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam: [Presenting a small box] But I beseech your grace, without offence,-- My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death; But though slow, deadly? QUEEN I wonder, doctor, Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,-- Unless thou think'st me devilish--is't not meet That I did amplify my judgment in Other conclusions? I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging, but none human, To try the vigour of them and apply Allayments to their act, and by them gather Their several virtues and effects. CORNELIUS Your highness Shall from this practise but make hard your heart: Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious. QUEEN O, content thee. [Enter PISANIO] [Aside] Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him Will I first work: he's for his master, An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! Doctor, your service for this time is ended; Take your own way. CORNELIUS [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; But you shall do no harm. QUEEN [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word. CORNELIUS [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile; Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats and dogs, Then afterward up higher: but there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking-up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd With a most false effect; and I the truer, So to be false with her. QUEEN No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee. CORNELIUS I humbly take my leave. [Exit] QUEEN Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time She will not quench and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses? Do thou work: When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then As great as is thy master, greater, for His fortunes all lie speechless and his name Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor Continue where he is: to shift his being Is to exchange one misery with another, And every day that comes comes to decay A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect, To be depender on a thing that leans, Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends, So much as but to prop him? [The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up] Thou takest up Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour: It is a thing I made, which hath the king Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it; It is an earnest of a further good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; do't as from thyself. Think what a chance thou changest on, but think Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king To any shape of thy preferment such As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women: Think on my words. [Exit PISANIO] A sly and constant knave, Not to be shaked; the agent for his master And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, Except she bend her humour, shall be assured To taste of too. [Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies] So, so: well done, well done: The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; Think on my words. [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies] PISANIO And shall do: But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT I SCENE VI The same. Another room in the palace. [Enter IMOGEN] IMOGEN A father cruel, and a step-dame false; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband! My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! [Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO] PISANIO Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, Comes from my lord with letters. IACHIMO Change you, madam? The worthy Leonatus is in safety And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter] IMOGEN Thanks, good sir: You're kindly welcome. IACHIMO [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone the Arabian bird, and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; Rather directly fly. IMOGEN [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your trust-- LEONATUS.' So far I read aloud: But even the very middle of my heart Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully. You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you, and shall find it so In all that I can do. IACHIMO Thanks, fairest lady. What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones Upon the number'd beach? and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious 'Twixt fair and foul? IMOGEN What makes your admiration? IACHIMO It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys 'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment, For idiots in this case of favour would Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite; Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allured to feed. IMOGEN What is the matter, trow? IACHIMO The cloyed will, That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb Longs after for the garbage. IMOGEN What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well? IACHIMO Thanks, madam; well. [To PISANIO] Beseech you, sir, desire My man's abode where I did leave him: he Is strange and peevish. PISANIO I was going, sir, To give him welcome. [Exit] IMOGEN Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you? IACHIMO Well, madam. IMOGEN Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd The Briton reveller. IMOGEN When he was here, He did incline to sadness, and oft-times Not knowing why. IACHIMO I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton-- Your lord, I mean--laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O, Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must be, will his free hours languish for Assured bondage?' IMOGEN Will my lord say so? IACHIMO Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter: It is a recreation to be by And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know, Some men are much to blame. IMOGEN Not he, I hope. IACHIMO Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; In you, which I account his beyond all talents, Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too. IMOGEN What do you pity, sir? IACHIMO Two creatures heartily. IMOGEN Am I one, sir? You look on me: what wreck discern you in me Deserves your pity? IACHIMO Lamentable! What, To hide me from the radiant sun and solace I' the dungeon by a snuff? IMOGEN I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me? IACHIMO That others do-- I was about to say--enjoy your--But It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on 't. IMOGEN You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,-- Since doubling things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do; for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born--discover to me What both you spur and stop. IACHIMO Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul To the oath of loyalty; this object, which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then, Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as With labour; then by-peeping in an eye Base and unlustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt. IMOGEN My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain. IACHIMO And himself. Not I, Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue Charms this report out. IMOGEN Let me hear no more. IACHIMO O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures That play with all infirmities for gold Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff As well might poison poison! Be revenged; Or she that bore you was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock. IMOGEN Revenged! How should I be revenged? If this be true,-- As I have such a heart that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse--if it be true, How should I be revenged? IACHIMO Should he make me Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets, Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, More noble than that runagate to your bed, And will continue fast to your affection, Still close as sure. IMOGEN What, ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO Let me my service tender on your lips. IMOGEN Away! I do condemn mine ears that have So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st,--as base as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report as thou from honour, and Solicit'st here a lady that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! The king my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit, A saucy stranger in his court to mart As in a Romish stew and to expound His beastly mind to us, he hath a court He little cares for and a daughter who He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio! IACHIMO O happy Leonatus! I may say The credit that thy lady hath of thee Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness Her assured credit. Blessed live you long! A lady to the worthiest sir that ever Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. I have spoke this, to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord, That which he is, new o'er: and he is one The truest manner'd; such a holy witch That he enchants societies into him; Half all men's hearts are his. IMOGEN You make amends. IACHIMO He sits 'mongst men like a descended god: He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventured To try your taking a false report; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare, Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. IMOGEN All's well, sir: take my power i' the court for yours. IACHIMO My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment to, for it concerns Your lord; myself and other noble friends, Are partners in the business. IMOGEN Pray, what is't? IACHIMO Some dozen Romans of us and your lord-- The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums To buy a present for the emperor Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; And I am something curious, being strange, To have them in safe stowage: may it please you To take them in protection? IMOGEN Willingly; And pawn mine honour for their safety: since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bedchamber. IACHIMO They are in a trunk, Attended by my men: I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night; I must aboard to-morrow. IMOGEN O, no, no. IACHIMO Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word By lengthening my return. From Gallia I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise To see your grace. IMOGEN I thank you for your pains: But not away to-morrow! IACHIMO O, I must, madam: Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night: I have outstood my time; which is material To the tender of our present. IMOGEN I will write. Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE I Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace. [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords] CLOTEN Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. First Lord What got he by that? You have broke his pate with your bowl. Second Lord [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have run all out. CLOTEN When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha? Second Lord No my lord; [Aside] nor crop the ears of them. CLOTEN Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? Would he had been one of my rank! Second Lord [Aside] To have smelt like a fool. CLOTEN I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match. Second Lord [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. CLOTEN Sayest thou? Second Lord It is not fit your lordship should undertake every companion that you give offence to. CLOTEN No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit offence to my inferiors. Second Lord Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. CLOTEN Why, so I say. First Lord Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night? CLOTEN A stranger, and I not know on't! Second Lord [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. First Lord There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. CLOTEN Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? First Lord One of your lordship's pages. CLOTEN Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no derogation in't? Second Lord You cannot derogate, my lord. CLOTEN Not easily, I think. Second Lord [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your issues, being foolish, do not derogate. CLOTEN Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. Second Lord I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord] That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman that Bears all down with her brain; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest, Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd, A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand, To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE II Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace: a trunk in one corner of it. [IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending] IMOGEN Who's there? my woman Helen? Lady Please you, madam IMOGEN What hour is it? Lady Almost midnight, madam. IMOGEN I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak: Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed: Take not away the taper, leave it burning; And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly [Exit Lady] To your protection I commend me, gods. From fairies and the tempters of the night Guard me, beseech ye. [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk] IACHIMO The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily, And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows, white and azure laced With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, To note the chamber: I will write all down: Such and such pictures; there the window; such The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. Ah, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off: [Taking off her bracelet] As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make: this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [Clock strikes] One, two, three: time, time! [Goes into the trunk. The scene closes] CYMBELINE ACT II Scene III An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. [Enter CLOTEN and Lords] First Lord Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turned up ace. CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose. First Lord But not every man patient after the noble temper of your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. CLOTEN Winning will put any man into courage. If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. It's almost morning, is't not? First Lord Day, my lord. CLOTEN I would this music would come: I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate. [Enter Musicians] Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it: and then let her consider. [SONG] Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise. CLOTEN So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians] Second Lord Here comes the king. CLOTEN I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I was up so early: he cannot choose but take this service I have done fatherly. [Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN] Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother. CYMBELINE Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? Will she not forth? CLOTEN I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. CYMBELINE The exile of her minion is too new; She hath not yet forgot him: some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours. QUEEN You are most bound to the king, Who lets go by no vantages that may Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself To orderly soliciting, and be friended With aptness of the season; make denials Increase your services; so seem as if You were inspired to do those duties which You tender to her; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. CLOTEN Senseless! not so. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; The one is Caius Lucius. CYMBELINE A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; But that's no fault of his: we must receive him According to the honour of his sender; And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, We must extend our notice. Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the queen and us; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. [Exeunt all but CLOTEN] CLOTEN If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, Let her lie still and dream. [Knocks] By your leave, ho! I Know her women are about her: what If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what Can it not do and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me, for I yet not understand the case myself. [Knocks] By your leave. [Enter a Lady] Lady Who's there that knocks? CLOTEN A gentleman. Lady No more? CLOTEN Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? CLOTEN Your lady's person: is she ready? Lady Ay, To keep her chamber. CLOTEN There is gold for you; Sell me your good report. Lady How! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good?--The princess! [Enter IMOGEN] CLOTEN Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand. [Exit Lady] IMOGEN Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give Is telling you that I am poor of thanks And scarce can spare them. CLOTEN Still, I swear I love you. IMOGEN If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. CLOTEN This is no answer. IMOGEN But that you shall not say I yield being silent, I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness: one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance. CLOTEN To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: I will not. IMOGEN Fools are not mad folks. CLOTEN Do you call me fool? IMOGEN As I am mad, I do: If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you, And am so near the lack of charity-- To accuse myself--I hate you; which I had rather You felt than make't my boast. CLOTEN You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none: And though it be allow'd in meaner parties-- Yet who than he more mean?--to knit their souls, On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave. A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pantler, not so eminent. IMOGEN Profane fellow Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more But what thou art besides, thou wert too base To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made Comparative for your virtues, to be styled The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated For being preferred so well. CLOTEN The south-fog rot him! IMOGEN He never can meet more mischance than come To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer In my respect than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio! [Enter PISANIO] CLOTEN 'His garment!' Now the devil-- IMOGEN To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently-- CLOTEN 'His garment!' IMOGEN I am sprited with a fool. Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman Search for a jewel that too casually Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe. I do think I saw't this morning: confident I am Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: I hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. PISANIO 'Twill not be lost. IMOGEN I hope so: go and search. [Exit PISANIO] CLOTEN You have abused me: 'His meanest garment!' IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir: If you will make't an action, call witness to't. CLOTEN I will inform your father. IMOGEN Your mother too: She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir, To the worst of discontent. [Exit] CLOTEN I'll be revenged: 'His meanest garment!' Well. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE IV Rome. Philario's house. [Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure To win the king as I am bold her honour Will remain hers. PHILARIO What means do you make to him? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Not any, but abide the change of time, Quake in the present winter's state and wish That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes, I barely gratify your love; they failing, I must die much your debtor. PHILARIO Your very goodness and your company O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius Will do's commission throughly: and I think He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I do believe, Statist though I am none, nor like to be, That this will prove a war; and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at: their discipline, Now mingled with their courages, will make known To their approvers they are people such That mend upon the world. [Enter IACHIMO] PHILARIO See! Iachimo! POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The swiftest harts have posted you by land; And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble. PHILARIO Welcome, sir. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return. IACHIMO Your lady Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS And therewithal the best; or let her beauty Look through a casement to allure false hearts And be false with them. IACHIMO Here are letters for you. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Their tenor good, I trust. IACHIMO 'Tis very like. PHILARIO Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court When you were there? IACHIMO He was expected then, But not approach'd. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS All is well yet. Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not Too dull for your good wearing? IACHIMO If I had lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness which Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The stone's too hard to come by. IACHIMO Not a whit, Your lady being so easy. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Make not, sir, Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we Must not continue friends. IACHIMO Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant. Had I not brought The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant We were to question further: but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring; and not the wronger Of her or you, having proceeded but By both your wills. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour gains or loses Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both To who shall find them. IACHIMO Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe: whose strength I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Proceed. IACHIMO First, her bedchamber,-- Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd With tapesty of silk and silver; the story Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats or pride: a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is true; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other. IACHIMO More particulars Must justify my knowledge. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS So they must, Or do your honour injury. IACHIMO The chimney Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures So likely to report themselves: the cutter Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her, Motion and breath left out. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is a thing Which you might from relation likewise reap, Being, as it is, much spoke of. IACHIMO The roof o' the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted: her andirons-- I had forgot them--were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is her honour! Let it be granted you have seen all this--and praise Be given to your remembrance--the description Of what is in her chamber nothing saves The wager you have laid. IACHIMO Then, if you can, [Showing the bracelet] Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see! And now 'tis up again: it must be married To that your diamond; I'll keep them. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Jove! Once more let me behold it: is it that Which I left with her? IACHIMO Sir--I thank her--that: She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; Her pretty action did outsell her gift, And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and said She prized it once. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS May be she pluck'd it off To send it me. IACHIMO She writes so to you, doth she? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too; [Gives the ring] It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love, Where there's another man: the vows of women Of no more bondage be, to where they are made, Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing. O, above measure false! PHILARIO Have patience, sir, And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won: It may be probable she lost it; or Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, Hath stol'n it from her? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Very true; And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring: Render to me some corporal sign about her, More evident than this; for this was stolen. IACHIMO By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. 'Tis true:--nay, keep the ring--'tis true: I am sure She would not lose it: her attendants are All sworn and honourable:--they induced to steal it! And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed her: The cognizance of her incontinency Is this: she hath bought the name of whore thus dearly. There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell Divide themselves between you! PHILARIO Sir, be patient: This is not strong enough to be believed Of one persuaded well of-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Never talk on't; She hath been colted by him. IACHIMO If you seek For further satisfying, under her breast-- Worthy the pressing--lies a mole, right proud Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger To feed again, though full. You do remember This stain upon her? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Ay, and it doth confirm Another stain, as big as hell can hold, Were there no more but it. IACHIMO Will you hear more? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns; Once, and a million! IACHIMO I'll be sworn-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No swearing. If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny Thou'st made me cuckold. IACHIMO I'll deny nothing. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! I will go there and do't, i' the court, before Her father. I'll do something-- [Exit] PHILARIO Quite besides The government of patience! You have won: Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath He hath against himself. IACHIMO With an my heart. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT II SCENE V Another room in Philario's house. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Is there no way for men to be but women Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time so doth my wife The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?-- Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but, Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition But what he look'd for should oppose and she Should from encounter guard. Could I find out The woman's part in me! For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, Nice longing, slanders, mutability, All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows, Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all; For even to vice They are not constant but are changing still One vice, but of a minute old, for one Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill In a true hate, to pray they have their will: The very devils cannot plague them better. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE I Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, and Lords at one door, and at another, CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants] CYMBELINE Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us? CAIUS LUCIUS When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,-- Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less Than in his feats deserving it--for him And his succession granted Rome a tribute, Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately Is left untender'd. QUEEN And, to kill the marvel, Shall be so ever. CLOTEN There be many Caesars, Ere such another Julius. Britain is A world by itself; and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses. QUEEN That opportunity Which then they had to take from 's, to resume We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats, But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest Caesar made here; but made not here his brag Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame-- That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping-- Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas, Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point-- O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword, Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright And Britons strut with courage. CLOTEN Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such straight arms, none. CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end. CLOTEN We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. CYMBELINE You must know, Till the injurious Romans did extort This tribute from us, we were free: Caesar's ambition, Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch The sides o' the world, against all colour here Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon Ourselves to be. CLOTEN | | We do. Lords | CYMBELINE Say, then, to Caesar, Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws, Who was the first of Britain which did put His brows within a golden crown and call'd Himself a king. CAIUS LUCIUS I am sorry, Cymbeline, That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar-- Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy: Receive it from me, then: war and confusion In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, I thank thee for myself. CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius. Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; Which he to seek of me again, perforce, Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent Which not to read would show the Britons cold: So Caesar shall not find them. CAIUS LUCIUS Let proof speak. CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the adventure, our crows shall fare the better for you; and there's an end. CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir. CYMBELINE I know your master's pleasure and he mine: All the remain is 'Welcome!' [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE II Another room in the palace. [Enter PISANIO, with a letter] PISANIO How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not What monster's her accuser? Leonatus, O master! what a strange infection Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian, As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No: She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults As would take in some virtue. O my master! Thy mind to her is now as low as were Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her? Upon the love and truth and vows which I Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood? If it be so to do good service, never Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, That I should seem to lack humanity so much as this fact comes to? [Reading] 'Do't: the letter that I have sent her, by her own command Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper! Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. I am ignorant in what I am commanded. [Enter IMOGEN] IMOGEN How now, Pisanio! PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord. IMOGEN Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus! O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer That knew the stars as I his characters; He'ld lay the future open. You good gods, Let what is here contain'd relish of love, Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not That we two are asunder; let that grieve him: Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, For it doth physic love: of his content, All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike: Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! [Reads] 'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increasing in love, LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.' O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,-- Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,-- let me bate,-but not like me--yet long'st, But in a fainter kind:--O, not like me; For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick; Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, To the smothering of the sense--how far it is To this same blessed Milford: and by the way Tell me how Wales was made so happy as To inherit such a haven: but first of all, How we may steal from hence, and for the gap That we shall make in time, from our hence-going And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence: Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak, How many score of miles may we well ride 'Twixt hour and hour? PISANIO One score 'twixt sun and sun, Madam, 's enough for you: [Aside] and too much too. IMOGEN Why, one that rode to's execution, man, Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding wagers, Where horses have been nimbler than the sands That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery: Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say She'll home to her father: and provide me presently A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit A franklin's housewife. PISANIO Madam, you're best consider. IMOGEN I see before me, man: nor here, nor here, Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them, That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say, Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE III Wales: a mountainous country with a cave. [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS following] BELARIUS A goodly day not to keep house, with such Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on, without Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly As prouder livers do. GUIDERIUS Hail, heaven! ARVIRAGUS Hail, heaven! BELARIUS Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill; Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, When you above perceive me like a crow, That it is place which lessens and sets off; And you may then revolve what tales I have told you Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: This service is not service, so being done, But being so allow'd: to apprehend thus, Draws us a profit from all things we see; And often, to our comfort, shall we find The sharded beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life Is nobler than attending for a cheque, Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine, Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours. GUIDERIUS Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged, Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not What air's from home. Haply this life is best, If quiet life be best; sweeter to you That have a sharper known; well corresponding With your stiff age: but unto us it is A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; A prison for a debtor, that not dares To stride a limit. ARVIRAGUS What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey, Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat; Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird, And sing our bondage freely. BELARIUS How you speak! Did you but know the city's usuries And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slippery that The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war, A pain that only seems to seek out danger I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i' the search, And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph As record of fair act; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, Must court'sy at the censure:--O boys, this story The world may read in me: my body's mark'd With Roman swords, and my report was once First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me, And when a soldier was the theme, my name Was not far off: then was I as a tree Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night, A storm or robbery, call it what you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather. GUIDERIUS Uncertain favour! BELARIUS My fault being nothing--as I have told you oft-- But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline I was confederate with the Romans: so Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years This rock and these demesnes have been my world; Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid More pious debts to heaven than in all The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains! This is not hunters' language: he that strikes The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast; To him the other two shall minister; And we will fear no poison, which attends In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to the king; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine; and though train'd up thus meanly I' the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who The king his father call'd Guiderius,--Jove! When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story: say 'Thus, mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on 's neck;' even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Once Arviragus, in as like a figure, Strikes life into my speech and shows much more His own conceiving.--Hark, the game is roused! O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon, At three and two years old, I stole these babes; Thinking to bar thee of succession, as Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave: Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, They take for natural father. The game is up. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE IV Country near Milford-Haven. [Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN] IMOGEN Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man! Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind, That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self-explication: put thyself Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with A look untender? If't be summer news, Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand! That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. PISANIO Please you, read; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune. IMOGEN [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises, but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and equally to me disloyal.' PISANIO What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the world: kings, queens and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam? IMOGEN False to his bed! What is it to be false? To lie in watch there and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it? PISANIO Alas, good lady! IMOGEN I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him: Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, I must be ripp'd:--to pieces with me!--O, Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought Put on for villany; not born where't grows, But worn a bait for ladies. PISANIO Good madam, hear me. IMOGEN True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest: Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him, A little witness my obedience: look! I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart; Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief; Thy master is not there, who was indeed The riches of it: do his bidding; strike Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause; But now thou seem'st a coward. PISANIO Hence, vile instrument! Thou shalt not damn my hand. IMOGEN Why, I must die; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart. Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence; Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers: though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up My disobedience 'gainst the king my father And make me put into contempt the suits Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find It is no act of common passage, but A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her That now thou tirest on, how thy memory Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch: The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, When I desire it too. PISANIO O gracious lady, Since I received command to do this business I have not slept one wink. IMOGEN Do't, and to bed then. PISANIO I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. IMOGEN Wherefore then Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused So many miles with a pretence? this place? Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour? The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, For my being absent? whereunto I never Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far, To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, The elected deer before thee? PISANIO But to win time To lose so bad employment; in the which I have consider'd of a course. Good lady, Hear me with patience. IMOGEN Talk thy tongue weary; speak I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. PISANIO Then, madam, I thought you would not back again. IMOGEN Most like; Bringing me here to kill me. PISANIO Not so, neither: But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be But that my master is abused: Some villain, ay, and singular in his art. Hath done you both this cursed injury. IMOGEN Some Roman courtezan. PISANIO No, on my life. I'll give but notice you are dead and send him Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court, And that will well confirm it. IMOGEN Why good fellow, What shall I do the where? where bide? how live? Or in my life what comfort, when I am Dead to my husband? PISANIO If you'll back to the court-- IMOGEN No court, no father; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege. PISANIO If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. IMOGEN Where then Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't; In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think There's livers out of Britain. PISANIO I am most glad You think of other place. The ambassador, Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise That which, to appear itself, must not yet be But by self-danger, you should tread a course Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least That though his actions were not visible, yet Report should render him hourly to your ear As truly as he moves. IMOGEN O, for such means! Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, I would adventure. PISANIO Well, then, here's the point: You must forget to be a woman; change Command into obedience: fear and niceness-- The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self--into a waggish courage: Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart! Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan, and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry. IMOGEN Nay, be brief I see into thy end, and am almost A man already. PISANIO First, make yourself but like one. Fore-thinking this, I have already fit-- 'Tis in my cloak-bag--doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them: would you in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him wherein you're happy,--which you'll make him know, If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad, You have me, rich; and I will never fail Beginning nor supplyment. IMOGEN Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away: There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even All that good time will give us: this attempt I am soldier to, and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. PISANIO Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box; I had it from the queen: What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea, Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper. To some shade, And fit you to your manhood. May the gods Direct you to the best! IMOGEN Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt, severally] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE V A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, Lords, and Attendants] CYMBELINE Thus far; and so farewell. CAIUS LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; And am right sorry that I must report ye My master's enemy. CYMBELINE Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Appear unkinglike. CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir: I desire of you A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven. Madam, all joy befal your grace! QUEEN And you! CYMBELINE My lords, you are appointed for that office; The due of honour in no point omit. So farewell, noble Lucius. CAIUS LUCIUS Your hand, my lord. CLOTEN Receive it friendly; but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy. CAIUS LUCIUS Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner: fare you well. CYMBELINE Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness! [Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords] QUEEN He goes hence frowning: but it honours us That we have given him cause. CLOTEN 'Tis all the better; Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. CYMBELINE Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain. QUEEN 'Tis not sleepy business; But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. CYMBELINE Our expectation that it would be thus Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd The duty of the day: she looks us like A thing more made of malice than of duty: We have noted it. Call her before us; for We have been too slight in sufferance. [Exit an Attendant] QUEEN Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady So tender of rebukes that words are strokes And strokes death to her. [Re-enter Attendant] CYMBELINE Where is she, sir? How Can her contempt be answer'd? Attendant Please you, sir, Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer That will be given to the loudest noise we make. QUEEN My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close, Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she was bound to proffer: this She wish'd me to make known; but our great court Made me to blame in memory. CYMBELINE Her doors lock'd? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear Prove false! [Exit] QUEEN Son, I say, follow the king. CLOTEN That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, have not seen these two days. QUEEN Go, look after. [Exit CLOTEN] Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown To her desired Posthumus: gone she is To death or to dishonour; and my end Can make good use of either: she being down, I have the placing of the British crown. [Re-enter CLOTEN] How now, my son! CLOTEN 'Tis certain she is fled. Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none Dare come about him. QUEEN [Aside] All the better: may This night forestall him of the coming day! [Exit] CLOTEN I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal, And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but Disdaining me and throwing favours on The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment That what's else rare is choked; and in that point I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall-- [Enter PISANIO] Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain, Where is thy lady? In a word; or else Thou art straightway with the fiends. PISANIO O, good my lord! CLOTEN Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,-- I will not ask again. Close villain, I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn. PISANIO Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she missed? He is in Rome. CLOTEN Where is she, sir? Come nearer; No further halting: satisfy me home What is become of her. PISANIO O, my all-worthy lord! CLOTEN All-worthy villain! Discover where thy mistress is at once, At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!' Speak, or thy silence on the instant is Thy condemnation and thy death. PISANIO Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter] CLOTEN Let's see't. I will pursue her Even to Augustus' throne. PISANIO [Aside] Or this, or perish. She's far enough; and what he learns by this May prove his travel, not her danger. CLOTEN Hum! PISANIO [Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! CLOTEN Sirrah, is this letter true? PISANIO Sir, as I think. CLOTEN It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, undergo those employments wherein I should have cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly and truly, I would think thee an honest man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy relief nor my voice for thy preferment. PISANIO Well, my good lord. CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of mine: wilt thou serve me? PISANIO Sir, I will. CLOTEN Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession? PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. CLOTEN The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither: let it be thy lint service; go. PISANIO I shall, my lord. [Exit] CLOTEN Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time--the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my revenge. [Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes] Be those the garments? PISANIO Ay, my noble lord. CLOTEN How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven? PISANIO She can scarce be there yet. CLOTEN Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had wings to follow it! Come, and be true. [Exit] PISANIO Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true. To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed! [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE VI Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. [Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes] IMOGEN I see a man's life is a tedious one: I have tired myself, and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me. Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord! Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee, My hunger's gone; but even before, I was At point to sink for food. But what is this? Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold: I were best not to call; I dare not call: yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant, Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage, Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter. Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Such a foe, good heavens! [Exit, to the cave] [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] BELARIUS You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match: The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs Will make what's homely savoury: weariness Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! GUIDERIUS I am thoroughly weary. ARVIRAGUS I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. GUIDERIUS There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browse on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. BELARIUS [Looking into the cave] Stay; come not in. But that it eats our victuals, I should think Here were a fairy. GUIDERIUS What's the matter, sir? BELARIUS By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, An earthly paragon! Behold divineness No elder than a boy! [Re-enter IMOGEN] IMOGEN Good masters, harm me not: Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought To have begg'd or bought what I have took: good troth, I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here's money for my meat: I would have left it on the board so soon As I had made my meal, and parted With prayers for the provider. GUIDERIUS Money, youth? ARVIRAGUS All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods. IMOGEN I see you're angry: Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died had I not made it. BELARIUS Whither bound? IMOGEN To Milford-Haven. BELARIUS What's your name? IMOGEN Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fall'n in this offence. BELARIUS Prithee, fair youth, Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome. GUIDERIUS Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty, I bid for you as I'd buy. ARVIRAGUS I'll make't my comfort He is a man; I'll love him as my brother: And such a welcome as I'd give to him After long absence, such is yours: most welcome! Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. IMOGEN 'Mongst friends, If brothers. [Aside] Would it had been so, that they Had been my father's sons! then had my prize Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus. BELARIUS He wrings at some distress. GUIDERIUS Would I could free't! ARVIRAGUS Or I, whate'er it be, What pain it cost, what danger. God's! BELARIUS Hark, boys. [Whispering] IMOGEN Great men, That had a court no bigger than this cave, That did attend themselves and had the virtue Which their own conscience seal'd them--laying by That nothing-gift of differing multitudes-- Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods! I'd change my sex to be companion with them, Since Leonatus's false. BELARIUS It shall be so. Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in: Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd, We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, So far as thou wilt speak it. GUIDERIUS Pray, draw near. ARVIRAGUS The night to the owl and morn to the lark less welcome. IMOGEN Thanks, sir. ARVIRAGUS I pray, draw near. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT III SCENE VII Rome. A public place. [Enter two Senators and Tribunes] First Senator This is the tenor of the emperor's writ: That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, And that the legions now in Gallia are Full weak to undertake our wars against The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite The gentry to this business. He creates Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes, For this immediate levy, he commends His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! First Tribune Is Lucius general of the forces? Second Senator Ay. First Tribune Remaining now in Gallia? First Senator With those legions Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy Must be supplyant: the words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers and the time Of their dispatch. First Tribune We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE I Wales: near the cave of Belarius. [Enter CLOTEN] CLOTEN I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the rather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis said a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself--for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her father; who may haply be a little angry for my so rough usage; but my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE II Before the cave of Belarius. [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN] BELARIUS [To IMOGEN] You are not well: remain here in the cave; We'll come to you after hunting. ARVIRAGUS [To IMOGEN] Brother, stay here Are we not brothers? IMOGEN So man and man should be; But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. GUIDERIUS Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. IMOGEN So sick I am not, yet I am not well; But not so citizen a wanton as To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me; Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me Cannot amend me; society is no comfort To one not sociable: I am not very sick, Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, Stealing so poorly. GUIDERIUS I love thee; I have spoke it How much the quantity, the weight as much, As I do love my father. BELARIUS What! how! how! ARVIRAGUS If it be sin to say so, I yoke me In my good brother's fault: I know not why I love this youth; and I have heard you say, Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say 'My father, not this youth.' BELARIUS [Aside] O noble strain! O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! Cowards father cowards and base things sire base: Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. I'm not their father; yet who this should be, Doth miracle itself, loved before me. 'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. ARVIRAGUS Brother, farewell. IMOGEN I wish ye sport. ARVIRAGUS You health. So please you, sir. IMOGEN [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard! Our courtiers say all's savage but at court: Experience, O, thou disprovest report! The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy drug. [Swallows some] GUIDERIUS I could not stir him: He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. ARVIRAGUS Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter I might know more. BELARIUS To the field, to the field! We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest. ARVIRAGUS We'll not be long away. BELARIUS Pray, be not sick, For you must be our housewife. IMOGEN Well or ill, I am bound to you. BELARIUS And shalt be ever. [Exit IMOGEN, to the cave] This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had Good ancestors. ARVIRAGUS How angel-like he sings! GUIDERIUS But his neat cookery! he cut our roots In characters, And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick And he her dieter. ARVIRAGUS Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh Was that it was, for not being such a smile; The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly From so divine a temple, to commix With winds that sailors rail at. GUIDERIUS I do note That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs together. ARVIRAGUS Grow, patience! And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root with the increasing vine! BELARIUS It is great morning. Come, away!-- Who's there? [Enter CLOTEN] CLOTEN I cannot find those runagates; that villain Hath mock'd me. I am faint. BELARIUS 'Those runagates!' Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. I saw him not these many years, and yet I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence! GUIDERIUS He is but one: you and my brother search What companies are near: pray you, away; Let me alone with him. [Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS] CLOTEN Soft! What are you That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers? I have heard of such. What slave art thou? GUIDERIUS A thing More slavish did I ne'er than answering A slave without a knock. CLOTEN Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief. GUIDERIUS To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art, Why I should yield to thee? CLOTEN Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes? GUIDERIUS No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee. CLOTEN Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not. GUIDERIUS Hence, then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee. CLOTEN Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name, and tremble. GUIDERIUS What's thy name? CLOTEN Cloten, thou villain. GUIDERIUS Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or Adder, Spider, 'Twould move me sooner. CLOTEN To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I am son to the queen. GUIDERIUS I am sorry for 't; not seeming So worthy as thy birth. CLOTEN Art not afeard? GUIDERIUS Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise: At fools I laugh, not fear them. CLOTEN Die the death: When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fled hence, And on the gates of Lud's-town set your heads: Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting] [Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS] BELARIUS No companies abroad? ARVIRAGUS None in the world: you did mistake him, sure. BELARIUS I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute 'Twas very Cloten. ARVIRAGUS In this place we left them: I wish my brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell. BELARIUS Being scarce made up, I mean, to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother. [Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head] GUIDERIUS This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse; There was no money in't: not Hercules Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne My head as I do his. BELARIUS What hast thou done? GUIDERIUS I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head, Son to the queen, after his own report; Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore With his own single hand he'ld take us in Displace our heads where--thank the gods!--they grow, And set them on Lud's-town. BELARIUS We are all undone. GUIDERIUS Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, But that he swore to take, our lives? The law Protects not us: then why should we be tender To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, Play judge and executioner all himself, For we do fear the law? What company Discover you abroad? BELARIUS No single soul Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason He must have some attendants. Though his humour Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not Absolute madness could so far have raved To bring him here alone; although perhaps It may be heard at court that such as we Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time May make some stronger head; the which he hearing-- As it is like him--might break out, and swear He'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable To come alone, either he so undertaking, Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear, If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head. ARVIRAGUS Let ordinance Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, My brother hath done well. BELARIUS I had no mind To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness Did make my way long forth. GUIDERIUS With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek Behind our rock; and let it to the sea, And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten: That's all I reck. [Exit] BELARIUS I fear 'twill be revenged: Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour Becomes thee well enough. ARVIRAGUS Would I had done't So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore, I love thee brotherly, but envy much Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges, That possible strength might meet, would seek us through And put us to our answer. BELARIUS Well, 'tis done: We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock; You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him To dinner presently. ARVIRAGUS Poor sick Fidele! I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood, And praise myself for charity. [Exit] BELARIUS O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, Civility not seen from other, valour That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange What Cloten's being here to us portends, Or what his death will bring us. [Re-enter GUIDERIUS] GUIDERIUS Where's my brother? I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage For his return. [Solemn music] BELARIUS My ingenious instrument! Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! GUIDERIUS Is he at home? BELARIUS He went hence even now. GUIDERIUS What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother it did not speak before. All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. Is Cadwal mad? BELARIUS Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms Of what we blame him for. [Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead, bearing her in his arms] ARVIRAGUS The bird is dead That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch, Than have seen this. GUIDERIUS O sweetest, fairest lily! My brother wears thee not the one half so well As when thou grew'st thyself. BELARIUS O melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. How found you him? ARVIRAGUS Stark, as you see: Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. GUIDERIUS Where? ARVIRAGUS O' the floor; His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness Answer'd my steps too loud. GUIDERIUS Why, he but sleeps: If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee. ARVIRAGUS With fairest flowers Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument!--bring thee all this; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse. GUIDERIUS Prithee, have done; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt. To the grave! ARVIRAGUS Say, where shall's lay him? GUIDERIUS By good Euriphile, our mother. ARVIRAGUS Be't so: And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, As once our mother; use like note and words, Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. GUIDERIUS Cadwal, I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse Than priests and fanes that lie. ARVIRAGUS We'll speak it, then. BELARIUS Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; And though he came our enemy, remember He was paid for that: though mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust, yet reverence, That angel of the world, doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince. GUIDERIUS Pray You, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', When neither are alive. ARVIRAGUS If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. [Exit BELARIUS] GUIDERIUS Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. ARVIRAGUS 'Tis true. GUIDERIUS Come on then, and remove him. ARVIRAGUS So. Begin. [SONG] GUIDERIUS Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. ARVIRAGUS Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. GUIDERIUS Fear no more the lightning flash, ARVIRAGUS Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; GUIDERIUS Fear not slander, censure rash; ARVIRAGUS Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: GUIDERIUS | | All lovers young, all lovers must ARVIRAGUS | Consign to thee, and come to dust. GUIDERIUS No exorciser harm thee! ARVIRAGUS Nor no witchcraft charm thee! GUIDERIUS Ghost unlaid forbear thee! ARVIRAGUS Nothing ill come near thee! GUIDERIUS | | Quiet consummation have; ARVIRAGUS | And renowned be thy grave! [Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN] GUIDERIUS We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down. BELARIUS Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more: The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces. You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so These herblets shall, which we upon you strew. Come on, away: apart upon our knees. The ground that gave them first has them again: Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] IMOGEN [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is the way?-- I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither? 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?-- I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses! [Seeing the body of CLOTEN] These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so; 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand; His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd Pisanio-- From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas, Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! where's that? Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? 'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! The drug he gave me, which he said was precious And cordial to me, have I not found it Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home: This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O! Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord! [Falls on the body] [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers, and a Soothsayer] Captain To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia, After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending You here at Milford-Haven with your ships: They are in readiness. CAIUS LUCIUS But what from Rome? Captain The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, That promise noble service: and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Syenna's brother. CAIUS LUCIUS When expect you them? Captain With the next benefit o' the wind. CAIUS LUCIUS This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? Soothsayer Last night the very gods show'd me a vision-- I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus: I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spongy south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends-- Unless my sins abuse my divination-- Success to the Roman host. CAIUS LUCIUS Dream often so, And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime It was a worthy building. How! a page! Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather; For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. Let's see the boy's face. Captain He's alive, my lord. CAIUS LUCIUS He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems They crave to be demanded. Who is this Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he That, otherwise than noble nature did, Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? What art thou? IMOGEN I am nothing: or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, A very valiant Briton and a good, That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas! There is no more such masters: I may wander From east to occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. CAIUS LUCIUS 'Lack, good youth! Thou movest no less with thy complaining than Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend. IMOGEN Richard du Champ. [Aside] If I do lie and do No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir? CAIUS LUCIUS Thy name? IMOGEN Fidele, sir. CAIUS LUCIUS Thou dost approve thyself the very same: Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure, No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me. IMOGEN I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave, And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh; And leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me. CAIUS LUCIUS Ay, good youth! And rather father thee than master thee. My friends, The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partisans A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE III A room in Cymbeline's palace. [Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants] CYMBELINE Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. [Exit an Attendant] A fever with the absence of her son, A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen Upon a desperate bed, and in a time When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, So needful for this present: it strikes me, past The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure and Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture. PISANIO Sir, my life is yours; I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness, Hold me your loyal servant. First Lord Good my liege, The day that she was missing he was here: I dare be bound he's true and shall perform All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will, no doubt, be found. CYMBELINE The time is troublesome. [To PISANIO] We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy Does yet depend. First Lord So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast, with a supply Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. CYMBELINE Now for the counsel of my son and queen! I am amazed with matter. First Lord Good my liege, Your preparation can affront no less Than what you hear of: come more, for more you're ready: The want is but to put those powers in motion That long to move. CYMBELINE I thank you. Let's withdraw; And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us; but We grieve at chances here. Away! [Exeunt all but PISANIO] PISANIO I heard no letter from my master since I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange: Nor hear I from my mistress who did promise To yield me often tidings: neither know I What is betid to Cloten; but remain Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT IV SCENE IV Wales: before the cave of Belarius. [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. GUIDERIUS The noise is round about us. BELARIUS Let us from it. ARVIRAGUS What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure? GUIDERIUS Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revolts During their use, and slay us after. BELARIUS Sons, We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going: newness Of Cloten's death--we being not known, not muster'd Among the bands--may drive us to a render Where we have lived, and so extort from's that Which we have done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture. GUIDERIUS This is, sir, a doubt In such a time nothing becoming you, Nor satisfying us. ARVIRAGUS It is not likely That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, That they will waste their time upon our note, To know from whence we are. BELARIUS O, I am known Of many in the army: many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Hath not deserved my service nor your loves; Who find in my exile the want of breeding, The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless To have the courtesy your cradle promised, But to be still hot summer's tamings and The shrinking slaves of winter. GUIDERIUS Than be so Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: I and my brother are not known; yourself So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, Cannot be question'd. ARVIRAGUS By this sun that shines, I'll thither: what thing is it that I never Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood, But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! Never bestrid a horse, save one that had A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his blest beams, remaining So long a poor unknown. GUIDERIUS By heavens, I'll go: If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, I'll take the better care, but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me by The hands of Romans! ARVIRAGUS So say I amen. BELARIUS No reason I, since of your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys! If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, an there I'll lie: Lead, lead. [Aside] The time seems long; their blood thinks scorn, Till it fly out and show them princes born. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE I Britain. The Roman camp. [Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you should take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! Every good servant does not all commands: No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never Had lived to put on this: so had you saved The noble Imogen to repent, and struck Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack, You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, To have them fall no more: you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse, And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift. But Imogen is your own: do your best wills, And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom: 'tis enough That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds and suit myself As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight Against the part I come with; so I'll die For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know More valour in me than my habits show. Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me! To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin The fashion, less without and more within. [Exit] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE II Field of battle between the British and Roman camps. [Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and the Roman Army: from the other side, the British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following, like a poor soldier. They march over and go out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS he vanquisheth and disarmeth IACHIMO, and then leaves him] IACHIMO The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, The princess of this country, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is that we scarce are men and you are gods. [Exit] [The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] BELARIUS Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but The villany of our fears. GUIDERIUS | | Stand, stand, and fight! ARVIRAGUS | [Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN] CAIUS LUCIUS Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hoodwink'd. IACHIMO 'Tis their fresh supplies. CAIUS LUCIUS It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE III Another part of the field. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord] Lord Camest thou from where they made the stand? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I did. Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Lord I did. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought: the king himself Of his wings destitute, the army broken, And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame. Lord Where was this lane? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one, I warrant; who deserved So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for's country: athwart the lane, He, with two striplings-lads more like to run The country base than to commit such slaughter With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cased, or shame-- Made good the passage; cried to those that fled, 'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our men: To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand; Or we are Romans and will give you that Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save, But to look back in frown: stand, stand.' These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many-- For three performers are the file when all The rest do nothing--with this word 'Stand, stand,' Accommodated by the place, more charming With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, turn'd coward But by example--O, a sin in war, Damn'd in the first beginners!--gan to look The way that they did, and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, The strides they victors made: and now our cowards, Like fragments in hard voyages, became The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! Some slain before; some dying; some their friends O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one, Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: Those that would die or ere resist are grown The mortal bugs o' the field. Lord This was strange chance A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, And vent it for a mockery? Here is one: 'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.' Lord Nay, be not angry, sir. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 'Lack, to what end? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; For if he'll do as he is made to do, I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme. Lord Farewell; you're angry. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Still going? [Exit Lord] This is a lord! O noble misery, To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me! To-day how many would have given their honours To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't, And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, Could not find death where I did hear him groan, Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him For being now a favourer to the Briton, No more a Briton, I have resumed again The part I came in: fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by the Roman; great the answer be Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; On either side I come to spend my breath; Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, But end it by some means for Imogen. [Enter two British Captains and Soldiers] First Captain Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken. 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. Second Captain There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, That gave the affront with them. First Captain So 'tis reported: But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS A Roman, Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. Second Captain Lay hands on him; a dog! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service As if he were of note: bring him to the king. [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives. The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: then exeunt omnes] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE IV A British prison. [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers] First Gaoler You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you; So graze as you find pasture. Second Gaoler Ay, or a stomach. [Exeunt Gaolers] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away, think, to liberty: yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity than be cured By the sure physician, death, who is the key To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? So children temporal fathers do appease; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent? I cannot do it better than in gyves, Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me than my all. I know you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement: that's not my desire: For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! I'll speak to thee in silence. [Sleeps] [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus, an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them: then, after other music, follow the two young Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with wounds as they died in the wars. They circle Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping] Sicilius Leonatus No more, thou thunder-master, show Thy spite on mortal flies: With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw? I died whilst in the womb he stay'd Attending nature's law: Whose father then, as men report Thou orphans' father art, Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Mother Lucina lent not me her aid, But took me in my throes; That from me was Posthumus ript, Came crying 'mongst his foes, A thing of pity! Sicilius Leonatus Great nature, like his ancestry, Moulded the stuff so fair, That he deserved the praise o' the world, As great Sicilius' heir. First Brother When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel; Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity? Mother With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exiled, and thrown From Leonati seat, and cast From her his dearest one, Sweet Imogen? Sicilius Leonatus Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealosy; And to become the geck and scorn O' th' other's villany? Second Brother For this from stiller seats we came, Our parents and us twain, That striking in our country's cause Fell bravely and were slain, Our fealty and Tenantius' right With honour to maintain. First Brother Like hardiment Posthumus hath To Cymbeline perform'd: Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why hast thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due, Being all to dolours turn'd? Sicilius Leonatus Thy crystal window ope; look out; No longer exercise Upon a valiant race thy harsh And potent injuries. Mother Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. Sicilius Leonatus Peep through thy marble mansion; help; Or we poor ghosts will cry To the shining synod of the rest Against thy deity. First Brother | Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, | And from thy justice fly. Second Brother | [Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The Apparitions fall on their knees] Jupiter No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: Be not with mortal accidents opprest; No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: and so, away: no further with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. [Ascends] Sicilius Leonatus He came in thunder; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak, As when his god is pleased. All Thanks, Jupiter! Sicilius Leonatus The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. [The Apparitions vanish] Posthumus Leonatus [Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot A father to me; and thou hast created A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn! Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born: And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour dream as I have done, Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve: Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I, That have this golden chance and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one! Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, As good as promise. [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing; Or senseless speaking or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. [Re-enter First Gaoler] First Gaoler Come, sir, are you ready for death? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. First Gaoler Hanging is the word, sir: if you be ready for that, you are well cooked. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS So, if I prove a good repast to the spectators, the dish pays the shot. First Gaoler A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain both empty; the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and counters; so the acquittance follows. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I am merrier to die than thou art to live. First Gaoler Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Yes, indeed do I, fellow. First Gaoler Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen him so pictured: you must either be directed by some that take upon them to know, or do take upon yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and will not use them. First Gaoler What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eyes to see the way of blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking. [Enter a Messenger] Messenger Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free. First Gaoler I'll be hang'd then. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger] First Gaoler Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them too that die against their wills; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but my wish hath a preferment in 't. [Exeunt] CYMBELINE ACT V SCENE V Cymbeline's tent. [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants] CYMBELINE Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found: He shall be happy that can find him, if Our grace can make him so. BELARIUS I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing; Such precious deeds in one that promises nought But beggary and poor looks. CYMBELINE No tidings of him? PISANIO He hath been search'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him. CYMBELINE To my grief, I am The heir of his reward; [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] which I will add To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain, By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are. Report it. BELARIUS Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: Further to boast were neither true nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest. CYMBELINE Bow your knees. Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you Companions to our person and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. [Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies] There's business in these faces. Why so sadly Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, And not o' the court of Britain. CORNELIUS Hail, great king! To sour your happiness, I must report The queen is dead. CYMBELINE Who worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider, By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? CORNELIUS With horror, madly dying, like her life, Which, being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd I will report, so please you: these her women Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks Were present when she finish'd. CYMBELINE Prithee, say. CORNELIUS First, she confess'd she never loved you, only Affected greatness got by you, not you: Married your royalty, was wife to your place; Abhorr'd your person. CYMBELINE She alone knew this; And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. CORNELIUS Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. CYMBELINE O most delicate fiend! Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more? CORNELIUS More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life and lingering By inches waste you: in which time she purposed, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercome you with her show, and in time, When she had fitted you with her craft, to work Her son into the adoption of the crown: But, failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so Despairing died. CYMBELINE Heard you all this, her women? First Lady We did, so please your highness. CYMBELINE Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! [Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS behind, and IMOGEN] Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that The Britons have razed out, though with the loss Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: So think of your estate. CAIUS LUCIUS Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer: Augustus lives to think on't: and so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat; my boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransom'd: never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join With my request, which I make bold your highness Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir, And spare no blood beside. CYMBELINE I have surely seen him: His favour is familiar to me. Boy, Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; live: And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en. IMOGEN I humbly thank your highness. CAIUS LUCIUS I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; And yet I know thou wilt. IMOGEN No, no: alack, There's other work in hand: I see a thing Bitter to me as death: your life, good master, Must shuffle for itself. CAIUS LUCIUS The boy disdains me, He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplex'd? CYMBELINE What wouldst thou, boy? I love thee more and more: think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak, Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? IMOGEN He is a Roman; no more kin to me Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. CYMBELINE Wherefore eyest him so? IMOGEN I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please To give me hearing. CYMBELINE Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? IMOGEN Fidele, sir. CYMBELINE Thou'rt my good youth, my page; I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart] BELARIUS Is not this boy revived from death? ARVIRAGUS One sand another Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? GUIDERIUS The same dead thing alive. BELARIUS Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us. GUIDERIUS But we saw him dead. BELARIUS Be silent; let's see further. PISANIO [Aside] It is my mistress: Since she is living, let the time run on To good or bad. [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward] CYMBELINE Come, stand thou by our side; Make thy demand aloud. [To IACHIMO] Sir, step you forth; Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him. IMOGEN My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Aside] What's that to him? CYMBELINE That diamond upon your finger, say How came it yours? IACHIMO Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. CYMBELINE How! me? IACHIMO I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that Which torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel; Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may grieve thee, As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? CYMBELINE All that belongs to this. IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter,-- For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint. CYMBELINE My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength: I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. IACHIMO Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would Our viands had been poison'd, or at least Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus-- What should I say? he was too good to be Where ill men were; and was the best of all Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva. Postures beyond brief nature, for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye-- CYMBELINE I stand on fire: Come to the matter. IACHIMO All too soon I shall, Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, Most like a noble lord in love and one That had a royal lover, took his hint; And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein He was as calm as virtue--he began His mistress' picture; which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description Proved us unspeaking sots. CYMBELINE Nay, nay, to the purpose. IACHIMO Your daughter's chastity--there it begins. He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour'd finger, to attain In suit the place of's bed and win this ring By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain Post I in this design: well may you, sir, Remember me at court; where I was taught Of your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 'Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent: And, to be brief, my practise so prevail'd, That I return'd with simular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,-- O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some marks Of secret on her person, that he could not But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon-- Methinks, I see him now-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out For torturers ingenious: it is I That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie-- That caused a lesser villain than myself, A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen! My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, Imogen, Imogen! IMOGEN Peace, my lord; hear, hear-- POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [Striking her: she falls] PISANIO O, gentlemen, help! Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help! Mine honour'd lady! CYMBELINE Does the world go round? POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How come these staggers on me? PISANIO Wake, my mistress! CYMBELINE If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. PISANIO How fares thy mistress? IMOGEN O, get thee from my sight; Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! Breathe not where princes are. CYMBELINE The tune of Imogen! PISANIO Lady, The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing: I had it from the queen. CYMBELINE New matter still? IMOGEN It poison'd me. CORNELIUS O gods! I left out one thing which the queen confess'd. Which must approve thee honest: 'If Pisanio Have,' said she, 'given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for cordial, she is served As I would serve a rat.' CYMBELINE What's this, Comelius? CORNELIUS The queen, sir, very oft importuned me To temper poisons for her, still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life, but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? IMOGEN Most like I did, for I was dead. BELARIUS My boys, There was our error. GUIDERIUS This is, sure, Fidele. IMOGEN Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? Think that you are upon a rock; and now Throw me again. [Embracing him] POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Hang there like a fruit, my soul, Till the tree die! CYMBELINE How now, my flesh, my child! What, makest thou me a dullard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me? IMOGEN [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. BELARIUS [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not: You had a motive for't. CYMBELINE My tears that fall Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. IMOGEN I am sorry for't, my lord. CYMBELINE O, she was nought; and long of her it was That we meet here so strangely: but her son Is gone, we know not how nor where. PISANIO My lord, Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death. By accident, had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket; which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he enforced from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate My lady's honour: what became of him I further know not. GUIDERIUS Let me end the story: I slew him there. CYMBELINE Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, Deny't again. GUIDERIUS I have spoke it, and I did it. CYMBELINE He was a prince. GUIDERIUS A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea, If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head; And am right glad he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. CYMBELINE I am sorry for thee: By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law: thou'rt dead. IMOGEN That headless man I thought had been my lord. CYMBELINE Bind the offender, And take him from our presence. BELARIUS Stay, sir king: This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself; and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. [To the Guard] Let his arms alone; They were not born for bondage. CYMBELINE Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? How of descent As good as we? ARVIRAGUS In that he spake too far. CYMBELINE And thou shalt die for't. BELARIUS We will die all three: But I will prove that two on's are as good As I have given out him. My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you. ARVIRAGUS Your danger's ours. GUIDERIUS And our good his. BELARIUS Have at it then, by leave. Thou hadst, great king, a subject who Was call'd Belarius. CYMBELINE What of him? he is A banish'd traitor. BELARIUS He it is that hath Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man; I know not how a traitor. CYMBELINE Take him hence: The whole world shall not save him. BELARIUS Not too hot: First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; And let it be confiscate all, so soon As I have received it. CYMBELINE Nursing of my sons! BELARIUS I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee: Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father And think they are my sons, are none of mine; They are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting. CYMBELINE How! my issue! BELARIUS So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes-- For such and so they are--these twenty years Have I train'd up: those arts they have as I Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment: I moved her to't, Having received the punishment before, For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason: their dear loss, The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again; and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions in the world. The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. CYMBELINE Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service that you three have done is more Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children: If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. BELARIUS Be pleased awhile. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand Of his queen mother, which for more probation I can with ease produce. CYMBELINE Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder. BELARIUS This is he; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: It was wise nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now. CYMBELINE O, what, am I A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, That, after this strange starting from your orbs, may reign in them now! O Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. IMOGEN No, my lord; I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers, Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter But I am truest speaker you call'd me brother, When I was but your sister; I you brothers, When ye were so indeed. CYMBELINE Did you e'er meet? ARVIRAGUS Ay, my good lord. GUIDERIUS And at first meeting loved; Continued so, until we thought he died. CORNELIUS By the queen's dram she swallow'd. CYMBELINE O rare instinct! When shall I hear all through? This fierce abridgement Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You? And when came you to serve our Roman captive? How parted with your brothers? how first met them? Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, And your three motives to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded; And all the other by-dependencies, From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place Will serve our long inter'gatories. See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen, And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting Each object with a joy: the counterchange Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. [To BELARIUS] Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever. IMOGEN You are my father too, and did relieve me, To see this gracious season. CYMBELINE All o'erjoy'd, Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our comfort. IMOGEN My good master, I will yet do you service. CAIUS LUCIUS Happy be you! CYMBELINE The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becomed this place, and graced The thankings of a king. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might Have made you finish. IACHIMO [Kneeling] I am down again: But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, Which I so often owe: but your ring first; And here the bracelet of the truest princess That ever swore her faith. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Kneel not to me: The power that I have on you is, to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you: live, And deal with others better. CYMBELINE Nobly doom'd! We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Pardon's the word to all. ARVIRAGUS You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Joy'd are we that you are. POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found This label on my bosom; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection of it: let him show His skill in the construction. CAIUS LUCIUS Philarmonus! Soothsayer Here, my good lord. CAIUS LUCIUS Read, and declare the meaning. Soothsayer [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leonatus, doth import so much. [To CYMBELINE] The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, Which we call 'mollis aer;' and 'mollis aer' We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I divine Is this most constant wife; who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air. CYMBELINE This hath some seeming. Soothsayer The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n, For many years thought dead, are now revived, To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. CYMBELINE Well My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar, And to the Roman empire; promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers, Have laid most heavy hand. Soothsayer The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. The vision Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Caesar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west. CYMBELINE Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our blest altars. Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together: so through Lud's-town march: And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST DRAMATIS PERSONAE ALONSO King of Naples. SEBASTIAN his brother. PROSPERO the right Duke of Milan. ANTONIO his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. FERDINAND son to the King of Naples. GONZALO an honest old Counsellor. ADRIAN | | Lords. FRANCISCO | CALIBAN a savage and deformed Slave. TRINCULO a Jester. STEPHANO a drunken Butler. Master of a Ship. (Master:) Boatswain. (Boatswain:) Mariners. (Mariners:) MIRANDA daughter to Prospero. ARIEL an airy Spirit. IRIS | | CERES | | JUNO | presented by Spirits. | Nymphs | | Reapers | Other Spirits attending on Prospero. SCENE A ship at Sea: an island. THE TEMPEST ACT I SCENE I On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. [Enter a Master and a Boatswain] Master Boatswain! Boatswain Here, master: what cheer? Master Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely, or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. [Exit] [Enter Mariners] Boatswain Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others] ALONSO Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the men. Boatswain I pray now, keep below. ANTONIO Where is the master, boatswain? Boatswain Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. GONZALO Nay, good, be patient. Boatswain When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not. GONZALO Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. Boatswain None that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out of our way, I say. [Exit] GONZALO I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt] [Re-enter Boatswain] Boatswain Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course. [A cry within] A plague upon this howling! they are louder than the weather or our office. [Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO] Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink? SEBASTIAN A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog! Boatswain Work you then. ANTONIO Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. GONZALO I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench. Boatswain Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to sea again; lay her off. [Enter Mariners wet] Mariners All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! Boatswain What, must our mouths be cold? GONZALO The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them, For our case is as theirs. SEBASTIAN I'm out of patience. ANTONIO We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards: This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides! GONZALO He'll be hang'd yet, Though every drop of water swear against it And gape at widest to glut him. [A confused noise within: 'Mercy on us!'-- 'We split, we split!'--'Farewell, my wife and children!'-- 'Farewell, brother!'--'We split, we split, we split!'] ANTONIO Let's all sink with the king. SEBASTIAN Let's take leave of him. [Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN] GONZALO Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT I SCENE II The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell. [Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA] MIRANDA If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her, Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallow'd and The fraughting souls within her. PROSPERO Be collected: No more amazement: tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. MIRANDA O, woe the day! PROSPERO No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, And thy no greater father. MIRANDA More to know Did never meddle with my thoughts. PROSPERO 'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, And pluck my magic garment from me. So: [Lays down his mantle] Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul-- No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; For thou must now know farther. MIRANDA You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd And left me to a bootless inquisition, Concluding 'Stay: not yet.' PROSPERO The hour's now come; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old. MIRANDA Certainly, sir, I can. PROSPERO By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance. MIRANDA 'Tis far off And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five women once that tended me? PROSPERO Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, How thou camest here thou mayst. MIRANDA But that I do not. PROSPERO Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, Thy father was the Duke of Milan and A prince of power. MIRANDA Sir, are not you my father? PROSPERO Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir And princess no worse issued. MIRANDA O the heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? PROSPERO Both, both, my girl: By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence, But blessedly holp hither. MIRANDA O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. PROSPERO My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-- I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself Of all the world I loved and to him put The manage of my state; as at that time Through all the signories it was the first And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel; those being all my study, The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-- Dost thou attend me? MIRANDA Sir, most heedfully. PROSPERO Being once perfected how to grant suits, How to deny them, who to advance and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em, Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. MIRANDA O, good sir, I do. PROSPERO I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retired, O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother Awaked an evil nature; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in its contrary as great As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded, But what my power might else exact, like one Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie, he did believe He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution And executing the outward face of royalty, With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing-- Dost thou hear? MIRANDA Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. PROSPERO To have no screen between this part he play'd And him he play'd it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable; confederates-- So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown and bend The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!-- To most ignoble stooping. MIRANDA O the heavens! PROSPERO Mark his condition and the event; then tell me If this might be a brother. MIRANDA I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons. PROSPERO Now the condition. The King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises Of homage and I know not how much tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan With all the honours on my brother: whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose did Antonio open The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. MIRANDA Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried out then, Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to't. PROSPERO Hear a little further And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's; without the which this story Were most impertinent. MIRANDA Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? PROSPERO Well demanded, wench: My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business, but With colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, Did us but loving wrong. MIRANDA Alack, what trouble Was I then to you! PROSPERO O, a cherubim Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. MIRANDA How came we ashore? PROSPERO By Providence divine. Some food we had and some fresh water that A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, being then appointed Master of this design, did give us, with Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries, Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. MIRANDA Would I might But ever see that man! PROSPERO Now I arise: [Resumes his mantle] Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. Here in this island we arrived; and here Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can that have more time For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. MIRANDA Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm? PROSPERO Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies Brought to this shore; and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. [MIRANDA sleeps] Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel, come. [Enter ARIEL] ARIEL All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. PROSPERO Hast thou, spirit, Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? ARIEL To every article. I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide, And burn in many places; on the topmast, The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, Yea, his dread trident shake. PROSPERO My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason? ARIEL Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad and play'd Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,-- Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty And all the devils are here.' PROSPERO Why that's my spirit! But was not this nigh shore? ARIEL Close by, my master. PROSPERO But are they, Ariel, safe? ARIEL Not a hair perish'd; On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. The king's son have I landed by himself; Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle and sitting, His arms in this sad knot. PROSPERO Of the king's ship The mariners say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o' the fleet. ARIEL Safely in harbour Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid: The mariners all under hatches stow'd; Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd And his great person perish. PROSPERO Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work. What is the time o' the day? ARIEL Past the mid season. PROSPERO At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now Must by us both be spent most preciously. ARIEL Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet perform'd me. PROSPERO How now? moody? What is't thou canst demand? ARIEL My liberty. PROSPERO Before the time be out? no more! ARIEL I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service; Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise To bate me a full year. PROSPERO Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? ARIEL No. PROSPERO Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o' the earth When it is baked with frost. ARIEL I do not, sir. PROSPERO Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? ARIEL No, sir. PROSPERO Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. ARIEL Sir, in Argier. PROSPERO O, was she so? I must Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true? ARIEL Ay, sir. PROSPERO This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-- Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with A human shape. ARIEL Yes, Caliban her son. PROSPERO Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts Of ever angry bears: it was a torment To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not again undo: it was mine art, When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape The pine and let thee out. ARIEL I thank thee, master. PROSPERO If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails till Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. ARIEL Pardon, master; I will be correspondent to command And do my spiriting gently. PROSPERO Do so, and after two days I will discharge thee. ARIEL That's my noble master! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? PROSPERO Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! [Exit ARIEL] Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake! MIRANDA The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. PROSPERO Shake it off. Come on; We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never Yields us kind answer. MIRANDA 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. PROSPERO But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood and serves in offices That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! speak. CALIBAN [Within] There's wood enough within. PROSPERO Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: Come, thou tortoise! when? [Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph] Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. ARIEL My lord it shall be done. [Exit] PROSPERO Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! [Enter CALIBAN] CALIBAN As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye And blister you all o'er! PROSPERO For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. CALIBAN I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: Cursed be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' the island. PROSPERO Thou most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child. CALIBAN O ho, O ho! would't had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. PROSPERO Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison. CALIBAN You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language! PROSPERO Hag-seed, hence! Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar That beasts shall tremble at thy din. CALIBAN No, pray thee. [Aside] I must obey: his art is of such power, It would control my dam's god, Setebos, and make a vassal of him. PROSPERO So, slave; hence! [Exit CALIBAN] [Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following] ARIEL'S song. Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have and kiss'd The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Hark, hark! [Burthen [dispersedly, within] Bow-wow] The watch-dogs bark! [Burthen Bow-wow] Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. FERDINAND Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth? It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. No, it begins again. [ARIEL sings] Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell [Burthen Ding-dong] Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell. FERDINAND The ditty does remember my drown'd father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. PROSPERO The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say what thou seest yond. MIRANDA What is't? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. PROSPERO No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em. MIRANDA I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. PROSPERO [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Within two days for this. FERDINAND Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here: my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no? MIRANDA No wonder, sir; But certainly a maid. FERDINAND My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. PROSPERO How? the best? What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? FERDINAND A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; And that he does I weep: myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The king my father wreck'd. MIRANDA Alack, for mercy! FERDINAND Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. PROSPERO [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To FERDINAND] A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. MIRANDA Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father To be inclined my way! FERDINAND O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. PROSPERO Soft, sir! one word more. [Aside] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To FERDINAND] One word more; I charge thee That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on't. FERDINAND No, as I am a man. MIRANDA There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't. PROSPERO Follow me. Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come; I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. FERDINAND No; I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. [Draws, and is charmed from moving] MIRANDA O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for He's gentle and not fearful. PROSPERO What? I say, My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop. MIRANDA Beseech you, father. PROSPERO Hence! hang not on my garments. MIRANDA Sir, have pity; I'll be his surety. PROSPERO Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an imposter! hush! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban And they to him are angels. MIRANDA My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. PROSPERO Come on; obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again And have no vigour in them. FERDINAND So they are; My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. PROSPERO [Aside] It works. [To FERDINAND] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [To FERDINAND] Follow me. [To ARIEL] Hark what thou else shalt do me. MIRANDA Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Which now came from him. PROSPERO Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command. ARIEL To the syllable. PROSPERO Come, follow. Speak not for him. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT II SCENE I Another part of the island. [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others] GONZALO Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. ALONSO Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN He receives comfort like cold porridge. ANTONIO The visitor will not give him o'er so. SEBASTIAN Look he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. GONZALO Sir,-- SEBASTIAN One: tell. GONZALO When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer-- SEBASTIAN A dollar. GONZALO Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed. SEBASTIAN You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. GONZALO Therefore, my lord,-- ANTONIO Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! ALONSO I prithee, spare. GONZALO Well, I have done: but yet,-- SEBASTIAN He will be talking. ANTONIO Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? SEBASTIAN The old cock. ANTONIO The cockerel. SEBASTIAN Done. The wager? ANTONIO A laughter. SEBASTIAN A match! ADRIAN Though this island seem to be desert,-- SEBASTIAN Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid. ADRIAN Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,-- SEBASTIAN Yet,-- ADRIAN Yet,-- ANTONIO He could not miss't. ADRIAN It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance. ANTONIO Temperance was a delicate wench. SEBASTIAN Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. ADRIAN The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. SEBASTIAN As if it had lungs and rotten ones. ANTONIO Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. GONZALO Here is everything advantageous to life. ANTONIO True; save means to live. SEBASTIAN Of that there's none, or little. GONZALO How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! ANTONIO The ground indeed is tawny. SEBASTIAN With an eye of green in't. ANTONIO He misses not much. SEBASTIAN No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. GONZALO But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost beyond credit,-- SEBASTIAN As many vouched rarities are. GONZALO That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. ANTONIO If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? SEBASTIAN Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report GONZALO Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. SEBASTIAN 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. ADRIAN Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. GONZALO Not since widow Dido's time. ANTONIO Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? widow Dido! SEBASTIAN What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? Good Lord, how you take it! ADRIAN 'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. GONZALO This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. ADRIAN Carthage? GONZALO I assure you, Carthage. SEBASTIAN His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too. ANTONIO What impossible matter will he make easy next? SEBASTIAN I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple. ANTONIO And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. GONZALO Ay. ANTONIO Why, in good time. GONZALO Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. ANTONIO And the rarest that e'er came there. SEBASTIAN Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. ANTONIO O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. GONZALO Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. ANTONIO That sort was well fished for. GONZALO When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? ALONSO You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee? FRANCISCO Sir, he may live: I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt He came alive to land. ALONSO No, no, he's gone. SEBASTIAN Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she at least is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. ALONSO Prithee, peace. SEBASTIAN You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault's your own. ALONSO So is the dear'st o' the loss. GONZALO My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. SEBASTIAN Very well. ANTONIO And most chirurgeonly. GONZALO It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. SEBASTIAN Foul weather? ANTONIO Very foul. GONZALO Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,-- ANTONIO He'ld sow't with nettle-seed. SEBASTIAN Or docks, or mallows. GONZALO And were the king on't, what would I do? SEBASTIAN 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. GONZALO I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty;-- SEBASTIAN Yet he would be king on't. ANTONIO The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. GONZALO All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people. SEBASTIAN No marrying 'mong his subjects? ANTONIO None, man; all idle: whores and knaves. GONZALO I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. SEBASTIAN God save his majesty! ANTONIO Long live Gonzalo! GONZALO And,--do you mark me, sir? ALONSO Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. GONZALO I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. ANTONIO 'Twas you we laughed at. GONZALO Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue and laugh at nothing still. ANTONIO What a blow was there given! SEBASTIAN An it had not fallen flat-long. GONZALO You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. [Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music] SEBASTIAN We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. ANTONIO Nay, good my lord, be not angry. GONZALO No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? ANTONIO Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] ALONSO What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so. SEBASTIAN Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. ANTONIO We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. ALONSO Thank you. Wondrous heavy. [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL] SEBASTIAN What a strange drowsiness possesses them! ANTONIO It is the quality o' the climate. SEBASTIAN Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. ANTONIO Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:-- And yet me thinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. SEBASTIAN What, art thou waking? ANTONIO Do you not hear me speak? SEBASTIAN I do; and surely It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. ANTONIO Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. SEBASTIAN Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. ANTONIO I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. SEBASTIAN Well, I am standing water. ANTONIO I'll teach you how to flow. SEBASTIAN Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me. ANTONIO O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, Most often do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth. SEBASTIAN Prithee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield. ANTONIO Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuade,-- For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd And he that sleeps here swims. SEBASTIAN I have no hope That he's undrown'd. ANTONIO O, out of that 'no hope' What great hope have you! no hope that way is Another way so high a hope that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd? SEBASTIAN He's gone. ANTONIO Then, tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples? SEBASTIAN Claribel. ANTONIO She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post-- The man i' the moon's too slow--till new-born chins Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom? We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. SEBASTIAN What stuff is this! how say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. ANTONIO A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! what a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me? SEBASTIAN Methinks I do. ANTONIO And how does your content Tender your own good fortune? SEBASTIAN I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. ANTONIO True: And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before: my brother's servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men. SEBASTIAN But, for your conscience? ANTONIO Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. SEBASTIAN Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; And I the king shall love thee. ANTONIO Draw together; And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo. SEBASTIAN O, but one word. [They talk apart] [Re-enter ARIEL, invisible] ARIEL My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth-- For else his project dies--to keep them living. [Sings in GONZALO's ear] While you here do snoring lie, Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware: Awake, awake! ANTONIO Then let us both be sudden. GONZALO Now, good angels Preserve the king. [They wake] ALONSO Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? GONZALO What's the matter? SEBASTIAN Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. ALONSO I heard nothing. ANTONIO O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. ALONSO Heard you this, Gonzalo? GONZALO Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place; let's draw our weapons. ALONSO Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son. GONZALO Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i' the island. ALONSO Lead away. ARIEL Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT II SCENE II Another part of the island. [Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard] CALIBAN All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin--shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I All wound with adders who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. [Enter TRINCULO] Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; Perchance he will not mind me. TRINCULO Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish- like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor- John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder] Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. [Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand] STEPHANO I shall no more to sea, to sea, Here shall I die ashore-- This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well, here's my comfort. [Drinks] [Sings] The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, The gunner and his mate Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor, Go hang! She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch, Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch: Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. [Drinks] CALIBAN Do not torment me: Oh! STEPHANO What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at's nostrils. CALIBAN The spirit torments me; Oh! STEPHANO This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language? I will give him some relief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather. CALIBAN Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster. STEPHANO He's in his fit now and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. CALIBAN Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. STEPHANO Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that which will give language to you, cat: open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again. TRINCULO I should know that voice: it should be--but he is drowned; and these are devils: O defend me! STEPHANO Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some in thy other mouth. TRINCULO Stephano! STEPHANO Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. TRINCULO Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy good friend Trinculo. STEPHANO If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos? TRINCULO I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped! STEPHANO Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant. CALIBAN [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him. STEPHANO How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was cast ashore. CALIBAN I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject; for the liquor is not earthly. STEPHANO Here; swear then how thou escapedst. TRINCULO Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. STEPHANO Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. TRINCULO O Stephano. hast any more of this? STEPHANO The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine ague? CALIBAN Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven? STEPHANO Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i' the moon when time was. CALIBAN I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee: My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush. STEPHANO Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish it anon with new contents swear. TRINCULO By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i' the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! CALIBAN I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god. TRINCULO By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. CALIBAN I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. STEPHANO Come on then; down, and swear. TRINCULO I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my heart to beat him,-- STEPHANO Come, kiss. TRINCULO But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster! CALIBAN I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, Thou wondrous man. TRINCULO A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a Poor drunkard! CALIBAN I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts; Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? STEPHANO I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else being drowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. CALIBAN [Sings drunkenly] Farewell master; farewell, farewell! TRINCULO A howling monster: a drunken monster! CALIBAN No more dams I'll make for fish Nor fetch in firing At requiring; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish 'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban Has a new master: get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, freedom! STEPHANO O brave monster! Lead the way. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT III SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S Cell. [Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log] FERDINAND There be some sports are painful, and their labour Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness. I must remove Some thousands of these logs and pile them up, Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness Had never like executor. I forget: But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, Most busy lest, when I do it. [Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen] MIRANDA Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile! Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; He's safe for these three hours. FERDINAND O most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. MIRANDA If you'll sit down, I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; I'll carry it to the pile. FERDINAND No, precious creature; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo, While I sit lazy by. MIRANDA It would become me As well as it does you: and I should do it With much more ease; for my good will is to it, And yours it is against. PROSPERO Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it. MIRANDA You look wearily. FERDINAND No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you-- Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers-- What is your name? MIRANDA Miranda.--O my father, I have broke your hest to say so! FERDINAND Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration! worth What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues Have I liked several women; never any With so fun soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed And put it to the foil: but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best! MIRANDA I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend, And my dear father: how features are abroad, I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly and my father's precepts I therein do forget. FERDINAND I am in my condition A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; I would, not so!--and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service; there resides, To make me slave to it; and for your sake Am I this patient log--man. MIRANDA Do you love me? FERDINAND O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound And crown what I profess with kind event If I speak true! if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief! I Beyond all limit of what else i' the world Do love, prize, honour you. MIRANDA I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. PROSPERO Fair encounter Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em! FERDINAND Wherefore weep you? MIRANDA At mine unworthiness that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, it you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. FERDINAND My mistress, dearest; And I thus humble ever. MIRANDA My husband, then? FERDINAND Ay, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. MIRANDA And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell Till half an hour hence. FERDINAND A thousand thousand! [Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally] PROSPERO So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, For yet ere supper-time must I perform Much business appertaining. [Exit] THE TEMPEST ACT III SCENE II Another part of the island. [Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO] STEPHANO Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. TRINCULO Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the state totters. STEPHANO Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes are almost set in thy head. TRINCULO Where should they be set else? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. STEPHANO My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack: for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. TRINCULO Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. STEPHANO We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. TRINCULO Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say nothing neither. STEPHANO Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf. CALIBAN How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him; he's not valiant. TRINCULO Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou, was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster? CALIBAN Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord? TRINCULO 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural! CALIBAN Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee. STEPHANO Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's my subject and he shall not suffer indignity. CALIBAN I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? STEPHANO Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. [Enter ARIEL, invisible] CALIBAN As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. ARIEL Thou liest. CALIBAN Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie. STEPHANO Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. TRINCULO Why, I said nothing. STEPHANO Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. CALIBAN I say, by sorcery he got this isle; From me he got it. if thy greatness will Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest, But this thing dare not,-- STEPHANO That's most certain. CALIBAN Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee. STEPHANO How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou bring me to the party? CALIBAN Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead. ARIEL Thou liest; thou canst not. CALIBAN What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows And take his bottle from him: when that's gone He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are. STEPHANO Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the monster one word further, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors and make a stock-fish of thee. TRINCULO Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther off. STEPHANO Didst thou not say he lied? ARIEL Thou liest. STEPHANO Do I so? take thou that. [Beats TRINCULO] As you like this, give me the lie another time. TRINCULO I did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and bearing too? A pox o' your bottle! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the devil take your fingers! CALIBAN Ha, ha, ha! STEPHANO Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther off. CALIBAN Beat him enough: after a little time I'll beat him too. STEPHANO Stand farther. Come, proceed. CALIBAN Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him, I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him, Having first seized his books, or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books; for without them He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them-- Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter; he himself Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman, But only Sycorax my dam and she; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax As great'st does least. STEPHANO Is it so brave a lass? CALIBAN Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant. And bring thee forth brave brood. STEPHANO Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be king and queen--save our graces!--and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo? TRINCULO Excellent. STEPHANO Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head. CALIBAN Within this half hour will he be asleep: Wilt thou destroy him then? STEPHANO Ay, on mine honour. ARIEL This will I tell my master. CALIBAN Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure: Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch You taught me but while-ere? STEPHANO At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. [Sings] Flout 'em and scout 'em And scout 'em and flout 'em Thought is free. CALIBAN That's not the tune. [Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe] STEPHANO What is this same? TRINCULO This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody. STEPHANO If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. TRINCULO O, forgive me my sins! STEPHANO He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us! CALIBAN Art thou afeard? STEPHANO No, monster, not I. CALIBAN Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, I cried to dream again. STEPHANO This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. CALIBAN When Prospero is destroyed. STEPHANO That shall be by and by: I remember the story. TRINCULO The sound is going away; let's follow it, and after do our work. STEPHANO Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see this tabourer; he lays it on. TRINCULO Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT III SCENE III Another part of the island. [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others] GONZALO By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me. ALONSO Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attach'd with weariness, To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope and keep it No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. ANTONIO [Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect. SEBASTIAN [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage Will we take throughly. ANTONIO [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they are fresh. SEBASTIAN [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more. [Solemn and strange music] ALONSO What harmony is this? My good friends, hark! GONZALO Marvellous sweet music! [Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart] ALONSO Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? SEBASTIAN A living drollery. Now I will believe That there are unicorns, that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning there. ANTONIO I'll believe both; And what does else want credit, come to me, And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did lie, Though fools at home condemn 'em. GONZALO If in Naples I should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders-- For, certes, these are people of the island-- Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, Their manners are more gentle-kind than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. PROSPERO [Aside] Honest lord, Thou hast said well; for some of you there present Are worse than devils. ALONSO I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing, Although they want the use of tongue, a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. PROSPERO [Aside] Praise in departing. FRANCISCO They vanish'd strangely. SEBASTIAN No matter, since They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. Will't please you taste of what is here? ALONSO Not I. GONZALO Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find Each putter-out of five for one will bring us Good warrant of. ALONSO I will stand to and feed, Although my last: no matter, since I feel The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, Stand to and do as we. [Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes] ARIEL You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, That hath to instrument this lower world And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; And even with such-like valour men hang and drown Their proper selves. [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN &c. draw their swords] You fools! I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate: the elements, Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted. But remember-- For that's my business to you--that you three From Milan did supplant good Prospero; Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it, Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft; and do pronounce by me: Lingering perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from-- Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow And a clear life ensuing. [He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table] PROSPERO Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. My high charms work And these mine enemies are all knit up In their distractions; they now are in my power; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd, And his and mine loved darling. [Exit above] GONZALO I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare? ALONSO O, it is monstrous, monstrous: Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded And with him there lie mudded. [Exit] SEBASTIAN But one fiend at a time, I'll fight their legions o'er. ANTONIO I'll be thy second. [Exeunt SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] GONZALO All three of them are desperate: their great guilt, Like poison given to work a great time after, Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to. ADRIAN Follow, I pray you. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT IV SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S cell. [Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA] PROSPERO If I have too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Have given you here a third of mine own life, Or that for which I live; who once again I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love and thou Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me that I boast her off, For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise And make it halt behind her. FERDINAND I do believe it Against an oracle. PROSPERO Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition Worthily purchased take my daughter: but If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minister'd, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow: but barren hate, Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed, As Hymen's lamps shall light you. FERDINAND As I hope For quiet days, fair issue and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion. Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration When I shall think: or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd, Or Night kept chain'd below. PROSPERO Fairly spoke. Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own. What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! [Enter ARIEL] ARIEL What would my potent master? here I am. PROSPERO Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform; and I must use you In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place: Incite them to quick motion; for I must Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise, And they expect it from me. ARIEL Presently? PROSPERO Ay, with a twink. ARIEL Before you can say 'come' and 'go,' And breathe twice and cry 'so, so,' Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop and mow. Do you love me, master? no? PROSPERO Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach Till thou dost hear me call. ARIEL Well, I conceive. [Exit] PROSPERO Look thou be true; do not give dalliance Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious, Or else, good night your vow! FERDINAND I warrant you sir; The white cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardour of my liver. PROSPERO Well. Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly! No tongue! all eyes! be silent. [Soft music] [Enter IRIS] IRIS Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom -groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky, Whose watery arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. [Enter CERES] CERES Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green? IRIS A contract of true love to celebrate; And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers. CERES Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company I have forsworn. IRIS Of her society Be not afraid: I met her deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but vain; Mars's hot minion is returned again; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows And be a boy right out. CERES High'st queen of state, Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait. [Enter JUNO] JUNO How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be And honour'd in their issue. [They sing:] JUNO Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you! Juno sings her blessings upon you. CERES Earth's increase, foison plenty, Barns and garners never empty, Vines and clustering bunches growing, Plants with goodly burthen bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest In the very end of harvest! Scarcity and want shall shun you; Ceres' blessing so is on you. FERDINAND This is a most majestic vision, and Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold To think these spirits? PROSPERO Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies. FERDINAND Let me live here ever; So rare a wonder'd father and a wife Makes this place Paradise. [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment] PROSPERO Sweet, now, silence! Juno and Ceres whisper seriously; There's something else to do: hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marr'd. IRIS You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks, With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels and on this green land Answer your summons; Juno does command: Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love; be not too late. [Enter certain Nymphs] You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry: Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. [Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish] PROSPERO [Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy Of the beast Caliban and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come. [To the Spirits] Well done! avoid; no more! FERDINAND This is strange: your father's in some passion That works him strongly. MIRANDA Never till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. PROSPERO You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind. FERDINAND | | We wish your peace. MIRANDA | [Exeunt] PROSPERO Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come. [Enter ARIEL] ARIEL Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? PROSPERO Spirit, We must prepare to meet with Caliban. ARIEL Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres, I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd Lest I might anger thee. PROSPERO Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? ARIEL I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; So fun of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces; beat the ground For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour; At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd their ears, Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake O'erstunk their feet. PROSPERO This was well done, my bird. Thy shape invisible retain thou still: The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither, For stale to catch these thieves. ARIEL I go, I go. [Exit] PROSPERO A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; And as with age his body uglier grows, So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, Even to roaring. [Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c] Come, hang them on this line. [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet] CALIBAN Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. STEPHANO Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us. TRINCULO Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which my nose is in great indignation. STEPHANO So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you,-- TRINCULO Thou wert but a lost monster. CALIBAN Good my lord, give me thy favour still. Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly. All's hush'd as midnight yet. TRINCULO Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,-- STEPHANO There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, monster, but an infinite loss. TRINCULO That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your harmless fairy, monster. STEPHANO I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labour. CALIBAN Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here, This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter. Do that good mischief which may make this island Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, For aye thy foot-licker. STEPHANO Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. TRINCULO O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for thee! CALIBAN Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. TRINCULO O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. O king Stephano! STEPHANO Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have that gown. TRINCULO Thy grace shall have it. CALIBAN The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone And do the murder first: if he awake, From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches, Make us strange stuff. STEPHANO Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin. TRINCULO Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your grace. STEPHANO I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't: wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent pass of pate; there's another garment for't. TRINCULO Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest. CALIBAN I will have none on't: we shall lose our time, And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes With foreheads villanous low. STEPHANO Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom: go to, carry this. TRINCULO And this. STEPHANO Ay, and this. [A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on] PROSPERO Hey, Mountain, hey! ARIEL Silver I there it goes, Silver! PROSPERO Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark! [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, are driven out] Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them Than pard or cat o' mountain. ARIEL Hark, they roar! PROSPERO Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies: Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little Follow, and do me service. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST ACT V SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S cell. [Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL] PROSPERO Now does my project gather to a head: My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? ARIEL On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, You said our work should cease. PROSPERO I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and's followers? ARIEL Confined together In the same fashion as you gave in charge, Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; They cannot budge till your release. The king, His brother and yours, abide all three distracted And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;' His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender. PROSPERO Dost thou think so, spirit? ARIEL Mine would, sir, were I human. PROSPERO And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, Yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist my fury Do I take part: the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves. ARIEL I'll fetch them, sir. [Exit] PROSPERO Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book. [Solemn music] [Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO they all enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO observing, speaks:] A solemn air and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand, For you are spell-stopp'd. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace, And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a loyal sir To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian, Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell: I will discase me, and myself present As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit; Thou shalt ere long be free. [ARIEL sings and helps to attire him] Where the bee sucks. there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. PROSPERO Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee: But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so. To the king's ship, invisible as thou art: There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain Being awake, enforce them to this place, And presently, I prithee. ARIEL I drink the air before me, and return Or ere your pulse twice beat. [Exit] GONZALO All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country! PROSPERO Behold, sir king, The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero: For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome. ALONSO Whether thou best he or no, Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, The affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness held me: this must crave, An if this be at all, a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero Be living and be here? PROSPERO First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot Be measured or confined. GONZALO Whether this be Or be not, I'll not swear. PROSPERO You do yet taste Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all! [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you And justify you traitors: at this time I will tell no tales. SEBASTIAN [Aside] The devil speaks in him. PROSPERO No. For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, Thou must restore. ALONSO If thou be'st Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation; How thou hast met us here, who three hours since Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost-- How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-- My dear son Ferdinand. PROSPERO I am woe for't, sir. ALONSO Irreparable is the loss, and patience Says it is past her cure. PROSPERO I rather think You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace For the like loss I have her sovereign aid And rest myself content. ALONSO You the like loss! PROSPERO As great to me as late; and, supportable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you, for I Have lost my daughter. ALONSO A daughter? O heavens, that they were living both in Naples, The king and queen there! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter? PROSPERO In this last tempest. I perceive these lords At this encounter do so much admire That they devour their reason and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero and that very duke Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed, To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a breakfast nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; This cell's my court: here have I few attendants And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again, I will requite you with as good a thing; At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much as me my dukedom. [Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess] MIRANDA Sweet lord, you play me false. FERDINAND No, my dear'st love, I would not for the world. MIRANDA Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, And I would call it, fair play. ALONSO If this prove A vision of the Island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. SEBASTIAN A most high miracle! FERDINAND Though the seas threaten, they are merciful; I have cursed them without cause. [Kneels] ALONSO Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about! Arise, and say how thou camest here. MIRANDA O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't! PROSPERO 'Tis new to thee. ALONSO What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, And brought us thus together? FERDINAND Sir, she is mortal; But by immortal Providence she's mine: I chose her when I could not ask my father For his advice, nor thought I had one. She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown, But never saw before; of whom I have Received a second life; and second father This lady makes him to me. ALONSO I am hers: But, O, how oddly will it sound that I Must ask my child forgiveness! PROSPERO There, sir, stop: Let us not burthen our remembrance with A heaviness that's gone. GONZALO I have inly wept, Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you god, And on this couple drop a blessed crown! For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way Which brought us hither. ALONSO I say, Amen, Gonzalo! GONZALO Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom In a poor isle and all of us ourselves When no man was his own. ALONSO [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA] Give me your hands: Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy! GONZALO Be it so! Amen! [Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain amazedly following] O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us: I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? Boatswain The best news is, that we have safely found Our king and company; the next, our ship-- Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split-- Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when We first put out to sea. ARIEL [Aside to PROSPERO] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. PROSPERO [Aside to ARIEL] My tricksy spirit! ALONSO These are not natural events; they strengthen From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? Boatswain If I did think, sir, I were well awake, I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches; Where but even now with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awaked; straightway, at liberty; Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them And were brought moping hither. ARIEL [Aside to PROSPERO] Was't well done? PROSPERO [Aside to ARIEL] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. ALONSO This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod And there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of: some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. PROSPERO Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, Which to you shall seem probable, of every These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful And think of each thing well. [Aside to ARIEL] Come hither, spirit: Set Caliban and his companions free; Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL] How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not. [Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel] STEPHANO Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio! TRINCULO If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. CALIBAN O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid He will chastise me. SEBASTIAN Ha, ha! What things are these, my lord Antonio? Will money buy 'em? ANTONIO Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. PROSPERO Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave, His mother was a witch, and one so strong That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, And deal in her command without her power. These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil-- For he's a bastard one--had plotted with them To take my life. Two of these fellows you Must know and own; this thing of darkness! Acknowledge mine. CALIBAN I shall be pinch'd to death. ALONSO Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? SEBASTIAN He is drunk now: where had he wine? ALONSO And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? How camest thou in this pickle? TRINCULO I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. SEBASTIAN Why, how now, Stephano! STEPHANO O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. PROSPERO You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah? STEPHANO I should have been a sore one then. ALONSO This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on. [Pointing to Caliban] PROSPERO He is as disproportion'd in his manners As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; Take with you your companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. CALIBAN Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god And worship this dull fool! PROSPERO Go to; away! ALONSO Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. SEBASTIAN Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO] PROSPERO Sir, I invite your highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away; the story of my life And the particular accidents gone by Since I came to this isle: and in the morn I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemnized; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. ALONSO I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. PROSPERO I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales And sail so expeditious that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to ARIEL] My Ariel, chick, That is thy charge: then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near. [Exeunt] THE TEMPEST EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY PROSPERO Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I must be here confined by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell; But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands: Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free. The Complete Shakespeare: TRAGEDIES ----------------------------------- TITUS ANDRONICUS DRAMATIS PERSONAE SATURNINUS son to the late Emperor of Rome, and afterwards declared Emperor. BASSIANUS brother to Saturninus; in love with Lavinia. TITUS ANDRONICUS a noble Roman, general against the Goths. MARCUS ANDRONICUS tribune of the people, and brother to Titus. LUCIUS | | QUINTUS | | sons to Titus Andronicus. MARTIUS | | MUTIUS | Young LUCIUS a boy, son to Lucius. PUBLIUS son to Marcus the Tribune. SEMPRONIUS | | CAIUS | kinsmen to Titus. | VALENTINE | AEMILIUS a noble Roman. ALARBUS | | DEMETRIUS | sons to Tamora. | CHIRON | AARON a Moor, beloved by Tamora. A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Romans. (Captain:) (Messenger:) (Clown:) Goths and Romans. (First Goth:) (Second Goth:) (Third Goth:) TAMORA Queen of the Goths. LAVINIA daughter of Titus Andronicus. A Nurse. (Nurse:) Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and Attendants. SCENE Rome, and the country near it. TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT I SCENE I Rome. Before the Capitol. [The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side, SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours] SATURNINUS Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms, And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title with your swords: I am his first-born son, that was the last That wore the imperial diadem of Rome; Then let my father's honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age with this indignity. BASSIANUS Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right, If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence and nobility; But let desert in pure election shine, And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. [Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Princes, that strive by factions and by friends Ambitiously for rule and empery, Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have, by common voice, In election for the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius For many good and great deserts to Rome: A nobler man, a braver warrior, Lives not this day within the city walls: He by the senate is accit'd home From weary wars against the barbarous Goths; That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms. Ten years are spent since first he undertook This cause of Rome and chastised with arms Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons In coffins from the field; And now at last, laden with horror's spoils, Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. Let us entreat, by honour of his name, Whom worthily you would have now succeed. And in the Capitol and senate's right, Whom you pretend to honour and adore, That you withdraw you and abate your strength; Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. SATURNINUS How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts! BASSIANUS Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love and honour thee and thine, Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, That I will here dismiss my loving friends, And to my fortunes and the people's favor Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. [Exeunt the followers of BASSIANUS] SATURNINUS Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all and here dismiss you all, And to the love and favor of my country Commit myself, my person and the cause. [Exeunt the followers of SATURNINUS] Rome, be as just and gracious unto me As I am confident and kind to thee. Open the gates, and let me in. BASSIANUS Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. [Flourish. SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS go up into the Capitol] [Enter a Captain] Captain Romans, make way: the good Andronicus. Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. [Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MARTIUS and MUTIUS; After them, two Men bearing a coffin covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other Goths, prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The Bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks] TITUS ANDRONICUS Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught, Returns with precious jading to the bay From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, To re-salute his country with his tears, Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. Thou great defender of this Capitol, Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, Half of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poor remains, alive and dead! These that survive let Rome reward with love; These that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors: Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword. Titus, unkind and careless of thine own, Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? Make way to lay them by their brethren. [The tomb is opened] There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars! O sacred receptacle of my joys, Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, How many sons of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt never render to me more! LUCIUS Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh, Before this earthy prison of their bones; That so the shadows be not unappeased, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth. TITUS ANDRONICUS I give him you, the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen. TAMORA Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mother's tears in passion for her son: And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me! Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome, To beautify thy triumphs and return, Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke, But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, For valiant doings in their country's cause? O, if to fight for king and commonweal Were piety in thine, it is in these. Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood: Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? Draw near them then in being merciful: Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge: Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son. TITUS ANDRONICUS Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain Religiously they ask a sacrifice: To this your son is mark'd, and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. LUCIUS Away with him! and make a fire straight; And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consumed. [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS] TAMORA O cruel, irreligious piety! CHIRON Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? DEMETRIUS Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive To tremble under Titus' threatening looks. Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy With opportunity of sharp revenge Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, May favor Tamora, the Queen of Goths-- When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen-- To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. [Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS and MUTIUS, with their swords bloody] LUCIUS See, lord and father, how we have perform'd Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS Let it be so; and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their souls. [Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb] In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep: In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! [Enter LAVINIA] LAVINIA In peace and honour live Lord Titus long; My noble lord and father, live in fame! Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears I render, for my brethren's obsequies; And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy, Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! TITUS ANDRONICUS Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise! [Enter, below, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes; re-enter SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS, attended] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! TITUS ANDRONICUS Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus. MARCUS ANDRONICUS And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, You that survive, and you that sleep in fame! Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, That in your country's service drew your swords: But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, That hath aspired to Solon's happiness And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, This palliament of white and spotless hue; And name thee in election for the empire, With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: Be candidatus then, and put it on, And help to set a head on headless Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS A better head her glorious body fits Than his that shakes for age and feebleness: What should I don this robe, and trouble you? Be chosen with proclamations to-day, To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, And set abroad new business for you all? Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, And led my country's strength successfully, And buried one and twenty valiant sons, Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, In right and service of their noble country Give me a staff of honour for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world: Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. SATURNINUS Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? TITUS ANDRONICUS Patience, Prince Saturninus. SATURNINUS Romans, do me right: Patricians, draw your swords: and sheathe them not Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor. Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell, Rather than rob me of the people's hearts! LUCIUS Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That noble-minded Titus means to thee! TITUS ANDRONICUS Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves. BASSIANUS Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, But honour thee, and will do till I die: My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, I will most thankful be; and thanks to men Of noble minds is honourable meed. TITUS ANDRONICUS People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, I ask your voices and your suffrages: Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? Tribunes To gratify the good Andronicus, And gratulate his safe return to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits. TITUS ANDRONICUS Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make, That you create your emperor's eldest son, Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, And ripen justice in this commonweal: Then, if you will elect by my advice, Crown him and say 'Long live our emperor!' MARCUS ANDRONICUS With voices and applause of every sort, Patricians and plebeians, we create Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor, And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine!' [A long flourish till they come down] SATURNINUS Titus Andronicus, for thy favors done To us in our election this day, I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: And, for an onset, Titus, to advance Thy name and honourable family, Lavinia will I make my empress, Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? TITUS ANDRONICUS It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine, King and commander of our commonweal, The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate My sword, my chariot and my prisoners; Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord: Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. SATURNINUS Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts Rome shall record, and when I do forget The least of these unspeakable deserts, Romans, forget your fealty to me. TITUS ANDRONICUS [To TAMORA] Now, madam, are you prisoner to an emperor; To him that, for your honour and your state, Will use you nobly and your followers. SATURNINUS A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue That I would choose, were I to choose anew. Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance: Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome: Princely shall be thy usage every way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. Lavinia, you are not displeased with this? LAVINIA Not I, my lord; sith true nobility Warrants these words in princely courtesy. SATURNINUS Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go; Ransomless here we set our prisoners free: Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. [Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show] BASSIANUS Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. [Seizing LAVINIA] TITUS ANDRONICUS How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord? BASSIANUS Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal To do myself this reason and this right. MARCUS ANDRONICUS 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice: This prince in justice seizeth but his own. LUCIUS And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. TITUS ANDRONICUS Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's guard? Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surprised! SATURNINUS Surprised! by whom? BASSIANUS By him that justly may Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. [Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA] MUTIUS Brothers, help to convey her hence away, And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. MUTIUS My lord, you pass not here. TITUS ANDRONICUS What, villain boy! Barr'st me my way in Rome? [Stabbing MUTIUS] MUTIUS Help, Lucius, help! [Dies] [During the fray, SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON go out and re-enter, above] [Re-enter LUCIUS] LUCIUS My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so, In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. TITUS ANDRONICUS Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine; My sons would never so dishonour me: Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. LUCIUS Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, That is another's lawful promised love. [Exit] SATURNINUS No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, Confederates all thus to dishonour me. Was there none else in Rome to make a stale, But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine, That said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands. TITUS ANDRONICUS O monstrous! what reproachful words are these? SATURNINUS But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece To him that flourish'd for her with his sword A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS These words are razors to my wounded heart. SATURNINUS And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths, That like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice, Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, And will create thee empress of Rome, Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? And here I swear by all the Roman gods, Sith priest and holy water are so near And tapers burn so bright and every thing In readiness for Hymenaeus stand, I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, Or climb my palace, till from forth this place I lead espoused my bride along with me. TAMORA And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear, If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, She will a handmaid be to his desires, A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. SATURNINUS Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany Your noble emperor and his lovely bride, Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered: There shall we consummate our spousal rites. [Exeunt all but TITUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS I am not bid to wait upon this bride. Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? [Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. TITUS ANDRONICUS No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine, Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed That hath dishonour'd all our family; Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! LUCIUS But let us give him burial, as becomes; Give Mutius burial with our brethren. TITUS ANDRONICUS Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb: This monument five hundred years hath stood, Which I have sumptuously re-edified: Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls: Bury him where you can; he comes not here. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, this is impiety in you: My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him He must be buried with his brethren. QUINTUS | | And shall, or him we will accompany. MARTIUS | TITUS ANDRONICUS 'And shall!' what villain was it that spake that word? QUINTUS He that would vouch it in any place but here. TITUS ANDRONICUS What, would you bury him in my despite? MARCUS ANDRONICUS No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee To pardon Mutius and to bury him. TITUS ANDRONICUS Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded: My foes I do repute you every one; So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. MARTIUS He is not with himself; let us withdraw. QUINTUS Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. [MARCUS and the Sons of TITUS kneel] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,-- QUINTUS Father, and in that name doth nature speak,-- TITUS ANDRONICUS Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,-- LUCIUS Dear father, soul and substance of us all,-- MARCUS ANDRONICUS Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous: The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son Did graciously plead for his funerals: Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy Be barr'd his entrance here. TITUS ANDRONICUS Rise, Marcus, rise. The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw, To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome! Well, bury him, and bury me the next. [MUTIUS is put into the tomb] LUCIUS There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. All [Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome? TITUS ANDRONICUS I know not, Marcus; but I know it is, Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell: Is she not then beholding to the man That brought her for this high good turn so far? Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. [Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNINUS attended, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON; from the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others] SATURNINUS So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize: God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride! BASSIANUS And you of yours, my lord! I say no more, Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave. SATURNINUS Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. BASSIANUS Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, My truth-betrothed love and now my wife? But let the laws of Rome determine all; Meanwhile I am possess'd of that is mine. SATURNINUS 'Tis good, sir: you are very short with us; But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. BASSIANUS My lord, what I have done, as best I may, Answer I must and shall do with my life. Only thus much I give your grace to know: By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd; That in the rescue of Lavinia With his own hand did slay his youngest son, In zeal to you and highly moved to wrath To be controll'd in that he frankly gave: Receive him, then, to favor, Saturnine, That hath express'd himself in all his deeds A father and a friend to thee and Rome. TITUS ANDRONICUS Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds: 'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me. Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, How I have loved and honour'd Saturnine! TAMORA My worthy lord, if ever Tamora Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, Then hear me speak in indifferently for all; And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. SATURNINUS What, madam! be dishonour'd openly, And basely put it up without revenge? TAMORA Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend I should be author to dishonour you! But on mine honour dare I undertake For good Lord Titus' innocence in all; Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: Then, at my suit, look graciously on him; Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. [Aside to SATURNINUS] My lord, be ruled by me, be won at last; Dissemble all your griefs and discontents: You are but newly planted in your throne; Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, Upon a just survey, take Titus' part, And so supplant you for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, Yield at entreats; and then let me alone: I'll find a day to massacre them all And raze their faction and their family, The cruel father and his traitorous sons, To whom I sued for my dear son's life, And make them know what 'tis to let a queen Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain. [Aloud] Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus; Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. SATURNINUS Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd. TITUS ANDRONICUS I thank your majesty, and her, my lord: These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. TAMORA Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconciled your friends and you. For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd My word and promise to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable. And fear not lords, and you, Lavinia; By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty. LUCIUS We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness, That what we did was mildly as we might, Tendering our sister's honour and our own. MARCUS ANDRONICUS That, on mine honour, here I do protest. SATURNINUS Away, and talk not; trouble us no more. TAMORA Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends: The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace; I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back. SATURNINUS Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's here, And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, I do remit these young men's heinous faults: Stand up. Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, I found a friend, and sure as death I swore I would not part a bachelor from the priest. Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides, You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. TITUS ANDRONICUS To-morrow, an it please your majesty To hunt the panther and the hart with me, With horn and hound we'll give your grace bonjour. SATURNINUS Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Flourish. Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE I Rome. Before the Palace. [Enter AARON] AARON Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft, Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash; Advanced above pale envy's threatening reach. As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, And overlooks the highest-peering hills; So Tamora: Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts, To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, To wait upon this new-made empress. To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen, This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, And see his shipwreck and his commonweal's. Holloa! what storm is this? [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, braving] DEMETRIUS Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge, And manners, to intrude where I am graced; And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be. CHIRON Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all; And so in this, to bear me down with braves. 'Tis not the difference of a year or two Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate: I am as able and as fit as thou To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace; And that my sword upon thee shall approve, And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. AARON [Aside] Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep the peace. DEMETRIUS Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised, Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side, Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends? Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath Till you know better how to handle it. CHIRON Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. DEMETRIUS Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? [They draw] AARON [Coming forward] Why, how now, lords! So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, And maintain such a quarrel openly? Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge: I would not for a million of gold The cause were known to them it most concerns; Nor would your noble mother for much more Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome. For shame, put up. DEMETRIUS Not I, till I have sheathed My rapier in his bosom and withal Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat That he hath breathed in my dishonour here. CHIRON For that I am prepared and full resolved. Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing darest perform! AARON Away, I say! Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, This petty brabble will undo us all. Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous It is to jet upon a prince's right? What, is Lavinia then become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd Without controlment, justice, or revenge? Young lords, beware! and should the empress know This discord's ground, the music would not please. CHIRON I care not, I, knew she and all the world: I love Lavinia more than all the world. DEMETRIUS Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice: Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. AARON Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brook competitors in love? I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths By this device. CHIRON Aaron, a thousand deaths Would I propose to achieve her whom I love. AARON To achieve her! how? DEMETRIUS Why makest thou it so strange? She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; She is a woman, therefore may be won; She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. What, man! more water glideth by the mill Than wots the miller of; and easy it is Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother. Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. AARON [Aside] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. DEMETRIUS Then why should he despair that knows to court it With words, fair looks and liberality? What, hast not thou full often struck a doe, And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? AARON Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so Would serve your turns. CHIRON Ay, so the turn were served. DEMETRIUS Aaron, thou hast hit it. AARON Would you had hit it too! Then should not we be tired with this ado. Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools To square for this? would it offend you, then That both should speed? CHIRON Faith, not me. DEMETRIUS Nor me, so I were one. AARON For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar: 'Tis policy and stratagem must do That you affect; and so must you resolve, That what you cannot as you would achieve, You must perforce accomplish as you may. Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. A speedier course than lingering languishment Must we pursue, and I have found the path. My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: The forest walks are wide and spacious; And many unfrequented plots there are Fitted by kind for rape and villany: Single you thither then this dainty doe, And strike her home by force, if not by words: This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit To villany and vengeance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all that we intend; And she shall file our engines with advice, That will not suffer you to square yourselves, But to your wishes' height advance you both. The emperor's court is like the house of Fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears: The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull; There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns; There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye, And revel in Lavinia's treasury. CHIRON Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice, DEMETRIUS Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits. Per Styga, per manes vehor. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE II A forest near Rome. Horns and cry of hounds heard. [Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c., MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, The fields are fragrant and the woods are green: Uncouple here and let us make a bay And wake the emperor and his lovely bride And rouse the prince and ring a hunter's peal, That all the court may echo with the noise. Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, To attend the emperor's person carefully: I have been troubled in my sleep this night, But dawning day new comfort hath inspired. [A cry of hounds and horns, winded in a peal. Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, and Attendants] Many good morrows to your majesty; Madam, to you as many and as good: I promised your grace a hunter's peal. SATURNINUS And you have rung it lustily, my lord; Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. BASSIANUS Lavinia, how say you? LAVINIA I say, no; I have been broad awake two hours and more. SATURNINUS Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have, And to our sport. [To TAMORA] Madam, now shall ye see Our Roman hunting. MARCUS ANDRONICUS I have dogs, my lord, Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top. TITUS ANDRONICUS And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. DEMETRIUS Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE III A lonely part of the forest. [Enter AARON, with a bag of gold] AARON He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villany: And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest [Hides the gold] That have their alms out of the empress' chest. [Enter TAMORA] TAMORA My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise; And, after conflict such as was supposed The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, When with a happy storm they were surprised And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurse's song Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. AARON Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine: What signifies my deadly-standing eye, My silence and my cloudy melancholy, My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls Even as an adder when she doth unroll To do some fatal execution? No, madam, these are no venereal signs: Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark Tamora, the empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus: His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, Thy sons make pillage of her chastity And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, And give the king this fatal plotted scroll. Now question me no more; we are espied; Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. TAMORA Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life! AARON No more, great empress; Bassianus comes: Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. [Exit] [Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA] BASSIANUS Who have we here? Rome's royal empress, Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? Or is it Dian, habited like her, Who hath abandoned her holy groves To see the general hunting in this forest? TAMORA Saucy controller of our private steps! Had I the power that some say Dian had, Thy temples should be planted presently With horns, as was Actaeon's; and the hounds Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, Unmannerly intruder as thou art! LAVINIA Under your patience, gentle empress, 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning; And to be doubted that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments: Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! 'Tis pity they should take him for a stag. BASSIANUS Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian Doth make your honour of his body's hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable. Why are you sequester'd from all your train, Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed. And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, If foul desire had not conducted you? LAVINIA And, being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my noble lord be rated For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence, And let her joy her raven-colour'd love; This valley fits the purpose passing well. BASSIANUS The king my brother shall have note of this. LAVINIA Ay, for these slips have made him noted long: Good king, to be so mightily abused! TAMORA Why have I patience to endure all this? [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON] DEMETRIUS How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother! Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? TAMORA Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? These two have 'ticed me hither to this place: A barren detested vale, you see it is; The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe: Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven: And when they show'd me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, Would make such fearful and confused cries As any mortal body hearing it Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But straight they told me they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew, And leave me to this miserable death: And then they call'd me foul adulteress, Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms That ever ear did hear to such effect: And, had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed. Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children. DEMETRIUS This is a witness that I am thy son. [Stabs BASSIANUS] CHIRON And this for me, struck home to show my strength. [Also stabs BASSIANUS, who dies] LAVINIA Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora, For no name fits thy nature but thy own! TAMORA Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. DEMETRIUS Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her; First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw: This minion stood upon her chastity, Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, And with that painted hope braves your mightiness: And shall she carry this unto her grave? CHIRON An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. TAMORA But when ye have the honey ye desire, Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. CHIRON I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy That nice-preserved honesty of yours. LAVINIA O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,-- TAMORA I will not hear her speak; away with her! LAVINIA Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. DEMETRIUS Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory To see her tears; but be your heart to them As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. LAVINIA When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam? O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee; The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble; Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. Yet every mother breeds not sons alike: [To CHIRON] Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. CHIRON What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard? LAVINIA 'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark: Yet have I heard,--O, could I find it now!-- The lion moved with pity did endure To have his princely paws pared all away: Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, Nothing so kind, but something pitiful! TAMORA I know not what it means; away with her! LAVINIA O, let me teach thee! for my father's sake, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee, Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. TAMORA Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless. Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, To save your brother from the sacrifice; But fierce Andronicus would not relent; Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will, The worse to her, the better loved of me. LAVINIA O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place! For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long; Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. TAMORA What begg'st thou, then? fond woman, let me go. LAVINIA 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where never man's eye may behold my body: Do this, and be a charitable murderer. TAMORA So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. DEMETRIUS Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long. LAVINIA No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature! The blot and enemy to our general name! Confusion fall-- CHIRON Nay, then I'll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband: This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. [DEMETRIUS throws the body of BASSIANUS into the pit; then exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging off LAVINIA] TAMORA Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure. Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, Till all the Andronici be made away. Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow'r. [Exit] [Re-enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS] AARON Come on, my lords, the better foot before: Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit Where I espied the panther fast asleep. QUINTUS My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. MARTIUS And mine, I promise you; were't not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. [Falls into the pit] QUINTUS What art thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this, Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers, Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers? A very fatal place it seems to me. Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? MARTIUS O brother, with the dismall'st object hurt That ever eye with sight made heart lament! AARON [Aside] Now will I fetch the king to find them here, That he thereby may give a likely guess How these were they that made away his brother. [Exit] MARTIUS Why dost not comfort me, and help me out From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole? QUINTUS I am surprised with an uncouth fear; A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints: My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. MARTIUS To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death. QUINTUS Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart Will not permit mine eyes once to behold The thing whereat it trembles by surmise; O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now Was I a child to fear I know not what. MARTIUS Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. QUINTUS If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? MARTIUS Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, And shows the ragged entrails of the pit: So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood. O brother, help me with thy fainting hand-- If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath-- Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. QUINTUS Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out; Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. MARTIUS Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. QUINTUS Thy hand once more; I will not loose again, Till thou art here aloft, or I below: Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee. [Falls in] [Enter SATURNINUS with AARON] SATURNINUS Along with me: I'll see what hole is here, And what he is that now is leap'd into it. Say who art thou that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth? MARTIUS The unhappy son of old Andronicus: Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead. SATURNINUS My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest: He and his lady both are at the lodge Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 'Tis not an hour since I left him there. MARTIUS We know not where you left him all alive; But, out, alas! here have we found him dead. [Re-enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS ANDRONICUS, and Lucius] TAMORA Where is my lord the king? SATURNINUS Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief. TAMORA Where is thy brother Bassianus? SATURNINUS Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound: Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. TAMORA Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, The complot of this timeless tragedy; And wonder greatly that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. [She giveth SATURNINUS a letter] SATURNINUS [Reads] 'An if we miss to meet him handsomely-- Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we mean-- Do thou so much as dig the grave for him: Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward Among the nettles at the elder-tree Which overshades the mouth of that same pit Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' O Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit, and this the elder-tree. Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out That should have murdered Bassianus here. AARON My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. SATURNINUS [To TITUS] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life. Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison: There let them bide until we have devised Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. TAMORA What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! How easily murder is discovered! TITUS ANDRONICUS High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed if the fault be proved in them,-- SATURNINUS If it be proved! you see it is apparent. Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? TAMORA Andronicus himself did take it up. TITUS ANDRONICUS I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail; For, by my father's reverend tomb, I vow They shall be ready at your highness' will To answer their suspicion with their lives. SATURNINUS Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me. Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain; For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, That end upon them should be executed. TAMORA Andronicus, I will entreat the king; Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT II SCENE IV Another part of the forest. [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON with LAVINIA, ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out] DEMETRIUS So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. CHIRON Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. DEMETRIUS See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl. CHIRON Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. DEMETRIUS She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; And so let's leave her to her silent walks. CHIRON An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. DEMETRIUS If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON] [Enter MARCUS] MARCUS Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast! Cousin, a word; where is your husband? If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me! If I do wake, some planet strike me down, That I may slumber in eternal sleep! Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, And might not gain so great a happiness As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me? Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee, And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face Blushing to be encountered with a cloud. Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, That I might rail at him, to ease my mind! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind: But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could have better sew'd than Philomel. O, had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute, And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, He would not then have touch'd them for his life! Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind; For such a sight will blind a father's eye: One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads; What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee O, could our mourning ease thy misery! [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT III SCENE I Rome. A street. [Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with MARTIUS and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of execution; TITUS going before, pleading] TITUS ANDRONICUS Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; And for these bitter tears, which now you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honour's lofty bed. [Lieth down; the Judges, &c., pass by him, and Exeunt] For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears: Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, That shall distil from these two ancient urns, Than youthful April shall with all his showers: In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. [Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn] O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men! Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; And let me say, that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators. LUCIUS O noble father, you lament in vain: The tribunes hear you not; no man is by; And you recount your sorrows to a stone. TITUS ANDRONICUS Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,-- LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, tis no matter, man; if they did hear, They would not mark me, or if they did mark, They would not pity me, yet plead I must; And bootless unto them [ ] Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me; And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax,--tribunes more hard than stones; A stone is silent, and offendeth not, And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. [Rises] But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? LUCIUS To rescue my two brothers from their death: For which attempt the judges have pronounced My everlasting doom of banishment. TITUS ANDRONICUS O happy man! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine: how happy art thou, then, From these devourers to be banished! But who comes with our brother Marcus here? [Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break: I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. TITUS ANDRONICUS Will it consume me? let me see it, then. MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was thy daughter. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, Marcus, so she is. LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me! TITUS ANDRONICUS Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? What fool hath added water to the sea, Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? My grief was at the height before thou camest, And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have served me to effectless use: Now all the service I require of them Is that the one will help to cut the other. 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, that delightful engine of her thoughts That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! LUCIUS O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer That hath received some unrecuring wound. TITUS ANDRONICUS It was my deer; and he that wounded her Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead: For now I stand as one upon a rock Environed with a wilderness of sea, Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sons are gone; Here stands my other son, a banished man, And here my brother, weeping at my woes. But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, It would have madded me: what shall I do Now I behold thy lively body so? Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears: Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: Thy husband he is dead: and for his death Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; Perchance because she knows them innocent. TITUS ANDRONICUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips. Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain, Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks How they are stain'd, as meadows, yet not dry, With miry slime left on them by a flood? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows Pass the remainder of our hateful days? What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, Plot some deuce of further misery, To make us wonder'd at in time to come. LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief, See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes. TITUS ANDRONICUS Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. TITUS ANDRONICUS Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs: Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee: His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of woe is this, As far from help as Limbo is from bliss! [Enter AARON] AARON Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word,--that, if thou love thy sons, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand, And send it to the king: he for the same Will send thee hither both thy sons alive; And that shall be the ransom for their fault. TITUS ANDRONICUS O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! Did ever raven sing so like a lark, That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? With all my heart, I'll send the emperor My hand: Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? LUCIUS Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine, That hath thrown down so many enemies, Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn: My youth can better spare my blood than you; And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? O, none of both but are of high desert: My hand hath been but idle; let it serve To ransom my two nephews from their death; Then have I kept it to a worthy end. AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My hand shall go. LUCIUS By heaven, it shall not go! TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. LUCIUS Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, Let me redeem my brothers both from death. MARCUS ANDRONICUS And, for our father's sake and mother's care, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. TITUS ANDRONICUS Agree between you; I will spare my hand. LUCIUS Then I'll go fetch an axe. MARCUS ANDRONICUS But I will use the axe. [Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both: Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. AARON [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so: But I'll deceive you in another sort, And that you'll say, ere half an hour pass. [Cuts off TITUS's hand] [Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS] TITUS ANDRONICUS Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatch'd. Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: Tell him it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers; bid him bury it More hath it merited; that let it have. As for my sons, say I account of them As jewels purchased at an easy price; And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. AARON I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand Look by and by to have thy sons with thee. [Aside] Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace. Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth: If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call! [To LAVINIA] What, wilt thou kneel with me? Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers; Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. MARCUS ANDRONICUS O brother, speak with possibilities, And do not break into these deep extremes. TITUS ANDRONICUS Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? Then be my passions bottomless with them. MARCUS ANDRONICUS But yet let reason govern thy lament. TITUS ANDRONICUS If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes: When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd; For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave, for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. [Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand] Messenger Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd; That woe is me to think upon thy woes More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever-burning hell! These miseries are more than may be borne. To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal; But sorrow flouted at is double death. LUCIUS Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! [LAVINIA kisses TITUS] MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless As frozen water to a starved snake. TITUS ANDRONICUS When will this fearful slumber have an end? MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus; Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads, Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here: Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes; Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha, ha! MARCUS ANDRONICUS Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, I have not another tear to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watery eyes And make them blind with tributary tears: Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me, And threat me I shall never come to bliss Till all these mischiefs be return'd again Even in their throats that have committed them. Come, let me see what task I have to do. You heavy people, circle me about, That I may turn me to each one of you, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head; And in this hand the other I will bear. Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd: these arms! Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there: And, if you love me, as I think you do, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. [Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA] LUCIUS Farewell Andronicus, my noble father, The wofull'st man that ever lived in Rome: Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life: Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives But in oblivion and hateful griefs. If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; And make proud Saturnine and his empress Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT III SCENE II A room in Titus's house. A banquet set out. [Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA and Young LUCIUS, a boy] TITUS ANDRONICUS So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more Than will preserve just so much strength in us As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, And cannot passionate our tenfold grief With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; Who, when my heart, all mad with misery, Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, Then thus I thump it down. [To LAVINIA] Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; Or get some little knife between thy teeth, And just against thy heart make thou a hole; That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall May run into that sink, and soaking in Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life. TITUS ANDRONICUS How now! has sorrow made thee dote already? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. What violent hands can she lay on her life? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; To bid AEneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt and he made miserable? O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands, Lest we remember still that we have none. Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, As if we should forget we had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands! Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this: Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; She says she drinks no other drink but tears, Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks: Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; In thy dumb action will I be as perfect As begging hermits in their holy prayers: Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I of these will wrest an alphabet And by still practise learn to know thy meaning. Young LUCIUS Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments: Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved, Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. TITUS ANDRONICUS Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away. [MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife] What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? MARCUS ANDRONICUS At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. TITUS ANDRONICUS Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart; Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: A deed of death done on the innocent Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone: I see thou art not for my company. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. TITUS ANDRONICUS But how, if that fly had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buzz lamenting doings in the air! Poor harmless fly, That, with his pretty buzzing melody, Came here to make us merry! and thou hast kill'd him. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly, Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. TITUS ANDRONICUS O, O, O, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a charitable deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor Come hither purposely to poison me.-- There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. Ah, sirrah! Yet, I think, we are not brought so low, But that between us we can kill a fly That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows for true substances. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee Sad stories chanced in the times of old. Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE I Rome. Titus's garden. [Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him, and the boy flies from her, with books under his arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS] Young LUCIUS Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why: Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. TITUS ANDRONICUS She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Young LUCIUS Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. MARCUS ANDRONICUS What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? TITUS ANDRONICUS Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean: See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons than she hath read to thee Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? Young LUCIUS My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs would make men mad; And I have read that Hecuba of Troy Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear; Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: Which made me down to throw my books, and fly-- Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt: And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, I will most willingly attend your ladyship. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Lucius, I will. [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which LUCIUS has let fall] TITUS ANDRONICUS How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this? Some book there is that she desires to see. Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy. But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? MARCUS ANDRONICUS I think she means that there was more than one Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was; Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. TITUS ANDRONICUS Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Young LUCIUS Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; My mother gave it me. MARCUS ANDRONICUS For love of her that's gone, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. TITUS ANDRONICUS Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves! [Helping her] What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? This is the tragic tale of Philomel, And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape: And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. MARCUS ANDRONICUS See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves. TITUS ANDRONICUS Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl, Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see! Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt-- O, had we never, never hunted there!-- Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, By nature made for murders and for rapes. MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, why should nature build so foul a den, Unless the gods delight in tragedies? TITUS ANDRONICUS Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none but friends, What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? MARCUS ANDRONICUS Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me. Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Inspire me, that I may this treason find! My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia: This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst This after me, when I have writ my name Without the help of any hand at all. [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it with feet and mouth] Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift! Write thou good niece; and here display, at last, What God will have discover'd for revenge; Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, That we may know the traitors and the truth! [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps, and writes] TITUS ANDRONICUS O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? 'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.' MARCUS ANDRONICUS What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? TITUS ANDRONICUS Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know There is enough written upon this earth To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; And swear with me, as, with the woful fere And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, That we will prosecute by good advice Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, And see their blood, or die with this reproach. TITUS ANDRONICUS 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware: The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, She's with the lion deeply still in league, And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, And when he sleeps will she do what she list. You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone; And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, And with a gad of steel will write these words, And lay it by: the angry northern wind Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you? Young LUCIUS I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft For his ungrateful country done the like. Young LUCIUS And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, go with me into mine armoury; Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, Shalt carry from me to the empress' sons Presents that I intend to send them both: Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Young LUCIUS Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. TITUS ANDRONICUS No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course. Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house: Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court: Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Young LUCIUS] MARCUS ANDRONICUS O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield; But yet so just that he will not revenge. Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE II The same. A room in the palace. [Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON; from the other side, Young LUCIUS, and an Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ upon them] CHIRON Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; He hath some message to deliver us. AARON Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. Young LUCIUS My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus. [Aside] And pray the Roman gods confound you both! DEMETRIUS Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news? Young LUCIUS [Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape.--May it please you, My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well: And so I leave you both: [Aside] like bloody villains. [Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant] DEMETRIUS What's here? A scroll; and written round about? Let's see; [Reads] 'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.' CHIRON O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: I read it in the grammar long ago. AARON Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it. [Aside] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt; And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines, That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. But were our witty empress well afoot, She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: But let her rest in her unrest awhile. And now, young lords, was't not a happy star Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, Captives, to be advanced to this height? It did me good, before the palace gate To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. DEMETRIUS But me more good, to see so great a lord Basely insinuate and send us gifts. AARON Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? Did you not use his daughter very friendly? DEMETRIUS I would we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. CHIRON A charitable wish and full of love. AARON Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. CHIRON And that would she for twenty thousand more. DEMETRIUS Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains. AARON [Aside] Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over. [Trumpets sound within] DEMETRIUS Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? CHIRON Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. DEMETRIUS Soft! who comes here? [Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms] Nurse Good morrow, lords: O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? AARON Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? Nurse O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! AARON Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? Nurse O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye, Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace! She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd. AARON To whom? Nurse I mean, she is brought a-bed. AARON Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her? Nurse A devil. AARON Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue. Nurse A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue: Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime: The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. AARON 'Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. DEMETRIUS Villain, what hast thou done? AARON That which thou canst not undo. CHIRON Thou hast undone our mother. AARON Villain, I have done thy mother. DEMETRIUS And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend! CHIRON It shall not live. AARON It shall not die. Nurse Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. AARON What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I Do execution on my flesh and blood. DEMETRIUS I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point: Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it. AARON Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. [Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws] Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, That shone so brightly when this boy was got, He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point That touches this my first-born son and heir! I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood, Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted signs! Coal-black is better than another hue, In that it scorns to bear another hue; For all the water in the ocean Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood. Tell the empress from me, I am of age To keep mine own, excuse it how she can. DEMETRIUS Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? AARON My mistress is my mistress; this myself, The vigour and the picture of my youth: This before all the world do I prefer; This maugre all the world will I keep safe, Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. DEMETRIUS By this our mother is forever shamed. CHIRON Rome will despise her for this foul escape. Nurse The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death. CHIRON I blush to think upon this ignomy. AARON Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the heart! Here's a young lad framed of another leer: Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father, As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you, And from that womb where you imprison'd were He is enfranchised and come to light: Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, Although my seal be stamped in his face. Nurse Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? DEMETRIUS Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy advice: Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. AARON Then sit we down, and let us all consult. My son and I will have the wind of you: Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety. [They sit] DEMETRIUS How many women saw this child of his? AARON Why, so, brave lords! when we join in league, I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. But say, again; how many saw the child? Nurse Cornelia the midwife and myself; And no one else but the deliver'd empress. AARON The empress, the midwife, and yourself: Two may keep counsel when the third's away: Go to the empress, tell her this I said. [He kills the nurse] Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit. DEMETRIUS What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this? AARON O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no: And now be it known to you my full intent. Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman; His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; His child is like to her, fair as you are: Go pack with him, and give the mother gold, And tell them both the circumstance of all; And how by this their child shall be advanced, And be received for the emperor's heir, And substituted in the place of mine, To calm this tempest whirling in the court; And let the emperor dandle him for his own. Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her physic, [Pointing to the nurse] And you must needs bestow her funeral; The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: This done, see that you take no longer days, But send the midwife presently to me. The midwife and the nurse well made away, Then let the ladies tattle what they please. CHIRON Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air With secrets. DEMETRIUS For this care of Tamora, Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON bearing off the Nurse's body] AARON Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies; There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, And secretly to greet the empress' friends. Come on, you thick lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence; For it is you that puts us to our shifts: I'll make you feed on berries and on roots, And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, And cabin in a cave, and bring you up To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE III The same. A public place. [Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters at the ends of them; with him, MARCUS, Young LUCIUS, PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, CAIUS, and other Gentlemen, with bows] TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way. Sir boy, now let me see your archery; Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight. Terras Astraea reliquit: Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled. Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets; Happily you may catch her in the sea; Yet there's as little justice as at land: No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; 'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: Then, when you come to Pluto's region, I pray you, deliver him this petition; Tell him, it is for justice and for aid, And that it comes from old Andronicus, Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable What time I threw the people's suffrages On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all, And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd: This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence; And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Publius, is not this a heavy case, To see thy noble uncle thus distract? PUBLIUS Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns By day and night to attend him carefully, And feed his humour kindly as we may, Till time beget some careful remedy. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. TITUS ANDRONICUS Publius, how now! how now, my masters! What, have you met with her? PUBLIUS No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word, If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall: Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, So that perforce you must needs stay a time. TITUS ANDRONICUS He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. I'll dive into the burning lake below, And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size; But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back, Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear: And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell, We will solicit heaven and move the gods To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs. Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus; [He gives them the arrows] 'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:' 'Ad Martem,' that's for myself: Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury: To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine; You were as good to shoot against the wind. To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid. Of my word, I have written to effect; There's not a god left unsolicited. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court: We will afflict the emperor in his pride. TITUS ANDRONICUS Now, masters, draw. [They shoot] O, well said, Lucius! Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas. MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon; Your letter is with Jupiter by this. TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot, The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court; And who should find them but the empress' villain? She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose But give them to his master for a present. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy! [Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in it] News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? Clown O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hanged till the next week. TITUS ANDRONICUS But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Clown Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him in all my life. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Clown Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, didst thou not come from heaven? Clown From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you. TITUS ANDRONICUS Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace? Clown Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor: By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. Hold, hold; meanwhile here's money for thy charges. Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication? Clown Ay, sir. TITUS ANDRONICUS Then here is a supplication for you. And when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see you do it bravely. Clown I warrant you, sir, let me alone. TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant. And when thou hast given it the emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. Clown God be with you, sir; I will. TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT IV SCENE IV The same. Before the palace. [Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in his hand that TITUS shot] SATURNINUS Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen An emperor in Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent Of egal justice, used in such contempt? My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, However these disturbers of our peace Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, But even with law, against the willful sons Of old Andronicus. And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? And now he writes to heaven for his redress: See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; This to Apollo; this to the god of war; Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! What's this but libelling against the senate, And blazoning our injustice every where? A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? As who would say, in Rome no justice were. But if I live, his feigned ecstasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages: But he and his shall know that justice lives In Saturninus' health, whom, if she sleep, He'll so awake as she in fury shall Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. TAMORA My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr'd his heart; And rather comfort his distressed plight Than prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts. [Aside] Why, thus it shall become High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. [Enter Clown] How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us? Clown Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial. TAMORA Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clown 'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den: I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. [SATURNINUS reads the letter] SATURNINUS Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clown How much money must I have? TAMORA Come, sirrah, you must be hanged. Clown Hanged! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded] SATURNINUS Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villany? I know from whence this same device proceeds: May this be borne?--as if his traitorous sons, That died by law for murder of our brother, Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully! Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege: For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman; Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. [Enter AEMILIUS] What news with thee, AEmilius? AEMILIUS Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome never had more cause. The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, They hither march amain, under conduct Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do As much as ever Coriolanus did. SATURNINUS Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? These tidings nip me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms: Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach: 'Tis he the common people love so much; Myself hath often over-heard them say, When I have walked like a private man, That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor. TAMORA Why should you fear? is not your city strong? SATURNINUS Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius, And will revolt from me to succor him. TAMORA King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name. Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody: Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. Then cheer thy spirit : for know, thou emperor, I will enchant the old Andronicus With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep, When as the one is wounded with the bait, The other rotted with delicious feed. SATURNINUS But he will not entreat his son for us. TAMORA If Tamora entreat him, then he will: For I can smooth and fill his aged ear With golden promises; that, were his heart Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. [To AEmilius] Go thou before, be our ambassador: Say that the emperor requests a parley Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. SATURNINUS AEmilius, do this message honourably: And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. AEMILIUS Your bidding shall I do effectually. [Exit] TAMORA Now will I to that old Andronicus; And temper him with all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, And bury all thy fear in my devices. SATURNINUS Then go successantly, and plead to him. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT V SCENE I Plains near Rome. [Enter LUCIUS with an army of Goths, with drum and colours] LUCIUS Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which signify what hate they bear their emperor And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, Imperious and impatient of your wrongs, And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, Let him make treble satisfaction. First Goth Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus, Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort; Whose high exploits and honourable deeds Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day Led by their master to the flowered fields, And be avenged on cursed Tamora. All the Goths And as he saith, so say we all with him. LUCIUS I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? [Enter a Goth, leading AARON with his Child in his arms] Second Goth Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye Upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath a wall. I made unto the noise; when soon I heard The crying babe controll'd with this discourse: 'Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam! Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor: But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, They never do beget a coal-black calf. Peace, villain, peace!'--even thus he rates the babe,-- 'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth; Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe, Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.' With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither, To use as you think needful of the man. LUCIUS O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; This is the pearl that pleased your empress' eye, And here's the base fruit of his burning lust. Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey This growing image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word? A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree. And by his side his fruit of bastardy. AARON Touch not the boy; he is of royal blood. LUCIUS Too like the sire for ever being good. First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl; A sight to vex the father's soul withal. Get me a ladder. [A ladder brought, which AARON is made to ascend] AARON Lucius, save the child, And bear it from me to the empress. If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things, That highly may advantage thee to hear: If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, I'll speak no more but 'Vengeance rot you all!' LUCIUS Say on: an if it please me which thou speak'st Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. AARON An if it please thee! why, assure thee, Lucius, 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak; For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres, Acts of black night, abominable deeds, Complots of mischief, treason, villanies Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd: And this shall all be buried by my death, Unless thou swear to me my child shall live. LUCIUS Tell on thy mind; I say thy child shall live. AARON Swear that he shall, and then I will begin. LUCIUS Who should I swear by? thou believest no god: That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? AARON What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not; Yet, for I know thou art religious And hast a thing within thee called conscience, With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, Which I have seen thee careful to observe, Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know An idiot holds his bauble for a god And keeps the oath which by that god he swears, To that I'll urge him: therefore thou shalt vow By that same god, what god soe'er it be, That thou adorest and hast in reverence, To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up; Or else I will discover nought to thee. LUCIUS Even by my god I swear to thee I will. AARON First know thou, I begot him on the empress. LUCIUS O most insatiate and luxurious woman! AARON Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. 'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus; They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her And cut her hands and trimm'd her as thou saw'st. LUCIUS O detestable villain! call'st thou that trimming? AARON Why, she was wash'd and cut and trimm'd, and 'twas Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. LUCIUS O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! AARON Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them: That codding spirit had they from their mother, As sure a card as ever won the set; That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, As true a dog as ever fought at head. Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay: I wrote the letter that thy father found And hid the gold within the letter mention'd, Confederate with the queen and her two sons: And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand, And, when I had it, drew myself apart And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter: I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads; Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily, That both mine eyes were rainy like to his : And when I told the empress of this sport, She swooned almost at my pleasing tale, And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. First Goth What, canst thou say all this, and never blush? AARON Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. LUCIUS Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? AARON Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,-- Wherein I did not some notorious ill, As kill a man, or else devise his death, Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some innocent and forswear myself, Set deadly enmity between two friends, Make poor men's cattle break their necks; Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly, And nothing grieves me heartily indeed But that I cannot do ten thousand more. LUCIUS Bring down the devil; for he must not die So sweet a death as hanging presently. AARON If there be devils, would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire, So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue! LUCIUS Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more. [Enter a Goth] Third Goth My lord, there is a messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence. LUCIUS Let him come near. [Enter AEMILIUS] Welcome, AEmilius what's the news from Rome? AEMILIUS Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths, The Roman emperor greets you all by me; And, for he understands you are in arms, He craves a parley at your father's house, Willing you to demand your hostages, And they shall be immediately deliver'd. First Goth What says our general? LUCIUS AEmilius, let the emperor give his pledges Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, And we will come. March away. [Exeunt] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT V SCENE II Rome. Before TITUS's house. [Enter TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, disguised] TAMORA Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say I am Revenge, sent from below To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, And work confusion on his enemies. [They knock] [Enter TITUS, above] TITUS ANDRONICUS Who doth molest my contemplation? Is it your trick to make me ope the door, That so my sad decrees may fly away, And all my study be to no effect? You are deceived: for what I mean to do See here in bloody lines I have set down; And what is written shall be executed. TAMORA Titus, I am come to talk with thee. TITUS ANDRONICUS No, not a word; how can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more. TAMORA If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me. TITUS ANDRONICUS I am not mad; I know thee well enough: Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines; Witness these trenches made by grief and care, Witness the tiring day and heavy night; Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud empress, mighty Tamora: Is not thy coming for my other hand? TAMORA Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora; She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom, To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. Come down, and welcome me to this world's light; Confer with me of murder and of death: There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place, No vast obscurity or misty vale, Where bloody murder or detested rape Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. TITUS ANDRONICUS Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies? TAMORA I am; therefore come down, and welcome me. TITUS ANDRONICUS Do me some service, ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands; Now give me some surance that thou art Revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels; And then I'll come and be thy waggoner, And whirl along with thee about the globe. Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, And find out murderers in their guilty caves: And when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, Even from Hyperion's rising in the east Until his very downfall in the sea: And day by day I'll do this heavy task, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. TAMORA These are my ministers, and come with me. TITUS ANDRONICUS Are these thy ministers? what are they call'd? TAMORA Rapine and Murder; therefore called so, Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. TITUS ANDRONICUS Good Lord, how like the empress' sons they are! And you, the empress! but we worldly men Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it by and by. [Exit above] TAMORA This closing with him fits his lunacy Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits, Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; And, being credulous in this mad thought, I'll make him send for Lucius his son; And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, I'll find some cunning practise out of hand, To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, Or, at the least, make them his enemies. See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. [Enter TITUS below] TITUS ANDRONICUS Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee: Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house: Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too. How like the empress and her sons you are! Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: Could not all hell afford you such a devil? For well I wot the empress never wags But in her company there is a Moor; And, would you represent our queen aright, It were convenient you had such a devil: But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? TAMORA What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus? DEMETRIUS Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. CHIRON Show me a villain that hath done a rape, And I am sent to be revenged on him. TAMORA Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all. TITUS ANDRONICUS Look round about the wicked streets of Rome; And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself. Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer. Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap To find another that is like to thee, Good Rapine, stab him; he's a ravisher. Go thou with them; and in the emperor's court There is a queen, attended by a Moor; Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion, for up and down she doth resemble thee: I pray thee, do on them some violent death; They have been violent to me and mine. TAMORA Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do. But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house; When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the empress and her sons, The emperor himself and all thy foes; And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. What says Andronicus to this device? TITUS ANDRONICUS Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titus calls. [Enter MARCUS] Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths: Bid him repair to me, and bring with him Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are: Tell him the emperor and the empress too Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them. This do thou for my love; and so let him, As he regards his aged father's life. MARCUS ANDRONICUS This will I do, and soon return again. [Exit] TAMORA Now will I hence about thy business, And take my ministers along with me. TITUS ANDRONICUS Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me; Or else I'll call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. TAMORA [Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? will you bide with him, Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor How I have govern'd our determined jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, And tarry with him till I turn again. TITUS ANDRONICUS [Aside] I know them all, though they suppose me mad, And will o'erreach them in their own devices: A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam! DEMETRIUS Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here. TAMORA Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes. TITUS ANDRONICUS I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell. [Exit TAMORA] CHIRON Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd? TITUS ANDRONICUS Tut, I have work enough for you to do. Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! [Enter PUBLIUS and others] PUBLIUS What is your will? TITUS ANDRONICUS Know you these two? PUBLIUS The empress' sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius. TITUS ANDRONICUS Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived; The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name; And therefore bind them, gentle Publius. Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them. Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, And now I find it; therefore bind them sure, And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. [Exit] [PUBLIUS, &c. lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS] CHIRON Villains, forbear! we are the empress' sons. PUBLIUS And therefore do we what we are commanded. Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast. [Re-enter TITUS, with LAVINIA; he bearing a knife, and she a basin] TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; But let them hear what fearful words I utter. O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud, This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off and made a merry jest; Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced. What would you say, if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold The basin that receives your guilty blood. You know your mother means to feast with me, And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad: Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust And with your blood and it I'll make a paste, And of the paste a coffin I will rear And make two pasties of your shameful heads, And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam, Like to the earth swallow her own increase. This is the feast that I have bid her to, And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; For worse than Philomel you used my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be revenged: And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come, [He cuts their throats] Receive the blood: and when that they are dead, Let me go grind their bones to powder small And with this hateful liquor temper it; And in that paste let their vile heads be baked. Come, come, be every one officious To make this banquet; which I wish may prove More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast. So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. [Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies] TITUS ANDRONICUS ACT V SCENE III Court of TITUS's house. A banquet set out. [Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON prisoner] LUCIUS Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind That I repair to Rome, I am content. First Goth And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. LUCIUS Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him Till he be brought unto the empress' face, For testimony of her foul proceedings: And see the ambush of our friends be strong; I fear the emperor means no good to us. AARON Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my swelling heart! LUCIUS Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave! Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. [Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish within] The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. [Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS, Tribunes, Senators, and others] SATURNINUS What, hath the firmament more suns than one? LUCIUS What boots it thee to call thyself a sun? MARCUS ANDRONICUS Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle; These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome: Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places. SATURNINUS Marcus, we will. [Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at table] [Enter TITUS dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA veiled, Young LUCIUS, and others. TITUS places the dishes on the table] TITUS ANDRONICUS Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen; Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. SATURNINUS Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus? TITUS ANDRONICUS Because I would be sure to have all well, To entertain your highness and your empress. TAMORA We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. TITUS ANDRONICUS An if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor, resolve me this: Was it well done of rash Virginius To slay his daughter with his own right hand, Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflower'd? SATURNINUS It was, Andronicus. TITUS ANDRONICUS Your reason, mighty lord? SATURNINUS Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows. TITUS ANDRONICUS A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me, most wretched, to perform the like. Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; [Kills LAVINIA] And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die! SATURNINUS What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind? TITUS ANDRONICUS Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as woful as Virginius was, And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage: and it now is done. SATURNINUS What, was she ravish'd? tell who did the deed. TITUS ANDRONICUS Will't please you eat? will't please your highness feed? TAMORA Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus? TITUS ANDRONICUS Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius: They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue; And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. SATURNINUS Go fetch them hither to us presently. TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point. [Kills TAMORA] SATURNINUS Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed! [Kills TITUS] LUCIUS Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed! [Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. LUCIUS, MARCUS, and others go up into the balcony] MARCUS ANDRONICUS You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, O, let me teach you how to knit again This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, These broken limbs again into one body; Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, Do shameful execution on herself. But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, Grave witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, [To LUCIUS] Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor, When with his solemn tongue he did discourse To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear The story of that baleful burning night When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy, Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears, Or who hath brought the fatal engine in That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, But floods of tears will drown my oratory, And break my utterance, even in the time When it should move you to attend me most, Lending your kind commiseration. Here is a captain, let him tell the tale; Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. LUCIUS Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were they that murdered our emperor's brother; And they it were that ravished our sister: For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded; Our father's tears despised, and basely cozen'd Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out, And sent her enemies unto the grave. Lastly, myself unkindly banished, The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, To beg relief among Rome's enemies: Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears. And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend. I am the turned forth, be it known to you, That have preserved her welfare in my blood; And from her bosom took the enemy's point, Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I; My scars can witness, dumb although they are, That my report is just and full of truth. But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; For when no friends are by, men praise themselves. MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child: [Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant] Of this was Tamora delivered; The issue of an irreligious Moor, Chief architect and plotter of these woes: The villain is alive in Titus' house, And as he is, to witness this is true. Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, Or more than any living man could bear. Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans? Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein, And, from the place where you behold us now, The poor remainder of Andronici Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down. And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, And make a mutual closure of our house. Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall, Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. AEMILIUS Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, Lucius our emperor; for well I know The common voice do cry it shall be so. All Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal emperor! MARCUS ANDRONICUS Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house, [To Attendants] And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death, As punishment for his most wicked life. [Exeunt Attendants] [LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend] All Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor! LUCIUS Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so, To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe! But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, For nature puts me to a heavy task: Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near, To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, [Kissing TITUS] These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, The last true duties of thy noble son! MARCUS ANDRONICUS Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: O were the sum of these that I should pay Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! LUCIUS Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well: Many a time he danced thee on his knee, Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow: Many a matter hath he told to thee, Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; In that respect, then, like a loving child, Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, Because kind nature doth require it so: Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. Young LUCIUS O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart Would I were dead, so you did live again! O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. [Re-enter Attendants with AARON] AEMILIUS You sad Andronici, have done with woes: Give sentence on this execrable wretch, That hath been breeder of these dire events. LUCIUS Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food; If any one relieves or pities him, For the offence he dies. This is our doom: Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth. AARON O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb? I am no baby, I, that with base prayers I should repent the evils I have done: Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did Would I perform, if I might have my will; If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul. LUCIUS Some loving friends convey the emperor hence, And give him burial in his father's grave: My father and Lavinia shall forthwith Be closed in our household's monument. As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, No funeral rite, nor man m mourning weeds, No mournful bell shall ring her burial; But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey: Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity; And, being so, shall have like want of pity. See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor, By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: Then, afterwards, to order well the state, That like events may ne'er it ruinate. [Exeunt]