diff --git "a/gpt-2/tinyshakespeare.txt" "b/gpt-2/tinyshakespeare.txt" new file mode 100644--- /dev/null +++ "b/gpt-2/tinyshakespeare.txt" @@ -0,0 +1,40000 @@ +First Citizen: +Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. + +All: +Speak, speak. + +First Citizen: +You are all resolved rather to die than to famish? + +All: +Resolved. resolved. + +First Citizen: +First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people. + +All: +We know't, we know't. + +First Citizen: +Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. +Is't a verdict? + +All: +No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away! + +Second Citizen: +One word, good citizens. + +First Citizen: +We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. +What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they +would yield us but the superfluity, while it were +wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; +but they think we are too dear: the leanness that +afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an +inventory to particularise their abundance; our +sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with +our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I +speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. + +Second Citizen: +Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? + +All: +Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty. + +Second Citizen: +Consider you what services he has done for his country? + +First Citizen: +Very well; and could be content to give him good +report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud. + +Second Citizen: +Nay, but speak not maliciously. + +First Citizen: +I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did +it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be +content to say it was for his country he did it to +please his mother and to be partly proud; which he +is, even till the altitude of his virtue. + +Second Citizen: +What he cannot help in his nature, you account a +vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. + +First Citizen: +If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; +he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. +What shouts are these? The other side o' the city +is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol! + +All: +Come, come. + +First Citizen: +Soft! who comes here? + +Second Citizen: +Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved +the people. + +First Citizen: +He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so! + +MENENIUS: +What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you +With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you. + +First Citizen: +Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have +had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, +which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor +suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we +have strong arms too. + +MENENIUS: +Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, +Will you undo yourselves? + +First Citizen: +We cannot, sir, we are undone already. + +MENENIUS: +I tell you, friends, most charitable care +Have the patricians of you. For your wants, +Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well +Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them +Against the Roman state, whose course will on +The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs +Of more strong link asunder than can ever +Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, +The gods, not the patricians, make it, and +Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, +You are transported by calamity +Thither where more attends you, and you slander +The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers, +When you curse them as enemies. + +First Citizen: +Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us +yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses +crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to +support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act +established against the rich, and provide more +piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain +the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and +there's all the love they bear us. + +MENENIUS: +Either you must +Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, +Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you +A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; +But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture +To stale 't a little more. + +First Citizen: +Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to +fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please +you, deliver. + +MENENIUS: +There was a time when all the body's members +Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it: +That only like a gulf it did remain +I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, +Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing +Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments +Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, +And, mutually participate, did minister +Unto the appetite and affection common +Of the whole body. The belly answer'd-- + +First Citizen: +Well, sir, what answer made the belly? + +MENENIUS: +Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, +Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus-- +For, look you, I may make the belly smile +As well as speak--it tauntingly replied +To the discontented members, the mutinous parts +That envied his receipt; even so most fitly +As you malign our senators for that +They are not such as you. + +First Citizen: +Your belly's answer? What! +The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, +The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, +Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter. +With other muniments and petty helps +In this our fabric, if that they-- + +MENENIUS: +What then? +'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then? + +First Citizen: +Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, +Who is the sink o' the body,-- + +MENENIUS: +Well, what then? + +First Citizen: +The former agents, if they did complain, +What could the belly answer? + +MENENIUS: +I will tell you +If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little-- +Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. + +First Citizen: +Ye're long about it. + +MENENIUS: +Note me this, good friend; +Your most grave belly was deliberate, +Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd: +'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he, +'That I receive the general food at first, +Which you do live upon; and fit it is, +Because I am the store-house and the shop +Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, +I send it through the rivers of your blood, +Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain; +And, through the cranks and offices of man, +The strongest nerves and small inferior veins +From me receive that natural competency +Whereby they live: and though that all at once, +You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,-- + +First Citizen: +Ay, sir; well, well. + +MENENIUS: +'Though all at once cannot +See what I do deliver out to each, +Yet I can make my audit up, that all +From me do back receive the flour of all, +And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't? + +First Citizen: +It was an answer: how apply you this? + +MENENIUS: +The senators of Rome are this good belly, +And you the mutinous members; for examine +Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly +Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find +No public benefit which you receive +But it proceeds or comes from them to you +And no way from yourselves. What do you think, +You, the great toe of this assembly? + +First Citizen: +I the great toe! why the great toe? + +MENENIUS: +For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest, +Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: +Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, +Lead'st first to win some vantage. +But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs: +Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; +The one side must have bale. +Hail, noble Marcius! + +MARCIUS: +Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues, +That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, +Make yourselves scabs? + +First Citizen: +We have ever your good word. + +MARCIUS: +He that will give good words to thee will flatter +Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, +That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, +The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, +Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; +Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, +Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, +Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is +To make him worthy whose offence subdues him +And curse that justice did it. +Who deserves greatness +Deserves your hate; and your affections are +A sick man's appetite, who desires most that +Which would increase his evil. He that depends +Upon your favours swims with fins of lead +And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye? +With every minute you do change a mind, +And call him noble that was now your hate, +Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, +That in these several places of the city +You cry against the noble senate, who, +Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else +Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? + +MENENIUS: +For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say, +The city is well stored. + +MARCIUS: +Hang 'em! They say! +They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know +What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise, +Who thrives and who declines; side factions +and give out +Conjectural marriages; making parties strong +And feebling such as stand not in their liking +Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's +grain enough! +Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, +And let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry +With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high +As I could pick my lance. + +MENENIUS: +Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; +For though abundantly they lack discretion, +Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, +What says the other troop? + +MARCIUS: +They are dissolved: hang 'em! +They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs, +That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, +That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not +Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds +They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, +And a petition granted them, a strange one-- +To break the heart of generosity, +And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps +As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon, +Shouting their emulation. + +MENENIUS: +What is granted them? + +MARCIUS: +Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, +Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus, +Sicinius Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath! +The rabble should have first unroof'd the city, +Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time +Win upon power and throw forth greater themes +For insurrection's arguing. + +MENENIUS: +This is strange. + +MARCIUS: +Go, get you home, you fragments! + +Messenger: +Where's Caius Marcius? + +MARCIUS: +Here: what's the matter? + +Messenger: +The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. + +MARCIUS: +I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent +Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders. + +First Senator: +Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us; +The Volsces are in arms. + +MARCIUS: +They have a leader, +Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't. +I sin in envying his nobility, +And were I any thing but what I am, +I would wish me only he. + +COMINIUS: +You have fought together. + +MARCIUS: +Were half to half the world by the ears and he. +Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make +Only my wars with him: he is a lion +That I am proud to hunt. + +First Senator: +Then, worthy Marcius, +Attend upon Cominius to these wars. + +COMINIUS: +It is your former promise. + +MARCIUS: +Sir, it is; +And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou +Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. +What, art thou stiff? stand'st out? + +TITUS: +No, Caius Marcius; +I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other, +Ere stay behind this business. + +MENENIUS: +O, true-bred! + +First Senator: +Your company to the Capitol; where, I know, +Our greatest friends attend us. + +TITUS: + +COMINIUS: +Noble Marcius! + +First Senator: + +MARCIUS: +Nay, let them follow: +The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither +To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners, +Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow. + +SICINIUS: +Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? + +BRUTUS: +He has no equal. + +SICINIUS: +When we were chosen tribunes for the people,-- + +BRUTUS: +Mark'd you his lip and eyes? + +SICINIUS: +Nay. but his taunts. + +BRUTUS: +Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods. + +SICINIUS: +Be-mock the modest moon. + +BRUTUS: +The present wars devour him: he is grown +Too proud to be so valiant. + +SICINIUS: +Such a nature, +Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow +Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder +His insolence can brook to be commanded +Under Cominius. + +BRUTUS: +Fame, at the which he aims, +In whom already he's well graced, can not +Better be held nor more attain'd than by +A place below the first: for what miscarries +Shall be the general's fault, though he perform +To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure +Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he +Had borne the business!' + +SICINIUS: +Besides, if things go well, +Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall +Of his demerits rob Cominius. + +BRUTUS: +Come: +Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius. +Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults +To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed +In aught he merit not. + +SICINIUS: +Let's hence, and hear +How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, +More than his singularity, he goes +Upon this present action. + +BRUTUS: +Lets along. + +First Senator: +So, your opinion is, Aufidius, +That they of Rome are entered in our counsels +And know how we proceed. + +AUFIDIUS: +Is it not yours? +What ever have been thought on in this state, +That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome +Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone +Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think +I have the letter here; yes, here it is. +'They have press'd a power, but it is not known +Whether for east or west: the dearth is great; +The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, +Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, +Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, +And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, +These three lead on this preparation +Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you: +Consider of it.' + +First Senator: +Our army's in the field +We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready +To answer us. + +AUFIDIUS: +Nor did you think it folly +To keep your great pretences veil'd till when +They needs must show themselves; which +in the hatching, +It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery. +We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was +To take in many towns ere almost Rome +Should know we were afoot. + +Second Senator: +Noble Aufidius, +Take your commission; hie you to your bands: +Let us alone to guard Corioli: +If they set down before 's, for the remove +Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find +They've not prepared for us. + +AUFIDIUS: +O, doubt not that; +I speak from certainties. Nay, more, +Some parcels of their power are forth already, +And only hitherward. I leave your honours. +If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, +'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike +Till one can do no more. + +All: +The gods assist you! + +AUFIDIUS: +And keep your honours safe! + +First Senator: +Farewell. + +Second Senator: +Farewell. + +All: +Farewell. + +VOLUMNIA: +I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a +more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I +should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he +won honour than in the embracements of his bed where +he would show most love. When yet he was but +tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when +youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when +for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not +sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering +how honour would become such a person. that it was +no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if +renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek +danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel +war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows +bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not +more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child +than now in first seeing he had proved himself a +man. + +VIRGILIA: +But had he died in the business, madam; how then? + +VOLUMNIA: +Then his good report should have been my son; I +therein would have found issue. Hear me profess +sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love +alike and none less dear than thine and my good +Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their +country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. + +Gentlewoman: +Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. + +VIRGILIA: +Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. + +VOLUMNIA: +Indeed, you shall not. +Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum, +See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, +As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him: +Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: +'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear, +Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow +With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, +Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow +Or all or lose his hire. + +VIRGILIA: +His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood! + +VOLUMNIA: +Away, you fool! it more becomes a man +Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba, +When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier +Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood +At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria, +We are fit to bid her welcome. + +VIRGILIA: +Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! + +VOLUMNIA: +He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee +And tread upon his neck. + +VALERIA: +My ladies both, good day to you. + +VOLUMNIA: +Sweet madam. + +VIRGILIA: +I am glad to see your ladyship. + +VALERIA: +How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers. +What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good +faith. How does your little son? + +VIRGILIA: +I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. + +VOLUMNIA: +He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than +look upon his school-master. + +VALERIA: +O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a +very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' +Wednesday half an hour together: has such a +confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded +butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go +again; and after it again; and over and over he +comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his +fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his +teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked +it! + +VOLUMNIA: +One on 's father's moods. + +VALERIA: +Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. + +VIRGILIA: +A crack, madam. + +VALERIA: +Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play +the idle husewife with me this afternoon. + +VIRGILIA: +No, good madam; I will not out of doors. + +VALERIA: +Not out of doors! + +VOLUMNIA: +She shall, she shall. + +VIRGILIA: +Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the +threshold till my lord return from the wars. + +VALERIA: +Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come, +you must go visit the good lady that lies in. + +VIRGILIA: +I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with +my prayers; but I cannot go thither. + +VOLUMNIA: +Why, I pray you? + +VIRGILIA: +'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. + +VALERIA: +You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all +the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill +Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric +were sensible as your finger, that you might leave +pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. + +VIRGILIA: +No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. + +VALERIA: +In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you +excellent news of your husband. + +VIRGILIA: +O, good madam, there can be none yet. + +VALERIA: +Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from +him last night. + +VIRGILIA: +Indeed, madam? + +VALERIA: +In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. +Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against +whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of +our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set +down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt +prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, +on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. + +VIRGILIA: +Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every +thing hereafter. + +VOLUMNIA: +Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but +disease our better mirth. + +VALERIA: +In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then. +Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy +solemness out o' door. and go along with us. + +VIRGILIA: +No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish +you much mirth. + +VALERIA: +Well, then, farewell. + +MARCIUS: +Yonder comes news. A wager they have met. + +LARTIUS: +My horse to yours, no. + +MARCIUS: +'Tis done. + +LARTIUS: +Agreed. + +MARCIUS: +Say, has our general met the enemy? + +Messenger: +They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. + +LARTIUS: +So, the good horse is mine. + +MARCIUS: +I'll buy him of you. + +LARTIUS: +No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will +For half a hundred years. Summon the town. + +MARCIUS: +How far off lie these armies? + +Messenger: +Within this mile and half. + +MARCIUS: +Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. +Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, +That we with smoking swords may march from hence, +To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. +Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls? + +First Senator: +No, nor a man that fears you less than he, +That's lesser than a little. +Hark! our drums +Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls, +Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, +Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes; +They'll open of themselves. +Hark you. far off! +There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes +Amongst your cloven army. + +MARCIUS: +O, they are at it! + +LARTIUS: +Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho! + +MARCIUS: +They fear us not, but issue forth their city. +Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight +With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, +brave Titus: +They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, +Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows: +He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce, +And he shall feel mine edge. + +MARCIUS: +All the contagion of the south light on you, +You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues +Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd +Further than seen and one infect another +Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, +That bear the shapes of men, how have you run +From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! +All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale +With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, +Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe +And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; +If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, +As they us to our trenches followed. +So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds: +'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, +Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. + +First Soldier: +Fool-hardiness; not I. + +Second Soldier: +Nor I. + +First Soldier: +See, they have shut him in. + +All: +To the pot, I warrant him. + +LARTIUS: +What is become of Marcius? + +All: +Slain, sir, doubtless. + +First Soldier: +Following the fliers at the very heels, +With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, +Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone, +To answer all the city. + +LARTIUS: +O noble fellow! +Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, +And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius: +A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, +Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier +Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible +Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and +The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, +Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world +Were feverous and did tremble. + +First Soldier: +Look, sir. + +LARTIUS: +O,'tis Marcius! +Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. + +First Roman: +This will I carry to Rome. + +Second Roman: +And I this. + +Third Roman: +A murrain on't! I took this for silver. + +MARCIUS: +See here these movers that do prize their hours +At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons, +Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would +Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, +Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them! +And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! +There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, +Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take +Convenient numbers to make good the city; +Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste +To help Cominius. + +LARTIUS: +Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; +Thy exercise hath been too violent for +A second course of fight. + +MARCIUS: +Sir, praise me not; +My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well: +The blood I drop is rather physical +Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus +I will appear, and fight. + +LARTIUS: +Now the fair goddess, Fortune, +Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms +Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, +Prosperity be thy page! + +MARCIUS: +Thy friend no less +Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell. + +LARTIUS: +Thou worthiest Marcius! +Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; +Call thither all the officers o' the town, +Where they shall know our mind: away! + +COMINIUS: +Breathe you, my friends: well fought; +we are come off +Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, +Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, +We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, +By interims and conveying gusts we have heard +The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods! +Lead their successes as we wish our own, +That both our powers, with smiling +fronts encountering, +May give you thankful sacrifice. +Thy news? + +Messenger: +The citizens of Corioli have issued, +And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle: +I saw our party to their trenches driven, +And then I came away. + +COMINIUS: +Though thou speak'st truth, +Methinks thou speak'st not well. +How long is't since? + +Messenger: +Above an hour, my lord. + +COMINIUS: +'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: +How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, +And bring thy news so late? + +Messenger: +Spies of the Volsces +Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel +Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, +Half an hour since brought my report. + +COMINIUS: +Who's yonder, +That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods +He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have +Before-time seen him thus. + +MARCIUS: + +COMINIUS: +The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour +More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue +From every meaner man. + +MARCIUS: +Come I too late? + +COMINIUS: +Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, +But mantled in your own. + +MARCIUS: +O, let me clip ye +In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart +As merry as when our nuptial day was done, +And tapers burn'd to bedward! + +COMINIUS: +Flower of warriors, +How is it with Titus Lartius? + +MARCIUS: +As with a man busied about decrees: +Condemning some to death, and some to exile; +Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; +Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, +Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, +To let him slip at will. + +COMINIUS: +Where is that slave +Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? +Where is he? call him hither. + +MARCIUS: +Let him alone; +He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, +The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!-- +The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge +From rascals worse than they. + +COMINIUS: +But how prevail'd you? + +MARCIUS: +Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. +Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field? +If not, why cease you till you are so? + +COMINIUS: +Marcius, +We have at disadvantage fought and did +Retire to win our purpose. + +MARCIUS: +How lies their battle? know you on which side +They have placed their men of trust? + +COMINIUS: +As I guess, Marcius, +Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, +Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, +Their very heart of hope. + +MARCIUS: +I do beseech you, +By all the battles wherein we have fought, +By the blood we have shed together, by the vows +We have made to endure friends, that you directly +Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; +And that you not delay the present, but, +Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, +We prove this very hour. + +COMINIUS: +Though I could wish +You were conducted to a gentle bath +And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never +Deny your asking: take your choice of those +That best can aid your action. + +MARCIUS: +Those are they +That most are willing. If any such be here-- +As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting +Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear +Lesser his person than an ill report; +If any think brave death outweighs bad life +And that his country's dearer than himself; +Let him alone, or so many so minded, +Wave thus, to express his disposition, +And follow Marcius. +O, me alone! make you a sword of me? +If these shows be not outward, which of you +But is four Volsces? none of you but is +Able to bear against the great Aufidius +A shield as hard as his. A certain number, +Though thanks to all, must I select +from all: the rest +Shall bear the business in some other fight, +As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; +And four shall quickly draw out my command, +Which men are best inclined. + +COMINIUS: +March on, my fellows: +Make good this ostentation, and you shall +Divide in all with us. + +LARTIUS: +So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, +As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch +Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve +For a short holding: if we lose the field, +We cannot keep the town. + +Lieutenant: +Fear not our care, sir. + +LARTIUS: +Hence, and shut your gates upon's. +Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. + +MARCIUS: +I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee +Worse than a promise-breaker. + +AUFIDIUS: +We hate alike: +Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor +More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. + +MARCIUS: +Let the first budger die the other's slave, +And the gods doom him after! + +AUFIDIUS: +If I fly, Marcius, +Holloa me like a hare. + +MARCIUS: +Within these three hours, Tullus, +Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, +And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood +Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge +Wrench up thy power to the highest. + +AUFIDIUS: +Wert thou the Hector +That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, +Thou shouldst not scape me here. +Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me +In your condemned seconds. + +COMINIUS: +If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, +Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it +Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, +Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, +I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted, +And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the +dull tribunes, +That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, +Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods +Our Rome hath such a soldier.' +Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast, +Having fully dined before. + +LARTIUS: +O general, +Here is the steed, we the caparison: +Hadst thou beheld-- + +MARCIUS: +Pray now, no more: my mother, +Who has a charter to extol her blood, +When she does praise me grieves me. I have done +As you have done; that's what I can; induced +As you have been; that's for my country: +He that has but effected his good will +Hath overta'en mine act. + +COMINIUS: +You shall not be +The grave of your deserving; Rome must know +The value of her own: 'twere a concealment +Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, +To hide your doings; and to silence that, +Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, +Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you +In sign of what you are, not to reward +What you have done--before our army hear me. + +MARCIUS: +I have some wounds upon me, and they smart +To hear themselves remember'd. + +COMINIUS: +Should they not, +Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, +And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, +Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all +The treasure in this field achieved and city, +We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth, +Before the common distribution, at +Your only choice. + +MARCIUS: +I thank you, general; +But cannot make my heart consent to take +A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; +And stand upon my common part with those +That have beheld the doing. + +MARCIUS: +May these same instruments, which you profane, +Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall +I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be +Made all of false-faced soothing! +When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, +Let him be made a coverture for the wars! +No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd +My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.-- +Which, without note, here's many else have done,-- +You shout me forth +In acclamations hyperbolical; +As if I loved my little should be dieted +In praises sauced with lies. + +COMINIUS: +Too modest are you; +More cruel to your good report than grateful +To us that give you truly: by your patience, +If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you, +Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, +Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known, +As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius +Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, +My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, +With all his trim belonging; and from this time, +For what he did before Corioli, call him, +With all the applause and clamour of the host, +CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear +The addition nobly ever! + +All: +Caius Marcius Coriolanus! + +CORIOLANUS: +I will go wash; +And when my face is fair, you shall perceive +Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you. +I mean to stride your steed, and at all times +To undercrest your good addition +To the fairness of my power. + +COMINIUS: +So, to our tent; +Where, ere we do repose us, we will write +To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, +Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome +The best, with whom we may articulate, +For their own good and ours. + +LARTIUS: +I shall, my lord. + +CORIOLANUS: +The gods begin to mock me. I, that now +Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg +Of my lord general. + +COMINIUS: +Take't; 'tis yours. What is't? + +CORIOLANUS: +I sometime lay here in Corioli +At a poor man's house; he used me kindly: +He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; +But then Aufidius was within my view, +And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you +To give my poor host freedom. + +COMINIUS: +O, well begg'd! +Were he the butcher of my son, he should +Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. + +LARTIUS: +Marcius, his name? + +CORIOLANUS: +By Jupiter! forgot. +I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. +Have we no wine here? + +COMINIUS: +Go we to our tent: +The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time +It should be look'd to: come. + +AUFIDIUS: +The town is ta'en! + +First Soldier: +'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. + +AUFIDIUS: +Condition! +I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, +Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition! +What good condition can a treaty find +I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, +I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me, +And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter +As often as we eat. By the elements, +If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, +He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation +Hath not that honour in't it had; for where +I thought to crush him in an equal force, +True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way +Or wrath or craft may get him. + +First Soldier: +He's the devil. + +AUFIDIUS: +Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd +With only suffering stain by him; for him +Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, +Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, +The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, +Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up +Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst +My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it +At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, +Against the hospitable canon, would I +Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city; +Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must +Be hostages for Rome. + +First Soldier: +Will not you go? + +AUFIDIUS: +I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you-- +'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither +How the world goes, that to the pace of it +I may spur on my journey. + +First Soldier: +I shall, sir. + +MENENIUS: +The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. + +BRUTUS: +Good or bad? + +MENENIUS: +Not according to the prayer of the people, for they +love not Marcius. + +SICINIUS: +Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. + +MENENIUS: +Pray you, who does the wolf love? + +SICINIUS: +The lamb. + +MENENIUS: +Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the +noble Marcius. + +BRUTUS: +He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. + +MENENIUS: +He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two +are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you. + +Both: +Well, sir. + +MENENIUS: +In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two +have not in abundance? + +BRUTUS: +He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. + +SICINIUS: +Especially in pride. + +BRUTUS: +And topping all others in boasting. + +MENENIUS: +This is strange now: do you two know how you are +censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the +right-hand file? do you? + +Both: +Why, how are we censured? + +MENENIUS: +Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry? + +Both: +Well, well, sir, well. + +MENENIUS: +Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of +occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: +give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at +your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a +pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for +being proud? + +BRUTUS: +We do it not alone, sir. + +MENENIUS: +I know you can do very little alone; for your helps +are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous +single: your abilities are too infant-like for +doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you +could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, +and make but an interior survey of your good selves! +O that you could! + +BRUTUS: +What then, sir? + +MENENIUS: +Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, +proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as +any in Rome. + +SICINIUS: +Menenius, you are known well enough too. + +MENENIUS: +I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that +loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying +Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in +favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like +upon too trivial motion; one that converses more +with the buttock of the night than with the forehead +of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my +malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as +you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink +you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a +crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have +delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in +compound with the major part of your syllables: and +though I must be content to bear with those that say +you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that +tell you you have good faces. If you see this in +the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known +well enough too? what barm can your bisson +conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be +known well enough too? + +BRUTUS: +Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. + +MENENIUS: +You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You +are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you +wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a +cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller; +and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a +second day of audience. When you are hearing a +matter between party and party, if you chance to be +pinched with the colic, you make faces like +mummers; set up the bloody flag against all +patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, +dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled +by your hearing: all the peace you make in their +cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are +a pair of strange ones. + +BRUTUS: +Come, come, you are well understood to be a +perfecter giber for the table than a necessary +bencher in the Capitol. + +MENENIUS: +Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall +encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When +you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the +wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not +so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's +cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack- +saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; +who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors +since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the +best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to +your worships: more of your conversation would +infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly +plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. +How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon, +were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow +your eyes so fast? + +VOLUMNIA: +Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for +the love of Juno, let's go. + +MENENIUS: +Ha! Marcius coming home! + +VOLUMNIA: +Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous +approbation. + +MENENIUS: +Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! +Marcius coming home! + +VOLUMNIA: +Nay,'tis true. + +VOLUMNIA: +Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath +another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one +at home for you. + +MENENIUS: +I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for +me! + +VIRGILIA: +Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. + +MENENIUS: +A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven +years' health; in which time I will make a lip at +the physician: the most sovereign prescription in +Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, +of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he +not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded. + +VIRGILIA: +O, no, no, no. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't. + +MENENIUS: +So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a' +victory in his pocket? the wounds become him. + +VOLUMNIA: +On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home +with the oaken garland. + +MENENIUS: +Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? + +VOLUMNIA: +Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but +Aufidius got off. + +MENENIUS: +And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: +an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so +fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold +that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this? + +VOLUMNIA: +Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate +has letters from the general, wherein he gives my +son the whole name of the war: he hath in this +action outdone his former deeds doubly + +VALERIA: +In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. + +MENENIUS: +Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his +true purchasing. + +VIRGILIA: +The gods grant them true! + +VOLUMNIA: +True! pow, wow. + +MENENIUS: +True! I'll be sworn they are true. +Where is he wounded? +God save your good worships! Marcius is coming +home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? + +VOLUMNIA: +I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be +large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall +stand for his place. He received in the repulse of +Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. + +MENENIUS: +One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's +nine that I know. + +VOLUMNIA: +He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five +wounds upon him. + +MENENIUS: +Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave. +Hark! the trumpets. + +VOLUMNIA: +These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he +carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears: +Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie; +Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. + +Herald: +Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight +Within Corioli gates: where he hath won, +With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these +In honour follows Coriolanus. +Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + +All: +Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + +CORIOLANUS: +No more of this; it does offend my heart: +Pray now, no more. + +COMINIUS: +Look, sir, your mother! + +CORIOLANUS: +O, +You have, I know, petition'd all the gods +For my prosperity! + +VOLUMNIA: +Nay, my good soldier, up; +My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and +By deed-achieving honour newly named,-- +What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?-- +But O, thy wife! + +CORIOLANUS: +My gracious silence, hail! +Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, +That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, +Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, +And mothers that lack sons. + +MENENIUS: +Now, the gods crown thee! + +CORIOLANUS: +And live you yet? +O my sweet lady, pardon. + +VOLUMNIA: +I know not where to turn: O, welcome home: +And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all. + +MENENIUS: +A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep +And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome. +A curse begin at very root on's heart, +That is not glad to see thee! You are three +That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, +We have some old crab-trees here +at home that will not +Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: +We call a nettle but a nettle and +The faults of fools but folly. + +COMINIUS: +Ever right. + +CORIOLANUS: +Menenius ever, ever. + +Herald: +Give way there, and go on! + +CORIOLANUS: + +VOLUMNIA: +I have lived +To see inherited my very wishes +And the buildings of my fancy: only +There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but +Our Rome will cast upon thee. + +CORIOLANUS: +Know, good mother, +I had rather be their servant in my way, +Than sway with them in theirs. + +COMINIUS: +On, to the Capitol! + +BRUTUS: +All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights +Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse +Into a rapture lets her baby cry +While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins +Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, +Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, +Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed +With variable complexions, all agreeing +In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens +Do press among the popular throngs and puff +To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames +Commit the war of white and damask in +Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil +Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother +As if that whatsoever god who leads him +Were slily crept into his human powers +And gave him graceful posture. + +SICINIUS: +On the sudden, +I warrant him consul. + +BRUTUS: +Then our office may, +During his power, go sleep. + +SICINIUS: +He cannot temperately transport his honours +From where he should begin and end, but will +Lose those he hath won. + +BRUTUS: +In that there's comfort. + +SICINIUS: +Doubt not +The commoners, for whom we stand, but they +Upon their ancient malice will forget +With the least cause these his new honours, which +That he will give them make I as little question +As he is proud to do't. + +BRUTUS: +I heard him swear, +Were he to stand for consul, never would he +Appear i' the market-place nor on him put +The napless vesture of humility; +Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds +To the people, beg their stinking breaths. + +SICINIUS: +'Tis right. + +BRUTUS: +It was his word: O, he would miss it rather +Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him, +And the desire of the nobles. + +SICINIUS: +I wish no better +Than have him hold that purpose and to put it +In execution. + +BRUTUS: +'Tis most like he will. + +SICINIUS: +It shall be to him then as our good wills, +A sure destruction. + +BRUTUS: +So it must fall out +To him or our authorities. For an end, +We must suggest the people in what hatred +He still hath held them; that to's power he would +Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and +Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, +In human action and capacity, +Of no more soul nor fitness for the world +Than camels in the war, who have their provand +Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows +For sinking under them. + +SICINIUS: +This, as you say, suggested +At some time when his soaring insolence +Shall touch the people--which time shall not want, +If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy +As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire +To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze +Shall darken him for ever. + +BRUTUS: +What's the matter? + +Messenger: +You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought +That Marcius shall be consul: +I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and +The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves, +Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, +Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, +As to Jove's statue, and the commons made +A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts: +I never saw the like. + +BRUTUS: +Let's to the Capitol; +And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, +But hearts for the event. + +SICINIUS: +Have with you. + +First Officer: +Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand +for consulships? + +Second Officer: +Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one +Coriolanus will carry it. + +First Officer: +That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and +loves not the common people. + +Second Officer: +Faith, there had been many great men that have +flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there +be many that they have loved, they know not +wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why, +they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for +Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate +him manifests the true knowledge he has in their +disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets +them plainly see't. + +First Officer: +If he did not care whether he had their love or no, +he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither +good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater +devotion than can render it him; and leaves +nothing undone that may fully discover him their +opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and +displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he +dislikes, to flatter them for their love. + +Second Officer: +He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his +ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, +having been supple and courteous to the people, +bonneted, without any further deed to have them at +an into their estimation and report: but he hath so +planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions +in their hearts, that for their tongues to be +silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of +ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a +malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck +reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. + +First Officer: +No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they +are coming. + +MENENIUS: +Having determined of the Volsces and +To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, +As the main point of this our after-meeting, +To gratify his noble service that +Hath thus stood for his country: therefore, +please you, +Most reverend and grave elders, to desire +The present consul, and last general +In our well-found successes, to report +A little of that worthy work perform'd +By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom +We met here both to thank and to remember +With honours like himself. + +First Senator: +Speak, good Cominius: +Leave nothing out for length, and make us think +Rather our state's defective for requital +Than we to stretch it out. +Masters o' the people, +We do request your kindest ears, and after, +Your loving motion toward the common body, +To yield what passes here. + +SICINIUS: +We are convented +Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts +Inclinable to honour and advance +The theme of our assembly. + +BRUTUS: +Which the rather +We shall be blest to do, if he remember +A kinder value of the people than +He hath hereto prized them at. + +MENENIUS: +That's off, that's off; +I would you rather had been silent. Please you +To hear Cominius speak? + +BRUTUS: +Most willingly; +But yet my caution was more pertinent +Than the rebuke you give it. + +MENENIUS: +He loves your people +But tie him not to be their bedfellow. +Worthy Cominius, speak. +Nay, keep your place. + +First Senator: +Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear +What you have nobly done. + +CORIOLANUS: +Your horror's pardon: +I had rather have my wounds to heal again +Than hear say how I got them. + +BRUTUS: +Sir, I hope +My words disbench'd you not. + +CORIOLANUS: +No, sir: yet oft, +When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. +You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but +your people, +I love them as they weigh. + +MENENIUS: +Pray now, sit down. + +CORIOLANUS: +I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun +When the alarum were struck than idly sit +To hear my nothings monster'd. + +MENENIUS: +Masters of the people, +Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter-- +That's thousand to one good one--when you now see +He had rather venture all his limbs for honour +Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius. + +COMINIUS: +I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus +Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held +That valour is the chiefest virtue, and +Most dignifies the haver: if it be, +The man I speak of cannot in the world +Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, +When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought +Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator, +Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, +When with his Amazonian chin he drove +The bristled lips before him: be bestrid +An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view +Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met, +And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats, +When he might act the woman in the scene, +He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed +Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age +Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea, +And in the brunt of seventeen battles since +He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, +Before and in Corioli, let me say, +I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers; +And by his rare example made the coward +Turn terror into sport: as weeds before +A vessel under sail, so men obey'd +And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp, +Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot +He was a thing of blood, whose every motion +Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd +The mortal gate of the city, which he painted +With shunless destiny; aidless came off, +And with a sudden reinforcement struck +Corioli like a planet: now all's his: +When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce +His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit +Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate, +And to the battle came he; where he did +Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if +'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd +Both field and city ours, he never stood +To ease his breast with panting. + +MENENIUS: +Worthy man! + +First Senator: +He cannot but with measure fit the honours +Which we devise him. + +COMINIUS: +Our spoils he kick'd at, +And look'd upon things precious as they were +The common muck of the world: he covets less +Than misery itself would give; rewards +His deeds with doing them, and is content +To spend the time to end it. + +MENENIUS: +He's right noble: +Let him be call'd for. + +First Senator: +Call Coriolanus. + +Officer: +He doth appear. + +MENENIUS: +The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased +To make thee consul. + +CORIOLANUS: +I do owe them still +My life and services. + +MENENIUS: +It then remains +That you do speak to the people. + +CORIOLANUS: +I do beseech you, +Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot +Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them, +For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you +That I may pass this doing. + +SICINIUS: +Sir, the people +Must have their voices; neither will they bate +One jot of ceremony. + +MENENIUS: +Put them not to't: +Pray you, go fit you to the custom and +Take to you, as your predecessors have, +Your honour with your form. + +CORIOLANUS: +It is apart +That I shall blush in acting, and might well +Be taken from the people. + +BRUTUS: +Mark you that? + +CORIOLANUS: +To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus; +Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, +As if I had received them for the hire +Of their breath only! + +MENENIUS: +Do not stand upon't. +We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, +Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul +Wish we all joy and honour. + +Senators: +To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! + +BRUTUS: +You see how he intends to use the people. + +SICINIUS: +May they perceive's intent! He will require them, +As if he did contemn what he requested +Should be in them to give. + +BRUTUS: +Come, we'll inform them +Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace, +I know, they do attend us. + +First Citizen: +Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. + +Second Citizen: +We may, sir, if we will. + +Third Citizen: +We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a +power that we have no power to do; for if he show us +his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our +tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if +he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him +our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is +monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, +were to make a monster of the multitude: of the +which we being members, should bring ourselves to be +monstrous members. + +First Citizen: +And to make us no better thought of, a little help +will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he +himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. + +Third Citizen: +We have been called so of many; not that our heads +are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, +but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and +truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of +one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, +and their consent of one direct way should be at +once to all the points o' the compass. + +Second Citizen: +Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would +fly? + +Third Citizen: +Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's +will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but +if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward. + +Second Citizen: +Why that way? + +Third Citizen: +To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts +melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return +for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife. + +Second Citizen: +You are never without your tricks: you may, you may. + +Third Citizen: +Are you all resolved to give your voices? But +that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I +say, if he would incline to the people, there was +never a worthier man. +Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his +behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to +come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and +by threes. He's to make his requests by +particulars; wherein every one of us has a single +honour, in giving him our own voices with our own +tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how +you shall go by him. + +All: +Content, content. + +MENENIUS: +O sir, you are not right: have you not known +The worthiest men have done't? + +CORIOLANUS: +What must I say? +'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring +My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds! +I got them in my country's service, when +Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran +From the noise of our own drums.' + +MENENIUS: +O me, the gods! +You must not speak of that: you must desire them +To think upon you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Think upon me! hang 'em! +I would they would forget me, like the virtues +Which our divines lose by 'em. + +MENENIUS: +You'll mar all: +I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you, +In wholesome manner. + +CORIOLANUS: +Bid them wash their faces +And keep their teeth clean. +So, here comes a brace. +You know the cause, air, of my standing here. + +Third Citizen: +We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't. + +CORIOLANUS: +Mine own desert. + +Second Citizen: +Your own desert! + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay, but not mine own desire. + +Third Citizen: +How not your own desire? + +CORIOLANUS: +No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the +poor with begging. + +Third Citizen: +You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to +gain by you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship? + +First Citizen: +The price is to ask it kindly. + +CORIOLANUS: +Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to +show you, which shall be yours in private. Your +good voice, sir; what say you? + +Second Citizen: +You shall ha' it, worthy sir. + +CORIOLANUS: +A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices +begged. I have your alms: adieu. + +Third Citizen: +But this is something odd. + +Second Citizen: +An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter. + +CORIOLANUS: +Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your +voices that I may be consul, I have here the +customary gown. + +Fourth Citizen: +You have deserved nobly of your country, and you +have not deserved nobly. + +CORIOLANUS: +Your enigma? + +Fourth Citizen: +You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have +been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved +the common people. + +CORIOLANUS: +You should account me the more virtuous that I have +not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my +sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer +estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account +gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is +rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise +the insinuating nod and be off to them most +counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the +bewitchment of some popular man and give it +bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, +I may be consul. + +Fifth Citizen: +We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give +you our voices heartily. + +Fourth Citizen: +You have received many wounds for your country. + +CORIOLANUS: +I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I +will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further. + +Both Citizens: +The gods give you joy, sir, heartily! + +CORIOLANUS: +Most sweet voices! +Better it is to die, better to starve, +Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. +Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here, +To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, +Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't: +What custom wills, in all things should we do't, +The dust on antique time would lie unswept, +And mountainous error be too highly heapt +For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so, +Let the high office and the honour go +To one that would do thus. I am half through; +The one part suffer'd, the other will I do. +Here come more voices. +Your voices: for your voices I have fought; +Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear +Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six +I have seen and heard of; for your voices have +Done many things, some less, some more your voices: +Indeed I would be consul. + +Sixth Citizen: +He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest +man's voice. + +Seventh Citizen: +Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy, +and make him good friend to the people! + +All Citizens: +Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul! + +CORIOLANUS: +Worthy voices! + +MENENIUS: +You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes +Endue you with the people's voice: remains +That, in the official marks invested, you +Anon do meet the senate. + +CORIOLANUS: +Is this done? + +SICINIUS: +The custom of request you have discharged: +The people do admit you, and are summon'd +To meet anon, upon your approbation. + +CORIOLANUS: +Where? at the senate-house? + +SICINIUS: +There, Coriolanus. + +CORIOLANUS: +May I change these garments? + +SICINIUS: +You may, sir. + +CORIOLANUS: +That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again, +Repair to the senate-house. + +MENENIUS: +I'll keep you company. Will you along? + +BRUTUS: +We stay here for the people. + +SICINIUS: +Fare you well. +He has it now, and by his looks methink +'Tis warm at 's heart. + +BRUTUS: +With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds. +will you dismiss the people? + +SICINIUS: +How now, my masters! have you chose this man? + +First Citizen: +He has our voices, sir. + +BRUTUS: +We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. + +Second Citizen: +Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice, +He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices. + +Third Citizen: +Certainly +He flouted us downright. + +First Citizen: +No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us. + +Second Citizen: +Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says +He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us +His marks of merit, wounds received for's country. + +SICINIUS: +Why, so he did, I am sure. + +Citizens: +No, no; no man saw 'em. + +Third Citizen: +He said he had wounds, which he could show +in private; +And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, +'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged custom, +But by your voices, will not so permit me; +Your voices therefore.' When we granted that, +Here was 'I thank you for your voices: thank you: +Your most sweet voices: now you have left +your voices, +I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery? + +SICINIUS: +Why either were you ignorant to see't, +Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness +To yield your voices? + +BRUTUS: +Could you not have told him +As you were lesson'd, when he had no power, +But was a petty servant to the state, +He was your enemy, ever spake against +Your liberties and the charters that you bear +I' the body of the weal; and now, arriving +A place of potency and sway o' the state, +If he should still malignantly remain +Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might +Be curses to yourselves? You should have said +That as his worthy deeds did claim no less +Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature +Would think upon you for your voices and +Translate his malice towards you into love, +Standing your friendly lord. + +SICINIUS: +Thus to have said, +As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit +And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd +Either his gracious promise, which you might, +As cause had call'd you up, have held him to +Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature, +Which easily endures not article +Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage, +You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler +And pass'd him unelected. + +BRUTUS: +Did you perceive +He did solicit you in free contempt +When he did need your loves, and do you think +That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, +When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies +No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry +Against the rectorship of judgment? + +SICINIUS: +Have you +Ere now denied the asker? and now again +Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow +Your sued-for tongues? + +Third Citizen: +He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet. + +Second Citizen: +And will deny him: +I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. + +First Citizen: +I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em. + +BRUTUS: +Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, +They have chose a consul that will from them take +Their liberties; make them of no more voice +Than dogs that are as often beat for barking +As therefore kept to do so. + +SICINIUS: +Let them assemble, +And on a safer judgment all revoke +Your ignorant election; enforce his pride, +And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not +With what contempt he wore the humble weed, +How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, +Thinking upon his services, took from you +The apprehension of his present portance, +Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion +After the inveterate hate he bears you. + +BRUTUS: +Lay +A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured, +No impediment between, but that you must +Cast your election on him. + +SICINIUS: +Say, you chose him +More after our commandment than as guided +By your own true affections, and that your minds, +Preoccupied with what you rather must do +Than what you should, made you against the grain +To voice him consul: lay the fault on us. + +BRUTUS: +Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you. +How youngly he began to serve his country, +How long continued, and what stock he springs of, +The noble house o' the Marcians, from whence came +That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, +Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; +Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, +That our beat water brought by conduits hither; +And +Twice being +Was his great ancestor. + +SICINIUS: +One thus descended, +That hath beside well in his person wrought +To be set high in place, we did commend +To your remembrances: but you have found, +Scaling his present bearing with his past, +That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke +Your sudden approbation. + +BRUTUS: +Say, you ne'er had done't-- +Harp on that still--but by our putting on; +And presently, when you have drawn your number, +Repair to the Capitol. + +All: +We will so: almost all +Repent in their election. + +BRUTUS: +Let them go on; +This mutiny were better put in hazard, +Than stay, past doubt, for greater: +If, as his nature is, he fall in rage +With their refusal, both observe and answer +The vantage of his anger. + +SICINIUS: +To the Capitol, come: +We will be there before the stream o' the people; +And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, +Which we have goaded onward. + +CORIOLANUS: +Tullus Aufidius then had made new head? + +LARTIUS: +He had, my lord; and that it was which caused +Our swifter composition. + +CORIOLANUS: +So then the Volsces stand but as at first, +Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road. +Upon's again. + +COMINIUS: +They are worn, lord consul, so, +That we shall hardly in our ages see +Their banners wave again. + +CORIOLANUS: +Saw you Aufidius? + +LARTIUS: +On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse +Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely +Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium. + +CORIOLANUS: +Spoke he of me? + +LARTIUS: +He did, my lord. + +CORIOLANUS: +How? what? + +LARTIUS: +How often he had met you, sword to sword; +That of all things upon the earth he hated +Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes +To hopeless restitution, so he might +Be call'd your vanquisher. + +CORIOLANUS: +At Antium lives he? + +LARTIUS: +At Antium. + +CORIOLANUS: +I wish I had a cause to seek him there, +To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. +Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, +The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them; +For they do prank them in authority, +Against all noble sufferance. + +SICINIUS: +Pass no further. + +CORIOLANUS: +Ha! what is that? + +BRUTUS: +It will be dangerous to go on: no further. + +CORIOLANUS: +What makes this change? + +MENENIUS: +The matter? + +COMINIUS: +Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? + +BRUTUS: +Cominius, no. + +CORIOLANUS: +Have I had children's voices? + +First Senator: +Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place. + +BRUTUS: +The people are incensed against him. + +SICINIUS: +Stop, +Or all will fall in broil. + +CORIOLANUS: +Are these your herd? +Must these have voices, that can yield them now +And straight disclaim their tongues? What are +your offices? +You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? +Have you not set them on? + +MENENIUS: +Be calm, be calm. + +CORIOLANUS: +It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, +To curb the will of the nobility: +Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule +Nor ever will be ruled. + +BRUTUS: +Call't not a plot: +The people cry you mock'd them, and of late, +When corn was given them gratis, you repined; +Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them +Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. + +CORIOLANUS: +Why, this was known before. + +BRUTUS: +Not to them all. + +CORIOLANUS: +Have you inform'd them sithence? + +BRUTUS: +How! I inform them! + +CORIOLANUS: +You are like to do such business. + +BRUTUS: +Not unlike, +Each way, to better yours. + +CORIOLANUS: +Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, +Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me +Your fellow tribune. + +SICINIUS: +You show too much of that +For which the people stir: if you will pass +To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, +Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, +Or never be so noble as a consul, +Nor yoke with him for tribune. + +MENENIUS: +Let's be calm. + +COMINIUS: +The people are abused; set on. This paltering +Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus +Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely +I' the plain way of his merit. + +CORIOLANUS: +Tell me of corn! +This was my speech, and I will speak't again-- + +MENENIUS: +Not now, not now. + +First Senator: +Not in this heat, sir, now. + +CORIOLANUS: +Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, +I crave their pardons: +For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them +Regard me as I do not flatter, and +Therein behold themselves: I say again, +In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate +The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, +Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, +and scatter'd, +By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, +Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that +Which they have given to beggars. + +MENENIUS: +Well, no more. + +First Senator: +No more words, we beseech you. + +CORIOLANUS: +How! no more! +As for my country I have shed my blood, +Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs +Coin words till their decay against those measles, +Which we disdain should tatter us, yet sought +The very way to catch them. + +BRUTUS: +You speak o' the people, +As if you were a god to punish, not +A man of their infirmity. + +SICINIUS: +'Twere well +We let the people know't. + +MENENIUS: +What, what? his choler? + +CORIOLANUS: +Choler! +Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, +By Jove, 'twould be my mind! + +SICINIUS: +It is a mind +That shall remain a poison where it is, +Not poison any further. + +CORIOLANUS: +Shall remain! +Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you +His absolute 'shall'? + +COMINIUS: +'Twas from the canon. + +CORIOLANUS: +'Shall'! +O good but most unwise patricians! why, +You grave but reckless senators, have you thus +Given Hydra here to choose an officer, +That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but +The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit +To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, +And make your channel his? If he have power +Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake +Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, +Be not as common fools; if you are not, +Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, +If they be senators: and they are no less, +When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste +Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, +And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' +His popular 'shall' against a graver bench +Than ever frown in Greece. By Jove himself! +It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches +To know, when two authorities are up, +Neither supreme, how soon confusion +May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take +The one by the other. + +COMINIUS: +Well, on to the market-place. + +CORIOLANUS: +Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth +The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used +Sometime in Greece,-- + +MENENIUS: +Well, well, no more of that. + +CORIOLANUS: +Though there the people had more absolute power, +I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed +The ruin of the state. + +BRUTUS: +Why, shall the people give +One that speaks thus their voice? + +CORIOLANUS: +I'll give my reasons, +More worthier than their voices. They know the corn +Was not our recompense, resting well assured +That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war, +Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, +They would not thread the gates. This kind of service +Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war +Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd +Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation +Which they have often made against the senate, +All cause unborn, could never be the motive +Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? +How shall this bisson multitude digest +The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express +What's like to be their words: 'we did request it; +We are the greater poll, and in true fear +They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase +The nature of our seats and make the rabble +Call our cares fears; which will in time +Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in +The crows to peck the eagles. + +MENENIUS: +Come, enough. + +BRUTUS: +Enough, with over-measure. + +CORIOLANUS: +No, take more: +What may be sworn by, both divine and human, +Seal what I end withal! This double worship, +Where one part does disdain with cause, the other +Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom, +Cannot conclude but by the yea and no +Of general ignorance,--it must omit +Real necessities, and give way the while +To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, +it follows, +Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,-- +You that will be less fearful than discreet, +That love the fundamental part of state +More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer +A noble life before a long, and wish +To jump a body with a dangerous physic +That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out +The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick +The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour +Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state +Of that integrity which should become't, +Not having the power to do the good it would, +For the in which doth control't. + +BRUTUS: +Has said enough. + +SICINIUS: +Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer +As traitors do. + +CORIOLANUS: +Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! +What should the people do with these bald tribunes? +On whom depending, their obedience fails +To the greater bench: in a rebellion, +When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, +Then were they chosen: in a better hour, +Let what is meet be said it must be meet, +And throw their power i' the dust. + +BRUTUS: +Manifest treason! + +SICINIUS: +This a consul? no. + +BRUTUS: +The aediles, ho! +Let him be apprehended. + +SICINIUS: +Go, call the people: +in whose name myself +Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, +A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee, +And follow to thine answer. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hence, old goat! + +Senators, &C: +We'll surety him. + +COMINIUS: +Aged sir, hands off. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones +Out of thy garments. + +SICINIUS: +Help, ye citizens! + +MENENIUS: +On both sides more respect. + +SICINIUS: +Here's he that would take from you all your power. + +BRUTUS: +Seize him, AEdiles! + +Citizens: +Down with him! down with him! + +Senators, &C: +Weapons, weapons, weapons! +'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!' +'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!' +'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!' + +MENENIUS: +What is about to be? I am out of breath; +Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes +To the people! Coriolanus, patience! +Speak, good Sicinius. + +SICINIUS: +Hear me, people; peace! + +Citizens: +Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak. + +SICINIUS: +You are at point to lose your liberties: +Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, +Whom late you have named for consul. + +MENENIUS: +Fie, fie, fie! +This is the way to kindle, not to quench. + +First Senator: +To unbuild the city and to lay all flat. + +SICINIUS: +What is the city but the people? + +Citizens: +True, +The people are the city. + +BRUTUS: +By the consent of all, we were establish'd +The people's magistrates. + +Citizens: +You so remain. + +MENENIUS: +And so are like to do. + +COMINIUS: +That is the way to lay the city flat; +To bring the roof to the foundation, +And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, +In heaps and piles of ruin. + +SICINIUS: +This deserves death. + +BRUTUS: +Or let us stand to our authority, +Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, +Upon the part o' the people, in whose power +We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy +Of present death. + +SICINIUS: +Therefore lay hold of him; +Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence +Into destruction cast him. + +BRUTUS: +AEdiles, seize him! + +Citizens: +Yield, Marcius, yield! + +MENENIUS: +Hear me one word; +Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. + +AEdile: +Peace, peace! + +MENENIUS: + +BRUTUS: +Sir, those cold ways, +That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous +Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him, +And bear him to the rock. + +CORIOLANUS: +No, I'll die here. +There's some among you have beheld me fighting: +Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. + +MENENIUS: +Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile. + +BRUTUS: +Lay hands upon him. + +COMINIUS: +Help Marcius, help, +You that be noble; help him, young and old! + +Citizens: +Down with him, down with him! + +MENENIUS: +Go, get you to your house; be gone, away! +All will be naught else. + +Second Senator: +Get you gone. + +COMINIUS: +Stand fast; +We have as many friends as enemies. + +MENENIUS: +Sham it be put to that? + +First Senator: +The gods forbid! +I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; +Leave us to cure this cause. + +MENENIUS: +For 'tis a sore upon us, +You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you. + +COMINIUS: +Come, sir, along with us. + +CORIOLANUS: +I would they were barbarians--as they are, +Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not, +Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol-- + +MENENIUS: +Be gone; +Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; +One time will owe another. + +CORIOLANUS: +On fair ground +I could beat forty of them. + +COMINIUS: +I could myself +Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the +two tribunes: +But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; +And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands +Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, +Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend +Like interrupted waters and o'erbear +What they are used to bear. + +MENENIUS: +Pray you, be gone: +I'll try whether my old wit be in request +With those that have but little: this must be patch'd +With cloth of any colour. + +COMINIUS: +Nay, come away. + +A Patrician: +This man has marr'd his fortune. + +MENENIUS: +His nature is too noble for the world: +He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, +Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: +What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; +And, being angry, does forget that ever +He heard the name of death. +Here's goodly work! + +Second Patrician: +I would they were abed! + +MENENIUS: +I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance! +Could he not speak 'em fair? + +SICINIUS: +Where is this viper +That would depopulate the city and +Be every man himself? + +MENENIUS: +You worthy tribunes,-- + +SICINIUS: +He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock +With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, +And therefore law shall scorn him further trial +Than the severity of the public power +Which he so sets at nought. + +First Citizen: +He shall well know +The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, +And we their hands. + +Citizens: +He shall, sure on't. + +MENENIUS: +Sir, sir,-- + +SICINIUS: +Peace! + +MENENIUS: +Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt +With modest warrant. + +SICINIUS: +Sir, how comes't that you +Have holp to make this rescue? + +MENENIUS: +Hear me speak: +As I do know the consul's worthiness, +So can I name his faults,-- + +SICINIUS: +Consul! what consul? + +MENENIUS: +The consul Coriolanus. + +BRUTUS: +He consul! + +Citizens: +No, no, no, no, no. + +MENENIUS: +If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, +I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; +The which shall turn you to no further harm +Than so much loss of time. + +SICINIUS: +Speak briefly then; +For we are peremptory to dispatch +This viperous traitor: to eject him hence +Were but one danger, and to keep him here +Our certain death: therefore it is decreed +He dies to-night. + +MENENIUS: +Now the good gods forbid +That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude +Towards her deserved children is enroll'd +In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam +Should now eat up her own! + +SICINIUS: +He's a disease that must be cut away. + +MENENIUS: +O, he's a limb that has but a disease; +Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. +What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? +Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost-- +Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, +By many an ounce--he dropp'd it for his country; +And what is left, to lose it by his country, +Were to us all, that do't and suffer it, +A brand to the end o' the world. + +SICINIUS: +This is clean kam. + +BRUTUS: +Merely awry: when he did love his country, +It honour'd him. + +MENENIUS: +The service of the foot +Being once gangrened, is not then respected +For what before it was. + +BRUTUS: +We'll hear no more. +Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence: +Lest his infection, being of catching nature, +Spread further. + +MENENIUS: +One word more, one word. +This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find +The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late +Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; +Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out, +And sack great Rome with Romans. + +BRUTUS: +If it were so,-- + +SICINIUS: +What do ye talk? +Have we not had a taste of his obedience? +Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come. + +MENENIUS: +Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars +Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd +In bolted language; meal and bran together +He throws without distinction. Give me leave, +I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him +Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, +In peace, to his utmost peril. + +First Senator: +Noble tribunes, +It is the humane way: the other course +Will prove too bloody, and the end of it +Unknown to the beginning. + +SICINIUS: +Noble Menenius, +Be you then as the people's officer. +Masters, lay down your weapons. + +BRUTUS: +Go not home. + +SICINIUS: +Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there: +Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed +In our first way. + +MENENIUS: +I'll bring him to you. +Let me desire your company: he must come, +Or what is worst will follow. + +First Senator: +Pray you, let's to him. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let them puff all about mine ears, present me +Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, +Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, +That the precipitation might down stretch +Below the beam of sight, yet will I still +Be thus to them. + +A Patrician: +You do the nobler. + +CORIOLANUS: +I muse my mother +Does not approve me further, who was wont +To call them woollen vassals, things created +To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads +In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder, +When one but of my ordinance stood up +To speak of peace or war. +I talk of you: +Why did you wish me milder? would you have me +False to my nature? Rather say I play +The man I am. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, sir, sir, sir, +I would have had you put your power well on, +Before you had worn it out. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let go. + +VOLUMNIA: +You might have been enough the man you are, +With striving less to be so; lesser had been +The thwartings of your dispositions, if +You had not show'd them how ye were disposed +Ere they lack'd power to cross you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let them hang. + +A Patrician: +Ay, and burn too. + +MENENIUS: +Come, come, you have been too rough, something +too rough; +You must return and mend it. + +First Senator: +There's no remedy; +Unless, by not so doing, our good city +Cleave in the midst, and perish. + +VOLUMNIA: +Pray, be counsell'd: +I have a heart as little apt as yours, +But yet a brain that leads my use of anger +To better vantage. + +MENENIUS: +Well said, noble woman? +Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that +The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic +For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, +Which I can scarcely bear. + +CORIOLANUS: +What must I do? + +MENENIUS: +Return to the tribunes. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well, what then? what then? + +MENENIUS: +Repent what you have spoke. + +CORIOLANUS: +For them! I cannot do it to the gods; +Must I then do't to them? + +VOLUMNIA: +You are too absolute; +Though therein you can never be too noble, +But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, +Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, +I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me, +In peace what each of them by the other lose, +That they combine not there. + +CORIOLANUS: +Tush, tush! + +MENENIUS: +A good demand. + +VOLUMNIA: +If it be honour in your wars to seem +The same you are not, which, for your best ends, +You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse, +That it shall hold companionship in peace +With honour, as in war, since that to both +It stands in like request? + +CORIOLANUS: +Why force you this? + +VOLUMNIA: +Because that now it lies you on to speak +To the people; not by your own instruction, +Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, +But with such words that are but rooted in +Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables +Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. +Now, this no more dishonours you at all +Than to take in a town with gentle words, +Which else would put you to your fortune and +The hazard of much blood. +I would dissemble with my nature where +My fortunes and my friends at stake required +I should do so in honour: I am in this, +Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; +And you will rather show our general louts +How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, +For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard +Of what that want might ruin. + +MENENIUS: +Noble lady! +Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, +Not what is dangerous present, but the loss +Of what is past. + +VOLUMNIA: +I prithee now, my son, +Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; +And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them-- +Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business +Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant +More learned than the ears--waving thy head, +Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, +Now humble as the ripest mulberry +That will not hold the handling: or say to them, +Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils +Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, +Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, +In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame +Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far +As thou hast power and person. + +MENENIUS: +This but done, +Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; +For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free +As words to little purpose. + +VOLUMNIA: +Prithee now, +Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather +Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf +Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. + +COMINIUS: +I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit +You make strong party, or defend yourself +By calmness or by absence: all's in anger. + +MENENIUS: +Only fair speech. + +COMINIUS: +I think 'twill serve, if he +Can thereto frame his spirit. + +VOLUMNIA: +He must, and will +Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. + +CORIOLANUS: +Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? +Must I with base tongue give my noble heart +A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't: +Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, +This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it +And throw't against the wind. To the market-place! +You have put me now to such a part which never +I shall discharge to the life. + +COMINIUS: +Come, come, we'll prompt you. + +VOLUMNIA: +I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said +My praises made thee first a soldier, so, +To have my praise for this, perform a part +Thou hast not done before. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well, I must do't: +Away, my disposition, and possess me +Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd, +Which quired with my drum, into a pipe +Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice +That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves +Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up +The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue +Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, +Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his +That hath received an alms! I will not do't, +Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth +And by my body's action teach my mind +A most inherent baseness. + +VOLUMNIA: +At thy choice, then: +To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour +Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let +Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear +Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death +With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list +Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me, +But owe thy pride thyself. + +CORIOLANUS: +Pray, be content: +Mother, I am going to the market-place; +Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, +Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved +Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going: +Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul; +Or never trust to what my tongue can do +I' the way of flattery further. + +VOLUMNIA: +Do your will. + +COMINIUS: +Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself +To answer mildly; for they are prepared +With accusations, as I hear, more strong +Than are upon you yet. + +CORIOLANUS: +The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go: +Let them accuse me by invention, I +Will answer in mine honour. + +MENENIUS: +Ay, but mildly. + +CORIOLANUS: +Well, mildly be it then. Mildly! + +BRUTUS: +In this point charge him home, that he affects +Tyrannical power: if he evade us there, +Enforce him with his envy to the people, +And that the spoil got on the Antiates +Was ne'er distributed. +What, will he come? + +AEdile: +He's coming. + +BRUTUS: +How accompanied? + +AEdile: +With old Menenius, and those senators +That always favour'd him. + +SICINIUS: +Have you a catalogue +Of all the voices that we have procured +Set down by the poll? + +AEdile: +I have; 'tis ready. + +SICINIUS: +Have you collected them by tribes? + +AEdile: +I have. + +SICINIUS: +Assemble presently the people hither; +And when they bear me say 'It shall be so +I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either +For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them +If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.' +Insisting on the old prerogative +And power i' the truth o' the cause. + +AEdile: +I shall inform them. + +BRUTUS: +And when such time they have begun to cry, +Let them not cease, but with a din confused +Enforce the present execution +Of what we chance to sentence. + +AEdile: +Very well. + +SICINIUS: +Make them be strong and ready for this hint, +When we shall hap to give 't them. + +BRUTUS: +Go about it. +Put him to choler straight: he hath been used +Ever to conquer, and to have his worth +Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot +Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks +What's in his heart; and that is there which looks +With us to break his neck. + +SICINIUS: +Well, here he comes. + +MENENIUS: +Calmly, I do beseech you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece +Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods +Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice +Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's! +Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, +And not our streets with war! + +First Senator: +Amen, amen. + +MENENIUS: +A noble wish. + +SICINIUS: +Draw near, ye people. + +AEdile: +List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say! + +CORIOLANUS: +First, hear me speak. + +Both Tribunes: +Well, say. Peace, ho! + +CORIOLANUS: +Shall I be charged no further than this present? +Must all determine here? + +SICINIUS: +I do demand, +If you submit you to the people's voices, +Allow their officers and are content +To suffer lawful censure for such faults +As shall be proved upon you? + +CORIOLANUS: +I am content. + +MENENIUS: +Lo, citizens, he says he is content: +The warlike service he has done, consider; think +Upon the wounds his body bears, which show +Like graves i' the holy churchyard. + +CORIOLANUS: +Scratches with briers, +Scars to move laughter only. + +MENENIUS: +Consider further, +That when he speaks not like a citizen, +You find him like a soldier: do not take +His rougher accents for malicious sounds, +But, as I say, such as become a soldier, +Rather than envy you. + +COMINIUS: +Well, well, no more. + +CORIOLANUS: +What is the matter +That being pass'd for consul with full voice, +I am so dishonour'd that the very hour +You take it off again? + +SICINIUS: +Answer to us. + +CORIOLANUS: +Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so. + +SICINIUS: +We charge you, that you have contrived to take +From Rome all season'd office and to wind +Yourself into a power tyrannical; +For which you are a traitor to the people. + +CORIOLANUS: +How! traitor! + +MENENIUS: +Nay, temperately; your promise. + +CORIOLANUS: +The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people! +Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! +Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, +In thy hand clutch'd as many millions, in +Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say +'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free +As I do pray the gods. + +SICINIUS: +Mark you this, people? + +Citizens: +To the rock, to the rock with him! + +SICINIUS: +Peace! +We need not put new matter to his charge: +What you have seen him do and heard him speak, +Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, +Opposing laws with strokes and here defying +Those whose great power must try him; even this, +So criminal and in such capital kind, +Deserves the extremest death. + +BRUTUS: +But since he hath +Served well for Rome,-- + +CORIOLANUS: +What do you prate of service? + +BRUTUS: +I talk of that, that know it. + +CORIOLANUS: +You? + +MENENIUS: +Is this the promise that you made your mother? + +COMINIUS: +Know, I pray you,-- + +CORIOLANUS: +I know no further: +Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, +Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger +But with a grain a day, I would not buy +Their mercy at the price of one fair word; +Nor cheque my courage for what they can give, +To have't with saying 'Good morrow.' + +SICINIUS: +For that he has, +As much as in him lies, from time to time +Envied against the people, seeking means +To pluck away their power, as now at last +Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence +Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers +That do distribute it; in the name o' the people +And in the power of us the tribunes, we, +Even from this instant, banish him our city, +In peril of precipitation +From off the rock Tarpeian never more +To enter our Rome gates: i' the people's name, +I say it shall be so. + +Citizens: +It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away: +He's banish'd, and it shall be so. + +COMINIUS: +Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,-- + +SICINIUS: +He's sentenced; no more hearing. + +COMINIUS: +Let me speak: +I have been consul, and can show for Rome +Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love +My country's good with a respect more tender, +More holy and profound, than mine own life, +My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase, +And treasure of my loins; then if I would +Speak that,-- + +SICINIUS: +We know your drift: speak what? + +BRUTUS: +There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, +As enemy to the people and his country: +It shall be so. + +Citizens: +It shall be so, it shall be so. + +CORIOLANUS: +You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate +As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize +As the dead carcasses of unburied men +That do corrupt my air, I banish you; +And here remain with your uncertainty! +Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! +Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, +Fan you into despair! Have the power still +To banish your defenders; till at length +Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels, +Making not reservation of yourselves, +Still your own foes, deliver you as most +Abated captives to some nation +That won you without blows! Despising, +For you, the city, thus I turn my back: +There is a world elsewhere. + +AEdile: +The people's enemy is gone, is gone! + +Citizens: +Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo! + +SICINIUS: +Go, see him out at gates, and follow him, +As he hath followed you, with all despite; +Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard +Attend us through the city. + +Citizens: +Come, come; let's see him out at gates; come. +The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. + +CORIOLANUS: +Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast +With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, +Where is your ancient courage? you were used +To say extremity was the trier of spirits; +That common chances common men could bear; +That when the sea was calm all boats alike +Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, +When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves +A noble cunning: you were used to load me +With precepts that would make invincible +The heart that conn'd them. + +VIRGILIA: +O heavens! O heavens! + +CORIOLANUS: +Nay! prithee, woman,-- + +VOLUMNIA: +Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, +And occupations perish! + +CORIOLANUS: +What, what, what! +I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother. +Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, +If you had been the wife of Hercules, +Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved +Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, +Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother: +I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, +Thy tears are salter than a younger man's, +And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general, +I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld +Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women +'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, +As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well +My hazards still have been your solace: and +Believe't not lightly--though I go alone, +Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen +Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son +Will or exceed the common or be caught +With cautelous baits and practise. + +VOLUMNIA: +My first son. +Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius +With thee awhile: determine on some course, +More than a wild exposture to each chance +That starts i' the way before thee. + +CORIOLANUS: +O the gods! + +COMINIUS: +I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee +Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us +And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth +A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send +O'er the vast world to seek a single man, +And lose advantage, which doth ever cool +I' the absence of the needer. + +CORIOLANUS: +Fare ye well: +Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full +Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one +That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate. +Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and +My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, +Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. +While I remain above the ground, you shall +Hear from me still, and never of me aught +But what is like me formerly. + +MENENIUS: +That's worthily +As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. +If I could shake off but one seven years +From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, +I'ld with thee every foot. + +CORIOLANUS: +Give me thy hand: Come. + +SICINIUS: +Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further. +The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided +In his behalf. + +BRUTUS: +Now we have shown our power, +Let us seem humbler after it is done +Than when it was a-doing. + +SICINIUS: +Bid them home: +Say their great enemy is gone, and they +Stand in their ancient strength. + +BRUTUS: +Dismiss them home. +Here comes his mother. + +SICINIUS: +Let's not meet her. + +BRUTUS: +Why? + +SICINIUS: +They say she's mad. + +BRUTUS: +They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, ye're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods +Requite your love! + +MENENIUS: +Peace, peace; be not so loud. + +VOLUMNIA: +If that I could for weeping, you should hear,-- +Nay, and you shall hear some. +Will you be gone? + +VIRGILIA: + +SICINIUS: +Are you mankind? + +VOLUMNIA: +Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool. +Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship +To banish him that struck more blows for Rome +Than thou hast spoken words? + +SICINIUS: +O blessed heavens! + +VOLUMNIA: +More noble blows than ever thou wise words; +And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what; yet go: +Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son +Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, +His good sword in his hand. + +SICINIUS: +What then? + +VIRGILIA: +What then! +He'ld make an end of thy posterity. + +VOLUMNIA: +Bastards and all. +Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! + +MENENIUS: +Come, come, peace. + +SICINIUS: +I would he had continued to his country +As he began, and not unknit himself +The noble knot he made. + +BRUTUS: +I would he had. + +VOLUMNIA: +'I would he had'! 'Twas you incensed the rabble: +Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth +As I can of those mysteries which heaven +Will not have earth to know. + +BRUTUS: +Pray, let us go. + +VOLUMNIA: +Now, pray, sir, get you gone: +You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:-- +As far as doth the Capitol exceed +The meanest house in Rome, so far my son-- +This lady's husband here, this, do you see-- +Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all. + +BRUTUS: +Well, well, we'll leave you. + +SICINIUS: +Why stay we to be baited +With one that wants her wits? + +VOLUMNIA: +Take my prayers with you. +I would the gods had nothing else to do +But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em +But once a-day, it would unclog my heart +Of what lies heavy to't. + +MENENIUS: +You have told them home; +And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? + +VOLUMNIA: +Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, +And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go: +Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, +In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. + +MENENIUS: +Fie, fie, fie! + +Roman: +I know you well, sir, and you know +me: your name, I think, is Adrian. + +Volsce: +It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. + +Roman: +I am a Roman; and my services are, +as you are, against 'em: know you me yet? + +Volsce: +Nicanor? no. + +Roman: +The same, sir. + +Volsce: +You had more beard when I last saw you; but your +favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the +news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, +to find you out there: you have well saved me a +day's journey. + +Roman: +There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the +people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. + +Volsce: +Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not +so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and +hope to come upon them in the heat of their division. + +Roman: +The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing +would make it flame again: for the nobles receive +so to heart the banishment of that worthy +Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take +all power from the people and to pluck from them +their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can +tell you, and is almost mature for the violent +breaking out. + +Volsce: +Coriolanus banished! + +Roman: +Banished, sir. + +Volsce: +You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. + +Roman: +The day serves well for them now. I have heard it +said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is +when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble +Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his +great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request +of his country. + +Volsce: +He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus +accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my +business, and I will merrily accompany you home. + +Roman: +I shall, between this and supper, tell you most +strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of +their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you? + +Volsce: +A most royal one; the centurions and their charges, +distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, +and to be on foot at an hour's warning. + +Roman: +I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the +man, I think, that shall set them in present action. +So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. + +Volsce: +You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause +to be glad of yours. + +Roman: +Well, let us go together. + +CORIOLANUS: +A goodly city is this Antium. City, +'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir +Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars +Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not, +Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones +In puny battle slay me. +Save you, sir. + +Citizen: +And you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Direct me, if it be your will, +Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium? + +Citizen: +He is, and feasts the nobles of the state +At his house this night. + +CORIOLANUS: +Which is his house, beseech you? + +Citizen: +This, here before you. + +CORIOLANUS: +Thank you, sir: farewell. +O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, +Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, +Whose house, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, +Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love +Unseparable, shall within this hour, +On a dissension of a doit, break out +To bitterest enmity: so, fellest foes, +Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep, +To take the one the other, by some chance, +Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends +And interjoin their issues. So with me: +My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon +This enemy town. I'll enter: if he slay me, +He does fair justice; if he give me way, +I'll do his country service. + +First Servingman: +Wine, wine, wine! What service +is here! I think our fellows are asleep. + +Second Servingman: +Where's Cotus? my master calls +for him. Cotus! + +CORIOLANUS: +A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I +Appear not like a guest. + +First Servingman: +What would you have, friend? whence are you? +Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door. + +CORIOLANUS: +I have deserved no better entertainment, +In being Coriolanus. + +Second Servingman: +Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his +head; that he gives entrance to such companions? +Pray, get you out. + +CORIOLANUS: +Away! + +Second Servingman: +Away! get you away. + +CORIOLANUS: +Now thou'rt troublesome. + +Second Servingman: +Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon. + +Third Servingman: +What fellow's this? + +First Servingman: +A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him +out of the house: prithee, call my master to him. + +Third Servingman: +What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid +the house. + +CORIOLANUS: +Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth. + +Third Servingman: +What are you? + +CORIOLANUS: +A gentleman. + +Third Servingman: +A marvellous poor one. + +CORIOLANUS: +True, so I am. + +Third Servingman: +Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other +station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come. + +CORIOLANUS: +Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits. + +Third Servingman: +What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a +strange guest he has here. + +Second Servingman: +And I shall. + +Third Servingman: +Where dwellest thou? + +CORIOLANUS: +Under the canopy. + +Third Servingman: +Under the canopy! + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay. + +Third Servingman: +Where's that? + +CORIOLANUS: +I' the city of kites and crows. + +Third Servingman: +I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is! +Then thou dwellest with daws too? + +CORIOLANUS: +No, I serve not thy master. + +Third Servingman: +How, sir! do you meddle with my master? + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy +mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy +trencher, hence! + +AUFIDIUS: +Where is this fellow? + +Second Servingman: +Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for +disturbing the lords within. + +AUFIDIUS: +Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name? +Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +If, Tullus, +Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not +Think me for the man I am, necessity +Commands me name myself. + +AUFIDIUS: +What is thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, +And harsh in sound to thine. + +AUFIDIUS: +Say, what's thy name? +Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face +Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn. +Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st +thou me yet? + +AUFIDIUS: +I know thee not: thy name? + +CORIOLANUS: +My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done +To thee particularly and to all the Volsces +Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may +My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service, +The extreme dangers and the drops of blood +Shed for my thankless country are requited +But with that surname; a good memory, +And witness of the malice and displeasure +Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains; +The cruelty and envy of the people, +Permitted by our dastard nobles, who +Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest; +And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be +Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity +Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope-- +Mistake me not--to save my life, for if +I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world +I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, +To be full quit of those my banishers, +Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast +A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge +Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims +Of shame seen through thy country, speed +thee straight, +And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it +That my revengeful services may prove +As benefits to thee, for I will fight +Against my canker'd country with the spleen +Of all the under fiends. But if so be +Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes +Thou'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am +Longer to live most weary, and present +My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; +Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, +Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, +Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, +And cannot live but to thy shame, unless +It be to do thee service. + +AUFIDIUS: +O Marcius, Marcius! +Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart +A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter +Should from yond cloud speak divine things, +And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more +Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine +Mine arms about that body, where against +My grained ash an hundred times hath broke +And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip +The anvil of my sword, and do contest +As hotly and as nobly with thy love +As ever in ambitious strength I did +Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, +I loved the maid I married; never man +Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, +Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart +Than when I first my wedded mistress saw +Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee, +We have a power on foot; and I had purpose +Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, +Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out +Twelve several times, and I have nightly since +Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; +We have been down together in my sleep, +Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, +And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, +Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that +Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all +From twelve to seventy, and pouring war +Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, +Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in, +And take our friendly senators by the hands; +Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, +Who am prepared against your territories, +Though not for Rome itself. + +CORIOLANUS: +You bless me, gods! + +AUFIDIUS: +Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have +The leading of thine own revenges, take +The one half of my commission; and set down-- +As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st +Thy country's strength and weakness,--thine own ways; +Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, +Or rudely visit them in parts remote, +To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: +Let me commend thee first to those that shall +Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! +And more a friend than e'er an enemy; +Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome! + +First Servingman: +Here's a strange alteration! + +Second Servingman: +By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with +a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a +false report of him. + +First Servingman: +What an arm he has! he turned me about with his +finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. + +Second Servingman: +Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in +him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,--I +cannot tell how to term it. + +First Servingman: +He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged, +but I thought there was more in him than I could think. + +Second Servingman: +So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest +man i' the world. + +First Servingman: +I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on. + +Second Servingman: +Who, my master? + +First Servingman: +Nay, it's no matter for that. + +Second Servingman: +Worth six on him. + +First Servingman: +Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the +greater soldier. + +Second Servingman: +Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: +for the defence of a town, our general is excellent. + +First Servingman: +Ay, and for an assault too. + +Third Servingman: +O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals! + +First Servingman: +What, what, what? let's partake. + +Third Servingman: +I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as +lieve be a condemned man. + +First Servingman: +Wherefore? wherefore? + +Third Servingman: +Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, +Caius Marcius. + +First Servingman: +Why do you say 'thwack our general '? + +Third Servingman: +I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always +good enough for him. + +Second Servingman: +Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too +hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. + +First Servingman: +He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth +on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched +him like a carbon ado. + +Second Servingman: +An he had been cannibally given, he might have +broiled and eaten him too. + +First Servingman: +But, more of thy news? + +Third Servingman: +Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son +and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table; no +question asked him by any of the senators, but they +stand bald before him: our general himself makes a +mistress of him: sanctifies himself with's hand and +turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But +the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i' +the middle and but one half of what he was +yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty +and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, +and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he +will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled. + +Second Servingman: +And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. + +Third Servingman: +Do't! he will do't; for, look you, sir, he has as +many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it +were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as +we term it, his friends whilst he's in directitude. + +First Servingman: +Directitude! what's that? + +Third Servingman: +But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, +and the man in blood, they will out of their +burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with +him. + +First Servingman: +But when goes this forward? + +Third Servingman: +To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the +drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a +parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they +wipe their lips. + +Second Servingman: +Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. +This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase +tailors, and breed ballad-makers. + +First Servingman: +Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as +day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and +full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; +mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more +bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. + +Second Servingman: +'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to +be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a +great maker of cuckolds. + +First Servingman: +Ay, and it makes men hate one another. + +Third Servingman: +Reason; because they then less need one another. +The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap +as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising. + +All: +In, in, in, in! + +SICINIUS: +We hear not of him, neither need we fear him; +His remedies are tame i' the present peace +And quietness of the people, which before +Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends +Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, +Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold +Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see +Our tradesmen with in their shops and going +About their functions friendly. + +BRUTUS: +We stood to't in good time. +Is this Menenius? + +SICINIUS: +'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late. + +Both Tribunes: +Hail sir! + +MENENIUS: +Hail to you both! + +SICINIUS: +Your Coriolanus +Is not much miss'd, but with his friends: +The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, +Were he more angry at it. + +MENENIUS: +All's well; and might have been much better, if +He could have temporized. + +SICINIUS: +Where is he, hear you? + +MENENIUS: +Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife +Hear nothing from him. + +Citizens: +The gods preserve you both! + +SICINIUS: +God-den, our neighbours. + +BRUTUS: +God-den to you all, god-den to you all. + +First Citizen: +Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, +Are bound to pray for you both. + +SICINIUS: +Live, and thrive! + +BRUTUS: +Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus +Had loved you as we did. + +Citizens: +Now the gods keep you! + +Both Tribunes: +Farewell, farewell. + +SICINIUS: +This is a happier and more comely time +Than when these fellows ran about the streets, +Crying confusion. + +BRUTUS: +Caius Marcius was +A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent, +O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, +Self-loving,-- + +SICINIUS: +And affecting one sole throne, +Without assistance. + +MENENIUS: +I think not so. + +SICINIUS: +We should by this, to all our lamentation, +If he had gone forth consul, found it so. + +BRUTUS: +The gods have well prevented it, and Rome +Sits safe and still without him. + +AEdile: +Worthy tribunes, +There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, +Reports, the Volsces with two several powers +Are enter'd in the Roman territories, +And with the deepest malice of the war +Destroy what lies before 'em. + +MENENIUS: +'Tis Aufidius, +Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, +Thrusts forth his horns again into the world; +Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, +And durst not once peep out. + +SICINIUS: +Come, what talk you +Of Marcius? + +BRUTUS: +Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be +The Volsces dare break with us. + +MENENIUS: +Cannot be! +We have record that very well it can, +And three examples of the like have been +Within my age. But reason with the fellow, +Before you punish him, where he heard this, +Lest you shall chance to whip your information +And beat the messenger who bids beware +Of what is to be dreaded. + +SICINIUS: +Tell not me: +I know this cannot be. + +BRUTUS: +Not possible. + +Messenger: +The nobles in great earnestness are going +All to the senate-house: some news is come +That turns their countenances. + +SICINIUS: +'Tis this slave;-- +Go whip him, 'fore the people's eyes:--his raising; +Nothing but his report. + +Messenger: +Yes, worthy sir, +The slave's report is seconded; and more, +More fearful, is deliver'd. + +SICINIUS: +What more fearful? + +Messenger: +It is spoke freely out of many mouths-- +How probable I do not know--that Marcius, +Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, +And vows revenge as spacious as between +The young'st and oldest thing. + +SICINIUS: +This is most likely! + +BRUTUS: +Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish +Good Marcius home again. + +SICINIUS: +The very trick on't. + +MENENIUS: +This is unlikely: +He and Aufidius can no more atone +Than violentest contrariety. + +Second Messenger: +You are sent for to the senate: +A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius +Associated with Aufidius, rages +Upon our territories; and have already +O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took +What lay before them. + +COMINIUS: +O, you have made good work! + +MENENIUS: +What news? what news? + +COMINIUS: +You have holp to ravish your own daughters and +To melt the city leads upon your pates, +To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,-- + +MENENIUS: +What's the news? what's the news? + +COMINIUS: +Your temples burned in their cement, and +Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined +Into an auger's bore. + +MENENIUS: +Pray now, your news? +You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news?-- +If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,-- + +COMINIUS: +If! +He is their god: he leads them like a thing +Made by some other deity than nature, +That shapes man better; and they follow him, +Against us brats, with no less confidence +Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, +Or butchers killing flies. + +MENENIUS: +You have made good work, +You and your apron-men; you that stood so up much +on the voice of occupation and +The breath of garlic-eaters! + +COMINIUS: +He will shake +Your Rome about your ears. + +MENENIUS: +As Hercules +Did shake down mellow fruit. +You have made fair work! + +BRUTUS: +But is this true, sir? + +COMINIUS: +Ay; and you'll look pale +Before you find it other. All the regions +Do smilingly revolt; and who resist +Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, +And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? +Your enemies and his find something in him. + +MENENIUS: +We are all undone, unless +The noble man have mercy. + +COMINIUS: +Who shall ask it? +The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people +Deserve such pity of him as the wolf +Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they +Should say 'Be good to Rome,' they charged him even +As those should do that had deserved his hate, +And therein show'd like enemies. + +MENENIUS: +'Tis true: +If he were putting to my house the brand +That should consume it, I have not the face +To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands, +You and your crafts! you have crafted fair! + +COMINIUS: +You have brought +A trembling upon Rome, such as was never +So incapable of help. + +Both Tribunes: +Say not we brought it. + +MENENIUS: +How! Was it we? we loved him but, like beasts +And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, +Who did hoot him out o' the city. + +COMINIUS: +But I fear +They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, +The second name of men, obeys his points +As if he were his officer: desperation +Is all the policy, strength and defence, +That Rome can make against them. + +MENENIUS: +Here come the clusters. +And is Aufidius with him? You are they +That made the air unwholesome, when you cast +Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at +Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; +And not a hair upon a soldier's head +Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs +As you threw caps up will he tumble down, +And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; +if he could burn us all into one coal, +We have deserved it. + +Citizens: +Faith, we hear fearful news. + +First Citizen: +For mine own part, +When I said, banish him, I said 'twas pity. + +Second Citizen: +And so did I. + +Third Citizen: +And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very +many of us: that we did, we did for the best; and +though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet +it was against our will. + +COMINIUS: +Ye re goodly things, you voices! + +MENENIUS: +You have made +Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol? + +COMINIUS: +O, ay, what else? + +SICINIUS: +Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd: +These are a side that would be glad to have +This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, +And show no sign of fear. + +First Citizen: +The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. +I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished +him. + +Second Citizen: +So did we all. But, come, let's home. + +BRUTUS: +I do not like this news. + +SICINIUS: +Nor I. + +BRUTUS: +Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth +Would buy this for a lie! + +SICINIUS: +Pray, let us go. + +AUFIDIUS: +Do they still fly to the Roman? + +Lieutenant: +I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but +Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, +Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; +And you are darken'd in this action, sir, +Even by your own. + +AUFIDIUS: +I cannot help it now, +Unless, by using means, I lame the foot +Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, +Even to my person, than I thought he would +When first I did embrace him: yet his nature +In that's no changeling; and I must excuse +What cannot be amended. + +Lieutenant: +Yet I wish, sir,-- +I mean for your particular,--you had not +Join'd in commission with him; but either +Had borne the action of yourself, or else +To him had left it solely. + +AUFIDIUS: +I understand thee well; and be thou sure, +when he shall come to his account, he knows not +What I can urge against him. Although it seems, +And so he thinks, and is no less apparent +To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. +And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, +Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon +As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone +That which shall break his neck or hazard mine, +Whene'er we come to our account. + +Lieutenant: +Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? + +AUFIDIUS: +All places yield to him ere he sits down; +And the nobility of Rome are his: +The senators and patricians love him too: +The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people +Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty +To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome +As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it +By sovereignty of nature. First he was +A noble servant to them; but he could not +Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride, +Which out of daily fortune ever taints +The happy man; whether defect of judgment, +To fail in the disposing of those chances +Which he was lord of; or whether nature, +Not to be other than one thing, not moving +From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace +Even with the same austerity and garb +As he controll'd the war; but one of these-- +As he hath spices of them all, not all, +For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd, +So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit, +To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues +Lie in the interpretation of the time: +And power, unto itself most commendable, +Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair +To extol what it hath done. +One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; +Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. +Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, +Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. + +MENENIUS: +No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said +Which was sometime his general; who loved him +In a most dear particular. He call'd me father: +But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him; +A mile before his tent fall down, and knee +The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd +To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. + +COMINIUS: +He would not seem to know me. + +MENENIUS: +Do you hear? + +COMINIUS: +Yet one time he did call me by my name: +I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops +That we have bled together. Coriolanus +He would not answer to: forbad all names; +He was a kind of nothing, titleless, +Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire +Of burning Rome. + +MENENIUS: +Why, so: you have made good work! +A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, +To make coals cheap,--a noble memory! + +COMINIUS: +I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon +When it was less expected: he replied, +It was a bare petition of a state +To one whom they had punish'd. + +MENENIUS: +Very well: +Could he say less? + +COMINIUS: +I offer'd to awaken his regard +For's private friends: his answer to me was, +He could not stay to pick them in a pile +Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly, +For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, +And still to nose the offence. + +MENENIUS: +For one poor grain or two! +I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, +And this brave fellow too, we are the grains: +You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt +Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. + +SICINIUS: +Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid +In this so never-needed help, yet do not +Upbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if you +Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, +More than the instant army we can make, +Might stop our countryman. + +MENENIUS: +No, I'll not meddle. + +SICINIUS: +Pray you, go to him. + +MENENIUS: +What should I do? + +BRUTUS: +Only make trial what your love can do +For Rome, towards Marcius. + +MENENIUS: +Well, and say that Marcius +Return me, as Cominius is return'd, +Unheard; what then? +But as a discontented friend, grief-shot +With his unkindness? say't be so? + +SICINIUS: +Yet your good will +must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure +As you intended well. + +MENENIUS: +I'll undertake 't: +I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip +And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. +He was not taken well; he had not dined: +The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then +We pout upon the morning, are unapt +To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd +These and these conveyances of our blood +With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls +Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him +Till he be dieted to my request, +And then I'll set upon him. + +BRUTUS: +You know the very road into his kindness, +And cannot lose your way. + +MENENIUS: +Good faith, I'll prove him, +Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge +Of my success. + +COMINIUS: +He'll never hear him. + +SICINIUS: +Not? + +COMINIUS: +I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye +Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury +The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; +'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me +Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do, +He sent in writing after me; what he would not, +Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions: +So that all hope is vain. +Unless his noble mother, and his wife; +Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him +For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, +And with our fair entreaties haste them on. + +First Senator: +Stay: whence are you? + +Second Senator: +Stand, and go back. + +MENENIUS: +You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave, +I am an officer of state, and come +To speak with Coriolanus. + +First Senator: +From whence? + +MENENIUS: +From Rome. + +First Senator: +You may not pass, you must return: our general +Will no more hear from thence. + +Second Senator: +You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before +You'll speak with Coriolanus. + +MENENIUS: +Good my friends, +If you have heard your general talk of Rome, +And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks, +My name hath touch'd your ears it is Menenius. + +First Senator: +Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name +Is not here passable. + +MENENIUS: +I tell thee, fellow, +The general is my lover: I have been +The book of his good acts, whence men have read +His name unparallel'd, haply amplified; +For I have ever verified my friends, +Of whom he's chief, with all the size that verity +Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes, +Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, +I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise +Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow, +I must have leave to pass. + +First Senator: +Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his +behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you +should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous +to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. + +MENENIUS: +Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, +always factionary on the party of your general. + +Second Senator: +Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you +have, I am one that, telling true under him, must +say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back. + +MENENIUS: +Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not +speak with him till after dinner. + +First Senator: +You are a Roman, are you? + +MENENIUS: +I am, as thy general is. + +First Senator: +Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, +when you have pushed out your gates the very +defender of them, and, in a violent popular +ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to +front his revenges with the easy groans of old +women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with +the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as +you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the +intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with +such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; +therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your +execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn +you out of reprieve and pardon. + +MENENIUS: +Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would +use me with estimation. + +Second Senator: +Come, my captain knows you not. + +MENENIUS: +I mean, thy general. + +First Senator: +My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go; lest +I let forth your half-pint of blood; back,--that's +the utmost of your having: back. + +MENENIUS: +Nay, but, fellow, fellow,-- + +CORIOLANUS: +What's the matter? + +MENENIUS: +Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you: +You shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall +perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from +my son Coriolanus: guess, but by my entertainment +with him, if thou standest not i' the state of +hanging, or of some death more long in +spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now +presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. +The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy +particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than +thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son! +thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's +water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to +thee; but being assured none but myself could move +thee, I have been blown out of your gates with +sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy +petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy +wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet +here,--this, who, like a block, hath denied my +access to thee. + +CORIOLANUS: +Away! + +MENENIUS: +How! away! + +CORIOLANUS: +Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs +Are servanted to others: though I owe +My revenge properly, my remission lies +In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, +Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather +Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone. +Mine ears against your suits are stronger than +Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee, +Take this along; I writ it for thy sake +And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius, +I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, +Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st! + +AUFIDIUS: +You keep a constant temper. + +First Senator: +Now, sir, is your name Menenius? + +Second Senator: +'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the +way home again. + +First Senator: +Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your +greatness back? + +Second Senator: +What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? + +MENENIUS: +I neither care for the world nor your general: for +such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, +ye're so slight. He that hath a will to die by +himself fears it not from another: let your general +do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and +your misery increase with your age! I say to you, +as I was said to, Away! + +First Senator: +A noble fellow, I warrant him. + +Second Senator: +The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the +oak not to be wind-shaken. + +CORIOLANUS: +We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow +Set down our host. My partner in this action, +You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly +I have borne this business. + +AUFIDIUS: +Only their ends +You have respected; stopp'd your ears against +The general suit of Rome; never admitted +A private whisper, no, not with such friends +That thought them sure of you. + +CORIOLANUS: +This last old man, +Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, +Loved me above the measure of a father; +Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge +Was to send him; for whose old love I have, +Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd +The first conditions, which they did refuse +And cannot now accept; to grace him only +That thought he could do more, a very little +I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, +Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter +Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this? +Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow +In the same time 'tis made? I will not. +My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould +Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand +The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! +All bond and privilege of nature, break! +Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. +What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, +Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not +Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows; +As if Olympus to a molehill should +In supplication nod: and my young boy +Hath an aspect of intercession, which +Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces +Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never +Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, +As if a man were author of himself +And knew no other kin. + +VIRGILIA: +My lord and husband! + +CORIOLANUS: +These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. + +VIRGILIA: +The sorrow that delivers us thus changed +Makes you think so. + +CORIOLANUS: +Like a dull actor now, +I have forgot my part, and I am out, +Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, +Forgive my tyranny; but do not say +For that 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss +Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! +Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss +I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip +Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, +And the most noble mother of the world +Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth; +Of thy deep duty more impression show +Than that of common sons. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, stand up blest! +Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, +I kneel before thee; and unproperly +Show duty, as mistaken all this while +Between the child and parent. + +CORIOLANUS: +What is this? +Your knees to me? to your corrected son? +Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach +Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds +Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; +Murdering impossibility, to make +What cannot be, slight work. + +VOLUMNIA: +Thou art my warrior; +I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? + +CORIOLANUS: +The noble sister of Publicola, +The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle +That's curdied by the frost from purest snow +And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria! + +VOLUMNIA: +This is a poor epitome of yours, +Which by the interpretation of full time +May show like all yourself. + +CORIOLANUS: +The god of soldiers, +With the consent of supreme Jove, inform +Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove +To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars +Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, +And saving those that eye thee! + +VOLUMNIA: +Your knee, sirrah. + +CORIOLANUS: +That's my brave boy! + +VOLUMNIA: +Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, +Are suitors to you. + +CORIOLANUS: +I beseech you, peace: +Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before: +The thing I have forsworn to grant may never +Be held by you denials. Do not bid me +Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate +Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not +Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not +To ally my rages and revenges with +Your colder reasons. + +VOLUMNIA: +O, no more, no more! +You have said you will not grant us any thing; +For we have nothing else to ask, but that +Which you deny already: yet we will ask; +That, if you fail in our request, the blame +May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. + +CORIOLANUS: +Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll +Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? + +VOLUMNIA: +Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment +And state of bodies would bewray what life +We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself +How more unfortunate than all living women +Are we come hither: since that thy sight, +which should +Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance +with comforts, +Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow; +Making the mother, wife and child to see +The son, the husband and the father tearing +His country's bowels out. And to poor we +Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us +Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort +That all but we enjoy; for how can we, +Alas, how can we for our country pray. +Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, +Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose +The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, +Our comfort in the country. We must find +An evident calamity, though we had +Our wish, which side should win: for either thou +Must, as a foreign recreant, be led +With manacles thorough our streets, or else +triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, +And bear the palm for having bravely shed +Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, +I purpose not to wait on fortune till +These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee +Rather to show a noble grace to both parts +Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner +March to assault thy country than to tread-- +Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb, +That brought thee to this world. + +VIRGILIA: +Ay, and mine, +That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name +Living to time. + +Young MARCIUS: +A' shall not tread on me; +I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. + +CORIOLANUS: +Not of a woman's tenderness to be, +Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. +I have sat too long. + +VOLUMNIA: +Nay, go not from us thus. +If it were so that our request did tend +To save the Romans, thereby to destroy +The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, +As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit +Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces +May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans, +'This we received;' and each in either side +Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest +For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, +The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, +That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit +Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, +Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; +Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, +But with his last attempt he wiped it out; +Destroy'd his country, and his name remains +To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: +Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, +To imitate the graces of the gods; +To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, +And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt +That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? +Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man +Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: +He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy: +Perhaps thy childishness will move him more +Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world +More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate +Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life +Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, +When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, +Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home, +Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, +And spurn me back: but if it be not so, +Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, +That thou restrain'st from me the duty which +To a mother's part belongs. He turns away: +Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. +To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride +Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; +This is the last: so we will home to Rome, +And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's: +This boy, that cannot tell what he would have +But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship, +Does reason our petition with more strength +Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go: +This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; +His wife is in Corioli and his child +Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: +I am hush'd until our city be a-fire, +And then I'll speak a little. + +CORIOLANUS: +O mother, mother! +What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, +The gods look down, and this unnatural scene +They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! +You have won a happy victory to Rome; +But, for your son,--believe it, O, believe it, +Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, +If not most mortal to him. But, let it come. +Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, +I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, +Were you in my stead, would you have heard +A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? + +AUFIDIUS: +I was moved withal. + +CORIOLANUS: +I dare be sworn you were: +And, sir, it is no little thing to make +Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, +What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part, +I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you, +Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! + +AUFIDIUS: + +CORIOLANUS: +Ay, by and by; +But we will drink together; and you shall bear +A better witness back than words, which we, +On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. +Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve +To have a temple built you: all the swords +In Italy, and her confederate arms, +Could not have made this peace. + +MENENIUS: +See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond +corner-stone? + +SICINIUS: +Why, what of that? + +MENENIUS: +If it be possible for you to displace it with your +little finger, there is some hope the ladies of +Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. +But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are +sentenced and stay upon execution. + +SICINIUS: +Is't possible that so short a time can alter the +condition of a man! + +MENENIUS: +There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; +yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown +from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a +creeping thing. + +SICINIUS: +He loved his mother dearly. + +MENENIUS: +So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother +now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness +of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he +moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before +his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with +his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a +battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for +Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with +his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity +and a heaven to throne in. + +SICINIUS: +Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. + +MENENIUS: +I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his +mother shall bring from him: there is no more mercy +in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that +shall our poor city find: and all this is long of +you. + +SICINIUS: +The gods be good unto us! + +MENENIUS: +No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto +us. When we banished him, we respected not them; +and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. + +Messenger: +Sir, if you'ld save your life, fly to your house: +The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune +And hale him up and down, all swearing, if +The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, +They'll give him death by inches. + +SICINIUS: +What's the news? + +Second Messenger: +Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd, +The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone: +A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, +No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. + +SICINIUS: +Friend, +Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? + +Second Messenger: +As certain as I know the sun is fire: +Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? +Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, +As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you! +The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes, +Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans, +Make the sun dance. Hark you! + +MENENIUS: +This is good news: +I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia +Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, +A city full; of tribunes, such as you, +A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day: +This morning for ten thousand of your throats +I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! + +SICINIUS: +First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, +Accept my thankfulness. + +Second Messenger: +Sir, we have all +Great cause to give great thanks. + +SICINIUS: +They are near the city? + +Second Messenger: +Almost at point to enter. + +SICINIUS: +We will meet them, +And help the joy. + +First Senator: +Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! +Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, +And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them: +Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, +Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; +Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!' + +All: +Welcome, ladies, Welcome! + +AUFIDIUS: +Go tell the lords o' the city I am here: +Deliver them this paper: having read it, +Bid them repair to the market place; where I, +Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, +Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse +The city ports by this hath enter'd and +Intends to appear before the people, hoping +To purge herself with words: dispatch. +Most welcome! + +First Conspirator: +How is it with our general? + +AUFIDIUS: +Even so +As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, +And with his charity slain. + +Second Conspirator: +Most noble sir, +If you do hold the same intent wherein +You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you +Of your great danger. + +AUFIDIUS: +Sir, I cannot tell: +We must proceed as we do find the people. + +Third Conspirator: +The people will remain uncertain whilst +'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either +Makes the survivor heir of all. + +AUFIDIUS: +I know it; +And my pretext to strike at him admits +A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd +Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd, +He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery, +Seducing so my friends; and, to this end, +He bow'd his nature, never known before +But to be rough, unswayable and free. + +Third Conspirator: +Sir, his stoutness +When he did stand for consul, which he lost +By lack of stooping,-- + +AUFIDIUS: +That I would have spoke of: +Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth; +Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; +Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way +In all his own desires; nay, let him choose +Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, +My best and freshest men; served his designments +In mine own person; holp to reap the fame +Which he did end all his; and took some pride +To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, +I seem'd his follower, not partner, and +He waged me with his countenance, as if +I had been mercenary. + +First Conspirator: +So he did, my lord: +The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last, +When he had carried Rome and that we look'd +For no less spoil than glory,-- + +AUFIDIUS: +There was it: +For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. +At a few drops of women's rheum, which are +As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour +Of our great action: therefore shall he die, +And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! + +First Conspirator: +Your native town you enter'd like a post, +And had no welcomes home: but he returns, +Splitting the air with noise. + +Second Conspirator: +And patient fools, +Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear +With giving him glory. + +Third Conspirator: +Therefore, at your vantage, +Ere he express himself, or move the people +With what he would say, let him feel your sword, +Which we will second. When he lies along, +After your way his tale pronounced shall bury +His reasons with his body. + +AUFIDIUS: +Say no more: +Here come the lords. + +All The Lords: +You are most welcome home. + +AUFIDIUS: +I have not deserved it. +But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused +What I have written to you? + +Lords: +We have. + +First Lord: +And grieve to hear't. +What faults he made before the last, I think +Might have found easy fines: but there to end +Where he was to begin and give away +The benefit of our levies, answering us +With our own charge, making a treaty where +There was a yielding,--this admits no excuse. + +AUFIDIUS: +He approaches: you shall hear him. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier, +No more infected with my country's love +Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting +Under your great command. You are to know +That prosperously I have attempted and +With bloody passage led your wars even to +The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home +Do more than counterpoise a full third part +The charges of the action. We have made peace +With no less honour to the Antiates +Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver, +Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, +Together with the seal o' the senate, what +We have compounded on. + +AUFIDIUS: +Read it not, noble lords; +But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree +He hath abused your powers. + +CORIOLANUS: +Traitor! how now! + +AUFIDIUS: +Ay, traitor, Marcius! + +CORIOLANUS: +Marcius! + +AUFIDIUS: +Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think +I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name +Coriolanus in Corioli? +You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously +He has betray'd your business, and given up, +For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, +I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother; +Breaking his oath and resolution like +A twist of rotten silk, never admitting +Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears +He whined and roar'd away your victory, +That pages blush'd at him and men of heart +Look'd wondering each at other. + +CORIOLANUS: +Hear'st thou, Mars? + +AUFIDIUS: +Name not the god, thou boy of tears! + +CORIOLANUS: +Ha! + +AUFIDIUS: +No more. + +CORIOLANUS: +Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart +Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! +Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever +I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, +Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion-- +Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that +Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join +To thrust the lie unto him. + +First Lord: +Peace, both, and hear me speak. + +CORIOLANUS: +Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, +Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound! +If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, +That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I +Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli: +Alone I did it. Boy! + +AUFIDIUS: +Why, noble lords, +Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, +Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, +'Fore your own eyes and ears? + +All Conspirators: +Let him die for't. + +All The People: +'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd +my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin +Marcus.' 'He killed my father.' + +Second Lord: +Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! +The man is noble and his fame folds-in +This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us +Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, +And trouble not the peace. + +CORIOLANUS: +O that I had him, +With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, +To use my lawful sword! + +AUFIDIUS: +Insolent villain! + +All Conspirators: +Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! + +Lords: +Hold, hold, hold, hold! + +AUFIDIUS: +My noble masters, hear me speak. + +First Lord: +O Tullus,-- + +Second Lord: +Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. + +Third Lord: +Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet; +Put up your swords. + +AUFIDIUS: +My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage, +Provoked by him, you cannot--the great danger +Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice +That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours +To call me to your senate, I'll deliver +Myself your loyal servant, or endure +Your heaviest censure. + +First Lord: +Bear from hence his body; +And mourn you for him: let him be regarded +As the most noble corse that ever herald +Did follow to his urn. + +Second Lord: +His own impatience +Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. +Let's make the best of it. + +AUFIDIUS: +My rage is gone; +And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. +Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. +Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: +Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he +Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, +Which to this hour bewail the injury, +Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. + +GLOUCESTER: +Now is the winter of our discontent +Made glorious summer by this sun of York; +And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house +In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. +Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; +Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; +Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, +Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. +Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; +And now, instead of mounting barded steeds +To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, +He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber +To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. +But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, +Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; +I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty +To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; +I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, +Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, +Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time +Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, +And that so lamely and unfashionable +That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; +Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, +Have no delight to pass away the time, +Unless to spy my shadow in the sun +And descant on mine own deformity: +And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, +To entertain these fair well-spoken days, +I am determined to prove a villain +And hate the idle pleasures of these days. +Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, +By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, +To set my brother Clarence and the king +In deadly hate the one against the other: +And if King Edward be as true and just +As I am subtle, false and treacherous, +This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, +About a prophecy, which says that 'G' +Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. +Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here +Clarence comes. +Brother, good day; what means this armed guard +That waits upon your grace? + +CLARENCE: +His majesty +Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed +This conduct to convey me to the Tower. + +GLOUCESTER: +Upon what cause? + +CLARENCE: +Because my name is George. + +GLOUCESTER: +Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; +He should, for that, commit your godfathers: +O, belike his majesty hath some intent +That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower. +But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? + +CLARENCE: +Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest +As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, +He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; +And from the cross-row plucks the letter G. +And says a wizard told him that by G +His issue disinherited should be; +And, for my name of George begins with G, +It follows in his thought that I am he. +These, as I learn, and such like toys as these +Have moved his highness to commit me now. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women: +'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower: +My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she +That tempers him to this extremity. +Was it not she and that good man of worship, +Anthony Woodville, her brother there, +That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, +From whence this present day he is deliver'd? +We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. + +CLARENCE: +By heaven, I think there's no man is secure +But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds +That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. +Heard ye not what an humble suppliant +Lord hastings was to her for his delivery? + +GLOUCESTER: +Humbly complaining to her deity +Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. +I'll tell you what; I think it is our way, +If we will keep in favour with the king, +To be her men and wear her livery: +The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, +Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen. +Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. + +BRAKENBURY: +I beseech your graces both to pardon me; +His majesty hath straitly given in charge +That no man shall have private conference, +Of what degree soever, with his brother. + +GLOUCESTER: +Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, +You may partake of any thing we say: +We speak no treason, man: we say the king +Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen +Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; +We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, +A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; +And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks: +How say you sir? Can you deny all this? + +BRAKENBURY: +With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. + +GLOUCESTER: +Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, +He that doth naught with her, excepting one, +Were best he do it secretly, alone. + +BRAKENBURY: +What one, my lord? + +GLOUCESTER: +Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? + +BRAKENBURY: +I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal +Forbear your conference with the noble duke. + +CLARENCE: +We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. + +GLOUCESTER: +We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. +Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; +And whatsoever you will employ me in, +Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, +I will perform it to enfranchise you. +Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood +Touches me deeper than you can imagine. + +CLARENCE: +I know it pleaseth neither of us well. + +GLOUCESTER: +Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; +Meantime, have patience. + +CLARENCE: +I must perforce. Farewell. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. +Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so, +That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, +If heaven will take the present at our hands. +But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? + +HASTINGS: +Good time of day unto my gracious lord! + +GLOUCESTER: +As much unto my good lord chamberlain! +Well are you welcome to the open air. +How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? + +HASTINGS: +With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must: +But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks +That were the cause of my imprisonment. + +GLOUCESTER: +No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; +For they that were your enemies are his, +And have prevail'd as much on him as you. + +HASTINGS: +More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, +While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. + +GLOUCESTER: +What news abroad? + +HASTINGS: +No news so bad abroad as this at home; +The King is sickly, weak and melancholy, +And his physicians fear him mightily. + +GLOUCESTER: +Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. +O, he hath kept an evil diet long, +And overmuch consumed his royal person: +'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. +What, is he in his bed? + +HASTINGS: +He is. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go you before, and I will follow you. +He cannot live, I hope; and must not die +Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. +I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, +With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; +And, if I fall not in my deep intent, +Clarence hath not another day to live: +Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, +And leave the world for me to bustle in! +For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. +What though I kill'd her husband and her father? +The readiest way to make the wench amends +Is to become her husband and her father: +The which will I; not all so much for love +As for another secret close intent, +By marrying her which I must reach unto. +But yet I run before my horse to market: +Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: +When they are gone, then must I count my gains. + +LADY ANNE: +Set down, set down your honourable load, +If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, +Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament +The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. +Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! +Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! +Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! +Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, +To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne, +Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, +Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds! +Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, +I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. +Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! +Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it! +Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! +More direful hap betide that hated wretch, +That makes us wretched by the death of thee, +Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, +Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! +If ever he have child, abortive be it, +Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, +Whose ugly and unnatural aspect +May fright the hopeful mother at the view; +And that be heir to his unhappiness! +If ever he have wife, let her he made +A miserable by the death of him +As I am made by my poor lord and thee! +Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load, +Taken from Paul's to be interred there; +And still, as you are weary of the weight, +Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. + +GLOUCESTER: +Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. + +LADY ANNE: +What black magician conjures up this fiend, +To stop devoted charitable deeds? + +GLOUCESTER: +Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, +I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. + +Gentleman: +My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. + +GLOUCESTER: +Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command: +Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, +Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, +And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. + +LADY ANNE: +What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? +Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, +And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. +Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! +Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, +His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. + +LADY ANNE: +Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; +For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, +Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. +If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, +Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. +O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds +Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh! +Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity; +For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood +From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; +Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, +Provokes this deluge most unnatural. +O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death! +O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death! +Either heaven with lightning strike the +murderer dead, +Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, +As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood +Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! + +GLOUCESTER: +Lady, you know no rules of charity, +Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. + +LADY ANNE: +Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man: +No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. + +GLOUCESTER: +But I know none, and therefore am no beast. + +LADY ANNE: +O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! + +GLOUCESTER: +More wonderful, when angels are so angry. +Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, +Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave, +By circumstance, but to acquit myself. + +LADY ANNE: +Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man, +For these known evils, but to give me leave, +By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. + +GLOUCESTER: +Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have +Some patient leisure to excuse myself. + +LADY ANNE: +Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make +No excuse current, but to hang thyself. + +GLOUCESTER: +By such despair, I should accuse myself. + +LADY ANNE: +And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused; +For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, +Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. + +GLOUCESTER: +Say that I slew them not? + +LADY ANNE: +Why, then they are not dead: +But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee. + +GLOUCESTER: +I did not kill your husband. + +LADY ANNE: +Why, then he is alive. + +GLOUCESTER: +Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. + +LADY ANNE: +In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw +Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood; +The which thou once didst bend against her breast, +But that thy brothers beat aside the point. + +GLOUCESTER: +I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, +which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. + +LADY ANNE: +Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind. +Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries: +Didst thou not kill this king? + +GLOUCESTER: +I grant ye. + +LADY ANNE: +Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too +Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! +O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! + +GLOUCESTER: +The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him. + +LADY ANNE: +He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. + +GLOUCESTER: +Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; +For he was fitter for that place than earth. + +LADY ANNE: +And thou unfit for any place but hell. + +GLOUCESTER: +Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. + +LADY ANNE: +Some dungeon. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your bed-chamber. + +LADY ANNE: +I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest! + +GLOUCESTER: +So will it, madam till I lie with you. + +LADY ANNE: +I hope so. + +GLOUCESTER: +I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, +To leave this keen encounter of our wits, +And fall somewhat into a slower method, +Is not the causer of the timeless deaths +Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, +As blameful as the executioner? + +LADY ANNE: +Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your beauty was the cause of that effect; +Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep +To undertake the death of all the world, +So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. + +LADY ANNE: +If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, +These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. + +GLOUCESTER: +These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck; +You should not blemish it, if I stood by: +As all the world is cheered by the sun, +So I by that; it is my day, my life. + +LADY ANNE: +Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! + +GLOUCESTER: +Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both. + +LADY ANNE: +I would I were, to be revenged on thee. + +GLOUCESTER: +It is a quarrel most unnatural, +To be revenged on him that loveth you. + +LADY ANNE: +It is a quarrel just and reasonable, +To be revenged on him that slew my husband. + +GLOUCESTER: +He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, +Did it to help thee to a better husband. + +LADY ANNE: +His better doth not breathe upon the earth. + +GLOUCESTER: +He lives that loves thee better than he could. + +LADY ANNE: +Name him. + +GLOUCESTER: +Plantagenet. + +LADY ANNE: +Why, that was he. + +GLOUCESTER: +The selfsame name, but one of better nature. + +LADY ANNE: +Where is he? + +GLOUCESTER: +Here. +Why dost thou spit at me? + +LADY ANNE: +Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! + +GLOUCESTER: +Never came poison from so sweet a place. + +LADY ANNE: +Never hung poison on a fouler toad. +Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes. + +GLOUCESTER: +Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. + +LADY ANNE: +Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! + +GLOUCESTER: +I would they were, that I might die at once; +For now they kill me with a living death. +Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, +Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops: +These eyes that never shed remorseful tear, +No, when my father York and Edward wept, +To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made +When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him; +Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, +Told the sad story of my father's death, +And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, +That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks +Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time +My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; +And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, +Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. +I never sued to friend nor enemy; +My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; +But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, +My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. +Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made +For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. +If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, +Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; +Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom. +And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, +I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, +And humbly beg the death upon my knee. +Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, +But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. +Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward, +But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. +Take up the sword again, or take up me. + +LADY ANNE: +Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, +I will not be the executioner. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. + +LADY ANNE: +I have already. + +GLOUCESTER: +Tush, that was in thy rage: +Speak it again, and, even with the word, +That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, +Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; +To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. + +LADY ANNE: +I would I knew thy heart. + +GLOUCESTER: +'Tis figured in my tongue. + +LADY ANNE: +I fear me both are false. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then never man was true. + +LADY ANNE: +Well, well, put up your sword. + +GLOUCESTER: +Say, then, my peace is made. + +LADY ANNE: +That shall you know hereafter. + +GLOUCESTER: +But shall I live in hope? + +LADY ANNE: +All men, I hope, live so. + +GLOUCESTER: +Vouchsafe to wear this ring. + +LADY ANNE: +To take is not to give. + +GLOUCESTER: +Look, how this ring encompasseth finger. +Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; +Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. +And if thy poor devoted suppliant may +But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, +Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. + +LADY ANNE: +What is it? + +GLOUCESTER: +That it would please thee leave these sad designs +To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, +And presently repair to Crosby Place; +Where, after I have solemnly interr'd +At Chertsey monastery this noble king, +And wet his grave with my repentant tears, +I will with all expedient duty see you: +For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you, +Grant me this boon. + +LADY ANNE: +With all my heart; and much it joys me too, +To see you are become so penitent. +Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Bid me farewell. + +LADY ANNE: +'Tis more than you deserve; +But since you teach me how to flatter you, +Imagine I have said farewell already. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sirs, take up the corse. + +GENTLEMEN: +Towards Chertsey, noble lord? + +GLOUCESTER: +No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining. +Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? +Was ever woman in this humour won? +I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. +What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, +To take her in her heart's extremest hate, +With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, +The bleeding witness of her hatred by; +Having God, her conscience, and these bars +against me, +And I nothing to back my suit at all, +But the plain devil and dissembling looks, +And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! +Ha! +Hath she forgot already that brave prince, +Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, +Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? +A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, +Framed in the prodigality of nature, +Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, +The spacious world cannot again afford +And will she yet debase her eyes on me, +That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, +And made her widow to a woful bed? +On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? +On me, that halt and am unshapen thus? +My dukedom to a beggarly denier, +I do mistake my person all this while: +Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, +Myself to be a marvellous proper man. +I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, +And entertain some score or two of tailors, +To study fashions to adorn my body: +Since I am crept in favour with myself, +Will maintain it with some little cost. +But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave; +And then return lamenting to my love. +Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, +That I may see my shadow as I pass. + +RIVERS: +Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty +Will soon recover his accustom'd health. + +GREY: +In that you brook it in, it makes him worse: +Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, +And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +If he were dead, what would betide of me? + +RIVERS: +No other harm but loss of such a lord. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The loss of such a lord includes all harm. + +GREY: +The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, +To be your comforter when he is gone. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Oh, he is young and his minority +Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, +A man that loves not me, nor none of you. + +RIVERS: +Is it concluded that he shall be protector? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +It is determined, not concluded yet: +But so it must be, if the king miscarry. + +GREY: +Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Good time of day unto your royal grace! + +DERBY: +God make your majesty joyful as you have been! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby. +To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. +Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife, +And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured +I hate not you for her proud arrogance. + +DERBY: +I do beseech you, either not believe +The envious slanders of her false accusers; +Or, if she be accused in true report, +Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds +From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. + +RIVERS: +Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby? + +DERBY: +But now the Duke of Buckingham and I +Are come from visiting his majesty. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What likelihood of his amendment, lords? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +God grant him health! Did you confer with him? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement +Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, +And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain; +And sent to warn them to his royal presence. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Would all were well! but that will never be +I fear our happiness is at the highest. + +GLOUCESTER: +They do me wrong, and I will not endure it: +Who are they that complain unto the king, +That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? +By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly +That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. +Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, +Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog, +Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, +I must be held a rancorous enemy. +Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, +But thus his simple truth must be abused +By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? + +RIVERS: +To whom in all this presence speaks your grace? + +GLOUCESTER: +To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. +When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong? +Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction? +A plague upon you all! His royal person,-- +Whom God preserve better than you would wish!-- +Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, +But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. +The king, of his own royal disposition, +And not provoked by any suitor else; +Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, +Which in your outward actions shows itself +Against my kindred, brothers, and myself, +Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather +The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. + +GLOUCESTER: +I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad, +That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch: +Since every Jack became a gentleman +There's many a gentle person made a Jack. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Come, come, we know your meaning, brother +Gloucester; +You envy my advancement and my friends': +God grant we never may have need of you! + +GLOUCESTER: +Meantime, God grants that we have need of you: +Your brother is imprison'd by your means, +Myself disgraced, and the nobility +Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions +Are daily given to ennoble those +That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +By Him that raised me to this careful height +From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, +I never did incense his majesty +Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been +An earnest advocate to plead for him. +My lord, you do me shameful injury, +Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. + +GLOUCESTER: +You may deny that you were not the cause +Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. + +RIVERS: +She may, my lord, for-- + +GLOUCESTER: +She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so? +She may do more, sir, than denying that: +She may help you to many fair preferments, +And then deny her aiding hand therein, +And lay those honours on your high deserts. +What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she-- + +RIVERS: +What, marry, may she? + +GLOUCESTER: +What, marry, may she! marry with a king, +A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: +I wis your grandam had a worser match. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne +Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs: +By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty +With those gross taunts I often have endured. +I had rather be a country servant-maid +Than a great queen, with this condition, +To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at: +Small joy have I in being England's queen. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! +Thy honour, state and seat is due to me. + +GLOUCESTER: +What! threat you me with telling of the king? +Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said +I will avouch in presence of the king: +I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. +'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Out, devil! I remember them too well: +Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower, +And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. + +GLOUCESTER: +Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king, +I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; +A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, +A liberal rewarder of his friends: +To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Yea, and much better blood than his or thine. + +GLOUCESTER: +In all which time you and your husband Grey +Were factious for the house of Lancaster; +And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband +In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain? +Let me put in your minds, if you forget, +What you have been ere now, and what you are; +Withal, what I have been, and what I am. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +A murderous villain, and so still thou art. + +GLOUCESTER: +Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick; +Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!-- + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Which God revenge! + +GLOUCESTER: +To fight on Edward's party for the crown; +And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up. +I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's; +Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine +I am too childish-foolish for this world. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world, +Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is. + +RIVERS: +My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days +Which here you urge to prove us enemies, +We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king: +So should we you, if you should be our king. + +GLOUCESTER: +If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar: +Far be it from my heart, the thought of it! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +As little joy, my lord, as you suppose +You should enjoy, were you this country's king, +As little joy may you suppose in me. +That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; +For I am she, and altogether joyless. +I can no longer hold me patient. +Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out +In sharing that which you have pill'd from me! +Which of you trembles not that looks on me? +If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects, +Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels? +O gentle villain, do not turn away! + +GLOUCESTER: +Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; +That will I make before I let thee go. + +GLOUCESTER: +Wert thou not banished on pain of death? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I was; but I do find more pain in banishment +Than death can yield me here by my abode. +A husband and a son thou owest to me; +And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance: +The sorrow that I have, by right is yours, +And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. + +GLOUCESTER: +The curse my noble father laid on thee, +When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper +And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, +And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout +Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland-- +His curses, then from bitterness of soul +Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; +And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +So just is God, to right the innocent. + +HASTINGS: +O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, +And the most merciless that e'er was heard of! + +RIVERS: +Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. + +DORSET: +No man but prophesied revenge for it. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +What were you snarling all before I came, +Ready to catch each other by the throat, +And turn you all your hatred now on me? +Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven? +That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, +Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, +Could all but answer for that peevish brat? +Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? +Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! +If not by war, by surfeit die your king, +As ours by murder, to make him a king! +Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales, +For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales, +Die in his youth by like untimely violence! +Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, +Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! +Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss; +And see another, as I see thee now, +Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! +Long die thy happy days before thy death; +And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, +Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! +Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, +And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son +Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him, +That none of you may live your natural age, +But by some unlook'd accident cut off! + +GLOUCESTER: +Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. +If heaven have any grievous plague in store +Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, +O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, +And then hurl down their indignation +On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! +The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul! +Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest, +And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! +No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, +Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream +Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! +Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! +Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity +The slave of nature and the son of hell! +Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb! +Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! +Thou rag of honour! thou detested-- + +GLOUCESTER: +Margaret. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Richard! + +GLOUCESTER: +Ha! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I call thee not. + +GLOUCESTER: +I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought +That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply. +O, let me make the period to my curse! + +GLOUCESTER: +'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.' + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! +Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, +Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? +Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. +The time will come when thou shalt wish for me +To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad. + +HASTINGS: +False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, +Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine. + +RIVERS: +Were you well served, you would be taught your duty. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +To serve me well, you all should do me duty, +Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: +O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty! + +DORSET: +Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Peace, master marquess, you are malapert: +Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. +O, that your young nobility could judge +What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! +They that stand high have many blasts to shake them; +And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. + +GLOUCESTER: +Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess. + +DORSET: +It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Yea, and much more: but I was born so high, +Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top, +And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas! +Witness my son, now in the shade of death; +Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath +Hath in eternal darkness folded up. +Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest. +O God, that seest it, do not suffer it! +As it was won with blood, lost be it so! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Have done! for shame, if not for charity. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Urge neither charity nor shame to me: +Uncharitably with me have you dealt, +And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. +My charity is outrage, life my shame +And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Have done, have done. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand, +In sign of league and amity with thee: +Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! +Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, +Nor thou within the compass of my curse. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Nor no one here; for curses never pass +The lips of those that breathe them in the air. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, +And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. +O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! +Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, +His venom tooth will rankle to the death: +Have not to do with him, beware of him; +Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, +And all their ministers attend on him. + +GLOUCESTER: +What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? +And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? +O, but remember this another day, +When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, +And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! +Live each of you the subjects to his hate, +And he to yours, and all of you to God's! + +HASTINGS: +My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. + +RIVERS: +And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty. + +GLOUCESTER: +I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother, +She hath had too much wrong; and I repent +My part thereof that I have done to her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I never did her any, to my knowledge. + +GLOUCESTER: +But you have all the vantage of her wrong. +I was too hot to do somebody good, +That is too cold in thinking of it now. +Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid, +He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains +God pardon them that are the cause of it! + +RIVERS: +A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, +To pray for them that have done scathe to us. + +GLOUCESTER: +So do I ever: +being well-advised. +For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. + +CATESBY: +Madam, his majesty doth call for you, +And for your grace; and you, my noble lords. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us? + +RIVERS: +Madam, we will attend your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. +The secret mischiefs that I set abroach +I lay unto the grievous charge of others. +Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness, +I do beweep to many simple gulls +Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham; +And say it is the queen and her allies +That stir the king against the duke my brother. +Now, they believe it; and withal whet me +To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: +But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture, +Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: +And thus I clothe my naked villany +With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ; +And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. +But, soft! here come my executioners. +How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates! +Are you now going to dispatch this deed? + +First Murderer: +We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant +That we may be admitted where he is. + +GLOUCESTER: +Well thought upon; I have it here about me. +When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. +But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, +Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; +For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps +May move your hearts to pity if you mark him. + +First Murderer: +Tush! +Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; +Talkers are no good doers: be assured +We come to use our hands and not our tongues. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears: +I like you, lads; about your business straight; +Go, go, dispatch. + +First Murderer: +We will, my noble lord. + +BRAKENBURY: +Why looks your grace so heavily today? + +CLARENCE: +O, I have pass'd a miserable night, +So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, +That, as I am a Christian faithful man, +I would not spend another such a night, +Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, +So full of dismal terror was the time! + +BRAKENBURY: +What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. + +CLARENCE: +Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, +And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; +And, in my company, my brother Gloucester; +Who from my cabin tempted me to walk +Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England, +And cited up a thousand fearful times, +During the wars of York and Lancaster +That had befall'n us. As we paced along +Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, +Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, +Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, +Into the tumbling billows of the main. +Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! +What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! +What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! +Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; +Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; +Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, +Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, +All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea: +Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes +Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, +As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, +Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, +And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. + +BRAKENBURY: +Had you such leisure in the time of death +To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? + +CLARENCE: +Methought I had; and often did I strive +To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood +Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth +To seek the empty, vast and wandering air; +But smother'd it within my panting bulk, +Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. + +BRAKENBURY: +Awaked you not with this sore agony? + +CLARENCE: +O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; +O, then began the tempest to my soul, +Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, +With that grim ferryman which poets write of, +Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. +The first that there did greet my stranger soul, +Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; +Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury +Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?' +And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by +A shadow like an angel, with bright hair +Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud, +'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, +That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury; +Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!' +With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends +Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears +Such hideous cries, that with the very noise +I trembling waked, and for a season after +Could not believe but that I was in hell, +Such terrible impression made the dream. + +BRAKENBURY: +No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you; +I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it. + +CLARENCE: +O Brakenbury, I have done those things, +Which now bear evidence against my soul, +For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! +O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, +But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, +Yet execute thy wrath in me alone, +O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! +I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; +My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. + +BRAKENBURY: +I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest! +Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, +Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. +Princes have but their tides for their glories, +An outward honour for an inward toil; +And, for unfelt imagination, +They often feel a world of restless cares: +So that, betwixt their tides and low names, +There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + +First Murderer: +Ho! who's here? + +BRAKENBURY: +In God's name what are you, and how came you hither? + +First Murderer: +I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. + +BRAKENBURY: +Yea, are you so brief? + +Second Murderer: +O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show +him our commission; talk no more. + +BRAKENBURY: +I am, in this, commanded to deliver +The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands: +I will not reason what is meant hereby, +Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. +Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep: +I'll to the king; and signify to him +That thus I have resign'd my charge to you. + +First Murderer: +Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well. + +Second Murderer: +What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? + +First Murderer: +No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. + +Second Murderer: +When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till +the judgment-day. + +First Murderer: +Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping. + +Second Murderer: +The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind +of remorse in me. + +First Murderer: +What, art thou afraid? + +Second Murderer: +Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be +damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us. + +First Murderer: +I thought thou hadst been resolute. + +Second Murderer: +So I am, to let him live. + +First Murderer: +Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so. + +Second Murderer: +I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour +will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one +would tell twenty. + +First Murderer: +How dost thou feel thyself now? + +Second Murderer: +'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet +within me. + +First Murderer: +Remember our reward, when the deed is done. + +Second Murderer: +'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward. + +First Murderer: +Where is thy conscience now? + +Second Murderer: +In the Duke of Gloucester's purse. + +First Murderer: +So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, +thy conscience flies out. + +Second Murderer: +Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. + +First Murderer: +How if it come to thee again? + +Second Murderer: +I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it +makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it +accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him; +he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it +detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that +mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of +obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold +that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it +is turned out of all towns and cities for a +dangerous thing; and every man that means to live +well endeavours to trust to himself and to live +without it. + +First Murderer: +'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me +not to kill the duke. + +Second Murderer: +Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he +would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. + +First Murderer: +Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me, +I warrant thee. + +Second Murderer: +Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his +reputation. Come, shall we to this gear? + +First Murderer: +Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy +sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt +in the next room. + +Second Murderer: +O excellent devise! make a sop of him. + +First Murderer: +Hark! he stirs: shall I strike? + +Second Murderer: +No, first let's reason with him. + +CLARENCE: +Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. + +Second murderer: +You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. + +CLARENCE: +In God's name, what art thou? + +Second Murderer: +A man, as you are. + +CLARENCE: +But not, as I am, royal. + +Second Murderer: +Nor you, as we are, loyal. + +CLARENCE: +Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. + +Second Murderer: +My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own. + +CLARENCE: +How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! +Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale? +Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? + +Both: +To, to, to-- + +CLARENCE: +To murder me? + +Both: +Ay, ay. + +CLARENCE: +You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, +And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. +Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? + +First Murderer: +Offended us you have not, but the king. + +CLARENCE: +I shall be reconciled to him again. + +Second Murderer: +Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. + +CLARENCE: +Are you call'd forth from out a world of men +To slay the innocent? What is my offence? +Where are the evidence that do accuse me? +What lawful quest have given their verdict up +Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced +The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? +Before I be convict by course of law, +To threaten me with death is most unlawful. +I charge you, as you hope to have redemption +By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, +That you depart and lay no hands on me +The deed you undertake is damnable. + +First Murderer: +What we will do, we do upon command. + +Second Murderer: +And he that hath commanded is the king. + +CLARENCE: +Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings +Hath in the tables of his law commanded +That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then, +Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? +Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands, +To hurl upon their heads that break his law. + +Second Murderer: +And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee, +For false forswearing and for murder too: +Thou didst receive the holy sacrament, +To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster. + +First Murderer: +And, like a traitor to the name of God, +Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade +Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. + +Second Murderer: +Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend. + +First Murderer: +How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, +When thou hast broke it in so dear degree? + +CLARENCE: +Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? +For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs, +He sends ye not to murder me for this +For in this sin he is as deep as I. +If God will be revenged for this deed. +O, know you yet, he doth it publicly, +Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; +He needs no indirect nor lawless course +To cut off those that have offended him. + +First Murderer: +Who made thee, then, a bloody minister, +When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet, +That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? + +CLARENCE: +My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. + +First Murderer: +Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault, +Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. + +CLARENCE: +Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me; +I am his brother, and I love him well. +If you be hired for meed, go back again, +And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, +Who shall reward you better for my life +Than Edward will for tidings of my death. + +Second Murderer: +You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you. + +CLARENCE: +O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear: +Go you to him from me. + +Both: +Ay, so we will. + +CLARENCE: +Tell him, when that our princely father York +Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, +And charged us from his soul to love each other, +He little thought of this divided friendship: +Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep. + +First Murderer: +Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep. + +CLARENCE: +O, do not slander him, for he is kind. + +First Murderer: +Right, +As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself: +'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee. + +CLARENCE: +It cannot be; for when I parted with him, +He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, +That he would labour my delivery. + +Second Murderer: +Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee +From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven. + +First Murderer: +Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. + +CLARENCE: +Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, +To counsel me to make my peace with God, +And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, +That thou wilt war with God by murdering me? +Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on +To do this deed will hate you for the deed. + +Second Murderer: +What shall we do? + +CLARENCE: +Relent, and save your souls. + +First Murderer: +Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish. + +CLARENCE: +Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. +Which of you, if you were a prince's son, +Being pent from liberty, as I am now, +if two such murderers as yourselves came to you, +Would not entreat for life? +My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks: +O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, +Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, +As you would beg, were you in my distress +A begging prince what beggar pities not? + +Second Murderer: +Look behind you, my lord. + +First Murderer: +Take that, and that: if all this will not do, +I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. + +Second Murderer: +A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd! +How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands +Of this most grievous guilty murder done! + +First Murderer: +How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? +By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art! + +Second Murderer: +I would he knew that I had saved his brother! +Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; +For I repent me that the duke is slain. + +First Murderer: +So do not I: go, coward as thou art. +Now must I hide his body in some hole, +Until the duke take order for his burial: +And when I have my meed, I must away; +For this will out, and here I must not stay. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, so: now have I done a good day's work: +You peers, continue this united league: +I every day expect an embassage +From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; +And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven, +Since I have set my friends at peace on earth. +Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; +Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. + +RIVERS: +By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate: +And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. + +HASTINGS: +So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Take heed you dally not before your king; +Lest he that is the supreme King of kings +Confound your hidden falsehood, and award +Either of you to be the other's end. + +HASTINGS: +So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! + +RIVERS: +And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, +Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; +You have been factious one against the other, +Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; +And what you do, do it unfeignedly. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Here, Hastings; I will never more remember +Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess. + +DORSET: +This interchange of love, I here protest, +Upon my part shall be unviolable. + +HASTINGS: +And so swear I, my lord + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league +With thy embracements to my wife's allies, +And make me happy in your unity. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate +On you or yours, +but with all duteous love +Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me +With hate in those where I expect most love! +When I have most need to employ a friend, +And most assured that he is a friend +Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, +Be he unto me! this do I beg of God, +When I am cold in zeal to yours. + +KING EDWARD IV: +A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, +is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. +There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here, +To make the perfect period of this peace. + +BUCKINGHAM: +And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. + +GLOUCESTER: +Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen: +And, princely peers, a happy time of day! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. +Brother, we done deeds of charity; +Made peace enmity, fair love of hate, +Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. + +GLOUCESTER: +A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege: +Amongst this princely heap, if any here, +By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, +Hold me a foe; +If I unwittingly, or in my rage, +Have aught committed that is hardly borne +By any in this presence, I desire +To reconcile me to his friendly peace: +'Tis death to me to be at enmity; +I hate it, and desire all good men's love. +First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, +Which I will purchase with my duteous service; +Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, +If ever any grudge were lodged between us; +Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you; +That without desert have frown'd on me; +Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. +I do not know that Englishman alive +With whom my soul is any jot at odds +More than the infant that is born to-night +I thank my God for my humility. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +A holy day shall this be kept hereafter: +I would to God all strifes were well compounded. +My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty +To take our brother Clarence to your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this +To be so bouted in this royal presence? +Who knows not that the noble duke is dead? +You do him injury to scorn his corse. + +RIVERS: +Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +All seeing heaven, what a world is this! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? + +DORSET: +Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence +But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed. + +GLOUCESTER: +But he, poor soul, by your first order died, +And that a winged Mercury did bear: +Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, +That came too lag to see him buried. +God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, +Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood, +Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, +And yet go current from suspicion! + +DORSET: +A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! + +KING EDWARD IV: +I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. + +DORSET: +I will not rise, unless your highness grant. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. + +DORSET: +The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; +Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman +Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Have a tongue to doom my brother's death, +And shall the same give pardon to a slave? +My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, +And yet his punishment was cruel death. +Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, +Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised +Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love? +Who told me how the poor soul did forsake +The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? +Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury +When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, +And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'? +Who told me, when we both lay in the field +Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me +Even in his own garments, and gave himself, +All thin and naked, to the numb cold night? +All this from my remembrance brutish wrath +Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you +Had so much grace to put it in my mind. +But when your carters or your waiting-vassals +Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced +The precious image of our dear Redeemer, +You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; +And I unjustly too, must grant it you +But for my brother not a man would speak, +Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself +For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all +Have been beholding to him in his life; +Yet none of you would once plead for his life. +O God, I fear thy justice will take hold +On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this! +Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. +Oh, poor Clarence! + +GLOUCESTER: +This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not +How that the guilty kindred of the queen +Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? +O, they did urge it still unto the king! +God will revenge it. But come, let us in, +To comfort Edward with our company. + +BUCKINGHAM: +We wait upon your grace. + +Boy: +Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +No, boy. + +Boy: +Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, +And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!' + +Girl: +Why do you look on us, and shake your head, +And call us wretches, orphans, castaways +If that our noble father be alive? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +My pretty cousins, you mistake me much; +I do lament the sickness of the king. +As loath to lose him, not your father's death; +It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. + +Boy: +Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. +The king my uncle is to blame for this: +God will revenge it; whom I will importune +With daily prayers all to that effect. + +Girl: +And so will I. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: +Incapable and shallow innocents, +You cannot guess who caused your father's death. + +Boy: +Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester +Told me, the king, provoked by the queen, +Devised impeachments to imprison him : +And when my uncle told me so, he wept, +And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; +Bade me rely on him as on my father, +And he would love me dearly as his child. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, +And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile! +He is my son; yea, and therein my shame; +Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. + +Boy: +Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Ay, boy. + +Boy: +I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, +To chide my fortune, and torment myself? +I'll join with black despair against my soul, +And to myself become an enemy. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What means this scene of rude impatience? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +To make an act of tragic violence: +Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. +Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? +Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone? +If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, +That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; +Or, like obedient subjects, follow him +To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow +As I had title in thy noble husband! +I have bewept a worthy husband's death, +And lived by looking on his images: +But now two mirrors of his princely semblance +Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death, +And I for comfort have but one false glass, +Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. +Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother, +And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: +But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms, +And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs, +Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I, +Thine being but a moiety of my grief, +To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries! + +Boy: +Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death; +How can we aid you with our kindred tears? + +Girl: +Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd; +Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Give me no help in lamentation; +I am not barren to bring forth complaints +All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, +That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, +May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! +Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! + +Children: +Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone. + +Children: +What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What stays had I but they? and they are gone. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Was never widow had so dear a loss! + +Children: +Were never orphans had so dear a loss! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Was never mother had so dear a loss! +Alas, I am the mother of these moans! +Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. +She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; +I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: +These babes for Clarence weep and so do I; +I for an Edward weep, so do not they: +Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd, +Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, +And I will pamper it with lamentations. + +DORSET: +Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased +That you take with unthankfulness, his doing: +In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful, +With dull unwilligness to repay a debt +Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; +Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, +For it requires the royal debt it lent you. + +RIVERS: +Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, +Of the young prince your son: send straight for him +Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: +Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, +And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. + +GLOUCESTER: +Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause +To wail the dimming of our shining star; +But none can cure their harms by wailing them. +Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; +I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee +I crave your blessing. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind, +Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! + +GLOUCESTER: + +BUCKINGHAM: +You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, +That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, +Now cheer each other in each other's love +Though we have spent our harvest of this king, +We are to reap the harvest of his son. +The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, +But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, +Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: +Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, +Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd +Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. + +RIVERS: +Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude, +The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out, +Which would be so much the more dangerous +By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd: +Where every horse bears his commanding rein, +And may direct his course as please himself, +As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, +In my opinion, ought to be prevented. + +GLOUCESTER: +I hope the king made peace with all of us +And the compact is firm and true in me. + +RIVERS: +And so in me; and so, I think, in all: +Yet, since it is but green, it should be put +To no apparent likelihood of breach, +Which haply by much company might be urged: +Therefore I say with noble Buckingham, +That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. + +HASTINGS: +And so say I. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then be it so; and go we to determine +Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. +Madam, and you, my mother, will you go +To give your censures in this weighty business? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +With all our harts. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, +For God's sake, let not us two be behind; +For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, +As index to the story we late talk'd of, +To part the queen's proud kindred from the king. + +GLOUCESTER: +My other self, my counsel's consistory, +My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin, +I, like a child, will go by thy direction. +Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. + +First Citizen: +Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast? + +Second Citizen: +I promise you, I scarcely know myself: +Hear you the news abroad? + +First Citizen: +Ay, that the king is dead. + +Second Citizen: +Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better: +I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world. + +Third Citizen: +Neighbours, God speed! + +First Citizen: +Give you good morrow, sir. + +Third Citizen: +Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death? + +Second Citizen: +Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while! + +Third Citizen: +Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. + +First Citizen: +No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign. + +Third Citizen: +Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child! + +Second Citizen: +In him there is a hope of government, +That in his nonage council under him, +And in his full and ripen'd years himself, +No doubt, shall then and till then govern well. + +First Citizen: +So stood the state when Henry the Sixth +Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. + +Third Citizen: +Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot; +For then this land was famously enrich'd +With politic grave counsel; then the king +Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. + +First Citizen: +Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother. + +Third Citizen: +Better it were they all came by the father, +Or by the father there were none at all; +For emulation now, who shall be nearest, +Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. +O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! +And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud: +And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, +This sickly land might solace as before. + +First Citizen: +Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well. + +Third Citizen: +When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks; +When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand; +When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? +Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. +All may be well; but, if God sort it so, +'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. + +Second Citizen: +Truly, the souls of men are full of dread: +Ye cannot reason almost with a man +That looks not heavily and full of fear. + +Third Citizen: +Before the times of change, still is it so: +By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust +Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see +The waters swell before a boisterous storm. +But leave it all to God. whither away? + +Second Citizen: +Marry, we were sent for to the justices. + +Third Citizen: +And so was I: I'll bear you company. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; +At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night: +To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I long with all my heart to see the prince: +I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But I hear, no; they say my son of York +Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. + +YORK: +Ay, mother; but I would not have it so. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow. + +YORK: +Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, +My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow +More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle +Gloucester, +'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:' +And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, +Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold +In him that did object the same to thee; +He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, +So long a-growing and so leisurely, +That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. + +YORK: +Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, +I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, +To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it. + +YORK: +Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast +That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old +'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. +Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this? + +YORK: +Grandam, his nurse. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born. + +YORK: +If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Good madam, be not angry with the child. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Pitchers have ears. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +Here comes a messenger. What news? + +Messenger: +Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +How fares the prince? + +Messenger: +Well, madam, and in health. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What is thy news then? + +Messenger: +Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, +With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Who hath committed them? + +Messenger: +The mighty dukes +Gloucester and Buckingham. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +For what offence? + +Messenger: +The sum of all I can, I have disclosed; +Why or for what these nobles were committed +Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Ay me, I see the downfall of our house! +The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; +Insulting tyranny begins to jet +Upon the innocent and aweless throne: +Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! +I see, as in a map, the end of all. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, +How many of you have mine eyes beheld! +My husband lost his life to get the crown; +And often up and down my sons were toss'd, +For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: +And being seated, and domestic broils +Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. +Make war upon themselves; blood against blood, +Self against self: O, preposterous +And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; +Or let me die, to look on death no more! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary. +Madam, farewell. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I'll go along with you. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +You have no cause. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK: +My gracious lady, go; +And thither bear your treasure and your goods. +For my part, I'll resign unto your grace +The seal I keep: and so betide to me +As well I tender you and all of yours! +Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. + +GLOUCESTER: +Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign +The weary way hath made you melancholy. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +No, uncle; but our crosses on the way +Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy +I want more uncles here to welcome me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years +Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit +Nor more can you distinguish of a man +Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, +Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. +Those uncles which you want were dangerous; +Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, +But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : +God keep you from them, and from such false friends! + +PRINCE EDWARD: +God keep me from false friends! but they were none. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. + +Lord Mayor: +God bless your grace with health and happy days! + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all. +I thought my mother, and my brother York, +Would long ere this have met us on the way +Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not +To tell us whether they will come or no! + +BUCKINGHAM: +And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? + +HASTINGS: +On what occasion, God he knows, not I, +The queen your mother, and your brother York, +Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince +Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, +But by his mother was perforce withheld. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Fie, what an indirect and peevish course +Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace +Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York +Unto his princely brother presently? +If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, +And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. + +CARDINAL: +My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory +Can from his mother win the Duke of York, +Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate +To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid +We should infringe the holy privilege +Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land +Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. + +BUCKINGHAM: +You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord, +Too ceremonious and traditional +Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, +You break not sanctuary in seizing him. +The benefit thereof is always granted +To those whose dealings have deserved the place, +And those who have the wit to claim the place: +This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it; +And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: +Then, taking him from thence that is not there, +You break no privilege nor charter there. +Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; +But sanctuary children ne'er till now. + +CARDINAL: +My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once. +Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? + +HASTINGS: +I go, my lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. +Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, +Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? + +GLOUCESTER: +Where it seems best unto your royal self. +If I may counsel you, some day or two +Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: +Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit +For your best health and recreation. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I do not like the Tower, of any place. +Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? + +BUCKINGHAM: +He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; +Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Is it upon record, or else reported +Successively from age to age, he built it? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Upon record, my gracious lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +But say, my lord, it were not register'd, +Methinks the truth should live from age to age, +As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, +Even to the general all-ending day. + +GLOUCESTER: + +PRINCE EDWARD: +What say you, uncle? + +GLOUCESTER: +I say, without characters, fame lives long. +Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, +I moralize two meanings in one word. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +That Julius Caesar was a famous man; +With what his valour did enrich his wit, +His wit set down to make his valour live +Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; +For now he lives in fame, though not in life. +I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,-- + +BUCKINGHAM: +What, my gracious lord? + +PRINCE EDWARD: +An if I live until I be a man, +I'll win our ancient right in France again, +Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. + +GLOUCESTER: + +BUCKINGHAM: +Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Richard of York! how fares our loving brother? + +YORK: +Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours: +Too late he died that might have kept that title, +Which by his death hath lost much majesty. + +GLOUCESTER: +How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? + +YORK: +I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, +You said that idle weeds are fast in growth +The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. + +GLOUCESTER: +He hath, my lord. + +YORK: +And therefore is he idle? + +GLOUCESTER: +O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. + +YORK: +Then is he more beholding to you than I. + +GLOUCESTER: +He may command me as my sovereign; +But you have power in me as in a kinsman. + +YORK: +I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. + +GLOUCESTER: +My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +A beggar, brother? + +YORK: +Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; +And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. + +GLOUCESTER: +A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. + +YORK: +A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it. + +GLOUCESTER: +A gentle cousin, were it light enough. + +YORK: +O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts; +In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. + +GLOUCESTER: +It is too heavy for your grace to wear. + +YORK: +I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. + +GLOUCESTER: +What, would you have my weapon, little lord? + +YORK: +I would, that I might thank you as you call me. + +GLOUCESTER: +How? + +YORK: +Little. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +My Lord of York will still be cross in talk: +Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. + +YORK: +You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me: +Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; +Because that I am little, like an ape, +He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. + +BUCKINGHAM: +With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! +To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, +He prettily and aptly taunts himself: +So cunning and so young is wonderful. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord, will't please you pass along? +Myself and my good cousin Buckingham +Will to your mother, to entreat of her +To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. + +YORK: +What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? + +PRINCE EDWARD: +My lord protector needs will have it so. + +YORK: +I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, what should you fear? + +YORK: +Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost: +My grandam told me he was murdered there. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I fear no uncles dead. + +GLOUCESTER: +Nor none that live, I hope. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +An if they live, I hope I need not fear. +But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart, +Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Think you, my lord, this little prating York +Was not incensed by his subtle mother +To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? + +GLOUCESTER: +No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy; +Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable +He is all the mother's, from the top to toe. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. +Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend +As closely to conceal what we impart: +Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way; +What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter +To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, +For the instalment of this noble duke +In the seat royal of this famous isle? + +CATESBY: +He for his father's sake so loves the prince, +That he will not be won to aught against him. + +BUCKINGHAM: +What think'st thou, then, of Stanley? what will he? + +CATESBY: +He will do all in all as Hastings doth. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Well, then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, +And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings, +How doth he stand affected to our purpose; +And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, +To sit about the coronation. +If thou dost find him tractable to us, +Encourage him, and show him all our reasons: +If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, +Be thou so too; and so break off your talk, +And give us notice of his inclination: +For we to-morrow hold divided councils, +Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. + +GLOUCESTER: +Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby, +His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries +To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle; +And bid my friend, for joy of this good news, +Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. + +CATESBY: +My good lords both, with all the heed I may. + +GLOUCESTER: +Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? + +CATESBY: +You shall, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER: +At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive +Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? + +GLOUCESTER: +Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do: +And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me +The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables +Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd. + +BUCKINGHAM: +I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands. + +GLOUCESTER: +And look to have it yielded with all willingness. +Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards +We may digest our complots in some form. + +Messenger: +What, ho! my lord! + +HASTINGS: + +Messenger: +A messenger from the Lord Stanley. + +HASTINGS: +What is't o'clock? + +Messenger: +Upon the stroke of four. + +HASTINGS: +Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights? + +Messenger: +So it should seem by that I have to say. +First, he commends him to your noble lordship. + +HASTINGS: +And then? + +Messenger: +And then he sends you word +He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm: +Besides, he says there are two councils held; +And that may be determined at the one +which may make you and him to rue at the other. +Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure, +If presently you will take horse with him, +And with all speed post with him toward the north, +To shun the danger that his soul divines. + +HASTINGS: +Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; +Bid him not fear the separated councils +His honour and myself are at the one, +And at the other is my servant Catesby +Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us +Whereof I shall not have intelligence. +Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance: +And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond +To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers +To fly the boar before the boar pursues, +Were to incense the boar to follow us +And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. +Go, bid thy master rise and come to me +And we will both together to the Tower, +Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. + +Messenger: +My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say. + +CATESBY: +Many good morrows to my noble lord! + +HASTINGS: +Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring +What news, what news, in this our tottering state? + +CATESBY: +It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord; +And I believe twill never stand upright +Tim Richard wear the garland of the realm. + +HASTINGS: +How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown? + +CATESBY: +Ay, my good lord. + +HASTINGS: +I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders +Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced. +But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? + +CATESBY: +Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward +Upon his party for the gain thereof: +And thereupon he sends you this good news, +That this same very day your enemies, +The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. + +HASTINGS: +Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, +Because they have been still mine enemies: +But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side, +To bar my master's heirs in true descent, +God knows I will not do it, to the death. + +CATESBY: +God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! + +HASTINGS: +But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, +That they who brought me in my master's hate +I live to look upon their tragedy. +I tell thee, Catesby-- + +CATESBY: +What, my lord? + +HASTINGS: +Ere a fortnight make me elder, +I'll send some packing that yet think not on it. + +CATESBY: +'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, +When men are unprepared and look not for it. + +HASTINGS: +O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out +With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do +With some men else, who think themselves as safe +As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear +To princely Richard and to Buckingham. + +CATESBY: +The princes both make high account of you; +For they account his head upon the bridge. + +HASTINGS: +I know they do; and I have well deserved it. +Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man? +Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? + +STANLEY: +My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby: +You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, +I do not like these several councils, I. + +HASTINGS: +My lord, +I hold my life as dear as you do yours; +And never in my life, I do protest, +Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: +Think you, but that I know our state secure, +I would be so triumphant as I am? + +STANLEY: +The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, +Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure, +And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; +But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast. +This sudden stag of rancour I misdoubt: +Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward! +What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent. + +HASTINGS: +Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my lord? +To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. + +LORD STANLEY: +They, for their truth, might better wear their heads +Than some that have accused them wear their hats. +But come, my lord, let us away. + +HASTINGS: +Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow. +How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee? + +Pursuivant: +The better that your lordship please to ask. + +HASTINGS: +I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now +Than when I met thee last where now we meet: +Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, +By the suggestion of the queen's allies; +But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself-- +This day those enemies are put to death, +And I in better state than e'er I was. + +Pursuivant: +God hold it, to your honour's good content! + +HASTINGS: +Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me. + +Pursuivant: +God save your lordship! + +Priest: +Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour. + +HASTINGS: +I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. +I am in your debt for your last exercise; +Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. + +BUCKINGHAM: +What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain? +Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; +Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. + +HASTINGS: +Good faith, and when I met this holy man, +Those men you talk of came into my mind. +What, go you toward the Tower? + +BUCKINGHAM: +I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay +I shall return before your lordship thence. + +HASTINGS: +'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there. + +BUCKINGHAM: + +HASTINGS: +I'll wait upon your lordship. + +RATCLIFF: +Come, bring forth the prisoners. + +RIVERS: +Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: +To-day shalt thou behold a subject die +For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. + +GREY: +God keep the prince from all the pack of you! +A knot you are of damned blood-suckers! + +VAUGHAN: +You live that shall cry woe for this after. + +RATCLIFF: +Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out. + +RIVERS: +O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, +Fatal and ominous to noble peers! +Within the guilty closure of thy walls +Richard the second here was hack'd to death; +And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, +We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. + +GREY: +Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, +For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. + +RIVERS: +Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham, +Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God +To hear her prayers for them, as now for us +And for my sister and her princely sons, +Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, +Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. + +RATCLIFF: +Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. + +RIVERS: +Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us all embrace: +And take our leave, until we meet in heaven. + +HASTINGS: +My lords, at once: the cause why we are met +Is, to determine of the coronation. +In God's name, speak: when is the royal day? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Are all things fitting for that royal time? + +DERBY: +It is, and wants but nomination. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Who knows the lord protector's mind herein? +Who is most inward with the royal duke? + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces, +But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine, +Than I of yours; +Nor I no more of his, than you of mine. +Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. + +HASTINGS: +I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; +But, for his purpose in the coronation. +I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd +His gracious pleasure any way therein: +But you, my noble lords, may name the time; +And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, +Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Now in good time, here comes the duke himself. + +GLOUCESTER: +My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. +I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope, +My absence doth neglect no great designs, +Which by my presence might have been concluded. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Had not you come upon your cue, my lord +William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part,-- +I mean, your voice,--for crowning of the king. + +GLOUCESTER: +Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; +His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. + +HASTINGS: +I thank your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord of Ely! + +BISHOP OF ELY: +My lord? + +GLOUCESTER: +When I was last in Holborn, +I saw good strawberries in your garden there +I do beseech you send for some of them. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. + +GLOUCESTER: +Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. +Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, +And finds the testy gentleman so hot, +As he will lose his head ere give consent +His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it, +Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you. + +DERBY: +We have not yet set down this day of triumph. +To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden; +For I myself am not so well provided +As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. + +BISHOP OF ELY: +Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these +strawberries. + +HASTINGS: +His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day; +There's some conceit or other likes him well, +When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit. +I think there's never a man in Christendom +That can less hide his love or hate than he; +For by his face straight shall you know his heart. + +DERBY: +What of his heart perceive you in his face +By any likelihood he show'd to-day? + +HASTINGS: +Marry, that with no man here he is offended; +For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. + +DERBY: +I pray God he be not, I say. + +GLOUCESTER: +I pray you all, tell me what they deserve +That do conspire my death with devilish plots +Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd +Upon my body with their hellish charms? + +HASTINGS: +The tender love I bear your grace, my lord, +Makes me most forward in this noble presence +To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be +I say, my lord, they have deserved death. + +GLOUCESTER: +Then be your eyes the witness of this ill: +See how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm +Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up: +And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, +Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, +That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. + +HASTINGS: +If they have done this thing, my gracious lord-- + +GLOUCESTER: +If I thou protector of this damned strumpet-- +Tellest thou me of 'ifs'? Thou art a traitor: +Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I swear, +I will not dine until I see the same. +Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done: +The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. + +HASTINGS: +Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me; +For I, too fond, might have prevented this. +Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm; +But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly: +Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, +And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, +As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. +O, now I want the priest that spake to me: +I now repent I told the pursuivant +As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies, +How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, +And I myself secure in grace and favour. +O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse +Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head! + +RATCLIFF: +Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner: +Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head. + +HASTINGS: +O momentary grace of mortal men, +Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! +Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks, +Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, +Ready, with every nod, to tumble down +Into the fatal bowels of the deep. + +LOVEL: +Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. + +HASTINGS: +O bloody Richard! miserable England! +I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee +That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. +Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head. +They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. + +GLOUCESTER: +Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour, +Murder thy breath in the middle of a word, +And then begin again, and stop again, +As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; +Speak and look back, and pry on every side, +Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, +Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks +Are at my service, like enforced smiles; +And both are ready in their offices, +At any time, to grace my stratagems. +But what, is Catesby gone? + +GLOUCESTER: +He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Lord mayor,-- + +GLOUCESTER: +Look to the drawbridge there! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Hark! a drum. + +GLOUCESTER: +Catesby, o'erlook the walls. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Lord mayor, the reason we have sent-- + +GLOUCESTER: +Look back, defend thee, here are enemies. + +BUCKINGHAM: +God and our innocency defend and guard us! + +GLOUCESTER: +Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel. + +LOVEL: +Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, +The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. + +GLOUCESTER: +So dear I loved the man, that I must weep. +I took him for the plainest harmless creature +That breathed upon this earth a Christian; +Made him my book wherein my soul recorded +The history of all her secret thoughts: +So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, +That, his apparent open guilt omitted, +I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, +He lived from all attainder of suspect. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor +That ever lived. +Would you imagine, or almost believe, +Were't not that, by great preservation, +We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor +This day had plotted, in the council-house +To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester? + +Lord Mayor: +What, had he so? + +GLOUCESTER: +What, think You we are Turks or infidels? +Or that we would, against the form of law, +Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death, +But that the extreme peril of the case, +The peace of England and our persons' safety, +Enforced us to this execution? + +Lord Mayor: +Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death; +And you my good lords, both have well proceeded, +To warn false traitors from the like attempts. +I never look'd for better at his hands, +After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. + +GLOUCESTER: +Yet had not we determined he should die, +Until your lordship came to see his death; +Which now the loving haste of these our friends, +Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented: +Because, my lord, we would have had you heard +The traitor speak, and timorously confess +The manner and the purpose of his treason; +That you might well have signified the same +Unto the citizens, who haply may +Misconstrue us in him and wail his death. + +Lord Mayor: +But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve, +As well as I had seen and heard him speak +And doubt you not, right noble princes both, +But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens +With all your just proceedings in this cause. + +GLOUCESTER: +And to that end we wish'd your lord-ship here, +To avoid the carping censures of the world. + +BUCKINGHAM: +But since you come too late of our intents, +Yet witness what you hear we did intend: +And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham. +The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post: +There, at your meet'st advantage of the time, +Infer the bastardy of Edward's children: +Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen, +Only for saying he would make his son +Heir to the crown; meaning indeed his house, +Which, by the sign thereof was termed so. +Moreover, urge his hateful luxury +And bestial appetite in change of lust; +Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives, +Even where his lustful eye or savage heart, +Without control, listed to make his prey. +Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: +Tell them, when that my mother went with child +Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York +My princely father then had wars in France +And, by just computation of the time, +Found that the issue was not his begot; +Which well appeared in his lineaments, +Being nothing like the noble duke my father: +But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off, +Because you know, my lord, my mother lives. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Fear not, my lord, I'll play the orator +As if the golden fee for which I plead +Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. + +GLOUCESTER: +If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; +Where you shall find me well accompanied +With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops. + +BUCKINGHAM: +I go: and towards three or four o'clock +Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. + +GLOUCESTER: +Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw; +Go thou to Friar Penker; bid them both +Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. +Now will I in, to take some privy order, +To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; +And to give notice, that no manner of person +At any time have recourse unto the princes. + +Scrivener: +This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; +Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, +That it may be this day read over in Paul's. +And mark how well the sequel hangs together: +Eleven hours I spent to write it over, +For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me; +The precedent was full as long a-doing: +And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings, +Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty +Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross, +That seeth not this palpable device? +Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not? +Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, +When such bad dealings must be seen in thought. + +GLOUCESTER: +How now, my lord, what say the citizens? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, +The citizens are mum and speak not a word. + +GLOUCESTER: +Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? + +BUCKINGHAM: +I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, +And his contract by deputy in France; +The insatiate greediness of his desires, +And his enforcement of the city wives; +His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, +As being got, your father then in France, +His resemblance, being not like the duke; +Withal I did infer your lineaments, +Being the right idea of your father, +Both in your form and nobleness of mind; +Laid open all your victories in Scotland, +Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace, +Your bounty, virtue, fair humility: +Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose +Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse +And when mine oratory grew to an end +I bid them that did love their country's good +Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!' + +GLOUCESTER: +Ah! and did they so? + +BUCKINGHAM: +No, so God help me, they spake not a word; +But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, +Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale. +Which when I saw, I reprehended them; +And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence: +His answer was, the people were not wont +To be spoke to but by the recorder. +Then he was urged to tell my tale again, +'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;' +But nothing spake in warrant from himself. +When he had done, some followers of mine own, +At the lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps, +And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!' +And thus I took the vantage of those few, +'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I; +'This general applause and loving shout +Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:' +And even here brake off, and came away. + +GLOUCESTER: +What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak? + +BUCKINGHAM: +No, by my troth, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER: +Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? + +BUCKINGHAM: +The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear; +Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: +And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, +And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord; +For on that ground I'll build a holy descant: +And be not easily won to our request: +Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. + +GLOUCESTER: +I go; and if you plead as well for them +As I can say nay to thee for myself, +No doubt well bring it to a happy issue. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. +Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here; +I think the duke will not be spoke withal. +Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby, +What says he? + +CATESBY: +My lord: he doth entreat your grace; +To visit him to-morrow or next day: +He is within, with two right reverend fathers, +Divinely bent to meditation; +And no worldly suit would he be moved, +To draw him from his holy exercise. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again; +Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens, +In deep designs and matters of great moment, +No less importing than our general good, +Are come to have some conference with his grace. + +CATESBY: +I'll tell him what you say, my lord. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! +He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, +But on his knees at meditation; +Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, +But meditating with two deep divines; +Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, +But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: +Happy were England, would this gracious prince +Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: +But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. + +Lord Mayor: +Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay! + +BUCKINGHAM: +I fear he will. +How now, Catesby, what says your lord? + +CATESBY: +My lord, +He wonders to what end you have assembled +Such troops of citizens to speak with him, +His grace not being warn'd thereof before: +My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Sorry I am my noble cousin should +Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: +By heaven, I come in perfect love to him; +And so once more return and tell his grace. +When holy and devout religious men +Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence, +So sweet is zealous contemplation. + +Lord Mayor: +See, where he stands between two clergymen! + +BUCKINGHAM: +Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, +To stay him from the fall of vanity: +And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, +True ornaments to know a holy man. +Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, +Lend favourable ears to our request; +And pardon us the interruption +Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. + +GLOUCESTER: +My lord, there needs no such apology: +I rather do beseech you pardon me, +Who, earnest in the service of my God, +Neglect the visitation of my friends. +But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, +And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. + +GLOUCESTER: +I do suspect I have done some offence +That seems disgracious in the city's eyes, +And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. + +BUCKINGHAM: +You have, my lord: would it might please your grace, +At our entreaties, to amend that fault! + +GLOUCESTER: +Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Then know, it is your fault that you resign +The supreme seat, the throne majestical, +The scepter'd office of your ancestors, +Your state of fortune and your due of birth, +The lineal glory of your royal house, +To the corruption of a blemished stock: +Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, +Which here we waken to our country's good, +This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; +Her face defaced with scars of infamy, +Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, +And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf +Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. +Which to recure, we heartily solicit +Your gracious self to take on you the charge +And kingly government of this your land, +Not as protector, steward, substitute, +Or lowly factor for another's gain; +But as successively from blood to blood, +Your right of birth, your empery, your own. +For this, consorted with the citizens, +Your very worshipful and loving friends, +And by their vehement instigation, +In this just suit come I to move your grace. + +GLOUCESTER: +I know not whether to depart in silence, +Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. +Best fitteth my degree or your condition +If not to answer, you might haply think +Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded +To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, +Which fondly you would here impose on me; +If to reprove you for this suit of yours, +So season'd with your faithful love to me. +Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends. +Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, +And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, +Definitively thus I answer you. +Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert +Unmeritable shuns your high request. +First if all obstacles were cut away, +And that my path were even to the crown, +As my ripe revenue and due by birth +Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, +So mighty and so many my defects, +As I had rather hide me from my greatness, +Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, +Than in my greatness covet to be hid, +And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. +But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me, +And much I need to help you, if need were; +The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, +Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, +Will well become the seat of majesty, +And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. +On him I lay what you would lay on me, +The right and fortune of his happy stars; +Which God defend that I should wring from him! + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; +But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, +All circumstances well considered. +You say that Edward is your brother's son: +So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; +For first he was contract to Lady Lucy-- +Your mother lives a witness to that vow-- +And afterward by substitute betroth'd +To Bona, sister to the King of France. +These both put by a poor petitioner, +A care-crazed mother of a many children, +A beauty-waning and distressed widow, +Even in the afternoon of her best days, +Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye, +Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts +To base declension and loathed bigamy +By her, in his unlawful bed, he got +This Edward, whom our manners term the prince. +More bitterly could I expostulate, +Save that, for reverence to some alive, +I give a sparing limit to my tongue. +Then, good my lord, take to your royal self +This proffer'd benefit of dignity; +If non to bless us and the land withal, +Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry +From the corruption of abusing times, +Unto a lineal true-derived course. + +Lord Mayor: +Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. + +CATESBY: +O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! + +GLOUCESTER: +Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? +I am unfit for state and majesty; +I do beseech you, take it not amiss; +I cannot nor I will not yield to you. + +BUCKINGHAM: +If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, +Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son; +As well we know your tenderness of heart +And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, +Which we have noted in you to your kin, +And egally indeed to all estates,-- +Yet whether you accept our suit or no, +Your brother's son shall never reign our king; +But we will plant some other in the throne, +To the disgrace and downfall of your house: +And in this resolution here we leave you.-- +Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more. + +GLOUCESTER: +O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham. + +CATESBY: +Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit. + +ANOTHER: +Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it. + +GLOUCESTER: +Would you enforce me to a world of care? +Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, +But penetrable to your. kind entreats, +Albeit against my conscience and my soul. +Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, +Since you will buckle fortune on my back, +To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, +I must have patience to endure the load: +But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach +Attend the sequel of your imposition, +Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me +From all the impure blots and stains thereof; +For God he knows, and you may partly see, +How far I am from the desire thereof. + +Lord Mayor: +God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. + +GLOUCESTER: +In saying so, you shall but say the truth. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Then I salute you with this kingly title: +Long live Richard, England's royal king! + +Lord Mayor: +Amen. + +BUCKINGHAM: +To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd? + +GLOUCESTER: +Even when you please, since you will have it so. + +BUCKINGHAM: +To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: +And so most joyfully we take our leave. + +GLOUCESTER: +Come, let us to our holy task again. +Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Who meets us here? my niece Plantagenet +Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? +Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, +On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes. +Daughter, well met. + +LADY ANNE: +God give your graces both +A happy and a joyful time of day! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +As much to you, good sister! Whither away? + +LADY ANNE: +No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess, +Upon the like devotion as yourselves, +To gratulate the gentle princes there. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together. +And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. +Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, +How doth the prince, and my young son of York? + +BRAKENBURY: +Right well, dear madam. By your patience, +I may not suffer you to visit them; +The king hath straitly charged the contrary. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The king! why, who's that? + +BRAKENBURY: +I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +The Lord protect him from that kingly title! +Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? +I am their mother; who should keep me from them? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I am their fathers mother; I will see them. + +LADY ANNE: +Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother: +Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame +And take thy office from thee, on my peril. + +BRAKENBURY: +No, madam, no; I may not leave it so: +I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. + +LORD STANLEY: +Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, +And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, +And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. +Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, +There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart +May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon +With this dead-killing news! + +LADY ANNE: +Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! + +DORSET: +Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence! +Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; +Thy mother's name is ominous to children. +If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, +And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell +Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, +Lest thou increase the number of the dead; +And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, +Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. + +LORD STANLEY: +Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. +Take all the swift advantage of the hours; +You shall have letters from me to my son +To meet you on the way, and welcome you. +Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O ill-dispersing wind of misery! +O my accursed womb, the bed of death! +A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, +Whose unavoided eye is murderous. + +LORD STANLEY: +Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. + +LADY ANNE: +And I in all unwillingness will go. +I would to God that the inclusive verge +Of golden metal that must round my brow +Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! +Anointed let me be with deadly venom, +And die, ere men can say, God save the queen! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory +To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. + +LADY ANNE: +No! why? When he that is my husband now +Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, +When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands +Which issued from my other angel husband +And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; +O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, +This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed, +For making me, so young, so old a widow! +And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; +And be thy wife--if any be so mad-- +As miserable by the life of thee +As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! +Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, +Even in so short a space, my woman's heart +Grossly grew captive to his honey words +And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, +Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; +For never yet one hour in his bed +Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, +But have been waked by his timorous dreams. +Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; +And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. + +LADY ANNE: +No more than from my soul I mourn for yours. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! + +LADY ANNE: +Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower. +Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes +Whom envy hath immured within your walls! +Rough cradle for such little pretty ones! +Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow +For tender princes, use my babies well! +So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham! + +BUCKINGHAM: +My gracious sovereign? + +KING RICHARD III: +Give me thy hand. +Thus high, by thy advice +And thy assistance, is King Richard seated; +But shall we wear these honours for a day? +Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Still live they and for ever may they last! + +KING RICHARD III: +O Buckingham, now do I play the touch, +To try if thou be current gold indeed +Young Edward lives: think now what I would say. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Say on, my loving lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king, + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege. + +KING RICHARD III: +Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives. + +BUCKINGHAM: +True, noble prince. + +KING RICHARD III: +O bitter consequence, +That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!' +Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: +Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; +And I would have it suddenly perform'd. +What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Your grace may do your pleasure. + +KING RICHARD III: +Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth: +Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord +Before I positively herein: +I will resolve your grace immediately. + +CATESBY: + +KING RICHARD III: +I will converse with iron-witted fools +And unrespective boys: none are for me +That look into me with considerate eyes: +High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. +Boy! + +Page: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold +Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? + +Page: +My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, +Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: +Gold were as good as twenty orators, +And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. + +KING RICHARD III: +What is his name? + +Page: +His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. + +KING RICHARD III: +I partly know the man: go, call him hither. +The deep-revolving witty Buckingham +No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: +Hath he so long held out with me untired, +And stops he now for breath? +How now! what news with you? + +STANLEY: +My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled +To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea +Where he abides. + +KING RICHARD III: +Catesby! + +CATESBY: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Rumour it abroad +That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: +I will take order for her keeping close. +Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, +Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: +The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. +Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out +That Anne my wife is sick and like to die: +About it; for it stands me much upon, +To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. +I must be married to my brother's daughter, +Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. +Murder her brothers, and then marry her! +Uncertain way of gain! But I am in +So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin: +Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. +Is thy name Tyrrel? + +TYRREL: +James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. + +KING RICHARD III: +Art thou, indeed? + +TYRREL: +Prove me, my gracious sovereign. + +KING RICHARD III: +Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? + +TYRREL: +Ay, my lord; +But I had rather kill two enemies. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies, +Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers +Are they that I would have thee deal upon: +Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. + +TYRREL: +Let me have open means to come to them, +And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. + +KING RICHARD III: +Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel +Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: +There is no more but so: say it is done, +And I will love thee, and prefer thee too. + +TYRREL: +'Tis done, my gracious lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep? + +TYRREL: +Ye shall, my Lord. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind +The late demand that you did sound me in. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond. + +BUCKINGHAM: +I hear that news, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise, +For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; +The earldom of Hereford and the moveables +The which you promised I should possess. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey +Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. + +BUCKINGHAM: +What says your highness to my just demand? + +KING RICHARD III: +As I remember, Henry the Sixth +Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, +When Richmond was a little peevish boy. +A king, perhaps, perhaps,-- + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +How chance the prophet could not at that time +Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? + +BUCKINGHAM: +My lord, your promise for the earldom,-- + +KING RICHARD III: +Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, +The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, +And call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started, +Because a bard of Ireland told me once +I should not live long after I saw Richmond. + +BUCKINGHAM: +My Lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, what's o'clock? + +BUCKINGHAM: +I am thus bold to put your grace in mind +Of what you promised me. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, but what's o'clock? + +BUCKINGHAM: +Upon the stroke of ten. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, let it strike. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why let it strike? + +KING RICHARD III: +Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke +Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. +I am not in the giving vein to-day. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. + +KING RICHARD III: +Tut, tut, +Thou troublest me; am not in the vein. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Is it even so? rewards he my true service +With such deep contempt made I him king for this? +O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone +To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! + +TYRREL: +The tyrannous and bloody deed is done. +The most arch of piteous massacre +That ever yet this land was guilty of. +Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn +To do this ruthless piece of butchery, +Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, +Melting with tenderness and kind compassion +Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories. +'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:' +'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another +Within their innocent alabaster arms: +Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, +Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. +A book of prayers on their pillow lay; +Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind; +But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd +Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered +The most replenished sweet work of nature, +That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' +Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse; +They could not speak; and so I left them both, +To bring this tidings to the bloody king. +And here he comes. +All hail, my sovereign liege! + +KING RICHARD III: +Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? + +TYRREL: +If to have done the thing you gave in charge +Beget your happiness, be happy then, +For it is done, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +But didst thou see them dead? + +TYRREL: +I did, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +And buried, gentle Tyrrel? + +TYRREL: +The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; +But how or in what place I do not know. + +KING RICHARD III: +Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, +And thou shalt tell the process of their death. +Meantime, but think how I may do thee good, +And be inheritor of thy desire. +Farewell till soon. +The son of Clarence have I pent up close; +His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; +The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, +And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. +Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims +At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, +And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown, +To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. + +CATESBY: +My lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly? + +CATESBY: +Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond; +And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, +Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. + +KING RICHARD III: +Ely with Richmond troubles me more near +Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army. +Come, I have heard that fearful commenting +Is leaden servitor to dull delay; +Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary +Then fiery expedition be my wing, +Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! +Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; +We must be brief when traitors brave the field. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +So, now prosperity begins to mellow +And drop into the rotten mouth of death. +Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, +To watch the waning of mine adversaries. +A dire induction am I witness to, +And will to France, hoping the consequence +Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. +Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes! +My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! +If yet your gentle souls fly in the air +And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, +Hover about me with your airy wings +And hear your mother's lamentation! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Hover about her; say, that right for right +Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +So many miseries have crazed my voice, +That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb, +Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. +Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, +And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? +When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, +Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, +Brief abstract and record of tedious days, +Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, +Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave +As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! +Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. +O, who hath any cause to mourn but I? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +If ancient sorrow be most reverend, +Give mine the benefit of seniory, +And let my woes frown on the upper hand. +If sorrow can admit society, +Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: +I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; +I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him: +Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; +Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him; + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; +I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him. +From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept +A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: +That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, +To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, +That foul defacer of God's handiwork, +That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, +That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, +Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. +O upright, just, and true-disposing God, +How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur +Preys on the issue of his mother's body, +And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes! +God witness with me, I have wept for thine. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, +And now I cloy me with beholding it. +Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward: +Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; +Young York he is but boot, because both they +Match not the high perfection of my loss: +Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward; +And the beholders of this tragic play, +The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, +Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. +Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer, +Only reserved their factor, to buy souls +And send them thither: but at hand, at hand, +Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: +Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray. +To have him suddenly convey'd away. +Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, +That I may live to say, The dog is dead! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O, thou didst prophesy the time would come +That I should wish for thee to help me curse +That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune; +I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen; +The presentation of but what I was; +The flattering index of a direful pageant; +One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below; +A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes; +A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, +A sign of dignity, a garish flag, +To be the aim of every dangerous shot, +A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. +Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? +Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy? +Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'? +Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? +Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee? +Decline all this, and see what now thou art: +For happy wife, a most distressed widow; +For joyful mother, one that wails the name; +For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; +For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; +For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; +For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; +For one commanding all, obey'd of none. +Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about, +And left thee but a very prey to time; +Having no more but thought of what thou wert, +To torture thee the more, being what thou art. +Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not +Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? +Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke; +From which even here I slip my weary neck, +And leave the burthen of it all on thee. +Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance: +These English woes will make me smile in France. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile, +And teach me how to curse mine enemies! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days; +Compare dead happiness with living woe; +Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, +And he that slew them fouler than he is: +Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse: +Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why should calamity be full of words? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Windy attorneys to their client woes, +Airy succeeders of intestate joys, +Poor breathing orators of miseries! +Let them have scope: though what they do impart +Help not all, yet do they ease the heart. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me. +And in the breath of bitter words let's smother +My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd. +I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims. + +KING RICHARD III: +Who intercepts my expedition? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O, she that might have intercepted thee, +By strangling thee in her accursed womb +From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown, +Where should be graven, if that right were right, +The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown, +And the dire death of my two sons and brothers? +Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence? +And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? + +KING RICHARD III: +A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! +Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women +Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say! +Either be patient, and entreat me fair, +Or with the clamorous report of war +Thus will I drown your exclamations. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Art thou my son? + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Then patiently hear my impatience. + +KING RICHARD III: +Madam, I have a touch of your condition, +Which cannot brook the accent of reproof. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O, let me speak! + +KING RICHARD III: +Do then: but I'll not hear. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I will be mild and gentle in my speech. + +KING RICHARD III: +And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, +God knows, in anguish, pain and agony. + +KING RICHARD III: +And came I not at last to comfort you? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, +Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell. +A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; +Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; +Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious, +Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous, +Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody, +treacherous, +More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: +What comfortable hour canst thou name, +That ever graced me in thy company? + +KING RICHARD III: +Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd +your grace +To breakfast once forth of my company. +If I be so disgracious in your sight, +Let me march on, and not offend your grace. +Strike the drum. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I prithee, hear me speak. + +KING RICHARD III: +You speak too bitterly. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Hear me a word; +For I shall never speak to thee again. + +KING RICHARD III: +So. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, +Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, +Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish +And never look upon thy face again. +Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; +Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more +Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! +My prayers on the adverse party fight; +And there the little souls of Edward's children +Whisper the spirits of thine enemies +And promise them success and victory. +Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; +Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse +Abides in me; I say amen to all. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I have no more sons of the royal blood +For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, +They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; +And therefore level not to hit their lives. + +KING RICHARD III: +You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth, +Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +And must she die for this? O, let her live, +And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; +Slander myself as false to Edward's bed; +Throw over her the veil of infamy: +So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, +I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. + +KING RICHARD III: +Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +To save her life, I'll say she is not so. + +KING RICHARD III: +Her life is only safest in her birth. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +And only in that safety died her brothers. + +KING RICHARD III: +Lo, at their births good stars were opposite. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. + +KING RICHARD III: +All unavoided is the doom of destiny. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +True, when avoided grace makes destiny: +My babes were destined to a fairer death, +If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. + +KING RICHARD III: +You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd +Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. +Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts, +Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: +No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt +Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, +To revel in the entrails of my lambs. +But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, +My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys +Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; +And I, in such a desperate bay of death, +Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, +Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. + +KING RICHARD III: +Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise +And dangerous success of bloody wars, +As I intend more good to you and yours, +Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, +To be discover'd, that can do me good? + +KING RICHARD III: +The advancement of your children, gentle lady. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? + +KING RICHARD III: +No, to the dignity and height of honour +The high imperial type of this earth's glory. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Flatter my sorrows with report of it; +Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, +Canst thou demise to any child of mine? + +KING RICHARD III: +Even all I have; yea, and myself and all, +Will I withal endow a child of thine; +So in the Lethe of thy angry soul +Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs +Which thou supposest I have done to thee. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness +Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. + +KING RICHARD III: +What do you think? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: +So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; +And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. + +KING RICHARD III: +Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: +I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, +And mean to make her queen of England. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? + +KING RICHARD III: +Even he that makes her queen who should be else? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What, thou? + +KING RICHARD III: +I, even I: what think you of it, madam? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +How canst thou woo her? + +KING RICHARD III: +That would I learn of you, +As one that are best acquainted with her humour. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +And wilt thou learn of me? + +KING RICHARD III: +Madam, with all my heart. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, +A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave +Edward and York; then haply she will weep: +Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret +Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- +A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain +The purple sap from her sweet brother's body +And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith. +If this inducement force her not to love, +Send her a story of thy noble acts; +Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence, +Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake, +Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. + +KING RICHARD III: +Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way +To win our daughter. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +There is no other way +Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, +And not be Richard that hath done all this. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say that I did all this for love of her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, +Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. + +KING RICHARD III: +Look, what is done cannot be now amended: +Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, +Which after hours give leisure to repent. +If I did take the kingdom from your sons, +To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter. +If I have kill'd the issue of your womb, +To quicken your increase, I will beget +Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter +A grandam's name is little less in love +Than is the doting title of a mother; +They are as children but one step below, +Even of your mettle, of your very blood; +Of an one pain, save for a night of groans +Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. +Your children were vexation to your youth, +But mine shall be a comfort to your age. +The loss you have is but a son being king, +And by that loss your daughter is made queen. +I cannot make you what amends I would, +Therefore accept such kindness as I can. +Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul +Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, +This fair alliance quickly shall call home +To high promotions and great dignity: +The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife. +Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; +Again shall you be mother to a king, +And all the ruins of distressful times +Repair'd with double riches of content. +What! we have many goodly days to see: +The liquid drops of tears that you have shed +Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, +Advantaging their loan with interest +Of ten times double gain of happiness. +Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go +Make bold her bashful years with your experience; +Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale +Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame +Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess +With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys +And when this arm of mine hath chastised +The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, +Bound with triumphant garlands will I come +And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; +To whom I will retail my conquest won, +And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +What were I best to say? her father's brother +Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle? +Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? +Under what title shall I woo for thee, +That God, the law, my honour and her love, +Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? + +KING RICHARD III: +Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say that the king, which may command, entreats. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +That at her hands which the king's King forbids. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +To wail the tide, as her mother doth. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say, I will love her everlastingly. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But how long shall that title 'ever' last? + +KING RICHARD III: +Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last? + +KING RICHARD III: +So long as heaven and nature lengthens it. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +So long as hell and Richard likes of it. + +KING RICHARD III: +Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. + +KING RICHARD III: +Be eloquent in my behalf to her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. + +KING RICHARD III: +Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +O no, my reasons are too deep and dead; +Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave. + +KING RICHARD III: +Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break. + +KING RICHARD III: +Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. + +KING RICHARD III: +I swear-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +By nothing; for this is no oath: +The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; +The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; +The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory. +if something thou wilt swear to be believed, +Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. + +KING RICHARD III: +Now, by the world-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. + +KING RICHARD III: +My father's death-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thy life hath that dishonour'd. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then, by myself-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thyself thyself misusest. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why then, by God-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +God's wrong is most of all. +If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, +The unity the king thy brother made +Had not been broken, nor my brother slain: +If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, +The imperial metal, circling now thy brow, +Had graced the tender temples of my child, +And both the princes had been breathing here, +Which now, two tender playfellows to dust, +Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. +What canst thou swear by now? + +KING RICHARD III: +The time to come. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; +For I myself have many tears to wash +Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee. +The children live, whose parents thou hast +slaughter'd, +Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; +The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd, +Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age. +Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast +Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast. + +KING RICHARD III: +As I intend to prosper and repent, +So thrive I in my dangerous attempt +Of hostile arms! myself myself confound! +Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! +Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest! +Be opposite all planets of good luck +To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love, +Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, +I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! +In her consists my happiness and thine; +Without her, follows to this land and me, +To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul, +Death, desolation, ruin and decay: +It cannot be avoided but by this; +It will not be avoided but by this. +Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so-- +Be the attorney of my love to her: +Plead what I will be, not what I have been; +Not my deserts, but what I will deserve: +Urge the necessity and state of times, +And be not peevish-fond in great designs. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Shall I forget myself to be myself? + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +But thou didst kill my children. + +KING RICHARD III: +But in your daughter's womb I bury them: +Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed +Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? + +KING RICHARD III: +And be a happy mother by the deed. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I go. Write to me very shortly. +And you shall understand from me her mind. + +KING RICHARD III: +Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell. +Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! +How now! what news? + +RATCLIFF: +My gracious sovereign, on the western coast +Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore +Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, +Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back: +'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; +And there they hull, expecting but the aid +Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. + +KING RICHARD III: +Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk: +Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he? + +CATESBY: +Here, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Fly to the duke: +Post thou to Salisbury +When thou comest thither-- +Dull, unmindful villain, +Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke? + +CATESBY: +First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind, +What from your grace I shall deliver to him. + +KING RICHARD III: +O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight +The greatest strength and power he can make, +And meet me presently at Salisbury. + +CATESBY: +I go. + +RATCLIFF: +What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at +Salisbury? + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? + +RATCLIFF: +Your highness told me I should post before. + +KING RICHARD III: +My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed. +How now, what news with you? + +STANLEY: +None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing; +Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. + +KING RICHARD III: +Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! +Why dost thou run so many mile about, +When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way? +Once more, what news? + +STANLEY: +Richmond is on the seas. + +KING RICHARD III: +There let him sink, and be the seas on him! +White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? + +STANLEY: +I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess? + +STANLEY: +Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely, +He makes for England, there to claim the crown. + +KING RICHARD III: +Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? +Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? +What heir of York is there alive but we? +And who is England's king but great York's heir? +Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea? + +STANLEY: +Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. + +KING RICHARD III: +Unless for that he comes to be your liege, +You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. +Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. + +STANLEY: +No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not. + +KING RICHARD III: +Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? +Where are thy tenants and thy followers? +Are they not now upon the western shore. +Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships! + +STANLEY: +No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. + +KING RICHARD III: +Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north, +When they should serve their sovereign in the west? + +STANLEY: +They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign: +Please it your majesty to give me leave, +I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace +Where and what time your majesty shall please. + +KING RICHARD III: +Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond: +I will not trust you, sir. + +STANLEY: +Most mighty sovereign, +You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful: +I never was nor never will be false. + +KING RICHARD III: +Well, +Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind +Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm. +Or else his head's assurance is but frail. + +STANLEY: +So deal with him as I prove true to you. + +Messenger: +My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, +As I by friends am well advertised, +Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate +Bishop of Exeter, his brother there, +With many more confederates, are in arms. + +Second Messenger: +My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms; +And every hour more competitors +Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth. + +Third Messenger: +My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham-- + +KING RICHARD III: +Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death? +Take that, until thou bring me better news. + +Third Messenger: +The news I have to tell your majesty +Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, +Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd; +And he himself wander'd away alone, +No man knows whither. + +KING RICHARD III: +I cry thee mercy: +There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. +Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd +Reward to him that brings the traitor in? + +Third Messenger: +Such proclamation hath been made, my liege. + +Fourth Messenger: +Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset, +'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. +Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace, +The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest: +Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat +Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks +If they were his assistants, yea or no; +Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham. +Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, +Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany. + +KING RICHARD III: +March on, march on, since we are up in arms; +If not to fight with foreign enemies, +Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. + +CATESBY: +My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken; +That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond +Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, +Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. + +KING RICHARD III: +Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here, +A royal battle might be won and lost +Some one take order Buckingham be brought +To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. + +DERBY: +Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: +That in the sty of this most bloody boar +My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold: +If I revolt, off goes young George's head; +The fear of that withholds my present aid. +But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? + +CHRISTOPHER: +At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales. + +DERBY: +What men of name resort to him? + +CHRISTOPHER: +Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; +Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley; +Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, +And Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew; +And many more of noble fame and worth: +And towards London they do bend their course, +If by the way they be not fought withal. + +DERBY: +Return unto thy lord; commend me to him: +Tell him the queen hath heartily consented +He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. +These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Will not King Richard let me speak with him? + +Sheriff: +No, my good lord; therefore be patient. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey, +Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, +Vaughan, and all that have miscarried +By underhand corrupted foul injustice, +If that your moody discontented souls +Do through the clouds behold this present hour, +Even for revenge mock my destruction! +This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? + +Sheriff: +It is, my lord. + +BUCKINGHAM: +Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. +This is the day that, in King Edward's time, +I wish't might fall on me, when I was found +False to his children or his wife's allies +This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall +By the false faith of him I trusted most; +This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul +Is the determined respite of my wrongs: +That high All-Seer that I dallied with +Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head +And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. +Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men +To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: +Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head; +'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, +Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' +Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; +Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. + +RICHMOND: +Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, +Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny, +Thus far into the bowels of the land +Have we march'd on without impediment; +And here receive we from our father Stanley +Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. +The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, +That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, +Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough +In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine +Lies now even in the centre of this isle, +Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn +From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. +In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, +To reap the harvest of perpetual peace +By this one bloody trial of sharp war. + +OXFORD: +Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, +To fight against that bloody homicide. + +HERBERT: +I doubt not but his friends will fly to us. + +BLUNT: +He hath no friends but who are friends for fear. +Which in his greatest need will shrink from him. + +RICHMOND: +All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march: +True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings: +Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. + +KING RICHARD III: +Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. +My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? + +SURREY: +My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. + +KING RICHARD III: +My Lord of Norfolk,-- + +NORFOLK: +Here, most gracious liege. + +KING RICHARD III: +Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not? + +NORFOLK: +We must both give and take, my gracious lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight; +But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for that. +Who hath descried the number of the foe? + +NORFOLK: +Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. + +KING RICHARD III: +Why, our battalion trebles that account: +Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, +Which they upon the adverse party want. +Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen, +Let us survey the vantage of the field +Call for some men of sound direction +Let's want no discipline, make no delay, +For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. + +RICHMOND: +The weary sun hath made a golden set, +And by the bright track of his fiery car, +Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow. +Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. +Give me some ink and paper in my tent +I'll draw the form and model of our battle, +Limit each leader to his several charge, +And part in just proportion our small strength. +My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, +And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. +The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: +Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him +And by the second hour in the morning +Desire the earl to see me in my tent: +Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st, +Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know? + +BLUNT: +Unless I have mista'en his colours much, +Which well I am assured I have not done, +His regiment lies half a mile at least +South from the mighty power of the king. + +RICHMOND: +If without peril it be possible, +Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, +And give him from me this most needful scroll. + +BLUNT: +Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it; +And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! + +RICHMOND: +Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen, +Let us consult upon to-morrow's business +In to our tent; the air is raw and cold. + +KING RICHARD III: +What is't o'clock? + +CATESBY: +It's supper-time, my lord; +It's nine o'clock. + +KING RICHARD III: +I will not sup to-night. +Give me some ink and paper. +What, is my beaver easier than it was? +And all my armour laid into my tent? + +CATESBY: +If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. + +KING RICHARD III: +Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; +Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. + +NORFOLK: +I go, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. + +NORFOLK: +I warrant you, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Catesby! + +CATESBY: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Send out a pursuivant at arms +To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power +Before sunrising, lest his son George fall +Into the blind cave of eternal night. +Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. +Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. +Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. +Ratcliff! + +RATCLIFF: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? + +RATCLIFF: +Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, +Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop +Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. + +KING RICHARD III: +So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: +I have not that alacrity of spirit, +Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. +Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? + +RATCLIFF: +It is, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Bid my guard watch; leave me. +Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent +And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. + +DERBY: +Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! + +RICHMOND: +All comfort that the dark night can afford +Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! +Tell me, how fares our loving mother? + +DERBY: +I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother +Who prays continually for Richmond's good: +So much for that. The silent hours steal on, +And flaky darkness breaks within the east. +In brief,--for so the season bids us be,-- +Prepare thy battle early in the morning, +And put thy fortune to the arbitrement +Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. +I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,-- +With best advantage will deceive the time, +And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: +But on thy side I may not be too forward +Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, +Be executed in his father's sight. +Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time +Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love +And ample interchange of sweet discourse, +Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon: +God give us leisure for these rites of love! +Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well! + +RICHMOND: +Good lords, conduct him to his regiment: +I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap, +Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, +When I should mount with wings of victory: +Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. +O Thou, whose captain I account myself, +Look on my forces with a gracious eye; +Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, +That they may crush down with a heavy fall +The usurping helmets of our adversaries! +Make us thy ministers of chastisement, +That we may praise thee in the victory! +To thee I do commend my watchful soul, +Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: +Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! + +Ghost of Prince Edward: + +Ghost of King Henry VI: + +Ghost of CLARENCE: + +Ghost of RIVERS: + +Ghost of GREY: + +Ghost of VAUGHAN: + +All: + +Ghost of HASTINGS: + +Ghosts of young Princes: + +Ghost of LADY ANNE: + +Ghost of BUCKINGHAM: + +KING RICHARD III: +Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. +Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream. +O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! +The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. +Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. +What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: +Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. +Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: +Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: +Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? +Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good +That I myself have done unto myself? +O, no! alas, I rather hate myself +For hateful deeds committed by myself! +I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. +Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. +My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, +And every tongue brings in a several tale, +And every tale condemns me for a villain. +Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree +Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree; +All several sins, all used in each degree, +Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! +I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; +And if I die, no soul shall pity me: +Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself +Find in myself no pity to myself? +Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd +Came to my tent; and every one did threat +To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. + +RATCLIFF: +My lord! + +KING RICHARD III: +'Zounds! who is there? + +RATCLIFF: +Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock +Hath twice done salutation to the morn; +Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. + +KING RICHARD III: +O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! +What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? + +RATCLIFF: +No doubt, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,-- + +RATCLIFF: +Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. + +KING RICHARD III: +By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night +Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard +Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers +Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. +It is not yet near day. Come, go with me; +Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, +To see if any mean to shrink from me. + +LORDS: +Good morrow, Richmond! + +RICHMOND: +Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, +That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. + +LORDS: +How have you slept, my lord? + +RICHMOND: +The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams +That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, +Have I since your departure had, my lords. +Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd, +Came to my tent, and cried on victory: +I promise you, my soul is very jocund +In the remembrance of so fair a dream. +How far into the morning is it, lords? + +LORDS: +Upon the stroke of four. + +RICHMOND: +Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction. +More than I have said, loving countrymen, +The leisure and enforcement of the time +Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this, +God and our good cause fight upon our side; +The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, +Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; +Richard except, those whom we fight against +Had rather have us win than him they follow: +For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, +A bloody tyrant and a homicide; +One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd; +One that made means to come by what he hath, +And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him; +Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil +Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; +One that hath ever been God's enemy: +Then, if you fight against God's enemy, +God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; +If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, +You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; +If you do fight against your country's foes, +Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; +If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, +Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; +If you do free your children from the sword, +Your children's children quit it in your age. +Then, in the name of God and all these rights, +Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. +For me, the ransom of my bold attempt +Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; +But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt +The least of you shall share his part thereof. +Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully; +God and Saint George! Richmond and victory! + +KING RICHARD III: +What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? + +RATCLIFF: +That he was never trained up in arms. + +KING RICHARD III: +He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? + +RATCLIFF: +He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.' + +KING RICHARD III: +He was in the right; and so indeed it is. +Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar. +Who saw the sun to-day? + +RATCLIFF: +Not I, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III: +Then he disdains to shine; for by the book +He should have braved the east an hour ago +A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff! + +RATCLIFF: +My lord? + +KING RICHARD III: +The sun will not be seen to-day; +The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. +I would these dewy tears were from the ground. +Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me +More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven +That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. + +NORFOLK: +Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. + +KING RICHARD III: +Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse. +Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: +I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, +And thus my battle shall be ordered: +My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, +Consisting equally of horse and foot; +Our archers shall be placed in the midst +John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, +Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. +They thus directed, we will follow +In the main battle, whose puissance on either side +Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. +This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, Norfolk? + +NORFOLK: +A good direction, warlike sovereign. +This found I on my tent this morning. + +KING RICHARD III: + +Messenger: +My lord, he doth deny to come. + +KING RICHARD III: +Off with his son George's head! + +NORFOLK: +My lord, the enemy is past the marsh +After the battle let George Stanley die. + +KING RICHARD III: +A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: +Advance our standards, set upon our foes +Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, +Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! +Upon them! victory sits on our helms. + +CATESBY: +Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! +The king enacts more wonders than a man, +Daring an opposite to every danger: +His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, +Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. +Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! + +KING RICHARD III: +A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + +CATESBY: +Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse. + +KING RICHARD III: +Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, +And I will stand the hazard of the die: +I think there be six Richmonds in the field; +Five have I slain to-day instead of him. +A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + +RICHMOND: +God and your arms be praised, victorious friends, +The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. + +DERBY: +Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. +Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty +From the dead temples of this bloody wretch +Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal: +Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. + +RICHMOND: +Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! +But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? + +DERBY: +He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; +Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. + +RICHMOND: +What men of name are slain on either side? + +DERBY: +John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, +Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. + +RICHMOND: +Inter their bodies as becomes their births: +Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled +That in submission will return to us: +And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, +We will unite the white rose and the red: +Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, +That long have frown'd upon their enmity! +What traitor hears me, and says not amen? +England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; +The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, +The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, +The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: +All this divided York and Lancaster, +Divided in their dire division, +O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, +The true succeeders of each royal house, +By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! +And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so. +Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace, +With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days! +Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, +That would reduce these bloody days again, +And make poor England weep in streams of blood! +Let them not live to taste this land's increase +That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! +Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: +That she may long live here, God say amen! + +KING RICHARD II: +Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, +Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, +Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, +Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, +Which then our leisure would not let us hear, +Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +I have, my liege. + +KING RICHARD II: +Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, +If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; +Or worthily, as a good subject should, +On some known ground of treachery in him? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +As near as I could sift him on that argument, +On some apparent danger seen in him +Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. + +KING RICHARD II: +Then call them to our presence; face to face, +And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear +The accuser and the accused freely speak: +High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, +In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Many years of happy days befal +My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Each day still better other's happiness; +Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, +Add an immortal title to your crown! + +KING RICHARD II: +We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, +As well appeareth by the cause you come; +Namely to appeal each other of high treason. +Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object +Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +First, heaven be the record to my speech! +In the devotion of a subject's love, +Tendering the precious safety of my prince, +And free from other misbegotten hate, +Come I appellant to this princely presence. +Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, +And mark my greeting well; for what I speak +My body shall make good upon this earth, +Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. +Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, +Too good to be so and too bad to live, +Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, +The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. +Once more, the more to aggravate the note, +With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; +And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, +What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: +'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, +The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, +Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; +The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this: +Yet can I not of such tame patience boast +As to be hush'd and nought at all to say: +First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me +From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; +Which else would post until it had return'd +These terms of treason doubled down his throat. +Setting aside his high blood's royalty, +And let him be no kinsman to my liege, +I do defy him, and I spit at him; +Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: +Which to maintain I would allow him odds, +And meet him, were I tied to run afoot +Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, +Or any other ground inhabitable, +Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. +Mean time let this defend my loyalty, +By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, +Disclaiming here the kindred of the king, +And lay aside my high blood's royalty, +Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. +If guilty dread have left thee so much strength +As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: +By that and all the rites of knighthood else, +Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, +What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +I take it up; and by that sword I swear +Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, +I'll answer thee in any fair degree, +Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: +And when I mount, alive may I not light, +If I be traitor or unjustly fight! + +KING RICHARD II: +What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? +It must be great that can inherit us +So much as of a thought of ill in him. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true; +That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles +In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, +The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, +Like a false traitor and injurious villain. +Besides I say and will in battle prove, +Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge +That ever was survey'd by English eye, +That all the treasons for these eighteen years +Complotted and contrived in this land +Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. +Further I say and further will maintain +Upon his bad life to make all this good, +That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, +Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, +And consequently, like a traitor coward, +Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood: +Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, +Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, +To me for justice and rough chastisement; +And, by the glorious worth of my descent, +This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. + +KING RICHARD II: +How high a pitch his resolution soars! +Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +O, let my sovereign turn away his face +And bid his ears a little while be deaf, +Till I have told this slander of his blood, +How God and good men hate so foul a liar. + +KING RICHARD II: +Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears: +Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, +As he is but my father's brother's son, +Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow, +Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood +Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize +The unstooping firmness of my upright soul: +He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: +Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, +Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. +Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais +Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers; +The other part reserved I by consent, +For that my sovereign liege was in my debt +Upon remainder of a dear account, +Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: +Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, +I slew him not; but to my own disgrace +Neglected my sworn duty in that case. +For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, +The honourable father to my foe +Once did I lay an ambush for your life, +A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul +But ere I last received the sacrament +I did confess it, and exactly begg'd +Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it. +This is my fault: as for the rest appeall'd, +It issues from the rancour of a villain, +A recreant and most degenerate traitor +Which in myself I boldly will defend; +And interchangeably hurl down my gage +Upon this overweening traitor's foot, +To prove myself a loyal gentleman +Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. +In haste whereof, most heartily I pray +Your highness to assign our trial day. + +KING RICHARD II: +Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me; +Let's purge this choler without letting blood: +This we prescribe, though no physician; +Deep malice makes too deep incision; +Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; +Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. +Good uncle, let this end where it begun; +We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +To be a make-peace shall become my age: +Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. + +KING RICHARD II: +And, Norfolk, throw down his. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +When, Harry, when? +Obedience bids I should not bid again. + +KING RICHARD II: +Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. +My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: +The one my duty owes; but my fair name, +Despite of death that lives upon my grave, +To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. +I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here, +Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, +The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood +Which breathed this poison. + +KING RICHARD II: +Rage must be withstood: +Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame. +And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, +The purest treasure mortal times afford +Is spotless reputation: that away, +Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. +A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest +Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. +Mine honour is my life; both grow in one: +Take honour from me, and my life is done: +Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; +In that I live and for that will I die. + +KING RICHARD II: +Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O, God defend my soul from such deep sin! +Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight? +Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height +Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue +Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, +Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear +The slavish motive of recanting fear, +And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, +Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. + +KING RICHARD II: +We were not born to sue, but to command; +Which since we cannot do to make you friends, +Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, +At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day: +There shall your swords and lances arbitrate +The swelling difference of your settled hate: +Since we can not atone you, we shall see +Justice design the victor's chivalry. +Lord marshal, command our officers at arms +Be ready to direct these home alarms. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood +Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, +To stir against the butchers of his life! +But since correction lieth in those hands +Which made the fault that we cannot correct, +Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; +Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, +Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. + +DUCHESS: +Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? +Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? +Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, +Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, +Or seven fair branches springing from one root: +Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, +Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; +But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, +One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, +One flourishing branch of his most royal root, +Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt, +Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, +By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe. +Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb, +That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee +Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, +Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent +In some large measure to thy father's death, +In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, +Who was the model of thy father's life. +Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: +In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, +Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, +Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: +That which in mean men we intitle patience +Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. +What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, +The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, +His deputy anointed in His sight, +Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, +Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift +An angry arm against His minister. + +DUCHESS: +Where then, alas, may I complain myself? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +To God, the widow's champion and defence. + +DUCHESS: +Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. +Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold +Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: +O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, +That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! +Or, if misfortune miss the first career, +Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, +They may break his foaming courser's back, +And throw the rider headlong in the lists, +A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! +Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife +With her companion grief must end her life. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry: +As much good stay with thee as go with me! + +DUCHESS: +Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls, +Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: +I take my leave before I have begun, +For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. +Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. +Lo, this is all:--nay, yet depart not so; +Though this be all, do not so quickly go; +I shall remember more. Bid him--ah, what?-- +With all good speed at Plashy visit me. +Alack, and what shall good old York there see +But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, +Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? +And what hear there for welcome but my groans? +Therefore commend me; let him not come there, +To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. +Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: +The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. + +Lord Marshal: +My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. + +Lord Marshal: +The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, +Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Why, then, the champions are prepared, and stay +For nothing but his majesty's approach. + +KING RICHARD II: +Marshal, demand of yonder champion +The cause of his arrival here in arms: +Ask him his name and orderly proceed +To swear him in the justice of his cause. + +Lord Marshal: +In God's name and the king's, say who thou art +And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, +Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel: +Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath; +As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; +Who hither come engaged by my oath-- +Which God defend a knight should violate!-- +Both to defend my loyalty and truth +To God, my king and my succeeding issue, +Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me +And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, +To prove him, in defending of myself, +A traitor to my God, my king, and me: +And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + +KING RICHARD II: +Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, +Both who he is and why he cometh hither +Thus plated in habiliments of war, +And formally, according to our law, +Depose him in the justice of his cause. + +Lord Marshal: +What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither, +Before King Richard in his royal lists? +Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? +Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby +Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, +To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, +In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, +That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, +To God of heaven, King Richard and to me; +And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + +Lord Marshal: +On pain of death, no person be so bold +Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, +Except the marshal and such officers +Appointed to direct these fair designs. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, +And bow my knee before his majesty: +For Mowbray and myself are like two men +That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; +Then let us take a ceremonious leave +And loving farewell of our several friends. + +Lord Marshal: +The appellant in all duty greets your highness, +And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. + +KING RICHARD II: +We will descend and fold him in our arms. +Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, +So be thy fortune in this royal fight! +Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, +Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O let no noble eye profane a tear +For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear: +As confident as is the falcon's flight +Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. +My loving lord, I take my leave of you; +Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; +Not sick, although I have to do with death, +But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. +Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet +The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: +O thou, the earthly author of my blood, +Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, +Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up +To reach at victory above my head, +Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; +And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, +That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, +And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, +Even in the lusty havior of his son. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! +Be swift like lightning in the execution; +And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, +Fall like amazing thunder on the casque +Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: +Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +However God or fortune cast my lot, +There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, +A loyal, just and upright gentleman: +Never did captive with a freer heart +Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace +His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, +More than my dancing soul doth celebrate +This feast of battle with mine adversary. +Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, +Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: +As gentle and as jocund as to jest +Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. + +KING RICHARD II: +Farewell, my lord: securely I espy +Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. +Order the trial, marshal, and begin. + +Lord Marshal: +Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, +Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. + +Lord Marshal: +Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. + +First Herald: +Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, +Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself, +On pain to be found false and recreant, +To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, +A traitor to his God, his king and him; +And dares him to set forward to the fight. + +Second Herald: +Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, +On pain to be found false and recreant, +Both to defend himself and to approve +Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, +To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal; +Courageously and with a free desire +Attending but the signal to begin. + +Lord Marshal: +Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants. +Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. + +KING RICHARD II: +Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, +And both return back to their chairs again: +Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound +While we return these dukes what we decree. +Draw near, +And list what with our council we have done. +For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd +With that dear blood which it hath fostered; +And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect +Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword; +And for we think the eagle-winged pride +Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, +With rival-hating envy, set on you +To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle +Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; +Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums, +With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, +And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, +Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace +And make us wade even in our kindred's blood, +Therefore, we banish you our territories: +You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, +Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields +Shall not regreet our fair dominions, +But tread the stranger paths of banishment. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Your will be done: this must my comfort be, +Sun that warms you here shall shine on me; +And those his golden beams to you here lent +Shall point on me and gild my banishment. + +KING RICHARD II: +Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, +Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: +The sly slow hours shall not determinate +The dateless limit of thy dear exile; +The hopeless word of 'never to return' +Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, +And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: +A dearer merit, not so deep a maim +As to be cast forth in the common air, +Have I deserved at your highness' hands. +The language I have learn'd these forty years, +My native English, now I must forego: +And now my tongue's use is to me no more +Than an unstringed viol or a harp, +Or like a cunning instrument cased up, +Or, being open, put into his hands +That knows no touch to tune the harmony: +Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, +Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; +And dull unfeeling barren ignorance +Is made my gaoler to attend on me. +I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, +Too far in years to be a pupil now: +What is thy sentence then but speechless death, +Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? + +KING RICHARD II: +It boots thee not to be compassionate: +After our sentence plaining comes too late. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +Then thus I turn me from my country's light, +To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. + +KING RICHARD II: +Return again, and take an oath with thee. +Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; +Swear by the duty that you owe to God-- +Our part therein we banish with yourselves-- +To keep the oath that we administer: +You never shall, so help you truth and God! +Embrace each other's love in banishment; +Nor never look upon each other's face; +Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile +This louring tempest of your home-bred hate; +Nor never by advised purpose meet +To plot, contrive, or complot any ill +'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I swear. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +And I, to keep all this. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:-- +By this time, had the king permitted us, +One of our souls had wander'd in the air. +Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, +As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: +Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; +Since thou hast far to go, bear not along +The clogging burthen of a guilty soul. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY: +No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor, +My name be blotted from the book of life, +And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! +But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know; +And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. +Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; +Save back to England, all the world's my way. + +KING RICHARD II: +Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes +I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect +Hath from the number of his banish'd years +Pluck'd four away. +Six frozen winter spent, +Return with welcome home from banishment. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +How long a time lies in one little word! +Four lagging winters and four wanton springs +End in a word: such is the breath of kings. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +I thank my liege, that in regard of me +He shortens four years of my son's exile: +But little vantage shall I reap thereby; +For, ere the six years that he hath to spend +Can change their moons and bring their times about +My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light +Shall be extinct with age and endless night; +My inch of taper will be burnt and done, +And blindfold death not let me see my son. + +KING RICHARD II: +Why uncle, thou hast many years to live. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +But not a minute, king, that thou canst give: +Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, +And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; +Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, +But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; +Thy word is current with him for my death, +But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, +Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave: +Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. +You urged me as a judge; but I had rather +You would have bid me argue like a father. +O, had it been a stranger, not my child, +To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: +A partial slander sought I to avoid, +And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. +Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, +I was too strict to make mine own away; +But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue +Against my will to do myself this wrong. + +KING RICHARD II: +Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so: +Six years we banish him, and he shall go. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know, +From where you do remain let paper show. + +Lord Marshal: +My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, +As far as land will let me, by your side. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, +That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I have too few to take my leave of you, +When the tongue's office should be prodigal +To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Joy absent, grief is present for that time. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +What is six winters? they are quickly gone. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, +Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +The sullen passage of thy weary steps +Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set +The precious jewel of thy home return. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make +Will but remember me what a deal of world +I wander from the jewels that I love. +Must I not serve a long apprenticehood +To foreign passages, and in the end, +Having my freedom, boast of nothing else +But that I was a journeyman to grief? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +All places that the eye of heaven visits +Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. +Teach thy necessity to reason thus; +There is no virtue like necessity. +Think not the king did banish thee, +But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit, +Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. +Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour +And not the king exiled thee; or suppose +Devouring pestilence hangs in our air +And thou art flying to a fresher clime: +Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it +To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest: +Suppose the singing birds musicians, +The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, +The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more +Than a delightful measure or a dance; +For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite +The man that mocks at it and sets it light. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O, who can hold a fire in his hand +By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? +Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite +By bare imagination of a feast? +Or wallow naked in December snow +By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? +O, no! the apprehension of the good +Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: +Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more +Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way: +Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; +My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! +Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, +Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman. + +KING RICHARD II: +We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, +How far brought you high Hereford on his way? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, +But to the next highway, and there I left him. + +KING RICHARD II: +And say, what store of parting tears were shed? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, +Which then blew bitterly against our faces, +Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance +Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. + +KING RICHARD II: +What said our cousin when you parted with him? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +'Farewell:' +And, for my heart disdained that my tongue +Should so profane the word, that taught me craft +To counterfeit oppression of such grief +That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. +Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours +And added years to his short banishment, +He should have had a volume of farewells; +But since it would not, he had none of me. + +KING RICHARD II: +He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, +When time shall call him home from banishment, +Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. +Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green +Observed his courtship to the common people; +How he did seem to dive into their hearts +With humble and familiar courtesy, +What reverence he did throw away on slaves, +Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles +And patient underbearing of his fortune, +As 'twere to banish their affects with him. +Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; +A brace of draymen bid God speed him well +And had the tribute of his supple knee, +With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;' +As were our England in reversion his, +And he our subjects' next degree in hope. + +GREEN: +Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts. +Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, +Expedient manage must be made, my liege, +Ere further leisure yield them further means +For their advantage and your highness' loss. + +KING RICHARD II: +We will ourself in person to this war: +And, for our coffers, with too great a court +And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, +We are inforced to farm our royal realm; +The revenue whereof shall furnish us +For our affairs in hand: if that come short, +Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; +Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, +They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold +And send them after to supply our wants; +For we will make for Ireland presently. +Bushy, what news? + +BUSHY: +Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, +Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste +To entreat your majesty to visit him. + +KING RICHARD II: +Where lies he? + +BUSHY: +At Ely House. + +KING RICHARD II: +Now put it, God, in the physician's mind +To help him to his grave immediately! +The lining of his coffers shall make coats +To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. +Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: +Pray God we may make haste, and come too late! + +All: +Amen. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Will the king come, that I may breathe my last +In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; +For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, but they say the tongues of dying men +Enforce attention like deep harmony: +Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, +For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. +He that no more must say is listen'd more +Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; +More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: +The setting sun, and music at the close, +As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, +Writ in remembrance more than things long past: +Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, +My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. + +DUKE OF YORK: +No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, +As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond, +Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound +The open ear of youth doth always listen; +Report of fashions in proud Italy, +Whose manners still our tardy apish nation +Limps after in base imitation. +Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity-- +So it be new, there's no respect how vile-- +That is not quickly buzzed into his ears? +Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, +Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. +Direct not him whose way himself will choose: +'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Methinks I am a prophet new inspired +And thus expiring do foretell of him: +His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, +For violent fires soon burn out themselves; +Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; +He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; +With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder: +Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, +Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. +This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, +This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, +This other Eden, demi-paradise, +This fortress built by Nature for herself +Against infection and the hand of war, +This happy breed of men, this little world, +This precious stone set in the silver sea, +Which serves it in the office of a wall, +Or as a moat defensive to a house, +Against the envy of less happier lands, +This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, +This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, +Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, +Renowned for their deeds as far from home, +For Christian service and true chivalry, +As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, +Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son, +This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, +Dear for her reputation through the world, +Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, +Like to a tenement or pelting farm: +England, bound in with the triumphant sea +Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege +Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, +With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: +That England, that was wont to conquer others, +Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. +Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, +How happy then were my ensuing death! + +DUKE OF YORK: +The king is come: deal mildly with his youth; +For young hot colts being raged do rage the more. + +QUEEN: +How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? + +KING RICHARD II: +What comfort, man? how is't with aged Gaunt? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O how that name befits my composition! +Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: +Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; +And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? +For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; +Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: +The pleasure that some fathers feed upon, +Is my strict fast; I mean, my children's looks; +And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: +Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, +Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. + +KING RICHARD II: +Can sick men play so nicely with their names? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +No, misery makes sport to mock itself: +Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, +I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. + +KING RICHARD II: +Should dying men flatter with those that live? + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +No, no, men living flatter those that die. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatterest me. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be. + +KING RICHARD II: +I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; +Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. +Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land +Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; +And thou, too careless patient as thou art, +Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure +Of those physicians that first wounded thee: +A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, +Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; +And yet, incaged in so small a verge, +The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. +O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye +Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, +From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, +Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, +Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. +Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, +It were a shame to let this land by lease; +But for thy world enjoying but this land, +Is it not more than shame to shame it so? +Landlord of England art thou now, not king: +Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou-- + +KING RICHARD II: +A lunatic lean-witted fool, +Presuming on an ague's privilege, +Darest with thy frozen admonition +Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood +With fury from his native residence. +Now, by my seat's right royal majesty, +Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, +This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head +Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. + +JOHN OF GAUNT: +O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, +For that I was his father Edward's son; +That blood already, like the pelican, +Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly caroused: +My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul, +Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy souls! +May be a precedent and witness good +That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood: +Join with the present sickness that I have; +And thy unkindness be like crooked age, +To crop at once a too long wither'd flower. +Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! +These words hereafter thy tormentors be! +Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: +Love they to live that love and honour have. + +KING RICHARD II: +And let them die that age and sullens have; +For both hast thou, and both become the grave. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I do beseech your majesty, impute his words +To wayward sickliness and age in him: +He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear +As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. + +KING RICHARD II: +Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; +As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty. + +KING RICHARD II: +What says he? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Nay, nothing; all is said +His tongue is now a stringless instrument; +Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! +Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. + +KING RICHARD II: +The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; +His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. +So much for that. Now for our Irish wars: +We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, +Which live like venom where no venom else +But only they have privilege to live. +And for these great affairs do ask some charge, +Towards our assistance we do seize to us +The plate, corn, revenues and moveables, +Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. + +DUKE OF YORK: +How long shall I be patient? ah, how long +Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? +Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment +Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, +Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke +About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, +Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, +Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. +I am the last of noble Edward's sons, +Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first: +In war was never lion raged more fierce, +In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, +Than was that young and princely gentleman. +His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, +Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; +But when he frown'd, it was against the French +And not against his friends; his noble hand +Did will what he did spend and spent not that +Which his triumphant father's hand had won; +His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, +But bloody with the enemies of his kin. +O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, +Or else he never would compare between. + +KING RICHARD II: +Why, uncle, what's the matter? + +DUKE OF YORK: +O my liege, +Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased +Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. +Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands +The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford? +Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live? +Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true? +Did not the one deserve to have an heir? +Is not his heir a well-deserving son? +Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time +His charters and his customary rights; +Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; +Be not thyself; for how art thou a king +But by fair sequence and succession? +Now, afore God--God forbid I say true!-- +If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, +Call in the letters patent that he hath +By his attorneys-general to sue +His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, +You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, +You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts +And prick my tender patience, to those thoughts +Which honour and allegiance cannot think. + +KING RICHARD II: +Think what you will, we seize into our hands +His plate, his goods, his money and his lands. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell: +What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; +But by bad courses may be understood +That their events can never fall out good. + +KING RICHARD II: +Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight: +Bid him repair to us to Ely House +To see this business. To-morrow next +We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow: +And we create, in absence of ourself, +Our uncle York lord governor of England; +For he is just and always loved us well. +Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part; +Be merry, for our time of stay is short + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. + +LORD ROSS: +And living too; for now his son is duke. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Barely in title, not in revenue. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Richly in both, if justice had her right. + +LORD ROSS: +My heart is great; but it must break with silence, +Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more +That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford? +If it be so, out with it boldly, man; +Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. + +LORD ROSS: +No good at all that I can do for him; +Unless you call it good to pity him, +Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne +In him, a royal prince, and many moe +Of noble blood in this declining land. +The king is not himself, but basely led +By flatterers; and what they will inform, +Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all, +That will the king severely prosecute +'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. + +LORD ROSS: +The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes, +And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fined +For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +And daily new exactions are devised, +As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: +But what, o' God's name, doth become of this? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, +But basely yielded upon compromise +That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows: +More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. + +LORD ROSS: +The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. + +LORD ROSS: +He hath not money for these Irish wars, +His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, +But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! +But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, +Yet see no shelter to avoid the storm; +We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, +And yet we strike not, but securely perish. + +LORD ROSS: +We see the very wreck that we must suffer; +And unavoided is the danger now, +For suffering so the causes of our wreck. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death +I spy life peering; but I dare not say +How near the tidings of our comfort is. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. + +LORD ROSS: +Be confident to speak, Northumberland: +We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, +Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay +In Brittany, received intelligence +That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, +That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, +His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, +Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, +Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint, +All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne +With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, +Are making hither with all due expedience +And shortly mean to touch our northern shore: +Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay +The first departing of the king for Ireland. +If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, +Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, +Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, +Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt +And make high majesty look like itself, +Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; +But if you faint, as fearing to do so, +Stay and be secret, and myself will go. + +LORD ROSS: +To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. + +BUSHY: +Madam, your majesty is too much sad: +You promised, when you parted with the king, +To lay aside life-harming heaviness +And entertain a cheerful disposition. + +QUEEN: +To please the king I did; to please myself +I cannot do it; yet I know no cause +Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, +Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest +As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks, +Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, +Is coming towards me, and my inward soul +With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves, +More than with parting from my lord the king. + +BUSHY: +Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, +Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; +For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, +Divides one thing entire to many objects; +Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon +Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry +Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, +Looking awry upon your lord's departure, +Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail; +Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows +Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, +More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen; +Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, +Which for things true weeps things imaginary. + +QUEEN: +It may be so; but yet my inward soul +Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be, +I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad +As, though on thinking on no thought I think, +Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. + +BUSHY: +'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. + +QUEEN: +'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived +From some forefather grief; mine is not so, +For nothing had begot my something grief; +Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: +'Tis in reversion that I do possess; +But what it is, that is not yet known; what +I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. + +GREEN: +God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen: +I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. + +QUEEN: +Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is; +For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: +Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd? + +GREEN: +That he, our hope, might have retired his power, +And driven into despair an enemy's hope, +Who strongly hath set footing in this land: +The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, +And with uplifted arms is safe arrived +At Ravenspurgh. + +QUEEN: +Now God in heaven forbid! + +GREEN: +Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse, +The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, +The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, +With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. + +BUSHY: +Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland +And all the rest revolted faction traitors? + +GREEN: +We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester +Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, +And all the household servants fled with him +To Bolingbroke. + +QUEEN: +So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, +And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: +Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, +And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, +Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. + +BUSHY: +Despair not, madam. + +QUEEN: +Who shall hinder me? +I will despair, and be at enmity +With cozening hope: he is a flatterer, +A parasite, a keeper back of death, +Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, +Which false hope lingers in extremity. + +GREEN: +Here comes the Duke of York. + +QUEEN: +With signs of war about his aged neck: +O, full of careful business are his looks! +Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: +Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, +Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief. +Your husband, he is gone to save far off, +Whilst others come to make him lose at home: +Here am I left to underprop his land, +Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: +Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; +Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. + +Servant: +My lord, your son was gone before I came. + +DUKE OF YORK: +He was? Why, so! go all which way it will! +The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, +And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. +Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; +Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: +Hold, take my ring. + +Servant: +My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, +To-day, as I came by, I called there; +But I shall grieve you to report the rest. + +DUKE OF YORK: +What is't, knave? + +Servant: +An hour before I came, the duchess died. + +DUKE OF YORK: +God for his mercy! what a tide of woes +Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! +I know not what to do: I would to God, +So my untruth had not provoked him to it, +The king had cut off my head with my brother's. +What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland? +How shall we do for money for these wars? +Come, sister,--cousin, I would say--pray, pardon me. +Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts +And bring away the armour that is there. +Gentlemen, will you go muster men? +If I know how or which way to order these affairs +Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, +Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen: +The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath +And duty bids defend; the other again +Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd, +Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. +Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll +Dispose of you. +Gentlemen, go, muster up your men, +And meet me presently at Berkeley. +I should to Plashy too; +But time will not permit: all is uneven, +And every thing is left at six and seven. + +BUSHY: +The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, +But none returns. For us to levy power +Proportionable to the enemy +Is all unpossible. + +GREEN: +Besides, our nearness to the king in love +Is near the hate of those love not the king. + +BAGOT: +And that's the wavering commons: for their love +Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them +By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. + +BUSHY: +Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. + +BAGOT: +If judgement lie in them, then so do we, +Because we ever have been near the king. + +GREEN: +Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle: +The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. + +BUSHY: +Thither will I with you; for little office +The hateful commons will perform for us, +Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. +Will you go along with us? + +BAGOT: +No; I will to Ireland to his majesty. +Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, +We three here art that ne'er shall meet again. + +BUSHY: +That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. + +GREEN: +Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes +Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry: +Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. +Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever. + +BUSHY: +Well, we may meet again. + +BAGOT: +I fear me, never. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Believe me, noble lord, +I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire: +These high wild hills and rough uneven ways +Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome, +And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, +Making the hard way sweet and delectable. +But I bethink me what a weary way +From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found +In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, +Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled +The tediousness and process of my travel: +But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have +The present benefit which I possess; +And hope to joy is little less in joy +Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords +Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done +By sight of what I have, your noble company. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Of much less value is my company +Than your good words. But who comes here? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +It is my son, young Harry Percy, +Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. +Harry, how fares your uncle? + +HENRY PERCY: +I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Why, is he not with the queen? + +HENRY PERCY: +No, my good Lord; he hath forsook the court, +Broken his staff of office and dispersed +The household of the king. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +What was his reason? +He was not so resolved when last we spake together. + +HENRY PERCY: +Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. +But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, +To offer service to the Duke of Hereford, +And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover +What power the Duke of York had levied there; +Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? + +HENRY PERCY: +No, my good lord, for that is not forgot +Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge, +I never in my life did look on him. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Then learn to know him now; this is the duke. + +HENRY PERCY: +My gracious lord, I tender you my service, +Such as it is, being tender, raw and young: +Which elder days shall ripen and confirm +To more approved service and desert. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure +I count myself in nothing else so happy +As in a soul remembering my good friends; +And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, +It shall be still thy true love's recompense: +My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +How far is it to Berkeley? and what stir +Keeps good old York there with his men of war? + +HENRY PERCY: +There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, +Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; +And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour; +None else of name and noble estimate. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, +Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues +A banish'd traitor: all my treasury +Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd +Shall be your love and labour's recompense. + +LORD ROSS: +Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +And far surmounts our labour to attain it. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; +Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, +Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. + +LORD BERKELEY: +My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My lord, my answer is--to Lancaster; +And I am come to seek that name in England; +And I must find that title in your tongue, +Before I make reply to aught you say. + +LORD BERKELEY: +Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning +To raze one title of your honour out: +To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, +From the most gracious regent of this land, +The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on +To take advantage of the absent time +And fright our native peace with self-born arms. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I shall not need transport my words by you; +Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle! + +DUKE OF YORK: +Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, +Whose duty is deceiveable and false. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My gracious uncle-- + +DUKE OF YORK: +Tut, tut! +Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: +I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace.' +In an ungracious mouth is but profane. +Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs +Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground? +But then more 'why?' why have they dared to march +So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, +Frighting her pale-faced villages with war +And ostentation of despised arms? +Comest thou because the anointed king is hence? +Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, +And in my loyal bosom lies his power. +Were I but now the lord of such hot youth +As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself +Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, +From forth the ranks of many thousand French, +O, then how quickly should this arm of mine. +Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee +And minister correction to thy fault! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My gracious uncle, let me know my fault: +On what condition stands it and wherein? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Even in condition of the worst degree, +In gross rebellion and detested treason: +Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come +Before the expiration of thy time, +In braving arms against thy sovereign. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford; +But as I come, I come for Lancaster. +And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace +Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye: +You are my father, for methinks in you +I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father, +Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd +A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties +Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away +To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? +If that my cousin king be King of England, +It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. +You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; +Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, +He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, +To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. +I am denied to sue my livery here, +And yet my letters-patents give me leave: +My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold, +And these and all are all amiss employ'd. +What would you have me do? I am a subject, +And I challenge law: attorneys are denied me; +And therefore, personally I lay my claim +To my inheritance of free descent. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The noble duke hath been too much abused. + +LORD ROSS: +It stands your grace upon to do him right. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: +Base men by his endowments are made great. + +DUKE OF YORK: +My lords of England, let me tell you this: +I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs +And laboured all I could to do him right; +But in this kind to come, in braving arms, +Be his own carver and cut out his way, +To find out right with wrong, it may not be; +And you that do abet him in this kind +Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The noble duke hath sworn his coming is +But for his own; and for the right of that +We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; +And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath! + +DUKE OF YORK: +Well, well, I see the issue of these arms: +I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, +Because my power is weak and all ill left: +But if I could, by Him that gave me life, +I would attach you all and make you stoop +Unto the sovereign mercy of the king; +But since I cannot, be it known to you +I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well; +Unless you please to enter in the castle +And there repose you for this night. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +An offer, uncle, that we will accept: +But we must win your grace to go with us +To Bristol castle, which they say is held +By Bushy, Bagot and their complices, +The caterpillars of the commonwealth, +Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. + +DUKE OF YORK: +It may be I will go with you: but yet I'll pause; +For I am loath to break our country's laws. +Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are: +Things past redress are now with me past care. + +Captain: +My lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days, +And hardly kept our countrymen together, +And yet we hear no tidings from the king; +Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell. + +EARL OF SALISBURY: +Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman: +The king reposeth all his confidence in thee. + +Captain: +'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay. +The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd +And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; +The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth +And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; +Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap, +The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, +The other to enjoy by rage and war: +These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. +Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled, +As well assured Richard their king is dead. + +EARL OF SALISBURY: +Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind +I see thy glory like a shooting star +Fall to the base earth from the firmament. +Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, +Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest: +Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes, +And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Bring forth these men. +Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls-- +Since presently your souls must part your bodies-- +With too much urging your pernicious lives, +For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood +From off my hands, here in the view of men +I will unfold some causes of your deaths. +You have misled a prince, a royal king, +A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, +By you unhappied and disfigured clean: +You have in manner with your sinful hours +Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, +Broke the possession of a royal bed +And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks +With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. +Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth, +Near to the king in blood, and near in love +Till you did make him misinterpret me, +Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, +And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, +Eating the bitter bread of banishment; +Whilst you have fed upon my signories, +Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, +From my own windows torn my household coat, +Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign, +Save men's opinions and my living blood, +To show the world I am a gentleman. +This and much more, much more than twice all this, +Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd over +To execution and the hand of death. + +BUSHY: +More welcome is the stroke of death to me +Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. + +GREEN: +My comfort is that heaven will take our souls +And plague injustice with the pains of hell. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. +Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; +For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated: +Tell her I send to her my kind commends; +Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. + +DUKE OF YORK: +A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd +With letters of your love to her at large. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Thank, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away. +To fight with Glendower and his complices: +Awhile to work, and after holiday. + +KING RICHARD II: +Barkloughly castle call they this at hand? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air, +After your late tossing on the breaking seas? + +KING RICHARD II: +Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy +To stand upon my kingdom once again. +Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, +Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs: +As a long-parted mother with her child +Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, +So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, +And do thee favours with my royal hands. +Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, +Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; +But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, +And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, +Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet +Which with usurping steps do trample thee: +Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; +And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, +Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder +Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch +Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. +Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords: +This earth shall have a feeling and these stones +Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king +Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +Fear not, my lord: that Power that made you king +Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. +The means that heaven yields must be embraced, +And not neglected; else, if heaven would, +And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, +The proffer'd means of succor and redress. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; +Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, +Grows strong and great in substance and in power. + +KING RICHARD II: +Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not +That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, +Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, +Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen +In murders and in outrage, boldly here; +But when from under this terrestrial ball +He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines +And darts his light through every guilty hole, +Then murders, treasons and detested sins, +The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, +Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? +So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, +Who all this while hath revell'd in the night +Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, +Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, +His treasons will sit blushing in his face, +Not able to endure the sight of day, +But self-affrighted tremble at his sin. +Not all the water in the rough rude sea +Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; +The breath of worldly men cannot depose +The deputy elected by the Lord: +For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd +To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, +God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay +A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, +Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right. +Welcome, my lord how far off lies your power? + +EARL OF SALISBURY: +Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, +Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue +And bids me speak of nothing but despair. +One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, +Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: +O, call back yesterday, bid time return, +And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! +To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, +O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state: +For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead. +Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale? + +KING RICHARD II: +But now the blood of twenty thousand men +Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; +And, till so much blood thither come again, +Have I not reason to look pale and dead? +All souls that will be safe fly from my side, +For time hath set a blot upon my pride. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. + +KING RICHARD II: +I had forgot myself; am I not king? +Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. +Is not the king's name twenty thousand names? +Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes +At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, +Ye favourites of a king: are we not high? +High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York +Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here? + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +More health and happiness betide my liege +Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! + +KING RICHARD II: +Mine ear is open and my heart prepared; +The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. +Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care +And what loss is it to be rid of care? +Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? +Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, +We'll serve Him too and be his fellow so: +Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; +They break their faith to God as well as us: +Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay: +The worst is death, and death will have his day. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd +To bear the tidings of calamity. +Like an unseasonable stormy day, +Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, +As if the world were all dissolved to tears, +So high above his limits swells the rage +Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land +With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. +White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps +Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, +Strive to speak big and clap their female joints +In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: +The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows +Of double-fatal yew against thy state; +Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills +Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, +And all goes worse than I have power to tell. + +KING RICHARD II: +Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. +Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? +What is become of Bushy? where is Green? +That they have let the dangerous enemy +Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? +If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it: +I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. + +KING RICHARD II: +O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! +Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! +Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! +Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! +Would they make peace? terrible hell make war +Upon their spotted souls for this offence! + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Sweet love, I see, changing his property, +Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: +Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made +With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse +Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound +And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Where is the duke my father with his power? + +KING RICHARD II: +No matter where; of comfort no man speak: +Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; +Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes +Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, +Let's choose executors and talk of wills: +And yet not so, for what can we bequeath +Save our deposed bodies to the ground? +Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's, +And nothing can we call our own but death +And that small model of the barren earth +Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. +For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground +And tell sad stories of the death of kings; +How some have been deposed; some slain in war, +Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; +Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd; +All murder'd: for within the hollow crown +That rounds the mortal temples of a king +Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, +Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, +Allowing him a breath, a little scene, +To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, +Infusing him with self and vain conceit, +As if this flesh which walls about our life, +Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus +Comes at the last and with a little pin +Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! +Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood +With solemn reverence: throw away respect, +Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, +For you have but mistook me all this while: +I live with bread like you, feel want, +Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, +How can you say to me, I am a king? + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, +But presently prevent the ways to wail. +To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, +Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, +And so your follies fight against yourself. +Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight: +And fight and die is death destroying death; +Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +My father hath a power; inquire of him +And learn to make a body of a limb. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thou chidest me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come +To change blows with thee for our day of doom. +This ague fit of fear is over-blown; +An easy task it is to win our own. +Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? +Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: +Men judge by the complexion of the sky +The state and inclination of the day: +So may you by my dull and heavy eye, +My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. +I play the torturer, by small and small +To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: +Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke, +And all your northern castles yielded up, +And all your southern gentlemen in arms +Upon his party. + +KING RICHARD II: +Thou hast said enough. +Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth +Of that sweet way I was in to despair! +What say you now? what comfort have we now? +By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly +That bids me be of comfort any more. +Go to Flint castle: there I'll pine away; +A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. +That power I have, discharge; and let them go +To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, +For I have none: let no man speak again +To alter this, for counsel is but vain. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +My liege, one word. + +KING RICHARD II: +He does me double wrong +That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. +Discharge my followers: let them hence away, +From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +So that by this intelligence we learn +The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury +Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed +With some few private friends upon this coast. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The news is very fair and good, my lord: +Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. + +DUKE OF YORK: +It would beseem the Lord Northumberland +To say 'King Richard:' alack the heavy day +When such a sacred king should hide his head. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Your grace mistakes; only to be brief +Left I his title out. + +DUKE OF YORK: +The time hath been, +Would you have been so brief with him, he would +Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, +For taking so the head, your whole head's length. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Take not, good cousin, further than you should. +Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself +Against their will. But who comes here? +Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield? + +HENRY PERCY: +The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, +Against thy entrance. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Royally! +Why, it contains no king? + +HENRY PERCY: +Yes, my good lord, +It doth contain a king; King Richard lies +Within the limits of yon lime and stone: +And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, +Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman +Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Noble lords, +Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; +Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley +Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: +Henry Bolingbroke +On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand +And sends allegiance and true faith of heart +To his most royal person, hither come +Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, +Provided that my banishment repeal'd +And lands restored again be freely granted: +If not, I'll use the advantage of my power +And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood +Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: +The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke +It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench +The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, +My stooping duty tenderly shall show. +Go, signify as much, while here we march +Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. +Let's march without the noise of threatening drum, +That from this castle's tatter'd battlements +Our fair appointments may be well perused. +Methinks King Richard and myself should meet +With no less terror than the elements +Of fire and water, when their thundering shock +At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. +Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: +The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain +My waters; on the earth, and not on him. +March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. +See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, +As doth the blushing discontented sun +From out the fiery portal of the east, +When he perceives the envious clouds are bent +To dim his glory and to stain the track +Of his bright passage to the occident. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Yet looks he like a king: behold, his eye, +As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth +Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe, +That any harm should stain so fair a show! + +KING RICHARD II: +We are amazed; and thus long have we stood +To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, +Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: +And if we be, how dare thy joints forget +To pay their awful duty to our presence? +If we be not, show us the hand of God +That hath dismissed us from our stewardship; +For well we know, no hand of blood and bone +Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, +Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. +And though you think that all, as you have done, +Have torn their souls by turning them from us, +And we are barren and bereft of friends; +Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, +Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf +Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike +Your children yet unborn and unbegot, +That lift your vassal hands against my head +And threat the glory of my precious crown. +Tell Bolingbroke--for yond methinks he stands-- +That every stride he makes upon my land +Is dangerous treason: he is come to open +The purple testament of bleeding war; +But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, +Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons +Shall ill become the flower of England's face, +Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace +To scarlet indignation and bedew +Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The king of heaven forbid our lord the king +Should so with civil and uncivil arms +Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin +Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand; +And by the honourable tomb he swears, +That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, +And by the royalties of both your bloods, +Currents that spring from one most gracious head, +And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, +And by the worth and honour of himself, +Comprising all that may be sworn or said, +His coming hither hath no further scope +Than for his lineal royalties and to beg +Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: +Which on thy royal party granted once, +His glittering arms he will commend to rust, +His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart +To faithful service of your majesty. +This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; +And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. + +KING RICHARD II: +Northumberland, say thus the king returns: +His noble cousin is right welcome hither; +And all the number of his fair demands +Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: +With all the gracious utterance thou hast +Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. +We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, +To look so poorly and to speak so fair? +Shall we call back Northumberland, and send +Defiance to the traitor, and so die? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words +Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords. + +KING RICHARD II: +O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine, +That laid the sentence of dread banishment +On yon proud man, should take it off again +With words of sooth! O that I were as great +As is my grief, or lesser than my name! +Or that I could forget what I have been, +Or not remember what I must be now! +Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, +Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. + +KING RICHARD II: +What must the king do now? must he submit? +The king shall do it: must he be deposed? +The king shall be contented: must he lose +The name of king? o' God's name, let it go: +I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, +My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, +My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, +My figured goblets for a dish of wood, +My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, +My subjects for a pair of carved saints +And my large kingdom for a little grave, +A little little grave, an obscure grave; +Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, +Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet +May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; +For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; +And buried once, why not upon my head? +Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! +We'll make foul weather with despised tears; +Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, +And make a dearth in this revolting land. +Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, +And make some pretty match with shedding tears? +As thus, to drop them still upon one place, +Till they have fretted us a pair of graves +Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies +Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes. +Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see +I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. +Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, +What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty +Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? +You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord, in the base court he doth attend +To speak with you; may it please you to come down. + +KING RICHARD II: +Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon, +Wanting the manage of unruly jades. +In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, +To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. +In the base court? Come down? Down, court! +down, king! +For night-owls shriek where mounting larks +should sing. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What says his majesty? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Sorrow and grief of heart +Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man +Yet he is come. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Stand all apart, +And show fair duty to his majesty. +My gracious lord,-- + +KING RICHARD II: +Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee +To make the base earth proud with kissing it: +Me rather had my heart might feel your love +Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. +Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, +Thus high at least, although your knee be low. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. + +KING RICHARD II: +Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, +As my true service shall deserve your love. + +KING RICHARD II: +Well you deserve: they well deserve to have, +That know the strong'st and surest way to get. +Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes; +Tears show their love, but want their remedies. +Cousin, I am too young to be your father, +Though you are old enough to be my heir. +What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; +For do we must what force will have us do. +Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Yea, my good lord. + +KING RICHARD II: +Then I must not say no. + +QUEEN: +What sport shall we devise here in this garden, +To drive away the heavy thought of care? + +Lady: +Madam, we'll play at bowls. + +QUEEN: +'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs, +And that my fortune rubs against the bias. + +Lady: +Madam, we'll dance. + +QUEEN: +My legs can keep no measure in delight, +When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: +Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. + +Lady: +Madam, we'll tell tales. + +QUEEN: +Of sorrow or of joy? + +Lady: +Of either, madam. + +QUEEN: +Of neither, girl: +For of joy, being altogether wanting, +It doth remember me the more of sorrow; +Or if of grief, being altogether had, +It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: +For what I have I need not to repeat; +And what I want it boots not to complain. + +Lady: +Madam, I'll sing. + +QUEEN: +'Tis well that thou hast cause +But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep. + +Lady: +I could weep, madam, would it do you good. + +QUEEN: +And I could sing, would weeping do me good, +And never borrow any tear of thee. +But stay, here come the gardeners: +Let's step into the shadow of these trees. +My wretchedness unto a row of pins, +They'll talk of state; for every one doth so +Against a change; woe is forerun with woe. + +Gardener: +Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, +Which, like unruly children, make their sire +Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: +Give some supportance to the bending twigs. +Go thou, and like an executioner, +Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, +That look too lofty in our commonwealth: +All must be even in our government. +You thus employ'd, I will go root away +The noisome weeds, which without profit suck +The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. + +Servant: +Why should we in the compass of a pale +Keep law and form and due proportion, +Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, +When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, +Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, +Her fruit-trees all upturned, her hedges ruin'd, +Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs +Swarming with caterpillars? + +Gardener: +Hold thy peace: +He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring +Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: +The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, +That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, +Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke, +I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. + +Servant: +What, are they dead? + +Gardener: +They are; and Bolingbroke +Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it +That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land +As we this garden! We at time of year +Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, +Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, +With too much riches it confound itself: +Had he done so to great and growing men, +They might have lived to bear and he to taste +Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches +We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: +Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, +Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. + +Servant: +What, think you then the king shall be deposed? + +Gardener: +Depress'd he is already, and deposed +'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night +To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's, +That tell black tidings. + +QUEEN: +O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking! +Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, +How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? +What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee +To make a second fall of cursed man? +Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? +Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, +Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, +Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thou wretch. + +Gardener: +Pardon me, madam: little joy have I +To breathe this news; yet what I say is true. +King Richard, he is in the mighty hold +Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd: +In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, +And some few vanities that make him light; +But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, +Besides himself, are all the English peers, +And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. +Post you to London, and you will find it so; +I speak no more than every one doth know. + +QUEEN: +Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, +Doth not thy embassage belong to me, +And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st +To serve me last, that I may longest keep +Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, +To meet at London London's king in woe. +What, was I born to this, that my sad look +Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? +Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, +Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. + +GARDENER: +Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse, +I would my skill were subject to thy curse. +Here did she fall a tear; here in this place +I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: +Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, +In the remembrance of a weeping queen. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Call forth Bagot. +Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind; +What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death, +Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd +The bloody office of his timeless end. + +BAGOT: +Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. + +BAGOT: +My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue +Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. +In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted, +I heard you say, 'Is not my arm of length, +That reacheth from the restful English court +As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?' +Amongst much other talk, that very time, +I heard you say that you had rather refuse +The offer of an hundred thousand crowns +Than Bolingbroke's return to England; +Adding withal how blest this land would be +In this your cousin's death. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Princes and noble lords, +What answer shall I make to this base man? +Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, +On equal terms to give him chastisement? +Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd +With the attainder of his slanderous lips. +There is my gage, the manual seal of death, +That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, +And will maintain what thou hast said is false +In thy heart-blood, though being all too base +To stain the temper of my knightly sword. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Excepting one, I would he were the best +In all this presence that hath moved me so. + +LORD FITZWATER: +If that thy valour stand on sympathy, +There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine: +By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, +I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest it +That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. +If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest; +And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, +Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Thou darest not, coward, live to see that day. + +LORD FITZWATER: +Now by my soul, I would it were this hour. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. + +HENRY PERCY: +Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true +In this appeal as thou art all unjust; +And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, +To prove it on thee to the extremest point +Of mortal breathing: seize it, if thou darest. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +An if I do not, may my hands rot off +And never brandish more revengeful steel +Over the glittering helmet of my foe! + +Lord: +I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle; +And spur thee on with full as many lies +As may be holloa'd in thy treacherous ear +From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn; +Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all: +I have a thousand spirits in one breast, +To answer twenty thousand such as you. + +DUKE OF SURREY: +My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well +The very time Aumerle and you did talk. + +LORD FITZWATER: +'Tis very true: you were in presence then; +And you can witness with me this is true. + +DUKE OF SURREY: +As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. + +LORD FITZWATER: +Surrey, thou liest. + +DUKE OF SURREY: +Dishonourable boy! +That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, +That it shall render vengeance and revenge +Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie +In earth as quiet as thy father's skull: +In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; +Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + +LORD FITZWATER: +How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! +If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, +I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, +And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies, +And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith, +To tie thee to my strong correction. +As I intend to thrive in this new world, +Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal: +Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say +That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men +To execute the noble duke at Calais. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Some honest Christian trust me with a gage +That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this, +If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +These differences shall all rest under gage +Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, +And, though mine enemy, restored again +To all his lands and signories: when he's return'd, +Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. +Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought +For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, +Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross +Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens: +And toil'd with works of war, retired himself +To Italy; and there at Venice gave +His body to that pleasant country's earth, +And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, +Under whose colours he had fought so long. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +As surely as I live, my lord. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom +Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants, +Your differences shall all rest under gage +Till we assign you to your days of trial. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee +From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul +Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields +To the possession of thy royal hand: +Ascend his throne, descending now from him; +And long live Henry, fourth of that name! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +Marry. God forbid! +Worst in this royal presence may I speak, +Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. +Would God that any in this noble presence +Were enough noble to be upright judge +Of noble Richard! then true noblesse would +Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. +What subject can give sentence on his king? +And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? +Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear, +Although apparent guilt be seen in them; +And shall the figure of God's majesty, +His captain, steward, deputy-elect, +Anointed, crowned, planted many years, +Be judged by subject and inferior breath, +And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God, +That in a Christian climate souls refined +Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! +I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, +Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king: +My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, +Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king: +And if you crown him, let me prophesy: +The blood of English shall manure the ground, +And future ages groan for this foul act; +Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, +And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars +Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound; +Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny +Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd +The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. +O, if you raise this house against this house, +It will the woefullest division prove +That ever fell upon this cursed earth. +Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, +Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe! + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains, +Of capital treason we arrest you here. +My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge +To keep him safely till his day of trial. +May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Fetch hither Richard, that in common view +He may surrender; so we shall proceed +Without suspicion. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I will be his conduct. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Lords, you that here are under our arrest, +Procure your sureties for your days of answer. +Little are we beholding to your love, +And little look'd for at your helping hands. + +KING RICHARD II: +Alack, why am I sent for to a king, +Before I have shook off the regal thoughts +Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd +To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs: +Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me +To this submission. Yet I well remember +The favours of these men: were they not mine? +Did they not sometime cry, 'all hail!' to me? +So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, +Found truth in all but one: I, in twelve thousand, none. +God save the king! Will no man say amen? +Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. +God save the king! although I be not he; +And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. +To do what service am I sent for hither? + +DUKE OF YORK: +To do that office of thine own good will +Which tired majesty did make thee offer, +The resignation of thy state and crown +To Henry Bolingbroke. + +KING RICHARD II: +Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown; +Here cousin: +On this side my hand, and on that side yours. +Now is this golden crown like a deep well +That owes two buckets, filling one another, +The emptier ever dancing in the air, +The other down, unseen and full of water: +That bucket down and full of tears am I, +Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I thought you had been willing to resign. + +KING RICHARD II: +My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine: +You may my glories and my state depose, +But not my griefs; still am I king of those. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Part of your cares you give me with your crown. + +KING RICHARD II: +Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. +My care is loss of care, by old care done; +Your care is gain of care, by new care won: +The cares I give I have, though given away; +They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Are you contented to resign the crown? + +KING RICHARD II: +Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be; +Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. +Now mark me, how I will undo myself; +I give this heavy weight from off my head +And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, +The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; +With mine own tears I wash away my balm, +With mine own hands I give away my crown, +With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, +With mine own breath release all duty's rites: +All pomp and majesty I do forswear; +My manors, rents, revenues I forego; +My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny: +God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! +God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee! +Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved, +And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved! +Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, +And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! +God save King Harry, unking'd Richard says, +And send him many years of sunshine days! +What more remains? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +No more, but that you read +These accusations and these grievous crimes +Committed by your person and your followers +Against the state and profit of this land; +That, by confessing them, the souls of men +May deem that you are worthily deposed. + +KING RICHARD II: +Must I do so? and must I ravel out +My weaved-up folly? Gentle Northumberland, +If thy offences were upon record, +Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop +To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, +There shouldst thou find one heinous article, +Containing the deposing of a king +And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, +Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven: +Nay, all of you that stand and look upon, +Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, +Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands +Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates +Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, +And water cannot wash away your sin. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles. + +KING RICHARD II: +Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: +And yet salt water blinds them not so much +But they can see a sort of traitors here. +Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, +I find myself a traitor with the rest; +For I have given here my soul's consent +To undeck the pompous body of a king; +Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, +Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord,-- + +KING RICHARD II: +No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, +Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, +No, not that name was given me at the font, +But 'tis usurp'd: alack the heavy day, +That I have worn so many winters out, +And know not now what name to call myself! +O that I were a mockery king of snow, +Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, +To melt myself away in water-drops! +Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, +An if my word be sterling yet in England, +Let it command a mirror hither straight, +That it may show me what a face I have, +Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. + +KING RICHARD II: +Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +The commons will not then be satisfied. + +KING RICHARD II: +They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, +When I do see the very book indeed +Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. +Give me the glass, and therein will I read. +No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck +So many blows upon this face of mine, +And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass, +Like to my followers in prosperity, +Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face +That every day under his household roof +Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face +That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? +Was this the face that faced so many follies, +And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke? +A brittle glory shineth in this face: +As brittle as the glory is the face; +For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. +Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, +How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd +The shadow or your face. + +KING RICHARD II: +Say that again. +The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see: +'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; +And these external manners of laments +Are merely shadows to the unseen grief +That swells with silence in the tortured soul; +There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, +For thy great bounty, that not only givest +Me cause to wail but teachest me the way +How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, +And then be gone and trouble you no more. +Shall I obtain it? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Name it, fair cousin. + +KING RICHARD II: +'Fair cousin'? I am greater than a king: +For when I was a king, my flatterers +Were then but subjects; being now a subject, +I have a king here to my flatterer. +Being so great, I have no need to beg. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Yet ask. + +KING RICHARD II: +And shall I have? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +You shall. + +KING RICHARD II: +Then give me leave to go. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Whither? + +KING RICHARD II: +Whither you will, so I were from your sights. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. + +KING RICHARD II: +O, good! convey? conveyers are you all, +That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +On Wednesday next we solemnly set down +Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. + +Abbot: +A woeful pageant have we here beheld. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: +The woe's to come; the children yet unborn. +Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +You holy clergymen, is there no plot +To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? + +Abbot: +My lord, +Before I freely speak my mind herein, +You shall not only take the sacrament +To bury mine intents, but also to effect +Whatever I shall happen to devise. +I see your brows are full of discontent, +Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears: +Come home with me to supper; and I'll lay +A plot shall show us all a merry day. + +QUEEN: +This way the king will come; this is the way +To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, +To whose flint bosom my condemned lord +Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: +Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth +Have any resting for her true king's queen. +But soft, but see, or rather do not see, +My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold, +That you in pity may dissolve to dew, +And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. +Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand, +Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, +And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn, +Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee, +When triumph is become an alehouse guest? + +KING RICHARD II: +Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, +To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, +To think our former state a happy dream; +From which awaked, the truth of what we are +Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, +To grim Necessity, and he and I +Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France +And cloister thee in some religious house: +Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, +Which our profane hours here have stricken down. + +QUEEN: +What, is my Richard both in shape and mind +Transform'd and weaken'd? hath Bolingbroke deposed +Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? +The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw, +And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage +To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, +Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, +And fawn on rage with base humility, +Which art a lion and a king of beasts? + +KING RICHARD II: +A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts, +I had been still a happy king of men. +Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: +Think I am dead and that even here thou takest, +As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. +In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire +With good old folks and let them tell thee tales +Of woeful ages long ago betid; +And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs, +Tell thou the lamentable tale of me +And send the hearers weeping to their beds: +For why, the senseless brands will sympathize +The heavy accent of thy moving tongue +And in compassion weep the fire out; +And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, +For the deposing of a rightful king. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed: +You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. +And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; +With all swift speed you must away to France. + +KING RICHARD II: +Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal +The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, +The time shall not be many hours of age +More than it is ere foul sin gathering head +Shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think, +Though he divide the realm and give thee half, +It is too little, helping him to all; +And he shall think that thou, which know'st the way +To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, +Being ne'er so little urged, another way +To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. +The love of wicked men converts to fear; +That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both +To worthy danger and deserved death. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +My guilt be on my head, and there an end. +Take leave and part; for you must part forthwith. + +KING RICHARD II: +Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate +A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, +And then betwixt me and my married wife. +Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; +And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. +Part us, Northumberland; I toward the north, +Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; +My wife to France: from whence, set forth in pomp, +She came adorned hither like sweet May, +Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day. + +QUEEN: +And must we be divided? must we part? + +KING RICHARD II: +Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. + +QUEEN: +Banish us both and send the king with me. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +That were some love but little policy. + +QUEEN: +Then whither he goes, thither let me go. + +KING RICHARD II: +So two, together weeping, make one woe. +Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; +Better far off than near, be ne'er the near. +Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans. + +QUEEN: +So longest way shall have the longest moans. + +KING RICHARD II: +Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, +And piece the way out with a heavy heart. +Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, +Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief; +One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; +Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. + +QUEEN: +Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part +To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. +So, now I have mine own again, be gone, +That I might strive to kill it with a groan. + +KING RICHARD II: +We make woe wanton with this fond delay: +Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, +When weeping made you break the story off, +of our two cousins coming into London. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Where did I leave? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +At that sad stop, my lord, +Where rude misgovern'd hands from windows' tops +Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, +Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed +Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, +With slow but stately pace kept on his course, +Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee, +Bolingbroke!' +You would have thought the very windows spake, +So many greedy looks of young and old +Through casements darted their desiring eyes +Upon his visage, and that all the walls +With painted imagery had said at once +'Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!' +Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, +Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, +Bespake them thus: 'I thank you, countrymen:' +And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? + +DUKE OF YORK: +As in a theatre, the eyes of men, +After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, +Are idly bent on him that enters next, +Thinking his prattle to be tedious; +Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes +Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!' +No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: +But dust was thrown upon his sacred head: +Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, +His face still combating with tears and smiles, +The badges of his grief and patience, +That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd +The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted +And barbarism itself have pitied him. +But heaven hath a hand in these events, +To whose high will we bound our calm contents. +To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, +Whose state and honour I for aye allow. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Here comes my son Aumerle. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Aumerle that was; +But that is lost for being Richard's friend, +And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: +I am in parliament pledge for his truth +And lasting fealty to the new-made king. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Welcome, my son: who are the violets now +That strew the green lap of the new come spring? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: +God knows I had as lief be none as one. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, +Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. +What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +For aught I know, my lord, they do. + +DUKE OF YORK: +You will be there, I know. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +If God prevent not, I purpose so. + +DUKE OF YORK: +What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom? +Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +My lord, 'tis nothing. + +DUKE OF YORK: +No matter, then, who see it; +I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +I do beseech your grace to pardon me: +It is a matter of small consequence, +Which for some reasons I would not have seen. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. +I fear, I fear,-- + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What should you fear? +'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into +For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond +That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. +Boy, let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. + +DUKE OF YORK: +I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. +Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What is the matter, my lord? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Ho! who is within there? +Saddle my horse. +God for his mercy, what treachery is here! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why, what is it, my lord? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. +Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth, +I will appeach the villain. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +What is the matter? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Peace, foolish woman. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Good mother, be content; it is no more +Than my poor life must answer. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Thy life answer! + +DUKE OF YORK: +Bring me my boots: I will unto the king. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed. +Hence, villain! never more come in my sight. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Give me my boots, I say. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Why, York, what wilt thou do? +Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? +Have we more sons? or are we like to have? +Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? +And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, +And rob me of a happy mother's name? +Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Thou fond mad woman, +Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? +A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, +And interchangeably set down their hands, +To kill the king at Oxford. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +He shall be none; +We'll keep him here: then what is that to him? + +DUKE OF YORK: +Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son, +I would appeach him. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Hadst thou groan'd for him +As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. +But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect +That I have been disloyal to thy bed, +And that he is a bastard, not thy son: +Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: +He is as like thee as a man may be, +Not like to me, or any of my kin, +And yet I love him. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Make way, unruly woman! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse; +Spur post, and get before him to the king, +And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. +I'll not be long behind; though I be old, +I doubt not but to ride as fast as York: +And never will I rise up from the ground +Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? +'Tis full three months since I did see him last; +If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. +I would to God, my lords, he might be found: +Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, +For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, +With unrestrained loose companions, +Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, +And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; +Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, +Takes on the point of honour to support +So dissolute a crew. + +HENRY PERCY: +My lord, some two days since I saw the prince, +And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +And what said the gallant? + +HENRY PERCY: +His answer was, he would unto the stews, +And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, +And wear it as a favour; and with that +He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +As dissolute as desperate; yet through both +I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years +May happily bring forth. But who comes here? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Where is the king? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What means our cousin, that he stares and looks +So wildly? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty, +To have some conference with your grace alone. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. +What is the matter with our cousin now? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +For ever may my knees grow to the earth, +My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth +Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Intended or committed was this fault? +If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, +To win thy after-love I pardon thee. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Then give me leave that I may turn the key, +That no man enter till my tale be done. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Have thy desire. + +DUKE OF YORK: + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Villain, I'll make thee safe. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. + +DUKE OF YORK: + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What is the matter, uncle? speak; +Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, +That we may arm us to encounter it. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know +The treason that my haste forbids me show. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd: +I do repent me; read not my name there +My heart is not confederate with my hand. + +DUKE OF YORK: +It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. +I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king; +Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: +Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove +A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy! +O loyal father of a treacherous son! +Thou sheer, immaculate and silver fountain, +From when this stream through muddy passages +Hath held his current and defiled himself! +Thy overflow of good converts to bad, +And thy abundant goodness shall excuse +This deadly blot in thy digressing son. + +DUKE OF YORK: +So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; +And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, +As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. +Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, +Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies: +Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, +The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 'tis I. +Speak with me, pity me, open the door. +A beggar begs that never begg'd before. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing, +And now changed to 'The Beggar and the King.' +My dangerous cousin, let your mother in: +I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. + +DUKE OF YORK: +If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, +More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. +This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound; +This let alone will all the rest confound. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O king, believe not this hard-hearted man! +Love loving not itself none other can. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? +Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Rise up, good aunt. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Not yet, I thee beseech: +For ever will I walk upon my knees, +And never see day that the happy sees, +Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, +By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE: +Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Against them both my true joints bended be. +Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; +His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; +His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast: +He prays but faintly and would be denied; +We pray with heart and soul and all beside: +His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; +Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: +His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; +Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. +Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have +That mercy which true prayer ought to have. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Good aunt, stand up. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Nay, do not say, 'stand up;' +Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.' +And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, +'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech. +I never long'd to hear a word till now; +Say 'pardon,' king; let pity teach thee how: +The word is short, but not so short as sweet; +No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet. + +DUKE OF YORK: +Speak it in French, king; say, 'pardonne moi.' + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? +Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, +That set'st the word itself against the word! +Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land; +The chopping French we do not understand. +Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there; +Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; +That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, +Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Good aunt, stand up. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +I do not sue to stand; +Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! +Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; +Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, +But makes one pardon strong. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +With all my heart +I pardon him. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +A god on earth thou art. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +But for our trusty brother-in-law and the abbot, +With all the rest of that consorted crew, +Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. +Good uncle, help to order several powers +To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are: +They shall not live within this world, I swear, +But I will have them, if I once know where. +Uncle, farewell: and, cousin too, adieu: +Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. + +DUCHESS OF YORK: +Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new. + +EXTON: +Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake, +'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?' +Was it not so? + +Servant: +These were his very words. + +EXTON: +'Have I no friend?' quoth he: he spake it twice, +And urged it twice together, did he not? + +Servant: +He did. + +EXTON: +And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, +And who should say, 'I would thou wert the man' +That would divorce this terror from my heart;' +Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go: +I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. + +KING RICHARD II: +I have been studying how I may compare +This prison where I live unto the world: +And for because the world is populous +And here is not a creature but myself, +I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. +My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, +My soul the father; and these two beget +A generation of still-breeding thoughts, +And these same thoughts people this little world, +In humours like the people of this world, +For no thought is contented. The better sort, +As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd +With scruples and do set the word itself +Against the word: +As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again, +'It is as hard to come as for a camel +To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.' +Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot +Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails +May tear a passage through the flinty ribs +Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls, +And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. +Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves +That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, +Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars +Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, +That many have and others must sit there; +And in this thought they find a kind of ease, +Bearing their own misfortunes on the back +Of such as have before endured the like. +Thus play I in one person many people, +And none contented: sometimes am I king; +Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, +And so I am: then crushing penury +Persuades me I was better when a king; +Then am I king'd again: and by and by +Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, +And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be, +Nor I nor any man that but man is +With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased +With being nothing. Music do I hear? +Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is, +When time is broke and no proportion kept! +So is it in the music of men's lives. +And here have I the daintiness of ear +To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string; +But for the concord of my state and time +Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. +I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; +For now hath time made me his numbering clock: +My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar +Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, +Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, +Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. +Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is +Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart, +Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans +Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time +Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, +While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock. +This music mads me; let it sound no more; +For though it have holp madmen to their wits, +In me it seems it will make wise men mad. +Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! +For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard +Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. + +Groom: +Hail, royal prince! + +KING RICHARD II: +Thanks, noble peer; +The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. +What art thou? and how comest thou hither, +Where no man never comes but that sad dog +That brings me food to make misfortune live? + +Groom: +I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, +When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, +With much ado at length have gotten leave +To look upon my sometimes royal master's face. +O, how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld +In London streets, that coronation-day, +When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, +That horse that thou so often hast bestrid, +That horse that I so carefully have dress'd! + +KING RICHARD II: +Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, +How went he under him? + +Groom: +So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. + +KING RICHARD II: +So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! +That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; +This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. +Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, +Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck +Of that proud man that did usurp his back? +Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, +Since thou, created to be awed by man, +Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; +And yet I bear a burthen like an ass, +Spurr'd, gall'd and tired by jouncing Bolingbroke. + +Keeper: +Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. + +KING RICHARD II: +If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. + +Groom: +What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. + +Keeper: +My lord, will't please you to fall to? + +KING RICHARD II: +Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. + +Keeper: +My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, who +lately came from the king, commands the contrary. + +KING RICHARD II: +The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! +Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. + +Keeper: +Help, help, help! + +KING RICHARD II: +How now! what means death in this rude assault? +Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. +Go thou, and fill another room in hell. +That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire +That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand +Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. +Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; +Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. + +EXTON: +As full of valour as of royal blood: +Both have I spill'd; O would the deed were good! +For now the devil, that told me I did well, +Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. +This dead king to the living king I'll bear +Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear +Is that the rebels have consumed with fire +Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire; +But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. +Welcome, my lord what is the news? + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. +The next news is, I have to London sent +The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent: +The manner of their taking may appear +At large discoursed in this paper here. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; +And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. + +LORD FITZWATER: +My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London +The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, +Two of the dangerous consorted traitors +That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; +Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. + +HENRY PERCY: +The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, +With clog of conscience and sour melancholy +Hath yielded up his body to the grave; +But here is Carlisle living, to abide +Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Carlisle, this is your doom: +Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, +More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; +So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife: +For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, +High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. + +EXTON: +Great king, within this coffin I present +Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies +The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, +Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought +A deed of slander with thy fatal hand +Upon my head and all this famous land. + +EXTON: +From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE: +They love not poison that do poison need, +Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, +I hate the murderer, love him murdered. +The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, +But neither my good word nor princely favour: +With Cain go wander through shades of night, +And never show thy head by day nor light. +Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, +That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow: +Come, mourn with me for that I do lament, +And put on sullen black incontinent: +I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, +To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: +March sadly after; grace my mournings here; +In weeping after this untimely bier. + + +SAMPSON: +Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. + +GREGORY: +No, for then we should be colliers. + +SAMPSON: +I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. + +GREGORY: +Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar. + +SAMPSON: +I strike quickly, being moved. + +GREGORY: +But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + +SAMPSON: +A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + +GREGORY: +To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: +therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. + +SAMPSON: +A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will +take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. + +GREGORY: +That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes +to the wall. + +SAMPSON: +True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, +are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push +Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids +to the wall. + +GREGORY: +The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + +SAMPSON: +'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I +have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the +maids, and cut off their heads. + +GREGORY: +The heads of the maids? + +SAMPSON: +Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; +take it in what sense thou wilt. + +GREGORY: +They must take it in sense that feel it. + +SAMPSON: +Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and +'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. + +GREGORY: +'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou +hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes +two of the house of the Montagues. + +SAMPSON: +My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. + +GREGORY: +How! turn thy back and run? + +SAMPSON: +Fear me not. + +GREGORY: +No, marry; I fear thee! + +SAMPSON: +Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + +GREGORY: +I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as +they list. + +SAMPSON: +Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; +which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. + +ABRAHAM: +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON: +I do bite my thumb, sir. + +ABRAHAM: +Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON: + +GREGORY: +No. + +SAMPSON: +No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I +bite my thumb, sir. + +GREGORY: +Do you quarrel, sir? + +ABRAHAM: +Quarrel sir! no, sir. + +SAMPSON: +If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. + +ABRAHAM: +No better. + +SAMPSON: +Well, sir. + +GREGORY: +Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen. + +SAMPSON: +Yes, better, sir. + +ABRAHAM: +You lie. + +SAMPSON: +Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. + +BENVOLIO: +Part, fools! +Put up your swords; you know not what you do. + +TYBALT: +What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? +Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. + +BENVOLIO: +I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, +Or manage it to part these men with me. + +TYBALT: +What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, +As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: +Have at thee, coward! + +First Citizen: +Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! +Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! + +CAPULET: +What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + +LADY CAPULET: +A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? + +CAPULET: +My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, +And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + +MONTAGUE: +Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go. + +LADY MONTAGUE: +Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. + +PRINCE: +Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, +Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- +Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, +That quench the fire of your pernicious rage +With purple fountains issuing from your veins, +On pain of torture, from those bloody hands +Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, +And hear the sentence of your moved prince. +Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, +By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, +Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, +And made Verona's ancient citizens +Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, +To wield old partisans, in hands as old, +Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: +If ever you disturb our streets again, +Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. +For this time, all the rest depart away: +You Capulet; shall go along with me: +And, Montague, come you this afternoon, +To know our further pleasure in this case, +To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. +Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + +MONTAGUE: +Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? +Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + +BENVOLIO: +Here were the servants of your adversary, +And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: +I drew to part them: in the instant came +The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, +Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, +He swung about his head and cut the winds, +Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: +While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, +Came more and more and fought on part and part, +Till the prince came, who parted either part. + +LADY MONTAGUE: +O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? +Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + +BENVOLIO: +Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun +Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, +A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; +Where, underneath the grove of sycamore +That westward rooteth from the city's side, +So early walking did I see your son: +Towards him I made, but he was ware of me +And stole into the covert of the wood: +I, measuring his affections by my own, +That most are busied when they're most alone, +Pursued my humour not pursuing his, +And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. + +MONTAGUE: +Many a morning hath he there been seen, +With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. +Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; +But all so soon as the all-cheering sun +Should in the furthest east begin to draw +The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, +Away from the light steals home my heavy son, +And private in his chamber pens himself, +Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out +And makes himself an artificial night: +Black and portentous must this humour prove, +Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + +BENVOLIO: +My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + +MONTAGUE: +I neither know it nor can learn of him. + +BENVOLIO: +Have you importuned him by any means? + +MONTAGUE: +Both by myself and many other friends: +But he, his own affections' counsellor, +Is to himself--I will not say how true-- +But to himself so secret and so close, +So far from sounding and discovery, +As is the bud bit with an envious worm, +Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, +Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. +Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. +We would as willingly give cure as know. + +BENVOLIO: +See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; +I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. + +MONTAGUE: +I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, +To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away. + +BENVOLIO: +Good-morrow, cousin. + +ROMEO: +Is the day so young? + +BENVOLIO: +But new struck nine. + +ROMEO: +Ay me! sad hours seem long. +Was that my father that went hence so fast? + +BENVOLIO: +It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? + +ROMEO: +Not having that, which, having, makes them short. + +BENVOLIO: +In love? + +ROMEO: +Out-- + +BENVOLIO: +Of love? + +ROMEO: +Out of her favour, where I am in love. + +BENVOLIO: +Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, +Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! + +ROMEO: +Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, +Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! +Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? +Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. +Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. +Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! +O any thing, of nothing first create! +O heavy lightness! serious vanity! +Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! +Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, +sick health! +Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! +This love feel I, that feel no love in this. +Dost thou not laugh? + +BENVOLIO: +No, coz, I rather weep. + +ROMEO: +Good heart, at what? + +BENVOLIO: +At thy good heart's oppression. + +ROMEO: +Why, such is love's transgression. +Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, +Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest +With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown +Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. +Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; +Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; +Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: +What is it else? a madness most discreet, +A choking gall and a preserving sweet. +Farewell, my coz. + +BENVOLIO: +Soft! I will go along; +An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + +ROMEO: +Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; +This is not Romeo, he's some other where. + +BENVOLIO: +Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. + +ROMEO: +What, shall I groan and tell thee? + +BENVOLIO: +Groan! why, no. +But sadly tell me who. + +ROMEO: +Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: +Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! +In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + +BENVOLIO: +I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. + +ROMEO: +A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. + +BENVOLIO: +A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + +ROMEO: +Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit +With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; +And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, +From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. +She will not stay the siege of loving terms, +Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, +Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: +O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, +That when she dies with beauty dies her store. + +BENVOLIO: +Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + +ROMEO: +She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, +For beauty starved with her severity +Cuts beauty off from all posterity. +She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, +To merit bliss by making me despair: +She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow +Do I live dead that live to tell it now. + +BENVOLIO: +Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. + +ROMEO: +O, teach me how I should forget to think. + +BENVOLIO: +By giving liberty unto thine eyes; +Examine other beauties. + +ROMEO: +'Tis the way +To call hers exquisite, in question more: +These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows +Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; +He that is strucken blind cannot forget +The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: +Show me a mistress that is passing fair, +What doth her beauty serve, but as a note +Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? +Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. + +BENVOLIO: +I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. + +CAPULET: +But Montague is bound as well as I, +In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, +For men so old as we to keep the peace. + +PARIS: +Of honourable reckoning are you both; +And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. +But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? + +CAPULET: +But saying o'er what I have said before: +My child is yet a stranger in the world; +She hath not seen the change of fourteen years, +Let two more summers wither in their pride, +Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + +PARIS: +Younger than she are happy mothers made. + +CAPULET: +And too soon marr'd are those so early made. +The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, +She is the hopeful lady of my earth: +But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, +My will to her consent is but a part; +An she agree, within her scope of choice +Lies my consent and fair according voice. +This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, +Whereto I have invited many a guest, +Such as I love; and you, among the store, +One more, most welcome, makes my number more. +At my poor house look to behold this night +Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: +Such comfort as do lusty young men feel +When well-apparell'd April on the heel +Of limping winter treads, even such delight +Among fresh female buds shall you this night +Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, +And like her most whose merit most shall be: +Which on more view, of many mine being one +May stand in number, though in reckoning none, +Come, go with me. +Go, sirrah, trudge about +Through fair Verona; find those persons out +Whose names are written there, and to them say, +My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. + +Servant: +Find them out whose names are written here! It is +written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his +yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with +his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am +sent to find those persons whose names are here +writ, and can never find what names the writing +person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time. + +BENVOLIO: +Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, +One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; +Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; +One desperate grief cures with another's languish: +Take thou some new infection to thy eye, +And the rank poison of the old will die. + +ROMEO: +Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that. + +BENVOLIO: +For what, I pray thee? + +ROMEO: +For your broken shin. + +BENVOLIO: +Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + +ROMEO: +Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is; +Shut up in prison, kept without my food, +Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow. + +Servant: +God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + +ROMEO: +Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + +Servant: +Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I +pray, can you read any thing you see? + +ROMEO: +Ay, if I know the letters and the language. + +Servant: +Ye say honestly: rest you merry! + +ROMEO: +Stay, fellow; I can read. +'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; +County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady +widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely +nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine +uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece +Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin +Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair +assembly: whither should they come? + +Servant: +Up. + +ROMEO: +Whither? + +Servant: +To supper; to our house. + +ROMEO: +Whose house? + +Servant: +My master's. + +ROMEO: +Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. + +Servant: +Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the +great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house +of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. +Rest you merry! + +BENVOLIO: +At this same ancient feast of Capulet's +Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, +With all the admired beauties of Verona: +Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, +Compare her face with some that I shall show, +And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + +ROMEO: +When the devout religion of mine eye +Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; +And these, who often drown'd could never die, +Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! +One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun +Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. + +BENVOLIO: +Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, +Herself poised with herself in either eye: +But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd +Your lady's love against some other maid +That I will show you shining at this feast, +And she shall scant show well that now shows best. + +ROMEO: +I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, +But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. + +LADY CAPULET: +Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. + +Nurse: +Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, +I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird! +God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! + +JULIET: +How now! who calls? + +Nurse: +Your mother. + +JULIET: +Madam, I am here. +What is your will? + +LADY CAPULET: +This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile, +We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again; +I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. +Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. + +Nurse: +Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + +LADY CAPULET: +She's not fourteen. + +Nurse: +I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- +And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four-- +She is not fourteen. How long is it now +To Lammas-tide? + +LADY CAPULET: +A fortnight and odd days. + +Nurse: +Even or odd, of all days in the year, +Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. +Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!-- +Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; +She was too good for me: but, as I said, +On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; +That shall she, marry; I remember it well. +'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; +And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,-- +Of all the days of the year, upon that day: +For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, +Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; +My lord and you were then at Mantua:-- +Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said, +When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple +Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, +To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! +Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, +To bid me trudge: +And since that time it is eleven years; +For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, +She could have run and waddled all about; +For even the day before, she broke her brow: +And then my husband--God be with his soul! +A' was a merry man--took up the child: +'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; +Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, +The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.' +To see, now, how a jest shall come about! +I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, +I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; +And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.' + +LADY CAPULET: +Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. + +Nurse: +Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, +To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' +And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow +A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone; +A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: +'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face? +Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; +Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.' + +JULIET: +And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. + +Nurse: +Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! +Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: +An I might live to see thee married once, +I have my wish. + +LADY CAPULET: +Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme +I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, +How stands your disposition to be married? + +JULIET: +It is an honour that I dream not of. + +Nurse: +An honour! were not I thine only nurse, +I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. + +LADY CAPULET: +Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, +Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, +Are made already mothers: by my count, +I was your mother much upon these years +That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: +The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + +Nurse: +A man, young lady! lady, such a man +As all the world--why, he's a man of wax. + +LADY CAPULET: +Verona's summer hath not such a flower. + +Nurse: +Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. + +LADY CAPULET: +What say you? can you love the gentleman? +This night you shall behold him at our feast; +Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, +And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; +Examine every married lineament, +And see how one another lends content +And what obscured in this fair volume lies +Find written in the margent of his eyes. +This precious book of love, this unbound lover, +To beautify him, only lacks a cover: +The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride +For fair without the fair within to hide: +That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, +That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; +So shall you share all that he doth possess, +By having him, making yourself no less. + +Nurse: +No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. + +LADY CAPULET: +Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? + +JULIET: +I'll look to like, if looking liking move: +But no more deep will I endart mine eye +Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + +Servant: +Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you +called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in +the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must +hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. + +LADY CAPULET: +We follow thee. +Juliet, the county stays. + +Nurse: +Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + +ROMEO: +What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? +Or shall we on without a apology? + +BENVOLIO: +The date is out of such prolixity: +We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, +Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, +Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; +Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke +After the prompter, for our entrance: +But let them measure us by what they will; +We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. + +ROMEO: +Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; +Being but heavy, I will bear the light. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + +ROMEO: +Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes +With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead +So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + +MERCUTIO: +You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, +And soar with them above a common bound. + +ROMEO: +I am too sore enpierced with his shaft +To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, +I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: +Under love's heavy burden do I sink. + +MERCUTIO: +And, to sink in it, should you burden love; +Too great oppression for a tender thing. + +ROMEO: +Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, +Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. + +MERCUTIO: +If love be rough with you, be rough with love; +Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. +Give me a case to put my visage in: +A visor for a visor! what care I +What curious eye doth quote deformities? +Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. + +BENVOLIO: +Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, +But every man betake him to his legs. + +ROMEO: +A torch for me: let wantons light of heart +Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, +For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase; +I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. +The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. + +MERCUTIO: +Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: +If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire +Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st +Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! + +ROMEO: +Nay, that's not so. + +MERCUTIO: +I mean, sir, in delay +We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. +Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits +Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + +ROMEO: +And we mean well in going to this mask; +But 'tis no wit to go. + +MERCUTIO: +Why, may one ask? + +ROMEO: +I dream'd a dream to-night. + +MERCUTIO: +And so did I. + +ROMEO: +Well, what was yours? + +MERCUTIO: +That dreamers often lie. + +ROMEO: +In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + +MERCUTIO: +O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. +She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes +In shape no bigger than an agate-stone +On the fore-finger of an alderman, +Drawn with a team of little atomies +Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; +Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, +The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, +The traces of the smallest spider's web, +The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, +Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, +Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, +Not so big as a round little worm +Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; +Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut +Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, +Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. +And in this state she gallops night by night +Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; +O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, +O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, +O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream, +Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, +Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: +Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, +And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; +And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail +Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, +Then dreams, he of another benefice: +Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, +And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, +Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, +Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon +Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, +And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two +And sleeps again. This is that very Mab +That plats the manes of horses in the night, +And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, +Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: +This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, +That presses them and learns them first to bear, +Making them women of good carriage: +This is she-- + +ROMEO: +Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! +Thou talk'st of nothing. + +MERCUTIO: +True, I talk of dreams, +Which are the children of an idle brain, +Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, +Which is as thin of substance as the air +And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes +Even now the frozen bosom of the north, +And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, +Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. + +BENVOLIO: +This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; +Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + +ROMEO: +I fear, too early: for my mind misgives +Some consequence yet hanging in the stars +Shall bitterly begin his fearful date +With this night's revels and expire the term +Of a despised life closed in my breast +By some vile forfeit of untimely death. +But He, that hath the steerage of my course, +Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen. + +BENVOLIO: +Strike, drum. + +First Servant: +Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He +shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher! + +Second Servant: +When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's +hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. + +First Servant: +Away with the joint-stools, remove the +court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save +me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let +the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. +Antony, and Potpan! + +Second Servant: +Ay, boy, ready. + +First Servant: +You are looked for and called for, asked for and +sought for, in the great chamber. + +Second Servant: +We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be +brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. + +CAPULET: +Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes +Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you. +Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all +Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, +She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now? +Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day +That I have worn a visor and could tell +A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, +Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: +You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play. +A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. +More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, +And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. +Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. +Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; +For you and I are past our dancing days: +How long is't now since last yourself and I +Were in a mask? + +Second Capulet: +By'r lady, thirty years. + +CAPULET: +What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: +'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio, +Come pentecost as quickly as it will, +Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. + +Second Capulet: +'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir; +His son is thirty. + +CAPULET: +Will you tell me that? +His son was but a ward two years ago. + +ROMEO: + +Servant: +I know not, sir. + +ROMEO: +O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! +It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night +Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; +Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! +So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, +As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. +The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, +And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. +Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! +For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. + +TYBALT: +This, by his voice, should be a Montague. +Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave +Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, +To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? +Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, +To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. + +CAPULET: +Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? + +TYBALT: +Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, +A villain that is hither come in spite, +To scorn at our solemnity this night. + +CAPULET: +Young Romeo is it? + +TYBALT: +'Tis he, that villain Romeo. + +CAPULET: +Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; +He bears him like a portly gentleman; +And, to say truth, Verona brags of him +To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: +I would not for the wealth of all the town +Here in my house do him disparagement: +Therefore be patient, take no note of him: +It is my will, the which if thou respect, +Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, +And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + +TYBALT: +It fits, when such a villain is a guest: +I'll not endure him. + +CAPULET: +He shall be endured: +What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; +Am I the master here, or you? go to. +You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! +You'll make a mutiny among my guests! +You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! + +TYBALT: +Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. + +CAPULET: +Go to, go to; +You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed? +This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: +You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time. +Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go: +Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame! +I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts! + +TYBALT: +Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting +Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. +I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall +Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. + +ROMEO: + +JULIET: +Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, +Which mannerly devotion shows in this; +For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, +And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. + +ROMEO: +Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + +JULIET: +Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. + +ROMEO: +O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; +They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + +JULIET: +Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. + +ROMEO: +Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. +Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. + +JULIET: +Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + +ROMEO: +Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! +Give me my sin again. + +JULIET: +You kiss by the book. + +Nurse: +Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + +ROMEO: +What is her mother? + +Nurse: +Marry, bachelor, +Her mother is the lady of the house, +And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous +I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal; +I tell you, he that can lay hold of her +Shall have the chinks. + +ROMEO: +Is she a Capulet? +O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. + +BENVOLIO: +Away, begone; the sport is at the best. + +ROMEO: +Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + +CAPULET: +Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; +We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. +Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all +I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. +More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed. +Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: +I'll to my rest. + +JULIET: +Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? + +Nurse: +The son and heir of old Tiberio. + +JULIET: +What's he that now is going out of door? + +Nurse: +Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio. + +JULIET: +What's he that follows there, that would not dance? + +Nurse: +I know not. + +JULIET: +Go ask his name: if he be married. +My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + +Nurse: +His name is Romeo, and a Montague; +The only son of your great enemy. + +JULIET: +My only love sprung from my only hate! +Too early seen unknown, and known too late! +Prodigious birth of love it is to me, +That I must love a loathed enemy. + +Nurse: +What's this? what's this? + +JULIET: +A rhyme I learn'd even now +Of one I danced withal. + +Nurse: +Anon, anon! +Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. + +Chorus: +Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, +And young affection gapes to be his heir; +That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, +With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. +Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, +Alike betwitched by the charm of looks, +But to his foe supposed he must complain, +And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: +Being held a foe, he may not have access +To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; +And she as much in love, her means much less +To meet her new-beloved any where: +But passion lends them power, time means, to meet +Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. + +ROMEO: +Can I go forward when my heart is here? +Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + +BENVOLIO: +Romeo! my cousin Romeo! + +MERCUTIO: +He is wise; +And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed. + +BENVOLIO: +He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: +Call, good Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, I'll conjure too. +Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! +Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: +Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; +Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;' +Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, +One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, +Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, +When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid! +He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; +The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. +I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, +By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, +By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh +And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, +That in thy likeness thou appear to us! + +BENVOLIO: +And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + +MERCUTIO: +This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him +To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle +Of some strange nature, letting it there stand +Till she had laid it and conjured it down; +That were some spite: my invocation +Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name +I conjure only but to raise up him. + +BENVOLIO: +Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, +To be consorted with the humorous night: +Blind is his love and best befits the dark. + +MERCUTIO: +If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. +Now will he sit under a medlar tree, +And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit +As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. +Romeo, that she were, O, that she were +An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear! +Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed; +This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: +Come, shall we go? + +BENVOLIO: +Go, then; for 'tis in vain +To seek him here that means not to be found. + +ROMEO: +He jests at scars that never felt a wound. +But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? +It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. +Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, +Who is already sick and pale with grief, +That thou her maid art far more fair than she: +Be not her maid, since she is envious; +Her vestal livery is but sick and green +And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. +It is my lady, O, it is my love! +O, that she knew she were! +She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? +Her eye discourses; I will answer it. +I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: +Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, +Having some business, do entreat her eyes +To twinkle in their spheres till they return. +What if her eyes were there, they in her head? +The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, +As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven +Would through the airy region stream so bright +That birds would sing and think it were not night. +See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! +O, that I were a glove upon that hand, +That I might touch that cheek! + +JULIET: +Ay me! + +ROMEO: +She speaks: +O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art +As glorious to this night, being o'er my head +As is a winged messenger of heaven +Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes +Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him +When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds +And sails upon the bosom of the air. + +JULIET: +O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? +Deny thy father and refuse thy name; +Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, +And I'll no longer be a Capulet. + +ROMEO: + +JULIET: +'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; +Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. +What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, +Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part +Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! +What's in a name? that which we call a rose +By any other name would smell as sweet; +So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, +Retain that dear perfection which he owes +Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, +And for that name which is no part of thee +Take all myself. + +ROMEO: +I take thee at thy word: +Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; +Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + +JULIET: +What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night +So stumblest on my counsel? + +ROMEO: +By a name +I know not how to tell thee who I am: +My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, +Because it is an enemy to thee; +Had I it written, I would tear the word. + +JULIET: +My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words +Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: +Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? + +ROMEO: +Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. + +JULIET: +How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? +The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, +And the place death, considering who thou art, +If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + +ROMEO: +With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; +For stony limits cannot hold love out, +And what love can do that dares love attempt; +Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. + +JULIET: +If they do see thee, they will murder thee. + +ROMEO: +Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye +Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, +And I am proof against their enmity. + +JULIET: +I would not for the world they saw thee here. + +ROMEO: +I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; +And but thou love me, let them find me here: +My life were better ended by their hate, +Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + +JULIET: +By whose direction found'st thou out this place? + +ROMEO: +By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; +He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. +I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far +As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, +I would adventure for such merchandise. + +JULIET: +Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, +Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek +For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night +Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny +What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! +Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' +And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, +Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries +Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, +If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: +Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, +I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, +So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. +In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, +And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: +But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true +Than those that have more cunning to be strange. +I should have been more strange, I must confess, +But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, +My true love's passion: therefore pardon me, +And not impute this yielding to light love, +Which the dark night hath so discovered. + +ROMEO: +Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear +That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-- + +JULIET: +O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, +That monthly changes in her circled orb, +Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + +ROMEO: +What shall I swear by? + +JULIET: +Do not swear at all; +Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, +Which is the god of my idolatry, +And I'll believe thee. + +ROMEO: +If my heart's dear love-- + +JULIET: +Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, +I have no joy of this contract to-night: +It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; +Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be +Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! +This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, +May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. +Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest +Come to thy heart as that within my breast! + +ROMEO: +O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + +JULIET: +What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? + +ROMEO: +The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. + +JULIET: +I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: +And yet I would it were to give again. + +ROMEO: +Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? + +JULIET: +But to be frank, and give it thee again. +And yet I wish but for the thing I have: +My bounty is as boundless as the sea, +My love as deep; the more I give to thee, +The more I have, for both are infinite. +I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! +Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. +Stay but a little, I will come again. + +ROMEO: +O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. +Being in night, all this is but a dream, +Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. + +JULIET: +Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. +If that thy bent of love be honourable, +Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, +By one that I'll procure to come to thee, +Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; +And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay +And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + +Nurse: + +JULIET: +I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well, +I do beseech thee-- + +Nurse: + +JULIET: +By and by, I come:-- +To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: +To-morrow will I send. + +ROMEO: +So thrive my soul-- + +JULIET: +A thousand times good night! + +ROMEO: +A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. +Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from +their books, +But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. + +JULIET: +Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice, +To lure this tassel-gentle back again! +Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; +Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, +And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, +With repetition of my Romeo's name. + +ROMEO: +It is my soul that calls upon my name: +How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, +Like softest music to attending ears! + +JULIET: +Romeo! + +ROMEO: +My dear? + +JULIET: +At what o'clock to-morrow +Shall I send to thee? + +ROMEO: +At the hour of nine. + +JULIET: +I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. +I have forgot why I did call thee back. + +ROMEO: +Let me stand here till thou remember it. + +JULIET: +I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, +Remembering how I love thy company. + +ROMEO: +And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, +Forgetting any other home but this. + +JULIET: +'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: +And yet no further than a wanton's bird; +Who lets it hop a little from her hand, +Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, +And with a silk thread plucks it back again, +So loving-jealous of his liberty. + +ROMEO: +I would I were thy bird. + +JULIET: +Sweet, so would I: +Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. +Good night, good night! parting is such +sweet sorrow, +That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + +ROMEO: +Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! +Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! +Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, +His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, +Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light, +And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels +From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels: +Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, +The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, +I must up-fill this osier cage of ours +With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. +The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; +What is her burying grave that is her womb, +And from her womb children of divers kind +We sucking on her natural bosom find, +Many for many virtues excellent, +None but for some and yet all different. +O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies +In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: +For nought so vile that on the earth doth live +But to the earth some special good doth give, +Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use +Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: +Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; +And vice sometimes by action dignified. +Within the infant rind of this small flower +Poison hath residence and medicine power: +For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; +Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. +Two such opposed kings encamp them still +In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; +And where the worser is predominant, +Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + +ROMEO: +Good morrow, father. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Benedicite! +What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? +Young son, it argues a distemper'd head +So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: +Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, +And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; +But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain +Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: +Therefore thy earliness doth me assure +Thou art up-roused by some distemperature; +Or if not so, then here I hit it right, +Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. + +ROMEO: +That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? + +ROMEO: +With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; +I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then? + +ROMEO: +I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. +I have been feasting with mine enemy, +Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, +That's by me wounded: both our remedies +Within thy help and holy physic lies: +I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, +My intercession likewise steads my foe. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; +Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + +ROMEO: +Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set +On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: +As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; +And all combined, save what thou must combine +By holy marriage: when and where and how +We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow, +I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, +That thou consent to marry us to-day. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! +Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, +So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies +Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. +Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine +Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! +How much salt water thrown away in waste, +To season love, that of it doth not taste! +The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, +Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; +Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit +Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: +If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, +Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: +And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then, +Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. + +ROMEO: +Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + +ROMEO: +And bad'st me bury love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Not in a grave, +To lay one in, another out to have. + +ROMEO: +I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now +Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; +The other did not so. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +O, she knew well +Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. +But come, young waverer, come, go with me, +In one respect I'll thy assistant be; +For this alliance may so happy prove, +To turn your households' rancour to pure love. + +ROMEO: +O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. + +MERCUTIO: +Where the devil should this Romeo be? +Came he not home to-night? + +BENVOLIO: +Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. + +MERCUTIO: +Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline. +Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. + +BENVOLIO: +Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, +Hath sent a letter to his father's house. + +MERCUTIO: +A challenge, on my life. + +BENVOLIO: +Romeo will answer it. + +MERCUTIO: +Any man that can write may answer a letter. + +BENVOLIO: +Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he +dares, being dared. + +MERCUTIO: +Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a +white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a +love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the +blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to +encounter Tybalt? + +BENVOLIO: +Why, what is Tybalt? + +MERCUTIO: +More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is +the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as +you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and +proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and +the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk +button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the +very first house, of the first and second cause: +ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the +hai! + +BENVOLIO: +The what? + +MERCUTIO: +The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting +fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu, +a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good +whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, +grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with +these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these +perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, +that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their +bones, their bones! + +BENVOLIO: +Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. + +MERCUTIO: +Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, +how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers +that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a +kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to +be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; +Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey +eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior +Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation +to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit +fairly last night. + +ROMEO: +Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + +MERCUTIO: +The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive? + +ROMEO: +Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in +such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy. + +MERCUTIO: +That's as much as to say, such a case as yours +constrains a man to bow in the hams. + +ROMEO: +Meaning, to court'sy. + +MERCUTIO: +Thou hast most kindly hit it. + +ROMEO: +A most courteous exposition. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + +ROMEO: +Pink for flower. + +MERCUTIO: +Right. + +ROMEO: +Why, then is my pump well flowered. + +MERCUTIO: +Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast +worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it +is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular. + +ROMEO: +O single-soled jest, solely singular for the +singleness. + +MERCUTIO: +Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. + +ROMEO: +Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have +done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of +thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: +was I with you there for the goose? + +ROMEO: +Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast +not there for the goose. + +MERCUTIO: +I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + +ROMEO: +Nay, good goose, bite not. + +MERCUTIO: +Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most +sharp sauce. + +ROMEO: +And is it not well served in to a sweet goose? + +MERCUTIO: +O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an +inch narrow to an ell broad! + +ROMEO: +I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added +to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. + +MERCUTIO: +Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? +now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art +thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: +for this drivelling love is like a great natural, +that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. + +BENVOLIO: +Stop there, stop there. + +MERCUTIO: +Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + +BENVOLIO: +Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + +MERCUTIO: +O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: +for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and +meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. + +ROMEO: +Here's goodly gear! + +MERCUTIO: +A sail, a sail! + +BENVOLIO: +Two, two; a shirt and a smock. + +Nurse: +Peter! + +PETER: +Anon! + +Nurse: +My fan, Peter. + +MERCUTIO: +Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the +fairer face. + +Nurse: +God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + +MERCUTIO: +God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. + +Nurse: +Is it good den? + +MERCUTIO: +'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the +dial is now upon the prick of noon. + +Nurse: +Out upon you! what a man are you! + +ROMEO: +One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to +mar. + +Nurse: +By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,' +quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I +may find the young Romeo? + +ROMEO: +I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when +you have found him than he was when you sought him: +I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. + +Nurse: +You say well. + +MERCUTIO: +Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; +wisely, wisely. + +Nurse: +if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with +you. + +BENVOLIO: +She will indite him to some supper. + +MERCUTIO: +A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho! + +ROMEO: +What hast thou found? + +MERCUTIO: +No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, +that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. +An old hare hoar, +And an old hare hoar, +Is very good meat in lent +But a hare that is hoar +Is too much for a score, +When it hoars ere it be spent. +Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll +to dinner, thither. + +ROMEO: +I will follow you. + +MERCUTIO: +Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, +'lady, lady, lady.' + +Nurse: +Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy +merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? + +ROMEO: +A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, +and will speak more in a minute than he will stand +to in a month. + +Nurse: +An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him +down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such +Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. +Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am +none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by +too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure? + +PETER: +I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon +should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare +draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a +good quarrel, and the law on my side. + +Nurse: +Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about +me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word: +and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you +out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: +but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into +a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross +kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman +is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double +with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered +to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. + +ROMEO: +Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I +protest unto thee-- + +Nurse: +Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much: +Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman. + +ROMEO: +What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me. + +Nurse: +I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as +I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. + +ROMEO: +Bid her devise +Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; +And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell +Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains. + +Nurse: +No truly sir; not a penny. + +ROMEO: +Go to; I say you shall. + +Nurse: +This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there. + +ROMEO: +And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall: +Within this hour my man shall be with thee +And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; +Which to the high top-gallant of my joy +Must be my convoy in the secret night. +Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains: +Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. + +Nurse: +Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. + +ROMEO: +What say'st thou, my dear nurse? + +Nurse: +Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, +Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + +ROMEO: +I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel. + +NURSE: +Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord, +Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there +is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain +lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief +see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her +sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer +man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks +as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not +rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? + +ROMEO: +Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. + +Nurse: +Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for +the--No; I know it begins with some other +letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of +it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good +to hear it. + +ROMEO: +Commend me to thy lady. + +Nurse: +Ay, a thousand times. +Peter! + +PETER: +Anon! + +Nurse: +Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace. + +JULIET: +The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; +In half an hour she promised to return. +Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. +O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, +Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, +Driving back shadows over louring hills: +Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, +And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. +Now is the sun upon the highmost hill +Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve +Is three long hours, yet she is not come. +Had she affections and warm youthful blood, +She would be as swift in motion as a ball; +My words would bandy her to my sweet love, +And his to me: +But old folks, many feign as they were dead; +Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. +O God, she comes! +O honey nurse, what news? +Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + +Nurse: +Peter, stay at the gate. + +JULIET: +Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad? +Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; +If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news +By playing it to me with so sour a face. + +Nurse: +I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: +Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had! + +JULIET: +I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: +Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak. + +Nurse: +Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile? +Do you not see that I am out of breath? + +JULIET: +How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath +To say to me that thou art out of breath? +The excuse that thou dost make in this delay +Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. +Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; +Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance: +Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? + +Nurse: +Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not +how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his +face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels +all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, +though they be not to be talked on, yet they are +past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy, +but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy +ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home? + +JULIET: +No, no: but all this did I know before. +What says he of our marriage? what of that? + +Nurse: +Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I! +It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. +My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back! +Beshrew your heart for sending me about, +To catch my death with jaunting up and down! + +JULIET: +I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. +Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? + +Nurse: +Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a +courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I +warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother? + +JULIET: +Where is my mother! why, she is within; +Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! +'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, +Where is your mother?' + +Nurse: +O God's lady dear! +Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow; +Is this the poultice for my aching bones? +Henceforward do your messages yourself. + +JULIET: +Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo? + +Nurse: +Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? + +JULIET: +I have. + +Nurse: +Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; +There stays a husband to make you a wife: +Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, +They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. +Hie you to church; I must another way, +To fetch a ladder, by the which your love +Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: +I am the drudge and toil in your delight, +But you shall bear the burden soon at night. +Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell. + +JULIET: +Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +So smile the heavens upon this holy act, +That after hours with sorrow chide us not! + +ROMEO: +Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, +It cannot countervail the exchange of joy +That one short minute gives me in her sight: +Do thou but close our hands with holy words, +Then love-devouring death do what he dare; +It is enough I may but call her mine. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +These violent delights have violent ends +And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, +Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey +Is loathsome in his own deliciousness +And in the taste confounds the appetite: +Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; +Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. +Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot +Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: +A lover may bestride the gossamer +That idles in the wanton summer air, +And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + +JULIET: +Good even to my ghostly confessor. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + +JULIET: +As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + +ROMEO: +Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy +Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more +To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath +This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue +Unfold the imagined happiness that both +Receive in either by this dear encounter. + +JULIET: +Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, +Brags of his substance, not of ornament: +They are but beggars that can count their worth; +But my true love is grown to such excess +I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Come, come with me, and we will make short work; +For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone +Till holy church incorporate two in one. + +BENVOLIO: +I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: +The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, +And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; +For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + +MERCUTIO: +Thou art like one of those fellows that when he +enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword +upon the table and says 'God send me no need of +thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws +it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. + +BENVOLIO: +Am I like such a fellow? + +MERCUTIO: +Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as +any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as +soon moody to be moved. + +BENVOLIO: +And what to? + +MERCUTIO: +Nay, an there were two such, we should have none +shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, +thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, +or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou +wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no +other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what +eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? +Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of +meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as +an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a +man for coughing in the street, because he hath +wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: +didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing +his new doublet before Easter? with another, for +tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou +wilt tutor me from quarrelling! + +BENVOLIO: +An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man +should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + +MERCUTIO: +The fee-simple! O simple! + +BENVOLIO: +By my head, here come the Capulets. + +MERCUTIO: +By my heel, I care not. + +TYBALT: +Follow me close, for I will speak to them. +Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. + +MERCUTIO: +And but one word with one of us? couple it with +something; make it a word and a blow. + +TYBALT: +You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you +will give me occasion. + +MERCUTIO: +Could you not take some occasion without giving? + +TYBALT: +Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,-- + +MERCUTIO: +Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an +thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but +discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall +make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! + +BENVOLIO: +We talk here in the public haunt of men: +Either withdraw unto some private place, +And reason coldly of your grievances, +Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. + +MERCUTIO: +Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; +I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. + +TYBALT: +Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. + +MERCUTIO: +But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: +Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; +Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.' + +TYBALT: +Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford +No better term than this,--thou art a villain. + +ROMEO: +Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee +Doth much excuse the appertaining rage +To such a greeting: villain am I none; +Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. + +TYBALT: +Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries +That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. + +ROMEO: +I do protest, I never injured thee, +But love thee better than thou canst devise, +Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: +And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender +As dearly as my own,--be satisfied. + +MERCUTIO: +O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! +Alla stoccata carries it away. +Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? + +TYBALT: +What wouldst thou have with me? + +MERCUTIO: +Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine +lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you +shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the +eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher +by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your +ears ere it be out. + +TYBALT: +I am for you. + +ROMEO: +Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + +MERCUTIO: +Come, sir, your passado. + +ROMEO: +Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. +Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! +Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath +Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: +Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! + +MERCUTIO: +I am hurt. +A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. +Is he gone, and hath nothing? + +BENVOLIO: +What, art thou hurt? + +MERCUTIO: +Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. +Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. + +ROMEO: +Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. + +MERCUTIO: +No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a +church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for +me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I +am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' +both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a +cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a +rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of +arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I +was hurt under your arm. + +ROMEO: +I thought all for the best. + +MERCUTIO: +Help me into some house, Benvolio, +Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! +They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, +And soundly too: your houses! + +ROMEO: +This gentleman, the prince's near ally, +My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt +In my behalf; my reputation stain'd +With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour +Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, +Thy beauty hath made me effeminate +And in my temper soften'd valour's steel! + +BENVOLIO: +O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! +That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, +Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + +ROMEO: +This day's black fate on more days doth depend; +This but begins the woe, others must end. + +BENVOLIO: +Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + +ROMEO: +Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! +Away to heaven, respective lenity, +And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! +Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, +That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul +Is but a little way above our heads, +Staying for thine to keep him company: +Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. + +TYBALT: +Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, +Shalt with him hence. + +ROMEO: +This shall determine that. + +BENVOLIO: +Romeo, away, be gone! +The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. +Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, +If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! + +ROMEO: +O, I am fortune's fool! + +BENVOLIO: +Why dost thou stay? + +First Citizen: +Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? +Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? + +BENVOLIO: +There lies that Tybalt. + +First Citizen: +Up, sir, go with me; +I charge thee in the princes name, obey. + +PRINCE: +Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + +BENVOLIO: +O noble prince, I can discover all +The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: +There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, +That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + +LADY CAPULET: +Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! +O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt +O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, +For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. +O cousin, cousin! + +PRINCE: +Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + +BENVOLIO: +Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; +Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink +How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal +Your high displeasure: all this uttered +With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, +Could not take truce with the unruly spleen +Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts +With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, +Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, +And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats +Cold death aside, and with the other sends +It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity, +Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, +'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than +his tongue, +His agile arm beats down their fatal points, +And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm +An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life +Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; +But by and by comes back to Romeo, +Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, +And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I +Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain. +And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. +This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + +LADY CAPULET: +He is a kinsman to the Montague; +Affection makes him false; he speaks not true: +Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, +And all those twenty could but kill one life. +I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; +Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. + +PRINCE: +Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; +Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + +MONTAGUE: +Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; +His fault concludes but what the law should end, +The life of Tybalt. + +PRINCE: +And for that offence +Immediately we do exile him hence: +I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, +My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; +But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine +That you shall all repent the loss of mine: +I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; +Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: +Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, +Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. +Bear hence this body and attend our will: +Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + +JULIET: +Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, +Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner +As Phaethon would whip you to the west, +And bring in cloudy night immediately. +Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, +That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo +Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. +Lovers can see to do their amorous rites +By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, +It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, +Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, +And learn me how to lose a winning match, +Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: +Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, +With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, +Think true love acted simple modesty. +Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; +For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night +Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. +Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, +Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, +Take him and cut him out in little stars, +And he will make the face of heaven so fine +That all the world will be in love with night +And pay no worship to the garish sun. +O, I have bought the mansion of a love, +But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, +Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day +As is the night before some festival +To an impatient child that hath new robes +And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, +And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks +But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. +Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords +That Romeo bid thee fetch? + +Nurse: +Ay, ay, the cords. + +JULIET: +Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? + +Nurse: +Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! +We are undone, lady, we are undone! +Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! + +JULIET: +Can heaven be so envious? + +Nurse: +Romeo can, +Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! +Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + +JULIET: +What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? +This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. +Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' +And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more +Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: +I am not I, if there be such an I; +Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' +If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: +Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + +Nurse: +I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- +God save the mark!--here on his manly breast: +A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; +Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, +All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. + +JULIET: +O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! +To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! +Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; +And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! + +Nurse: +O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! +O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! +That ever I should live to see thee dead! + +JULIET: +What storm is this that blows so contrary? +Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? +My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? +Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! +For who is living, if those two are gone? + +Nurse: +Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; +Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. + +JULIET: +O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? + +Nurse: +It did, it did; alas the day, it did! + +JULIET: +O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! +Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? +Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! +Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! +Despised substance of divinest show! +Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, +A damned saint, an honourable villain! +O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, +When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend +In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? +Was ever book containing such vile matter +So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell +In such a gorgeous palace! + +Nurse: +There's no trust, +No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, +All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. +Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae: +These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. +Shame come to Romeo! + +JULIET: +Blister'd be thy tongue +For such a wish! he was not born to shame: +Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; +For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd +Sole monarch of the universal earth. +O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + +Nurse: +Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? + +JULIET: +Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? +Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, +When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? +But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? +That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: +Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; +Your tributary drops belong to woe, +Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. +My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; +And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: +All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? +Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, +That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; +But, O, it presses to my memory, +Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: +'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;' +That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' +Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death +Was woe enough, if it had ended there: +Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship +And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, +Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' +Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, +Which modern lamentations might have moved? +But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, +'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, +Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, +All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' +There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, +In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. +Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? + +Nurse: +Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: +Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + +JULIET: +Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, +When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. +Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, +Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: +He made you for a highway to my bed; +But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. +Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; +And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! + +Nurse: +Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo +To comfort you: I wot well where he is. +Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: +I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. + +JULIET: +O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, +And bid him come to take his last farewell. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: +Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, +And thou art wedded to calamity. + +ROMEO: +Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? +What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, +That I yet know not? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Too familiar +Is my dear son with such sour company: +I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. + +ROMEO: +What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, +Not body's death, but body's banishment. + +ROMEO: +Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;' +For exile hath more terror in his look, +Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.' + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hence from Verona art thou banished: +Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + +ROMEO: +There is no world without Verona walls, +But purgatory, torture, hell itself. +Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, +And world's exile is death: then banished, +Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, +Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, +And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! +Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, +Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, +And turn'd that black word death to banishment: +This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. + +ROMEO: +'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, +Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog +And little mouse, every unworthy thing, +Live here in heaven and may look on her; +But Romeo may not: more validity, +More honourable state, more courtship lives +In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize +On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand +And steal immortal blessing from her lips, +Who even in pure and vestal modesty, +Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; +But Romeo may not; he is banished: +Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: +They are free men, but I am banished. +And say'st thou yet that exile is not death? +Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, +No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, +But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'? +O friar, the damned use that word in hell; +Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, +Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, +A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, +To mangle me with that word 'banished'? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word. + +ROMEO: +O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I'll give thee armour to keep off that word: +Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, +To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + +ROMEO: +Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy! +Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, +Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, +It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +O, then I see that madmen have no ears. + +ROMEO: +How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + +ROMEO: +Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: +Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, +An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, +Doting like me and like me banished, +Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, +And fall upon the ground, as I do now, +Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. + +ROMEO: +Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, +Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; +Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up; +Run to my study. By and by! God's will, +What simpleness is this! I come, I come! +Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? + +Nurse: + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Welcome, then. + +Nurse: +O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, +Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + +Nurse: +O, he is even in my mistress' case, +Just in her case! O woful sympathy! +Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, +Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. +Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man: +For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; +Why should you fall into so deep an O? + +ROMEO: +Nurse! + +Nurse: +Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. + +ROMEO: +Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her? +Doth she not think me an old murderer, +Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy +With blood removed but little from her own? +Where is she? and how doth she? and what says +My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love? + +Nurse: +O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; +And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, +And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, +And then down falls again. + +ROMEO: +As if that name, +Shot from the deadly level of a gun, +Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand +Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me, +In what vile part of this anatomy +Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack +The hateful mansion. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold thy desperate hand: +Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: +Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote +The unreasonable fury of a beast: +Unseemly woman in a seeming man! +Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! +Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order, +I thought thy disposition better temper'd. +Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? +And stay thy lady too that lives in thee, +By doing damned hate upon thyself? +Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? +Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet +In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. +Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; +Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, +And usest none in that true use indeed +Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: +Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, +Digressing from the valour of a man; +Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, +Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; +Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, +Misshapen in the conduct of them both, +Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask, +Is set afire by thine own ignorance, +And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. +What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive, +For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; +There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, +But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too: +The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend +And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: +A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back; +Happiness courts thee in her best array; +But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, +Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: +Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. +Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, +Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: +But look thou stay not till the watch be set, +For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; +Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time +To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, +Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back +With twenty hundred thousand times more joy +Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. +Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady; +And bid her hasten all the house to bed, +Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: +Romeo is coming. + +Nurse: +O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night +To hear good counsel: O, what learning is! +My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. + +ROMEO: +Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + +Nurse: +Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir: +Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. + +ROMEO: +How well my comfort is revived by this! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state: +Either be gone before the watch be set, +Or by the break of day disguised from hence: +Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, +And he shall signify from time to time +Every good hap to you that chances here: +Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night. + +ROMEO: +But that a joy past joy calls out on me, +It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell. + +CAPULET: +Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, +That we have had no time to move our daughter: +Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, +And so did I:--Well, we were born to die. +'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: +I promise you, but for your company, +I would have been a-bed an hour ago. + +PARIS: +These times of woe afford no time to woo. +Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. + +LADY CAPULET: +I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; +To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness. + +CAPULET: +Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender +Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled +In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not. +Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; +Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; +And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-- +But, soft! what day is this? + +PARIS: +Monday, my lord, + +CAPULET: +Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, +O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, +She shall be married to this noble earl. +Will you be ready? do you like this haste? +We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two; +For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, +It may be thought we held him carelessly, +Being our kinsman, if we revel much: +Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, +And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + +PARIS: +My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. + +CAPULET: +Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then. +Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, +Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. +Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho! +Afore me! it is so very very late, +That we may call it early by and by. +Good night. + +JULIET: +Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: +It was the nightingale, and not the lark, +That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; +Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: +Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + +ROMEO: +It was the lark, the herald of the morn, +No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks +Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: +Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day +Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. +I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + +JULIET: +Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: +It is some meteor that the sun exhales, +To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, +And light thee on thy way to Mantua: +Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. + +ROMEO: +Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; +I am content, so thou wilt have it so. +I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, +'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; +Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat +The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: +I have more care to stay than will to go: +Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. +How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day. + +JULIET: +It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! +It is the lark that sings so out of tune, +Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. +Some say the lark makes sweet division; +This doth not so, for she divideth us: +Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, +O, now I would they had changed voices too! +Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, +Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, +O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. + +ROMEO: +More light and light; more dark and dark our woes! + +Nurse: +Madam! + +JULIET: +Nurse? + +Nurse: +Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: +The day is broke; be wary, look about. + +JULIET: +Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + +ROMEO: +Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. + +JULIET: +Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! +I must hear from thee every day in the hour, +For in a minute there are many days: +O, by this count I shall be much in years +Ere I again behold my Romeo! + +ROMEO: +Farewell! +I will omit no opportunity +That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + +JULIET: +O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? + +ROMEO: +I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve +For sweet discourses in our time to come. + +JULIET: +O God, I have an ill-divining soul! +Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, +As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: +Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. + +ROMEO: +And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: +Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! + +JULIET: +O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: +If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him. +That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; +For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, +But send him back. + +LADY CAPULET: + +JULIET: +Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? +Is she not down so late, or up so early? +What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? + +LADY CAPULET: +Why, how now, Juliet! + +JULIET: +Madam, I am not well. + +LADY CAPULET: +Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? +What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? +An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; +Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; +But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + +JULIET: +Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + +LADY CAPULET: +So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend +Which you weep for. + +JULIET: +Feeling so the loss, +Cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + +LADY CAPULET: +Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, +As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. + +JULIET: +What villain madam? + +LADY CAPULET: +That same villain, Romeo. + +JULIET: + +LADY CAPULET: +That is, because the traitor murderer lives. + +JULIET: +Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands: +Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! + +LADY CAPULET: +We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: +Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, +Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, +Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, +That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: +And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. + +JULIET: +Indeed, I never shall be satisfied +With Romeo, till I behold him--dead-- +Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd. +Madam, if you could find out but a man +To bear a poison, I would temper it; +That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, +Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors +To hear him named, and cannot come to him. +To wreak the love I bore my cousin +Upon his body that slaughter'd him! + +LADY CAPULET: +Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. +But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + +JULIET: +And joy comes well in such a needy time: +What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + +LADY CAPULET: +Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; +One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, +Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, +That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for. + +JULIET: +Madam, in happy time, what day is that? + +LADY CAPULET: +Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, +The gallant, young and noble gentleman, +The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, +Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + +JULIET: +Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, +He shall not make me there a joyful bride. +I wonder at this haste; that I must wed +Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. +I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, +I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, +It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, +Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! + +LADY CAPULET: +Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, +And see how he will take it at your hands. + +CAPULET: +When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; +But for the sunset of my brother's son +It rains downright. +How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? +Evermore showering? In one little body +Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; +For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, +Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, +Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; +Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, +Without a sudden calm, will overset +Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! +Have you deliver'd to her our decree? + +LADY CAPULET: +Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. +I would the fool were married to her grave! + +CAPULET: +Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. +How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? +Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, +Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought +So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + +JULIET: +Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: +Proud can I never be of what I hate; +But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. + +CAPULET: +How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this? +'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;' +And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you, +Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds, +But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, +To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, +Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. +Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! +You tallow-face! + +LADY CAPULET: +Fie, fie! what, are you mad? + +JULIET: +Good father, I beseech you on my knees, +Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + +CAPULET: +Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! +I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, +Or never after look me in the face: +Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; +My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest +That God had lent us but this only child; +But now I see this one is one too much, +And that we have a curse in having her: +Out on her, hilding! + +Nurse: +God in heaven bless her! +You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + +CAPULET: +And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, +Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. + +Nurse: +I speak no treason. + +CAPULET: +O, God ye god-den. + +Nurse: +May not one speak? + +CAPULET: +Peace, you mumbling fool! +Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl; +For here we need it not. + +LADY CAPULET: +You are too hot. + +CAPULET: +God's bread! it makes me mad: +Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, +Alone, in company, still my care hath been +To have her match'd: and having now provided +A gentleman of noble parentage, +Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, +Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, +Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; +And then to have a wretched puling fool, +A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, +To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love, +I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.' +But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you: +Graze where you will you shall not house with me: +Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. +Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: +An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; +And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in +the streets, +For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, +Nor what is mine shall never do thee good: +Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. + +JULIET: +Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, +That sees into the bottom of my grief? +O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! +Delay this marriage for a month, a week; +Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed +In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + +LADY CAPULET: +Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: +Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. + +JULIET: +O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented? +My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; +How shall that faith return again to earth, +Unless that husband send it me from heaven +By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. +Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems +Upon so soft a subject as myself! +What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? +Some comfort, nurse. + +Nurse: +Faith, here it is. +Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, +That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; +Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. +Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, +I think it best you married with the county. +O, he's a lovely gentleman! +Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, +Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye +As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, +I think you are happy in this second match, +For it excels your first: or if it did not, +Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were, +As living here and you no use of him. + +JULIET: +Speakest thou from thy heart? + +Nurse: +And from my soul too; +Or else beshrew them both. + +JULIET: +Amen! + +Nurse: +What? + +JULIET: +Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. +Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, +Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, +To make confession and to be absolved. + +Nurse: +Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. + +JULIET: +Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! +Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, +Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue +Which she hath praised him with above compare +So many thousand times? Go, counsellor; +Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. +I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: +If all else fail, myself have power to die. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. + +PARIS: +My father Capulet will have it so; +And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +You say you do not know the lady's mind: +Uneven is the course, I like it not. + +PARIS: +Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, +And therefore have I little talk'd of love; +For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. +Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous +That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, +And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, +To stop the inundation of her tears; +Which, too much minded by herself alone, +May be put from her by society: +Now do you know the reason of this haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: + +PARIS: +Happily met, my lady and my wife! + +JULIET: +That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + +PARIS: +That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. + +JULIET: +What must be shall be. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +That's a certain text. + +PARIS: +Come you to make confession to this father? + +JULIET: +To answer that, I should confess to you. + +PARIS: +Do not deny to him that you love me. + +JULIET: +I will confess to you that I love him. + +PARIS: +So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + +JULIET: +If I do so, it will be of more price, +Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. + +PARIS: +Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. + +JULIET: +The tears have got small victory by that; +For it was bad enough before their spite. + +PARIS: +Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. + +JULIET: +That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; +And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + +PARIS: +Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. + +JULIET: +It may be so, for it is not mine own. +Are you at leisure, holy father, now; +Or shall I come to you at evening mass? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. +My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + +PARIS: +God shield I should disturb devotion! +Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: +Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. + +JULIET: +O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, +Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; +It strains me past the compass of my wits: +I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, +On Thursday next be married to this county. + +JULIET: +Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, +Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: +If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, +Do thou but call my resolution wise, +And with this knife I'll help it presently. +God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; +And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, +Shall be the label to another deed, +Or my true heart with treacherous revolt +Turn to another, this shall slay them both: +Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, +Give me some present counsel, or, behold, +'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife +Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that +Which the commission of thy years and art +Could to no issue of true honour bring. +Be not so long to speak; I long to die, +If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, +Which craves as desperate an execution. +As that is desperate which we would prevent. +If, rather than to marry County Paris, +Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, +Then is it likely thou wilt undertake +A thing like death to chide away this shame, +That copest with death himself to scape from it: +And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. + +JULIET: +O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, +From off the battlements of yonder tower; +Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk +Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; +Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, +O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, +With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; +Or bid me go into a new-made grave +And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; +Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; +And I will do it without fear or doubt, +To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent +To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: +To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; +Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: +Take thou this vial, being then in bed, +And this distilled liquor drink thou off; +When presently through all thy veins shall run +A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse +Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: +No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; +The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade +To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, +Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; +Each part, deprived of supple government, +Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: +And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death +Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, +And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. +Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes +To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: +Then, as the manner of our country is, +In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier +Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault +Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. +In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, +Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, +And hither shall he come: and he and I +Will watch thy waking, and that very night +Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. +And this shall free thee from this present shame; +If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, +Abate thy valour in the acting it. + +JULIET: +Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous +In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed +To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + +JULIET: +Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. +Farewell, dear father! + +CAPULET: +So many guests invite as here are writ. +Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + +Second Servant: +You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they +can lick their fingers. + +CAPULET: +How canst thou try them so? + +Second Servant: +Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his +own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his +fingers goes not with me. + +CAPULET: +Go, be gone. +We shall be much unfurnished for this time. +What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? + +Nurse: +Ay, forsooth. + +CAPULET: +Well, he may chance to do some good on her: +A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. + +Nurse: +See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + +CAPULET: +How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding? + +JULIET: +Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin +Of disobedient opposition +To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd +By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, +And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you! +Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. + +CAPULET: +Send for the county; go tell him of this: +I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. + +JULIET: +I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; +And gave him what becomed love I might, +Not step o'er the bounds of modesty. + +CAPULET: +Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up: +This is as't should be. Let me see the county; +Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. +Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar, +Our whole city is much bound to him. + +JULIET: +Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, +To help me sort such needful ornaments +As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? + +LADY CAPULET: +No, not till Thursday; there is time enough. + +CAPULET: +Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow. + +LADY CAPULET: +We shall be short in our provision: +'Tis now near night. + +CAPULET: +Tush, I will stir about, +And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife: +Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; +I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone; +I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho! +They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself +To County Paris, to prepare him up +Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light, +Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. + +JULIET: +Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse, +I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night, +For I have need of many orisons +To move the heavens to smile upon my state, +Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin. + +LADY CAPULET: +What, are you busy, ho? need you my help? + +JULIET: +No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries +As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: +So please you, let me now be left alone, +And let the nurse this night sit up with you; +For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, +In this so sudden business. + +LADY CAPULET: +Good night: +Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. + +JULIET: +Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. +I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, +That almost freezes up the heat of life: +I'll call them back again to comfort me: +Nurse! What should she do here? +My dismal scene I needs must act alone. +Come, vial. +What if this mixture do not work at all? +Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? +No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. +What if it be a poison, which the friar +Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, +Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, +Because he married me before to Romeo? +I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, +For he hath still been tried a holy man. +How if, when I am laid into the tomb, +I wake before the time that Romeo +Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! +Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, +To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, +And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? +Or, if I live, is it not very like, +The horrible conceit of death and night, +Together with the terror of the place,-- +As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, +Where, for these many hundred years, the bones +Of all my buried ancestors are packed: +Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, +Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, +At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- +Alack, alack, is it not like that I, +So early waking, what with loathsome smells, +And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, +That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:-- +O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, +Environed with all these hideous fears? +And madly play with my forefather's joints? +And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? +And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, +As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? +O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost +Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body +Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay! +Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. + +LADY CAPULET: +Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. + +Nurse: +They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + +CAPULET: +Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd, +The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock: +Look to the baked meats, good Angelica: +Spare not for the cost. + +Nurse: +Go, you cot-quean, go, +Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow +For this night's watching. + +CAPULET: +No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now +All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. + +LADY CAPULET: +Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; +But I will watch you from such watching now. + +CAPULET: +A jealous hood, a jealous hood! +Now, fellow, +What's there? + +First Servant: +Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + +CAPULET: +Make haste, make haste. +Sirrah, fetch drier logs: +Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. + +Second Servant: +I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, +And never trouble Peter for the matter. + +CAPULET: +Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! +Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day: +The county will be here with music straight, +For so he said he would: I hear him near. +Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! +Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up; +I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste, +Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already: +Make haste, I say. + +Nurse: +Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she: +Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed! +Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride! +What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now; +Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, +The County Paris hath set up his rest, +That you shall rest but little. God forgive me, +Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! +I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam! +Ay, let the county take you in your bed; +He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? +What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again! +I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady! +Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead! +O, well-a-day, that ever I was born! +Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! + +LADY CAPULET: +What noise is here? + +Nurse: +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET: +What is the matter? + +Nurse: +Look, look! O heavy day! + +LADY CAPULET: +O me, O me! My child, my only life, +Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! +Help, help! Call help. + +CAPULET: +For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. + +Nurse: +She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day! + +LADY CAPULET: +Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! + +CAPULET: +Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold: +Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; +Life and these lips have long been separated: +Death lies on her like an untimely frost +Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + +Nurse: +O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET: +O woful time! + +CAPULET: +Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, +Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + +CAPULET: +Ready to go, but never to return. +O son! the night before thy wedding-day +Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, +Flower as she was, deflowered by him. +Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; +My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, +And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. + +PARIS: +Have I thought long to see this morning's face, +And doth it give me such a sight as this? + +LADY CAPULET: +Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! +Most miserable hour that e'er time saw +In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! +But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, +But one thing to rejoice and solace in, +And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! + +Nurse: +O woe! O woful, woful, woful day! +Most lamentable day, most woful day, +That ever, ever, I did yet behold! +O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! +Never was seen so black a day as this: +O woful day, O woful day! + +PARIS: +Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! +Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, +By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! +O love! O life! not life, but love in death! + +CAPULET: +Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! +Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now +To murder, murder our solemnity? +O child! O child! my soul, and not my child! +Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead; +And with my child my joys are buried. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not +In these confusions. Heaven and yourself +Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all, +And all the better is it for the maid: +Your part in her you could not keep from death, +But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. +The most you sought was her promotion; +For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced: +And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced +Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? +O, in this love, you love your child so ill, +That you run mad, seeing that she is well: +She's not well married that lives married long; +But she's best married that dies married young. +Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary +On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, +In all her best array bear her to church: +For though fond nature bids us an lament, +Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. + +CAPULET: +All things that we ordained festival, +Turn from their office to black funeral; +Our instruments to melancholy bells, +Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, +Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, +Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, +And all things change them to the contrary. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him; +And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare +To follow this fair corse unto her grave: +The heavens do lour upon you for some ill; +Move them no more by crossing their high will. + +First Musician: +Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone. + +Nurse: +Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up; +For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. + +First Musician: +Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + +PETER: +Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's +ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' + +First Musician: +Why 'Heart's ease?' + +PETER: +O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My +heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump, +to comfort me. + +First Musician: +Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. + +PETER: +You will not, then? + +First Musician: +No. + +PETER: +I will then give it you soundly. + +First Musician: +What will you give us? + +PETER: +No money, on my faith, but the gleek; +I will give you the minstrel. + +First Musician: +Then I will give you the serving-creature. + +PETER: +Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on +your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, +I'll fa you; do you note me? + +First Musician: +An you re us and fa us, you note us. + +Second Musician: +Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + +PETER: +Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you +with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer +me like men: +'When griping grief the heart doth wound, +And doleful dumps the mind oppress, +Then music with her silver sound'-- +why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver +sound'? What say you, Simon Catling? + +Musician: +Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + +PETER: +Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? + +Second Musician: +I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. + +PETER: +Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? + +Third Musician: +Faith, I know not what to say. + +PETER: +O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say +for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,' +because musicians have no gold for sounding: +'Then music with her silver sound +With speedy help doth lend redress.' + +First Musician: +What a pestilent knave is this same! + +Second Musician: +Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the +mourners, and stay dinner. + +ROMEO: +If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, +My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: +My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; +And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit +Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. +I dreamt my lady came and found me dead-- +Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave +to think!-- +And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, +That I revived, and was an emperor. +Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, +When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! +News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar! +Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? +How doth my lady? Is my father well? +How fares my Juliet? that I ask again; +For nothing can be ill, if she be well. + +BALTHASAR: +Then she is well, and nothing can be ill: +Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, +And her immortal part with angels lives. +I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, +And presently took post to tell it you: +O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, +Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + +ROMEO: +Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! +Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, +And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night. + +BALTHASAR: +I do beseech you, sir, have patience: +Your looks are pale and wild, and do import +Some misadventure. + +ROMEO: +Tush, thou art deceived: +Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. +Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? + +BALTHASAR: +No, my good lord. + +ROMEO: +No matter: get thee gone, +And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. +Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. +Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift +To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! +I do remember an apothecary,-- +And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted +In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, +Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, +Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: +And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, +An alligator stuff'd, and other skins +Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves +A beggarly account of empty boxes, +Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, +Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, +Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. +Noting this penury, to myself I said +'An if a man did need a poison now, +Whose sale is present death in Mantua, +Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' +O, this same thought did but forerun my need; +And this same needy man must sell it me. +As I remember, this should be the house. +Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. +What, ho! apothecary! + +Apothecary: +Who calls so loud? + +ROMEO: +Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: +Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have +A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear +As will disperse itself through all the veins +That the life-weary taker may fall dead +And that the trunk may be discharged of breath +As violently as hasty powder fired +Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. + +Apothecary: +Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law +Is death to any he that utters them. + +ROMEO: +Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, +And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, +Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, +Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; +The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; +The world affords no law to make thee rich; +Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. + +Apothecary: +My poverty, but not my will, consents. + +ROMEO: +I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. + +Apothecary: +Put this in any liquid thing you will, +And drink it off; and, if you had the strength +Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. + +ROMEO: +There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, +Doing more murders in this loathsome world, +Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. +I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. +Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. +Come, cordial and not poison, go with me +To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. + +FRIAR JOHN: +Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +This same should be the voice of Friar John. +Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? +Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + +FRIAR JOHN: +Going to find a bare-foot brother out +One of our order, to associate me, +Here in this city visiting the sick, +And finding him, the searchers of the town, +Suspecting that we both were in a house +Where the infectious pestilence did reign, +Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; +So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? + +FRIAR JOHN: +I could not send it,--here it is again,-- +Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, +So fearful were they of infection. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, +The letter was not nice but full of charge +Of dear import, and the neglecting it +May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; +Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight +Unto my cell. + +FRIAR JOHN: +Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Now must I to the monument alone; +Within three hours will fair Juliet wake: +She will beshrew me much that Romeo +Hath had no notice of these accidents; +But I will write again to Mantua, +And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; +Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! + +PARIS: +Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof: +Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. +Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, +Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; +So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, +Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, +But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, +As signal that thou hear'st something approach. +Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + +PAGE: + +PARIS: +Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,-- +O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;-- +Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, +Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: +The obsequies that I for thee will keep +Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. +The boy gives warning something doth approach. +What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, +To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? +What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile. + +ROMEO: +Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. +Hold, take this letter; early in the morning +See thou deliver it to my lord and father. +Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee, +Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, +And do not interrupt me in my course. +Why I descend into this bed of death, +Is partly to behold my lady's face; +But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger +A precious ring, a ring that I must use +In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: +But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry +In what I further shall intend to do, +By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint +And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: +The time and my intents are savage-wild, +More fierce and more inexorable far +Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + +BALTHASAR: +I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + +ROMEO: +So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that: +Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow. + +BALTHASAR: + +ROMEO: +Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, +Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, +Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, +And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! + +PARIS: +This is that banish'd haughty Montague, +That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief, +It is supposed, the fair creature died; +And here is come to do some villanous shame +To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. +Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague! +Can vengeance be pursued further than death? +Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee: +Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. + +ROMEO: +I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. +Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; +Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone; +Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, +Put not another sin upon my head, +By urging me to fury: O, be gone! +By heaven, I love thee better than myself; +For I come hither arm'd against myself: +Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, +A madman's mercy bade thee run away. + +PARIS: +I do defy thy conjurations, +And apprehend thee for a felon here. + +ROMEO: +Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy! + +PAGE: +O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + +PARIS: +O, I am slain! +If thou be merciful, +Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. + +ROMEO: +In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. +Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! +What said my man, when my betossed soul +Did not attend him as we rode? I think +He told me Paris should have married Juliet: +Said he not so? or did I dream it so? +Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, +To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, +One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! +I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave; +A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, +For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes +This vault a feasting presence full of light. +Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. +How oft when men are at the point of death +Have they been merry! which their keepers call +A lightning before death: O, how may I +Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! +Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, +Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: +Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet +Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, +And death's pale flag is not advanced there. +Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? +O, what more favour can I do to thee, +Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain +To sunder his that was thine enemy? +Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, +Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe +That unsubstantial death is amorous, +And that the lean abhorred monster keeps +Thee here in dark to be his paramour? +For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; +And never from this palace of dim night +Depart again: here, here will I remain +With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here +Will I set up my everlasting rest, +And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars +From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! +Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you +The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss +A dateless bargain to engrossing death! +Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! +Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on +The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! +Here's to my love! +O true apothecary! +Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night +Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? + +BALTHASAR: +Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, +What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light +To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, +It burneth in the Capel's monument. + +BALTHASAR: +It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, +One that you love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Who is it? + +BALTHASAR: +Romeo. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +How long hath he been there? + +BALTHASAR: +Full half an hour. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Go with me to the vault. + +BALTHASAR: +I dare not, sir +My master knows not but I am gone hence; +And fearfully did menace me with death, +If I did stay to look on his intents. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: +O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. + +BALTHASAR: +As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, +I dreamt my master and another fought, +And that my master slew him. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +Romeo! +Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains +The stony entrance of this sepulchre? +What mean these masterless and gory swords +To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? +Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too? +And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour +Is guilty of this lamentable chance! +The lady stirs. + +JULIET: +O comfortable friar! where is my lord? +I do remember well where I should be, +And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest +Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: +A greater power than we can contradict +Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. +Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; +And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee +Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: +Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; +Come, go, good Juliet, +I dare no longer stay. + +JULIET: +Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. +What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? +Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: +O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop +To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; +Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, +To make die with a restorative. +Thy lips are warm. + +First Watchman: + +JULIET: +Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! +This is thy sheath; +there rust, and let me die. + +PAGE: +This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. + +First Watchman: +The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: +Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach. +Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, +And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, +Who here hath lain these two days buried. +Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets: +Raise up the Montagues: some others search: +We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; +But the true ground of all these piteous woes +We cannot without circumstance descry. + +Second Watchman: +Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. + +First Watchman: +Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. + +Third Watchman: +Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps: +We took this mattock and this spade from him, +As he was coming from this churchyard side. + +First Watchman: +A great suspicion: stay the friar too. + +PRINCE: +What misadventure is so early up, +That calls our person from our morning's rest? + +CAPULET: +What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? + +LADY CAPULET: +The people in the street cry Romeo, +Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run, +With open outcry toward our monument. + +PRINCE: +What fear is this which startles in our ears? + +First Watchman: +Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; +And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, +Warm and new kill'd. + +PRINCE: +Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + +First Watchman: +Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man; +With instruments upon them, fit to open +These dead men's tombs. + +CAPULET: +O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! +This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house +Is empty on the back of Montague,-- +And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom! + +LADY CAPULET: +O me! this sight of death is as a bell, +That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + +PRINCE: +Come, Montague; for thou art early up, +To see thy son and heir more early down. + +MONTAGUE: +Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; +Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: +What further woe conspires against mine age? + +PRINCE: +Look, and thou shalt see. + +MONTAGUE: +O thou untaught! what manners is in this? +To press before thy father to a grave? + +PRINCE: +Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, +Till we can clear these ambiguities, +And know their spring, their head, their +true descent; +And then will I be general of your woes, +And lead you even to death: meantime forbear, +And let mischance be slave to patience. +Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I am the greatest, able to do least, +Yet most suspected, as the time and place +Doth make against me of this direful murder; +And here I stand, both to impeach and purge +Myself condemned and myself excused. + +PRINCE: +Then say at once what thou dost know in this. + +FRIAR LAURENCE: +I will be brief, for my short date of breath +Is not so long as is a tedious tale. +Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; +And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: +I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day +Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death +Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city, +For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. +You, to remove that siege of grief from her, +Betroth'd and would have married her perforce +To County Paris: then comes she to me, +And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean +To rid her from this second marriage, +Or in my cell there would she kill herself. +Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, +A sleeping potion; which so took effect +As I intended, for it wrought on her +The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, +That he should hither come as this dire night, +To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, +Being the time the potion's force should cease. +But he which bore my letter, Friar John, +Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight +Return'd my letter back. Then all alone +At the prefixed hour of her waking, +Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; +Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, +Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: +But when I came, some minute ere the time +Of her awaking, here untimely lay +The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. +She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, +And bear this work of heaven with patience: +But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; +And she, too desperate, would not go with me, +But, as it seems, did violence on herself. +All this I know; and to the marriage +Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this +Miscarried by my fault, let my old life +Be sacrificed, some hour before his time, +Unto the rigour of severest law. + +PRINCE: +We still have known thee for a holy man. +Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? + +BALTHASAR: +I brought my master news of Juliet's death; +And then in post he came from Mantua +To this same place, to this same monument. +This letter he early bid me give his father, +And threatened me with death, going in the vault, +I departed not and left him there. + +PRINCE: +Give me the letter; I will look on it. +Where is the county's page, that raised the watch? +Sirrah, what made your master in this place? + +PAGE: +He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; +And bid me stand aloof, and so I did: +Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; +And by and by my master drew on him; +And then I ran away to call the watch. + +PRINCE: +This letter doth make good the friar's words, +Their course of love, the tidings of her death: +And here he writes that he did buy a poison +Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal +Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. +Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! +See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, +That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. +And I for winking at your discords too +Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd. + +CAPULET: +O brother Montague, give me thy hand: +This is my daughter's jointure, for no more +Can I demand. + +MONTAGUE: +But I can give thee more: +For I will raise her statue in pure gold; +That while Verona by that name is known, +There shall no figure at such rate be set +As that of true and faithful Juliet. + +CAPULET: +As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie; +Poor sacrifices of our enmity! + +PRINCE: +A glooming peace this morning with it brings; +The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: +Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; +Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: +For never was a story of more woe +Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. + +WARWICK: +I wonder how the king escaped our hands. + +YORK: +While we pursued the horsemen of the north, +He slily stole away and left his men: +Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, +Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, +Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself, +Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast, +Charged our main battle's front, and breaking in +Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. + +EDWARD: +Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, +Is either slain or wounded dangerously; +I cleft his beaver with a downright blow: +That this is true, father, behold his blood. + +MONTAGUE: +And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood, +Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd. + +RICHARD: +Speak thou for me and tell them what I did. + +YORK: +Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. +But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? + +NORFOLK: +Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! + +RICHARD: +Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head. + +WARWICK: +And so do I. Victorious Prince of York, +Before I see thee seated in that throne +Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, +I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. +This is the palace of the fearful king, +And this the regal seat: possess it, York; +For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs' + +YORK: +Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will; +For hither we have broken in by force. + +NORFOLK: +We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die. + +YORK: +Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords; +And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. + +WARWICK: +And when the king comes, offer no violence, +Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. + +YORK: +The queen this day here holds her parliament, +But little thinks we shall be of her council: +By words or blows here let us win our right. + +RICHARD: +Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this house. + +WARWICK: +The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, +Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king, +And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice +Hath made us by-words to our enemies. + +YORK: +Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute; +I mean to take possession of my right. + +WARWICK: +Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, +The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, +Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. +I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares: +Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. + +KING HENRY VI: +My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, +Even in the chair of state: belike he means, +Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer, +To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. +Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father. +And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge +On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +If I be not, heavens be revenged on me! + +CLIFFORD: +The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. + +WESTMORELAND: +What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down: +My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it. + +KING HENRY VI: +Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland. + +CLIFFORD: +Patience is for poltroons, such as he: +He durst not sit there, had your father lived. +My gracious lord, here in the parliament +Let us assail the family of York. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Well hast thou spoken, cousin: be it so. + +KING HENRY VI: +Ah, know you not the city favours them, +And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? + +EXETER: +But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. + +KING HENRY VI: +Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, +To make a shambles of the parliament-house! +Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats +Shall be the war that Henry means to use. +Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne, +and kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; +I am thy sovereign. + +YORK: +I am thine. + +EXETER: +For shame, come down: he made thee Duke of York. + +YORK: +'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. + +EXETER: +Thy father was a traitor to the crown. + +WARWICK: +Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown +In following this usurping Henry. + +CLIFFORD: +Whom should he follow but his natural king? + +WARWICK: +True, Clifford; and that's Richard Duke of York. + +KING HENRY VI: +And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? + +YORK: +It must and shall be so: content thyself. + +WARWICK: +Be Duke of Lancaster; let him be king. + +WESTMORELAND: +He is both king and Duke of Lancaster; +And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. + +WARWICK: +And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget +That we are those which chased you from the field +And slew your fathers, and with colours spread +March'd through the city to the palace gates. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; +And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. + +WESTMORELAND: +Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons, +Thy kinsman and thy friends, I'll have more lives +Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. + +CLIFFORD: +Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, +I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger +As shall revenge his death before I stir. + +WARWICK: +Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless threats! + +YORK: +Will you we show our title to the crown? +If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. + +KING HENRY VI: +What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? +Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; +Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March: +I am the son of Henry the Fifth, +Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop +And seized upon their towns and provinces. + +WARWICK: +Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. + +KING HENRY VI: +The lord protector lost it, and not I: +When I was crown'd I was but nine months old. + +RICHARD: +You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose. +Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. + +EDWARD: +Sweet father, do so; set it on your head. + +MONTAGUE: +Good brother, as thou lovest and honourest arms, +Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus. + +RICHARD: +Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly. + +YORK: +Sons, peace! + +KING HENRY VI: +Peace, thou! and give King Henry leave to speak. + +WARWICK: +Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords; +And be you silent and attentive too, +For he that interrupts him shall not live. + +KING HENRY VI: +Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, +Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? +No: first shall war unpeople this my realm; +Ay, and their colours, often borne in France, +And now in England to our heart's great sorrow, +Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords? +My title's good, and better far than his. + +WARWICK: +Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. + +KING HENRY VI: +Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. + +YORK: +'Twas by rebellion against his king. + +KING HENRY VI: + +YORK: +What then? + +KING HENRY VI: +An if he may, then am I lawful king; +For Richard, in the view of many lords, +Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth, +Whose heir my father was, and I am his. + +YORK: +He rose against him, being his sovereign, +And made him to resign his crown perforce. + +WARWICK: +Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd, +Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown? + +EXETER: +No; for he could not so resign his crown +But that the next heir should succeed and reign. + +KING HENRY VI: +Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter? + +EXETER: +His is the right, and therefore pardon me. + +YORK: +Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? + +EXETER: +My conscience tells me he is lawful king. + +KING HENRY VI: + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, +Think not that Henry shall be so deposed. + +WARWICK: +Deposed he shall be, in despite of all. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Thou art deceived: 'tis not thy southern power, +Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, +Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, +Can set the duke up in despite of me. + +CLIFFORD: +King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, +Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence: +May that ground gape and swallow me alive, +Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! + +KING HENRY VI: +O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! + +YORK: +Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. +What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? + +WARWICK: +Do right unto this princely Duke of York, +Or I will fill the house with armed men, +And over the chair of state, where now he sits, +Write up his title with usurping blood. + +KING HENRY VI: +My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word: +Let me for this my life-time reign as king. + +YORK: +Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs, +And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest. + +KING HENRY VI: +I am content: Richard Plantagenet, +Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. + +CLIFFORD: +What wrong is this unto the prince your son! + +WARWICK: +What good is this to England and himself! + +WESTMORELAND: +Base, fearful and despairing Henry! + +CLIFFORD: +How hast thou injured both thyself and us! + +WESTMORELAND: +I cannot stay to hear these articles. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Nor I. + +CLIFFORD: +Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news. + +WESTMORELAND: +Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, +In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Be thou a prey unto the house of York, +And die in bands for this unmanly deed! + +CLIFFORD: +In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, +Or live in peace abandon'd and despised! + +WARWICK: +Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. + +EXETER: +They seek revenge and therefore will not yield. + +KING HENRY VI: +Ah, Exeter! + +WARWICK: +Why should you sigh, my lord? + +KING HENRY VI: +Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, +Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. +But be it as it may: I here entail +The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; +Conditionally, that here thou take an oath +To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, +To honour me as thy king and sovereign, +And neither by treason nor hostility +To seek to put me down and reign thyself. + +YORK: +This oath I willingly take and will perform. + +WARWICK: +Long live King Henry! Plantagenet embrace him. + +KING HENRY VI: +And long live thou and these thy forward sons! + +YORK: +Now York and Lancaster are reconciled. + +EXETER: +Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes! + +YORK: +Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle. + +WARWICK: +And I'll keep London with my soldiers. + +NORFOLK: +And I to Norfolk with my followers. + +MONTAGUE: +And I unto the sea from whence I came. + +KING HENRY VI: +And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court. + +EXETER: +Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger: +I'll steal away. + +KING HENRY VI: +Exeter, so will I. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee. + +KING HENRY VI: +Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Who can be patient in such extremes? +Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid +And never seen thee, never borne thee son, +Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father +Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? +Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, +Or felt that pain which I did for him once, +Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood, +Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there, +Rather than have that savage duke thine heir +And disinherited thine only son. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Father, you cannot disinherit me: +If you be king, why should not I succeed? + +KING HENRY VI: +Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son: +The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced? +I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! +Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me; +And given unto the house of York such head +As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. +To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, +What is it, but to make thy sepulchre +And creep into it far before thy time? +Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais; +Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; +The duke is made protector of the realm; +And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds +The trembling lamb environed with wolves. +Had I been there, which am a silly woman, +The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes +Before I would have granted to that act. +But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: +And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself +Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, +Until that act of parliament be repeal'd +Whereby my son is disinherited. +The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours +Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; +And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace +And utter ruin of the house of York. +Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away; +Our army is ready; come, we'll after them. + +KING HENRY VI: +Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone. + +KING HENRY VI: +Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +When I return with victory from the field +I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. + +KING HENRY VI: +Poor queen! how love to me and to her son +Hath made her break out into terms of rage! +Revenged may she be on that hateful duke, +Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, +Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle +Tire on the flesh of me and of my son! +The loss of those three lords torments my heart: +I'll write unto them and entreat them fair. +Come, cousin you shall be the messenger. + +EXETER: +And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. +3 KING HENRY VI + +RICHARD: +Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. + +EDWARD: +No, I can better play the orator. + +MONTAGUE: +But I have reasons strong and forcible. + +YORK: +Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife? +What is your quarrel? how began it first? + +EDWARD: +No quarrel, but a slight contention. + +YORK: +About what? + +RICHARD: +About that which concerns your grace and us; +The crown of England, father, which is yours. + +YORK: +Mine boy? not till King Henry be dead. + +RICHARD: +Your right depends not on his life or death. + +EDWARD: +Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: +By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, +It will outrun you, father, in the end. + +YORK: +I took an oath that he should quietly reign. + +EDWARD: +But for a kingdom any oath may be broken: +I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. + +RICHARD: +No; God forbid your grace should be forsworn. + +YORK: +I shall be, if I claim by open war. + +RICHARD: +I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. + +YORK: +Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. + +RICHARD: +An oath is of no moment, being not took +Before a true and lawful magistrate, +That hath authority over him that swears: +Henry had none, but did usurp the place; +Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, +Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. +Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think +How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; +Within whose circuit is Elysium +And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. +Why do we finger thus? I cannot rest +Until the white rose that I wear be dyed +Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. + +YORK: +Richard, enough; I will be king, or die. +Brother, thou shalt to London presently, +And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. +Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk, +And tell him privily of our intent. +You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, +With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: +In them I trust; for they are soldiers, +Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. +While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, +But that I seek occasion how to rise, +And yet the king not privy to my drift, +Nor any of the house of Lancaster? +But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post? + +Messenger: +The queen with all the northern earls and lords +Intend here to besiege you in your castle: +She is hard by with twenty thousand men; +And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. + +YORK: +Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them? +Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; +My brother Montague shall post to London: +Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, +Whom we have left protectors of the king, +With powerful policy strengthen themselves, +And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths. + +MONTAGUE: +Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: +And thus most humbly I do take my leave. +Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, +You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; +The army of the queen mean to besiege us. + +JOHN MORTIMER: +She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field. + +YORK: +What, with five thousand men? + +RICHARD: +Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need: +A woman's general; what should we fear? + +EDWARD: +I hear their drums: let's set our men in order, +And issue forth and bid them battle straight. + +YORK: +Five men to twenty! though the odds be great, +I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. +Many a battle have I won in France, +When as the enemy hath been ten to one: +Why should I not now have the like success? +3 KING HENRY VI + +RUTLAND: +Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? +Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! + +CLIFFORD: +Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. +As for the brat of this accursed duke, +Whose father slew my father, he shall die. + +Tutor: +And I, my lord, will bear him company. + +CLIFFORD: +Soldiers, away with him! + +Tutor: +Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, +Lest thou be hated both of God and man! + +CLIFFORD: +How now! is he dead already? or is it fear +That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. + +RUTLAND: +So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch +That trembles under his devouring paws; +And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, +And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. +Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, +And not with such a cruel threatening look. +Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. +I am too mean a subject for thy wrath: +Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. + +CLIFFORD: +In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood +Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. + +RUTLAND: +Then let my father's blood open it again: +He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. + +CLIFFORD: +Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine +Were not revenge sufficient for me; +No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves +And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, +It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. +The sight of any of the house of York +Is as a fury to torment my soul; +And till I root out their accursed line +And leave not one alive, I live in hell. +Therefore-- + +RUTLAND: +O, let me pray before I take my death! +To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! + +CLIFFORD: +Such pity as my rapier's point affords. + +RUTLAND: +I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me? + +CLIFFORD: +Thy father hath. + +RUTLAND: +But 'twas ere I was born. +Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, +Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, +He be as miserably slain as I. +Ah, let me live in prison all my days; +And when I give occasion of offence, +Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. + +CLIFFORD: +No cause! +Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. + +RUTLAND: +Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! + +CLIFFORD: +Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! +And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade +Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, +Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. +3 KING HENRY VI + +YORK: +The army of the queen hath got the field: +My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; +And all my followers to the eager foe +Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind +Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. +My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them: +But this I know, they have demean'd themselves +Like men born to renown by life or death. +Three times did Richard make a lane to me. +And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!' +And full as oft came Edward to my side, +With purple falchion, painted to the hilt +In blood of those that had encounter'd him: +And when the hardiest warriors did retire, +Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!' +And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb! +A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!' +With this, we charged again: but, out, alas! +We bodged again; as I have seen a swan +With bootless labour swim against the tide +And spend her strength with over-matching waves. +Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; +And I am faint and cannot fly their fury: +And were I strong, I would not shun their fury: +The sands are number'd that make up my life; +Here must I stay, and here my life must end. +Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, +I dare your quenchless fury to more rage: +I am your butt, and I abide your shot. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. + +CLIFFORD: +Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, +With downright payment, show'd unto my father. +Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car, +And made an evening at the noontide prick. + +YORK: +My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth +A bird that will revenge upon you all: +And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, +Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. +Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? + +CLIFFORD: +So cowards fight when they can fly no further; +So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; +So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, +Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. + +YORK: +O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, +And in thy thought o'er-run my former time; +And, if though canst for blushing, view this face, +And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice +Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this! + +CLIFFORD: +I will not bandy with thee word for word, +But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes +I would prolong awhile the traitor's life. +Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much +To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: +What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, +For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, +When he might spurn him with his foot away? +It is war's prize to take all vantages; +And ten to one is no impeach of valour. + +CLIFFORD: +Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +So doth the cony struggle in the net. + +YORK: +So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; +So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +What would your grace have done unto him now? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, +Come, make him stand upon this molehill here, +That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, +Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. +What! was it you that would be England's king? +Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, +And made a preachment of your high descent? +Where are your mess of sons to back you now? +The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? +And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, +Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice +Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? +Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? +Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood +That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, +Made issue from the bosom of the boy; +And if thine eyes can water for his death, +I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. +Alas poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, +I should lament thy miserable state. +I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. +What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails +That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? +Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; +And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. +Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. +Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: +York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. +A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him: +Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. +Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! +Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, +And this is he was his adopted heir. +But how is it that great Plantagenet +Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? +As I bethink me, you should not be king +Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. +And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, +And rob his temples of the diadem, +Now in his life, against your holy oath? +O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable! +Off with the crown, and with the crown his head; +And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. + +CLIFFORD: +That is my office, for my father's sake. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Nay, stay; lets hear the orisons he makes. + +YORK: +She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, +Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! +How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex +To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, +Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! +But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging, +Made impudent with use of evil deeds, +I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. +To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom derived, +Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. +Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, +Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, +Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. +Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? +It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, +Unless the adage must be verified, +That beggars mounted run their horse to death. +'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; +But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small: +'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; +The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: +'Tis government that makes them seem divine; +The want thereof makes thee abominable: +Thou art as opposite to every good +As the Antipodes are unto us, +Or as the south to the septentrion. +O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide! +How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, +To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, +And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? +Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible; +Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. +Bids't thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: +Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: +For raging wind blows up incessant showers, +And when the rage allays, the rain begins. +These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies: +And every drop cries vengeance for his death, +'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false +Frenchwoman. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Beshrew me, but his passion moves me so +That hardly can I cheque my eyes from tears. + +YORK: +That face of his the hungry cannibals +Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: +But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, +O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. +See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: +This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy, +And I with tears do wash the blood away. +Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: +And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, +Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; +Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, +And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!' +There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; +And in thy need such comfort come to thee +As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! +Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world: +My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, +I should not for my life but weep with him. +To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland? +Think but upon the wrong he did us all, +And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. + +CLIFFORD: +Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. + +YORK: +Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God! +My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Off with his head, and set it on York gates; +So York may overlook the town of York. +3 KING HENRY VI + +EDWARD: +I wonder how our princely father 'scaped, +Or whether he be 'scaped away or no +From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit: +Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; +Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; +Or had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard +The happy tidings of his good escape. +How fares my brother? why is he so sad? + +RICHARD: +I cannot joy, until I be resolved +Where our right valiant father is become. +I saw him in the battle range about; +And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. +Methought he bore him in the thickest troop +As doth a lion in a herd of neat; +Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, +Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, +The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. +So fared our father with his enemies; +So fled his enemies my warlike father: +Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. +See how the morning opes her golden gates, +And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! +How well resembles it the prime of youth, +Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love! + +EDWARD: +Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? + +RICHARD: +Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; +Not separated with the racking clouds, +But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. +See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, +As if they vow'd some league inviolable: +Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. +In this the heaven figures some event. + +EDWARD: +'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. +I think it cites us, brother, to the field, +That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, +Each one already blazing by our meeds, +Should notwithstanding join our lights together +And over-shine the earth as this the world. +Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear +Upon my target three fair-shining suns. + +RICHARD: +Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it, +You love the breeder better than the male. +But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell +Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? + +Messenger: +Ah, one that was a woful looker-on +When as the noble Duke of York was slain, +Your princely father and my loving lord! + +EDWARD: +O, speak no more, for I have heard too much. + +RICHARD: +Say how he died, for I will hear it all. + +Messenger: +Environed he was with many foes, +And stood against them, as the hope of Troy +Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. +But Hercules himself must yield to odds; +And many strokes, though with a little axe, +Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. +By many hands your father was subdued; +But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm +Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, +Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite, +Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, +The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks +A napkin steeped in the harmless blood +Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: +And after many scorns, many foul taunts, +They took his head, and on the gates of York +They set the same; and there it doth remain, +The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. + +EDWARD: +Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, +Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. +O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain +The flower of Europe for his chivalry; +And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, +For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee. +Now my soul's palace is become a prison: +Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body +Might in the ground be closed up in rest! +For never henceforth shall I joy again, +Never, O never shall I see more joy! + +RICHARD: +I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture +Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: +Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen; +For selfsame wind that I should speak withal +Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, +And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. +To weep is to make less the depth of grief: +Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me +Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death, +Or die renowned by attempting it. + +EDWARD: +His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; +His dukedom and his chair with me is left. + +RICHARD: +Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, +Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun: +For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; +Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. + +WARWICK: +How now, fair lords! What fare? what news abroad? + +RICHARD: +Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount +Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance +Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, +The words would add more anguish than the wounds. +O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain! + +EDWARD: +O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet, +Which held three dearly as his soul's redemption, +Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. + +WARWICK: +Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; +And now, to add more measure to your woes, +I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. +After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, +Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, +Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, +Were brought me of your loss and his depart. +I, then in London keeper of the king, +Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, +And very well appointed, as I thought, +March'd toward Saint Alban's to intercept the queen, +Bearing the king in my behalf along; +For by my scouts I was advertised +That she was coming with a full intent +To dash our late decree in parliament +Touching King Henry's oath and your succession. +Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban's met +Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought: +But whether 'twas the coldness of the king, +Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, +That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen; +Or whether 'twas report of her success; +Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, +Who thunders to his captives blood and death, +I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth, +Their weapons like to lightning came and went; +Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight, +Or like an idle thresher with a flail, +Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. +I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, +With promise of high pay and great rewards: +But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, +And we in them no hope to win the day; +So that we fled; the king unto the queen; +Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself, +In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you: +For in the marches here we heard you were, +Making another head to fight again. + +EDWARD: +Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? +And when came George from Burgundy to England? + +WARWICK: +Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers; +And for your brother, he was lately sent +From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, +With aid of soldiers to this needful war. + +RICHARD: +'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: +Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, +But ne'er till now his scandal of retire. + +WARWICK: +Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; +For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine +Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, +And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, +Were he as famous and as bold in war +As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. + +RICHARD: +I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not: +'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. +But in this troublous time what's to be done? +Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, +And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, +Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? +Or shall we on the helmets of our foes +Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? +If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords. + +WARWICK: +Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; +And therefore comes my brother Montague. +Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, +With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, +And of their feather many more proud birds, +Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. +He swore consent to your succession, +His oath enrolled in the parliament; +And now to London all the crew are gone, +To frustrate both his oath and what beside +May make against the house of Lancaster. +Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: +Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself, +With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, +Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, +Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, +Why, Via! to London will we march amain, +And once again bestride our foaming steeds, +And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!' +But never once again turn back and fly. + +RICHARD: +Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak: +Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, +That cries 'Retire,' if Warwick bid him stay. + +EDWARD: +Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; +And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!-- +Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend! + +WARWICK: +No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York: +The next degree is England's royal throne; +For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd +In every borough as we pass along; +And he that throws not up his cap for joy +Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. +King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, +Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, +But sound the trumpets, and about our task. + +RICHARD: +Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, +As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, +I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. + +EDWARD: +Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us! + +WARWICK: +How now! what news? + +Messenger: +The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, +The queen is coming with a puissant host; +And craves your company for speedy counsel. + +WARWICK: +Why then it sorts, brave warriors, let's away. +3 KING HENRY VI + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. +Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy +That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: +Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? + +KING HENRY VI: +Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck: +To see this sight, it irks my very soul. +Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, +Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. + +CLIFFORD: +My gracious liege, this too much lenity +And harmful pity must be laid aside. +To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? +Not to the beast that would usurp their den. +Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? +Not his that spoils her young before her face. +Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? +Not he that sets his foot upon her back. +The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, +And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. +Ambitious York doth level at thy crown, +Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: +He, but a duke, would have his son a king, +And raise his issue, like a loving sire; +Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, +Didst yield consent to disinherit him, +Which argued thee a most unloving father. +Unreasonable creatures feed their young; +And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, +Yet, in protection of their tender ones, +Who hath not seen them, even with those wings +Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, +Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, +Offer their own lives in their young's defence? +For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! +Were it not pity that this goodly boy +Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, +And long hereafter say unto his child, +'What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got +My careless father fondly gave away'? +Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; +And let his manly face, which promiseth +Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart +To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. + +KING HENRY VI: +Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, +Inferring arguments of mighty force. +But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear +That things ill-got had ever bad success? +And happy always was it for that son +Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? +I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; +And would my father had left me no more! +For all the rest is held at such a rate +As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep +Than in possession and jot of pleasure. +Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know +How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh, +And this soft courage makes your followers faint. +You promised knighthood to our forward son: +Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. +Edward, kneel down. + +KING HENRY VI: +Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; +And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right. + +PRINCE: +My gracious father, by your kingly leave, +I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, +And in that quarrel use it to the death. + +CLIFFORD: +Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. + +Messenger: +Royal commanders, be in readiness: +For with a band of thirty thousand men +Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York; +And in the towns, as they do march along, +Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: +Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. + +CLIFFORD: +I would your highness would depart the field: +The queen hath best success when you are absent. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. + +KING HENRY VI: +Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +Be it with resolution then to fight. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +My royal father, cheer these noble lords +And hearten those that fight in your defence: +Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!' + +EDWARD: +Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, +And set thy diadem upon my head; +Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! +Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms +Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king? + +EDWARD: +I am his king, and he should bow his knee; +I was adopted heir by his consent: +Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, +You, that are king, though he do wear the crown, +Have caused him, by new act of parliament, +To blot out me, and put his own son in. + +CLIFFORD: +And reason too: +Who should succeed the father but the son? + +RICHARD: +Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak! + +CLIFFORD: +Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee, +Or any he the proudest of thy sort. + +RICHARD: +'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? + +CLIFFORD: +Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. + +RICHARD: +For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. + +WARWICK: +What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak? +When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, +Your legs did better service than your hands. + +WARWICK: +Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. + +CLIFFORD: +You said so much before, and yet you fled. + +WARWICK: +'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. + +NORTHUMBERLAND: +No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay. + +RICHARD: +Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. +Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain +The execution of my big-swoln heart +Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. + +CLIFFORD: +I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child? + +RICHARD: +Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, +As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; +But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed. + +KING HENRY VI: +Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. + +KING HENRY VI: +I prithee, give no limits to my tongue: +I am a king, and privileged to speak. + +CLIFFORD: +My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here +Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still. + +RICHARD: +Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword: +By him that made us all, I am resolved +that Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. + +EDWARD: +Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? +A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, +That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown. + +WARWICK: +If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; +For York in justice puts his armour on. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +If that be right which Warwick says is right, +There is no wrong, but every thing is right. + +RICHARD: +Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; +For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam; +But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, +Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, +As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. + +RICHARD: +Iron of Naples hid with English gilt, +Whose father bears the title of a king,-- +As if a channel should be call'd the sea,-- +Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, +To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? + +EDWARD: +A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, +To make this shameless callet know herself. +Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, +Although thy husband may be Menelaus; +And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd +By that false woman, as this king by thee. +His father revell'd in the heart of France, +And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop; +And had he match'd according to his state, +He might have kept that glory to this day; +But when he took a beggar to his bed, +And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, +Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, +That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, +And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. +For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? +Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; +And we, in pity of the gentle king, +Had slipp'd our claim until another age. + +GEORGE: +But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, +And that thy summer bred us no increase, +We set the axe to thy usurping root; +And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, +Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, +We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down, +Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods. + +EDWARD: +And, in this resolution, I defy thee; +Not willing any longer conference, +Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. +Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave! +And either victory, or else a grave. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Stay, Edward. + +EDWARD: +No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay: +These words will cost ten thousand lives this day. +3 KING HENRY VI + +WARWICK: +Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, +I lay me down a little while to breathe; +For strokes received, and many blows repaid, +Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, +And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile. + +EDWARD: +Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! +For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. + +WARWICK: +How now, my lord! what hap? what hope of good? + +GEORGE: +Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; +Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: +What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? + +EDWARD: +Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; +And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit. + +RICHARD: +Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? +Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, +Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; +And in the very pangs of death he cried, +Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, +'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!' +So, underneath the belly of their steeds, +That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, +The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. + +WARWICK: +Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: +I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. +Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, +Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; +And look upon, as if the tragedy +Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? +Here on my knee I vow to God above, +I'll never pause again, never stand still, +Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine +Or fortune given me measure of revenge. + +EDWARD: +O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; +And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! +And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, +I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, +Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, +Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands +That to my foes this body must be prey, +Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, +And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! +Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, +Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth. + +RICHARD: +Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, +Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: +I, that did never weep, now melt with woe +That winter should cut off our spring-time so. + +WARWICK: +Away, away! Once more, sweet lords farewell. + +GEORGE: +Yet let us all together to our troops, +And give them leave to fly that will not stay; +And call them pillars that will stand to us; +And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards +As victors wear at the Olympian games: +This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; +For yet is hope of life and victory. +Forslow no longer, make we hence amain. +3 KING HENRY VI + +RICHARD: +Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: +Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, +And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, +Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. + +CLIFFORD: +Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: +This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York; +And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; +And here's the heart that triumphs in their death +And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother +To execute the like upon thyself; +And so, have at thee! + +RICHARD: +Nay Warwick, single out some other chase; +For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING HENRY VI: +This battle fares like to the morning's war, +When dying clouds contend with growing light, +What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, +Can neither call it perfect day nor night. +Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea +Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; +Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea +Forced to retire by fury of the wind: +Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; +Now one the better, then another best; +Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, +Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: +So is the equal of this fell war. +Here on this molehill will I sit me down. +To whom God will, there be the victory! +For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, +Have chid me from the battle; swearing both +They prosper best of all when I am thence. +Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; +For what is in this world but grief and woe? +O God! methinks it were a happy life, +To be no better than a homely swain; +To sit upon a hill, as I do now, +To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, +Thereby to see the minutes how they run, +How many make the hour full complete; +How many hours bring about the day; +How many days will finish up the year; +How many years a mortal man may live. +When this is known, then to divide the times: +So many hours must I tend my flock; +So many hours must I take my rest; +So many hours must I contemplate; +So many hours must I sport myself; +So many days my ewes have been with young; +So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean: +So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: +So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, +Pass'd over to the end they were created, +Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. +Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! +Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade +To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, +Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy +To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? +O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. +And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, +His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. +His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, +All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, +Is far beyond a prince's delicates, +His viands sparkling in a golden cup, +His body couched in a curious bed, +When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. + +Son: +Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. +This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, +May be possessed with some store of crowns; +And I, that haply take them from him now, +May yet ere night yield both my life and them +To some man else, as this dead man doth me. +Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, +Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. +O heavy times, begetting such events! +From London by the king was I press'd forth; +My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, +Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; +And I, who at his hands received my life, him +Have by my hands of life bereaved him. +Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! +And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! +My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; +And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. + +KING HENRY VI: +O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! +Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, +Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. +Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; +And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, +Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief. + +Father: +Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, +Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: +For I have bought it with an hundred blows. +But let me see: is this our foeman's face? +Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! +Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, +Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise, +Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, +Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart! +O, pity, God, this miserable age! +What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, +Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural, +This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! +O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, +And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! + +KING HENRY VI: +Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! +O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! +O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! +The red rose and the white are on his face, +The fatal colours of our striving houses: +The one his purple blood right well resembles; +The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: +Wither one rose, and let the other flourish; +If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. + +Son: +How will my mother for a father's death +Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! + +Father: +How will my wife for slaughter of my son +Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! + +KING HENRY VI: +How will the country for these woful chances +Misthink the king and not be satisfied! + +Son: +Was ever son so rued a father's death? + +Father: +Was ever father so bemoan'd his son? + +KING HENRY VI: +Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe? +Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much. + +Son: +I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. + +Father: +These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; +My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, +For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; +My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; +And so obsequious will thy father be, +Even for the loss of thee, having no more, +As Priam was for all his valiant sons. +I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, +For I have murdered where I should not kill. + +KING HENRY VI: +Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, +Here sits a king more woful than you are. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, +And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: +Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain: +Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds +Having the fearful flying hare in sight, +With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, +And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, +Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. + +EXETER: +Away! for vengeance comes along with them: +Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; +Or else come after: I'll away before. + +KING HENRY VI: +Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: +Not that I fear to stay, but love to go +Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! +3 KING HENRY VI + +CLIFFORD: +Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, +Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. +O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow +More than my body's parting with my soul! +My love and fear glued many friends to thee; +And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts. +Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, +The common people swarm like summer flies; +And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? +And who shines now but Henry's enemies? +O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent +That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds, +Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! +And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, +Or as thy father and his father did, +Giving no ground unto the house of York, +They never then had sprung like summer flies; +I and ten thousand in this luckless realm +Had left no mourning widows for our death; +And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. +For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? +And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? +Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; +No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: +The foe is merciless, and will not pity; +For at their hands I have deserved no pity. +The air hath got into my deadly wounds, +And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. +Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest; +I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. + +EDWARD: +Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause, +And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. +Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, +That led calm Henry, though he were a king, +As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, +Command an argosy to stem the waves. +But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? + +WARWICK: +No, 'tis impossible he should escape, +For, though before his face I speak the words +Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: +And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. + +EDWARD: +Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? + +RICHARD: +A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. + +EDWARD: +See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, +If friend or foe, let him be gently used. + +RICHARD: +Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; +Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch +In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, +But set his murdering knife unto the root +From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, +I mean our princely father, Duke of York. + +WARWICK: +From off the gates of York fetch down the head, +Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; +Instead whereof let this supply the room: +Measure for measure must be answered. + +EDWARD: +Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, +That nothing sung but death to us and ours: +Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, +And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. + +WARWICK: +I think his understanding is bereft. +Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee? +Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, +And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. + +RICHARD: +O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth: +'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, +Because he would avoid such bitter taunts +Which in the time of death he gave our father. + +GEORGE: +If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words. + +RICHARD: +Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace. + +EDWARD: +Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. + +WARWICK: +Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. + +GEORGE: +While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. + +RICHARD: +Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. + +EDWARD: +Thou pitied'st Rutland; I will pity thee. + +GEORGE: +Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now? + +WARWICK: +They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont. + +RICHARD: +What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard +When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. +I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul, +If this right hand would buy two hour's life, +That I in all despite might rail at him, +This hand should chop it off, and with the +issuing blood +Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst +York and young Rutland could not satisfy. + +WARWICK: +Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head, +And rear it in the place your father's stands. +And now to London with triumphant march, +There to be crowned England's royal king: +From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, +And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen: +So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; +And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread +The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again; +For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, +Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. +First will I see the coronation; +And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea, +To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. + +EDWARD: +Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; +For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, +And never will I undertake the thing +Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. +Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester, +And George, of Clarence: Warwick, as ourself, +Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. + +RICHARD: +Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester; +For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous. + +WARWICK: +Tut, that's a foolish observation: +Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London, +To see these honours in possession. +3 KING HENRY VI + +First Keeper: +Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves; +For through this laund anon the deer will come; +And in this covert will we make our stand, +Culling the principal of all the deer. + +Second Keeper: +I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. + +First Keeper: +That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow +Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. +Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: +And, for the time shall not seem tedious, +I'll tell thee what befell me on a day +In this self-place where now we mean to stand. + +Second Keeper: +Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past. + +KING HENRY VI: +From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, +To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. +No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; +Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, +Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed: +No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, +No humble suitors press to speak for right, +No, not a man comes for redress of thee; +For how can I help them, and not myself? + +First Keeper: +Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: +This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. + +KING HENRY VI: +Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, +For wise men say it is the wisest course. + +Second Keeper: +Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. + +First Keeper: +Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. + +KING HENRY VI: +My queen and son are gone to France for aid; +And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick +Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister +To wife for Edward: if this news be true, +Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; +For Warwick is a subtle orator, +And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. +By this account then Margaret may win him; +For she's a woman to be pitied much: +Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; +Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; +The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn; +And Nero will be tainted with remorse, +To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. +Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give; +She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry, +He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. +She weeps, and says her Henry is deposed; +He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd; +That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; +Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, +Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, +And in conclusion wins the king from her, +With promise of his sister, and what else, +To strengthen and support King Edward's place. +O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, +Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn! + +Second Keeper: +Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens? + +KING HENRY VI: +More than I seem, and less than I was born to: +A man at least, for less I should not be; +And men may talk of kings, and why not I? + +Second Keeper: +Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. + +KING HENRY VI: +Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. + +Second Keeper: +But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? + +KING HENRY VI: +My crown is in my heart, not on my head; +Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, +Nor to be seen: my crown is called content: +A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. + +Second Keeper: +Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, +Your crown content and you must be contented +To go along with us; for as we think, +You are the king King Edward hath deposed; +And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance +Will apprehend you as his enemy. + +KING HENRY VI: +But did you never swear, and break an oath? + +Second Keeper: +No, never such an oath; nor will not now. + +KING HENRY VI: +Where did you dwell when I was King of England? + +Second Keeper: +Here in this country, where we now remain. + +KING HENRY VI: +I was anointed king at nine months old; +My father and my grandfather were kings, +And you were sworn true subjects unto me: +And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths? + +First Keeper: +No; +For we were subjects but while you were king. + +KING HENRY VI: +Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man? +Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! +Look, as I blow this feather from my face, +And as the air blows it to me again, +Obeying with my wind when I do blow, +And yielding to another when it blows, +Commanded always by the greater gust; +Such is the lightness of you common men. +But do not break your oaths; for of that sin +My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. +Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; +And be you kings, command, and I'll obey. + +First Keeper: +We are true subjects to the king, King Edward. + +KING HENRY VI: +So would you be again to Henry, +If he were seated as King Edward is. + +First Keeper: +We charge you, in God's name, and the king's, +To go with us unto the officers. + +KING HENRY VI: +In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd: +And what God will, that let your king perform; +And what he will, I humbly yield unto. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING EDWARD IV: +Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Alban's field +This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain, +His lands then seized on by the conqueror: +Her suit is now to repossess those lands; +Which we in justice cannot well deny, +Because in quarrel of the house of York +The worthy gentleman did lose his life. + +GLOUCESTER: +Your highness shall do well to grant her suit; +It were dishonour to deny it her. + +KING EDWARD IV: +It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. + +GLOUCESTER: + +CLARENCE: + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +Widow, we will consider of your suit; +And come some other time to know our mind. + +LADY GREY: +Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay: +May it please your highness to resolve me now; +And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. + +GLOUCESTER: + +CLARENCE: + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +How many children hast thou, widow? tell me. + +CLARENCE: + +GLOUCESTER: + +LADY GREY: +Three, my most gracious lord. + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands. + +LADY GREY: +Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Lords, give us leave: I'll try this widow's wit. + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now tell me, madam, do you love your children? + +LADY GREY: +Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. + +KING EDWARD IV: +And would you not do much to do them good? + +LADY GREY: +To do them good, I would sustain some harm. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Then get your husband's lands, to do them good. + +LADY GREY: +Therefore I came unto your majesty. + +KING EDWARD IV: +I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. + +LADY GREY: +So shall you bind me to your highness' service. + +KING EDWARD IV: +What service wilt thou do me, if I give them? + +LADY GREY: +What you command, that rests in me to do. + +KING EDWARD IV: +But you will take exceptions to my boon. + +LADY GREY: +No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. + +LADY GREY: +Why, then I will do what your grace commands. + +GLOUCESTER: + +CLARENCE: + +LADY GREY: +Why stops my lord, shall I not hear my task? + +KING EDWARD IV: +An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. + +LADY GREY: +That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee. + +LADY GREY: +I take my leave with many thousand thanks. + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. + +LADY GREY: +The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. +What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? + +LADY GREY: +My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; +That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. + +KING EDWARD IV: +No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. + +LADY GREY: +Why, then you mean not as I thought you did. + +KING EDWARD IV: +But now you partly may perceive my mind. + +LADY GREY: +My mind will never grant what I perceive +Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. + +KING EDWARD IV: +To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. + +LADY GREY: +To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands. + +LADY GREY: +Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; +For by that loss I will not purchase them. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily. + +LADY GREY: +Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. +But, mighty lord, this merry inclination +Accords not with the sadness of my suit: +Please you dismiss me either with 'ay' or 'no.' + +KING EDWARD IV: +Ay, if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request; +No if thou dost say 'no' to my demand. + +LADY GREY: +Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. + +GLOUCESTER: + +CLARENCE: + +KING EDWARD IV: + +LADY GREY: +'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord: +I am a subject fit to jest withal, +But far unfit to be a sovereign. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee +I speak no more than what my soul intends; +And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. + +LADY GREY: +And that is more than I will yield unto: +I know I am too mean to be your queen, +And yet too good to be your concubine. + +KING EDWARD IV: +You cavil, widow: I did mean, my queen. + +LADY GREY: +'Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father. + +KING EDWARD IV: +No more than when my daughters call thee mother. +Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; +And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, +Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing +To be the father unto many sons. +Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. + +GLOUCESTER: + +CLARENCE: + +KING EDWARD IV: +Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. + +GLOUCESTER: +The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. + +KING EDWARD IV: +You'll think it strange if I should marry her. + +CLARENCE: +To whom, my lord? + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, Clarence, to myself. + +GLOUCESTER: +That would be ten days' wonder at the least. + +CLARENCE: +That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. + +GLOUCESTER: +By so much is the wonder in extremes. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you both +Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. + +Nobleman: +My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, +And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. + +KING EDWARD IV: +See that he be convey'd unto the Tower: +And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, +To question of his apprehension. +Widow, go you along. Lords, use her honourably. + +GLOUCESTER: +Ay, Edward will use women honourably. +Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all, +That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, +To cross me from the golden time I look for! +And yet, between my soul's desire and me-- +The lustful Edward's title buried-- +Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, +And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, +To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: +A cold premeditation for my purpose! +Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty; +Like one that stands upon a promontory, +And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, +Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, +And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, +Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way: +So do I wish the crown, being so far off; +And so I chide the means that keeps me from it; +And so I say, I'll cut the causes off, +Flattering me with impossibilities. +My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, +Unless my hand and strength could equal them. +Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; +What other pleasure can the world afford? +I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, +And deck my body in gay ornaments, +And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. +O miserable thought! and more unlikely +Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! +Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: +And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, +She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, +To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; +To make an envious mountain on my back, +Where sits deformity to mock my body; +To shape my legs of an unequal size; +To disproportion me in every part, +Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp +That carries no impression like the dam. +And am I then a man to be beloved? +O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! +Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, +But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear such +As are of better person than myself, +I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, +And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, +Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head +Be round impaled with a glorious crown. +And yet I know not how to get the crown, +For many lives stand between me and home: +And I,--like one lost in a thorny wood, +That rends the thorns and is rent with the thorns, +Seeking a way and straying from the way; +Not knowing how to find the open air, +But toiling desperately to find it out,-- +Torment myself to catch the English crown: +And from that torment I will free myself, +Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. +Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, +And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart, +And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, +And frame my face to all occasions. +I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; +I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; +I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, +Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, +And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. +I can add colours to the chameleon, +Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, +And set the murderous Machiavel to school. +Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? +Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING LEWIS XI: +Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, +Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state +And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +No, mighty King of France: now Margaret +Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve +Where kings command. I was, I must confess, +Great Albion's queen in former golden days: +But now mischance hath trod my title down, +And with dishonour laid me on the ground; +Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, +And to my humble seat conform myself. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears +And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, +And sit thee by our side: +Yield not thy neck +To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind +Still ride in triumph over all mischance. +Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; +It shall be eased, if France can yield relief. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts +And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. +Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, +That Henry, sole possessor of my love, +Is of a king become a banish'd man, +And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn; +While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York +Usurps the regal title and the seat +Of England's true-anointed lawful king. +This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, +With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, +Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; +And if thou fail us, all our hope is done: +Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; +Our people and our peers are both misled, +Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight, +And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Renowned queen, with patience calm the storm, +While we bethink a means to break it off. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe. + +KING LEWIS XI: +The more I stay, the more I'll succor thee. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. +And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow! + +KING LEWIS XI: +What's he approacheth boldly to our presence? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Ay, now begins a second storm to rise; +For this is he that moves both wind and tide. + +WARWICK: +From worthy Edward, King of Albion, +My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, +I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, +First, to do greetings to thy royal person; +And then to crave a league of amity; +And lastly, to confirm that amity +With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant +That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, +To England's king in lawful marriage. + +QUEEN MARGARET: + +WARWICK: + +QUEEN MARGARET: +King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak, +Before you answer Warwick. His demand +Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, +But from deceit bred by necessity; +For how can tyrants safely govern home, +Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? +To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, +That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, +Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son. +Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage +Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; +For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, +Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. + +WARWICK: +Injurious Margaret! + +PRINCE EDWARD: +And why not queen? + +WARWICK: +Because thy father Henry did usurp; +And thou no more are prince than she is queen. + +OXFORD: +Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, +Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; +And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, +Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; +And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, +Who by his prowess conquered all France: +From these our Henry lineally descends. + +WARWICK: +Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse, +You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost +All that which Henry Fifth had gotten? +Methinks these peers of France should smile at that. +But for the rest, you tell a pedigree +Of threescore and two years; a silly time +To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. + +OXFORD: +Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, +Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years, +And not bewray thy treason with a blush? + +WARWICK: +Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, +Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? +For shame! leave Henry, and call Edward king. + +OXFORD: +Call him my king by whose injurious doom +My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, +Was done to death? and more than so, my father, +Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, +When nature brought him to the door of death? +No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, +This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. + +WARWICK: +And I the house of York. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, +Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside, +While I use further conference with Warwick. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Heavens grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not! + +KING LEWIS XI: +Now Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience, +Is Edward your true king? for I were loath +To link with him that were not lawful chosen. + +WARWICK: +Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour. + +KING LEWIS XI: +But is he gracious in the people's eye? + +WARWICK: +The more that Henry was unfortunate. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Then further, all dissembling set aside, +Tell me for truth the measure of his love +Unto our sister Bona. + +WARWICK: +Such it seems +As may beseem a monarch like himself. +Myself have often heard him say and swear +That this his love was an eternal plant, +Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, +The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun, +Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, +Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. + +BONA: +Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine: +Yet I confess that often ere this day, +When I have heard your king's desert recounted, +Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward's; +And now forthwith shall articles be drawn +Touching the jointure that your king must make, +Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. +Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness +That Bona shall be wife to the English king. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +To Edward, but not to the English king. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device +By this alliance to make void my suit: +Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend. + +KING LEWIS XI: +And still is friend to him and Margaret: +But if your title to the crown be weak, +As may appear by Edward's good success, +Then 'tis but reason that I be released +From giving aid which late I promised. +Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand +That your estate requires and mine can yield. + +WARWICK: +Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, +Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. +And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, +You have a father able to maintain you; +And better 'twere you troubled him than France. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace, +Proud setter up and puller down of kings! +I will not hence, till, with my talk and tears, +Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold +Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love; +For both of you are birds of selfsame feather. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Warwick, this is some post to us or thee. + +Post: + +OXFORD: +I like it well that our fair queen and mistress +Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Nay, mark how Lewis stamps, as he were nettled: +I hope all's for the best. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys. + +WARWICK: +Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent. + +KING LEWIS XI: +What! has your king married the Lady Grey! +And now, to soothe your forgery and his, +Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? +Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? +Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +I told your majesty as much before: +This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty. + +WARWICK: +King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven, +And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, +That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, +No more my king, for he dishonours me, +But most himself, if he could see his shame. +Did I forget that by the house of York +My father came untimely to his death? +Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? +Did I impale him with the regal crown? +Did I put Henry from his native right? +And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? +Shame on himself! for my desert is honour: +And to repair my honour lost for him, +I here renounce him and return to Henry. +My noble queen, let former grudges pass, +And henceforth I am thy true servitor: +I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona, +And replant Henry in his former state. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love; +And I forgive and quite forget old faults, +And joy that thou becomest King Henry's friend. + +WARWICK: +So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, +That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us +With some few bands of chosen soldiers, +I'll undertake to land them on our coast +And force the tyrant from his seat by war. +'Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him: +And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, +He's very likely now to fall from him, +For matching more for wanton lust than honour, +Or than for strength and safety of our country. + +BONA: +Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged +But by thy help to this distressed queen? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live, +Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? + +BONA: +My quarrel and this English queen's are one. + +WARWICK: +And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours. + +KING LEWIS XI: +And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret's. +Therefore at last I firmly am resolved +You shall have aid. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Let me give humble thanks for all at once. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Then, England's messenger, return in post, +And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, +That Lewis of France is sending over masquers +To revel it with him and his new bride: +Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal. + +BONA: +Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, +I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid aside, +And I am ready to put armour on. + +WARWICK: +Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, +And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long. +There's thy reward: be gone. + +KING LEWIS XI: +But, Warwick, +Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, +Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle; +And, as occasion serves, this noble queen +And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. +Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt, +What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? + +WARWICK: +This shall assure my constant loyalty, +That if our queen and this young prince agree, +I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy +To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. +Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, +Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick; +And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, +That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it; +And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. + +KING LEWIS XI: +Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied, +And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral, +Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet. +I long till Edward fall by war's mischance, +For mocking marriage with a dame of France. + +WARWICK: +I came from Edward as ambassador, +But I return his sworn and mortal foe: +Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, +But dreadful war shall answer his demand. +Had he none else to make a stale but me? +Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. +I was the chief that raised him to the crown, +And I'll be chief to bring him down again: +Not that I pity Henry's misery, +But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. +3 KING HENRY VI + +GLOUCESTER: +Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you +Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey? +Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? + +CLARENCE: +Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to France; +How could he stay till Warwick made return? + +SOMERSET: +My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the king. + +GLOUCESTER: +And his well-chosen bride. + +CLARENCE: +I mind to tell him plainly what I think. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice, +That you stand pensive, as half malcontent? + +CLARENCE: +As well as Lewis of France, or the Earl of Warwick, +Which are so weak of courage and in judgment +That they'll take no offence at our abuse. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Suppose they take offence without a cause, +They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward, +Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will. + +GLOUCESTER: +And shall have your will, because our king: +Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too? + +GLOUCESTER: +Not I: +No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd +Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity +To sunder them that yoke so well together. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, +Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey +Should not become my wife and England's queen. +And you too, Somerset and Montague, +Speak freely what you think. + +CLARENCE: +Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis +Becomes your enemy, for mocking him +About the marriage of the Lady Bona. + +GLOUCESTER: +And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, +Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. + +KING EDWARD IV: +What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased +By such invention as I can devise? + +MONTAGUE: +Yet, to have join'd with France in such alliance +Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth +'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage. + +HASTINGS: +Why, knows not Montague that of itself +England is safe, if true within itself? + +MONTAGUE: +But the safer when 'tis back'd with France. + +HASTINGS: +'Tis better using France than trusting France: +Let us be back'd with God and with the seas +Which He hath given for fence impregnable, +And with their helps only defend ourselves; +In them and in ourselves our safety lies. + +CLARENCE: +For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves +To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant; +And for this once my will shall stand for law. + +GLOUCESTER: +And yet methinks your grace hath not done well, +To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales +Unto the brother of your loving bride; +She better would have fitted me or Clarence: +But in your bride you bury brotherhood. + +CLARENCE: +Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir +Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son, +And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife +That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. + +CLARENCE: +In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment, +Which being shallow, you give me leave +To play the broker in mine own behalf; +And to that end I shortly mind to leave you. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king, +And not be tied unto his brother's will. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +My lords, before it pleased his majesty +To raise my state to title of a queen, +Do me but right, and you must all confess +That I was not ignoble of descent; +And meaner than myself have had like fortune. +But as this title honours me and mine, +So your dislike, to whom I would be pleasing, +Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. + +KING EDWARD IV: +My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns: +What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, +So long as Edward is thy constant friend, +And their true sovereign, whom they must obey? +Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, +Unless they seek for hatred at my hands; +Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, +And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, messenger, what letters or what news +From France? + +Post: +My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words, +But such as I, without your special pardon, +Dare not relate. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Go to, we pardon thee: therefore, in brief, +Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. +What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters? + +Post: +At my depart, these were his very words: +'Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, +That Lewis of France is sending over masquers +To revel it with him and his new bride.' + +KING EDWARD IV: +Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks me Henry. +But what said Lady Bona to my marriage? + +Post: +These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain: +'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, +I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.' + +KING EDWARD IV: +I blame not her, she could say little less; +She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? +For I have heard that she was there in place. + +Post: +'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning weeds are done, +And I am ready to put armour on.' + +KING EDWARD IV: +Belike she minds to play the Amazon. +But what said Warwick to these injuries? + +Post: +He, more incensed against your majesty +Than all the rest, discharged me with these words: +'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, +And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.' + +KING EDWARD IV: +Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? +Well I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd: +They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. +But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? + +Post: +Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in +friendship +That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. + +CLARENCE: +Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger. +Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, +For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter; +That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage +I may not prove inferior to yourself. +You that love me and Warwick, follow me. + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick! +Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; +And haste is needful in this desperate case. +Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf +Go levy men, and make prepare for war; +They are already, or quickly will be landed: +Myself in person will straight follow you. +But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague, +Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, +Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance: +Tell me if you love Warwick more than me? +If it be so, then both depart to him; +I rather wish you foes than hollow friends: +But if you mind to hold your true obedience, +Give me assurance with some friendly vow, +That I may never have you in suspect. + +MONTAGUE: +So God help Montague as he proves true! + +HASTINGS: +And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us? + +GLOUCESTER: +Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, so! then am I sure of victory. +Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour, +Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. +3 KING HENRY VI + +WARWICK: +Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well; +The common people by numbers swarm to us. +But see where Somerset and Clarence come! +Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? + +CLARENCE: +Fear not that, my lord. + +WARWICK: +Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick; +And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice +To rest mistrustful where a noble heart +Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; +Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, +Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: +But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. +And now what rests but, in night's coverture, +Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, +His soldiers lurking in the towns about, +And but attended by a simple guard, +We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? +Our scouts have found the adventure very easy: +That as Ulysses and stout Diomede +With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, +And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, +So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, +At unawares may beat down Edward's guard +And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him, +For I intend but only to surprise him. +You that will follow me to this attempt, +Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. +Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort: +For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George! +3 KING HENRY VI + +First Watchman: +Come on, my masters, each man take his stand: +The king by this is set him down to sleep. + +Second Watchman: +What, will he not to bed? + +First Watchman: +Why, no; for he hath made a solemn vow +Never to lie and take his natural rest +Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd. + +Second Watchman: +To-morrow then belike shall be the day, +If Warwick be so near as men report. + +Third Watchman: +But say, I pray, what nobleman is that +That with the king here resteth in his tent? + +First Watchman: +'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's chiefest friend. + +Third Watchman: +O, is it so? But why commands the king +That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, +While he himself keeps in the cold field? + +Second Watchman: +'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous. + +Third Watchman: +Ay, but give me worship and quietness; +I like it better than a dangerous honour. +If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, +'Tis to be doubted he would waken him. + +First Watchman: +Unless our halberds did shut up his passage. + +Second Watchman: +Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent, +But to defend his person from night-foes? + +WARWICK: +This is his tent; and see where stand his guard. +Courage, my masters! honour now or never! +But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. + +First Watchman: +Who goes there? + +Second Watchman: +Stay, or thou diest! + +SOMERSET: +What are they that fly there? + +WARWICK: +Richard and Hastings: let them go; here is The duke. + +KING EDWARD IV: +The duke! Why, Warwick, when we parted, +Thou call'dst me king. + +WARWICK: +Ay, but the case is alter'd: +When you disgraced me in my embassade, +Then I degraded you from being king, +And come now to create you Duke of York. +Alas! how should you govern any kingdom, +That know not how to use ambassadors, +Nor how to be contented with one wife, +Nor how to use your brothers brotherly, +Nor how to study for the people's welfare, +Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies? + +KING EDWARD IV: +Yea, brother of Clarence, are thou here too? +Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down. +Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, +Of thee thyself and all thy complices, +Edward will always bear himself as king: +Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, +My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. + +WARWICK: +Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king: +But Henry now shall wear the English crown, +And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow. +My Lord of Somerset, at my request, +See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd +Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. +When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, +I'll follow you, and tell what answer +Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. +Now, for a while farewell, good Duke of York. + +KING EDWARD IV: +What fates impose, that men must needs abide; +It boots not to resist both wind and tide. + +OXFORD: +What now remains, my lords, for us to do +But march to London with our soldiers? + +WARWICK: +Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do; +To free King Henry from imprisonment +And see him seated in the regal throne. +3 KING HENRY VI + +RIVERS: +Madam, what makes you in this sudden change? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Why brother Rivers, are you yet to learn +What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward? + +RIVERS: +What! loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +No, but the loss of his own royal person. + +RIVERS: +Then is my sovereign slain? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner, +Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard +Or by his foe surprised at unawares: +And, as I further have to understand, +Is new committed to the Bishop of York, +Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe. + +RIVERS: +These news I must confess are full of grief; +Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may: +Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay. +And I the rather wean me from despair +For love of Edward's offspring in my womb: +This is it that makes me bridle passion +And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross; +Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear +And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, +Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown +King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown. + +RIVERS: +But, madam, where is Warwick then become? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +I am inform'd that he comes towards London, +To set the crown once more on Henry's head: +Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must down, +But, to prevent the tyrant's violence,-- +For trust not him that hath once broken faith,-- +I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, +To save at least the heir of Edward's right: +There shall I rest secure from force and fraud. +Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly: +If Warwick take us we are sure to die. +3 KING HENRY VI + +GLOUCESTER: +Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, +Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, +Into this chiefest thicket of the park. +Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother, +Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands +He hath good usage and great liberty, +And, often but attended with weak guard, +Comes hunting this way to disport himself. +I have advertised him by secret means +That if about this hour he make his way +Under the colour of his usual game, +He shall here find his friends with horse and men +To set him free from his captivity. + +Huntsman: +This way, my lord; for this way lies the game. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Nay, this way, man: see where the huntsmen stand. +Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest, +Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer? + +GLOUCESTER: +Brother, the time and case requireth haste: +Your horse stands ready at the park-corner. + +KING EDWARD IV: +But whither shall we then? + +HASTINGS: +To Lynn, my lord, +And ship from thence to Flanders. + +GLOUCESTER: +Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness. + +GLOUCESTER: +But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt thou go along? + +Huntsman: +Better do so than tarry and be hang'd. + +GLOUCESTER: +Come then, away; let's ha' no more ado. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Bishop, farewell: shield thee from Warwick's frown; +And pray that I may repossess the crown. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING HENRY VI: +Master lieutenant, now that God and friends +Have shaken Edward from the regal seat, +And turn'd my captive state to liberty, +My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, +At our enlargement what are thy due fees? + +Lieutenant: +Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns; +But if an humble prayer may prevail, +I then crave pardon of your majesty. + +KING HENRY VI: +For what, lieutenant? for well using me? +Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, +For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; +Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds +Conceive when after many moody thoughts +At last by notes of household harmony +They quite forget their loss of liberty. +But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, +And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; +He was the author, thou the instrument. +Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite +By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me, +And that the people of this blessed land +May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars, +Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, +I here resign my government to thee, +For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. + +WARWICK: +Your grace hath still been famed for virtuous; +And now may seem as wise as virtuous, +By spying and avoiding fortune's malice, +For few men rightly temper with the stars: +Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, +For choosing me when Clarence is in place. + +CLARENCE: +No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, +To whom the heavens in thy nativity +Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown, +As likely to be blest in peace and war; +And therefore I yield thee my free consent. + +WARWICK: +And I choose Clarence only for protector. + +KING HENRY VI: +Warwick and Clarence give me both your hands: +Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, +That no dissension hinder government: +I make you both protectors of this land, +While I myself will lead a private life +And in devotion spend my latter days, +To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise. + +WARWICK: +What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will? + +CLARENCE: +That he consents, if Warwick yield consent; +For on thy fortune I repose myself. + +WARWICK: +Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content: +We'll yoke together, like a double shadow +To Henry's body, and supply his place; +I mean, in bearing weight of government, +While he enjoys the honour and his ease. +And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful +Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor, +And all his lands and goods be confiscate. + +CLARENCE: +What else? and that succession be determined. + +WARWICK: +Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. + +KING HENRY VI: +But, with the first of all your chief affairs, +Let me entreat, for I command no more, +That Margaret your queen and my son Edward +Be sent for, to return from France with speed; +For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear +My joy of liberty is half eclipsed. + +CLARENCE: +It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed. + +KING HENRY VI: +My Lord of Somerset, what youth is that, +Of whom you seem to have so tender care? + +SOMERSET: +My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond. + +KING HENRY VI: +Come hither, England's hope. +If secret powers +Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, +This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. +His looks are full of peaceful majesty, +His head by nature framed to wear a crown, +His hand to wield a sceptre, and himself +Likely in time to bless a regal throne. +Make much of him, my lords, for this is he +Must help you more than you are hurt by me. + +WARWICK: +What news, my friend? + +Post: +That Edward is escaped from your brother, +And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. + +WARWICK: +Unsavoury news! but how made he escape? + +Post: +He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester +And the Lord Hastings, who attended him +In secret ambush on the forest side +And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him; +For hunting was his daily exercise. + +WARWICK: +My brother was too careless of his charge. +But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide +A salve for any sore that may betide. + +SOMERSET: +My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's; +For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help, +And we shall have more wars before 't be long. +As Henry's late presaging prophecy +Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond, +So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts +What may befall him, to his harm and ours: +Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, +Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany, +Till storms be past of civil enmity. + +OXFORD: +Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, +'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down. + +SOMERSET: +It shall be so; he shall to Brittany. +Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest, +Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends, +And says that once more I shall interchange +My waned state for Henry's regal crown. +Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the seas +And brought desired help from Burgundy: +What then remains, we being thus arrived +From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York, +But that we enter, as into our dukedom? + +GLOUCESTER: +The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this; +For many men that stumble at the threshold +Are well foretold that danger lurks within. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us: +By fair or foul means we must enter in, +For hither will our friends repair to us. + +HASTINGS: +My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them. + +Mayor: +My lords, we were forewarned of your coming, +And shut the gates for safety of ourselves; +For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. + +KING EDWARD IV: +But, master mayor, if Henry be your king, +Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York. + +Mayor: +True, my good lord; I know you for no less. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom, +As being well content with that alone. + +GLOUCESTER: + +HASTINGS: +Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt? +Open the gates; we are King Henry's friends. + +Mayor: +Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be open'd. + +GLOUCESTER: +A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded! + +HASTINGS: +The good old man would fain that all were well, +So 'twere not 'long of him; but being enter'd, +I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade +Both him and all his brothers unto reason. + +KING EDWARD IV: +So, master mayor: these gates must not be shut +But in the night or in the time of war. +What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys; +For Edward will defend the town and thee, +And all those friends that deign to follow me. + +GLOUCESTER: +Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, +Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Welcome, Sir John! But why come you in arms? + +MONTAGUE: +To help King Edward in his time of storm, +As every loyal subject ought to do. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget +Our title to the crown and only claim +Our dukedom till God please to send the rest. + +MONTAGUE: +Then fare you well, for I will hence again: +I came to serve a king and not a duke. +Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile, and we'll debate +By what safe means the crown may be recover'd. + +MONTAGUE: +What talk you of debating? in few words, +If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king, +I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone +To keep them back that come to succor you: +Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title? + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? + +KING EDWARD IV: +When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim: +Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning. + +HASTINGS: +Away with scrupulous wit! now arms must rule. + +GLOUCESTER: +And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. +Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand: +The bruit thereof will bring you many friends. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right, +And Henry but usurps the diadem. + +MONTAGUE: +Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself; +And now will I be Edward's champion. + +HASTINGS: +Sound trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaim'd: +Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. + +Soldier: +Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, king of +England and France, and lord of Ireland, &c. + +MONTAGUE: +And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right, +By this I challenge him to single fight. + +All: +Long live Edward the Fourth! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Thanks, brave Montgomery; and thanks unto you all: +If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. +Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York; +And when the morning sun shall raise his car +Above the border of this horizon, +We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates; +For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. +Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems thee +To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! +Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick. +Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day, +And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. +3 KING HENRY VI + +WARWICK: +What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, +With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, +Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas, +And with his troops doth march amain to London; +And many giddy people flock to him. + +KING HENRY VI: +Let's levy men, and beat him back again. + +CLARENCE: +A little fire is quickly trodden out; +Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench. + +WARWICK: +In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, +Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; +Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence, +Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, +The knights and gentlemen to come with thee: +Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, +Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find +Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st: +And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved, +In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. +My sovereign, with the loving citizens, +Like to his island girt in with the ocean, +Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, +Shall rest in London till we come to him. +Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply. +Farewell, my sovereign. + +KING HENRY VI: +Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope. + +CLARENCE: +In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand. + +KING HENRY VI: +Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate! + +MONTAGUE: +Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave. + +OXFORD: +And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu. + +KING HENRY VI: +Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, +And all at once, once more a happy farewell. + +WARWICK: +Farewell, sweet lords: let's meet at Coventry. + +KING HENRY VI: +Here at the palace I will rest awhile. +Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? +Methinks the power that Edward hath in field +Should not be able to encounter mine. + +EXETER: +The doubt is that he will seduce the rest. + +KING HENRY VI: +That's not my fear; my meed hath got me fame: +I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, +Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; +My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, +My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, +My mercy dried their water-flowing tears; +I have not been desirous of their wealth, +Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies. +Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd: +Then why should they love Edward more than me? +No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace: +And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, +The lamb will never cease to follow him. + +EXETER: +Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these? + +KING EDWARD IV: +Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him hence; +And once again proclaim us King of England. +You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow: +Now stops thy spring; my sea sha$l suck them dry, +And swell so much the higher by their ebb. +Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak. +And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course +Where peremptory Warwick now remains: +The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay, +Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay. + +GLOUCESTER: +Away betimes, before his forces join, +And take the great-grown traitor unawares: +Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. +3 KING HENRY VI + +WARWICK: +Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford? +How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? + +First Messenger: +By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. + +WARWICK: +How far off is our brother Montague? +Where is the post that came from Montague? + +Second Messenger: +By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. + +WARWICK: +Say, Somerville, what says my loving son? +And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now? + +SOMERSET: +At Southam I did leave him with his forces, +And do expect him here some two hours hence. + +WARWICK: +Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum. + +SOMERSET: +It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies: +The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick. + +WARWICK: +Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends. + +SOMERSET: +They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle. + +GLOUCESTER: +See how the surly Warwick mans the wall! + +WARWICK: +O unbid spite! is sportful Edward come? +Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced, +That we could hear no news of his repair? + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, +Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee, +Call Edward king and at his hands beg mercy? +And he shall pardon thee these outrages. + +WARWICK: +Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, +Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee own, +Call Warwick patron and be penitent? +And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. + +GLOUCESTER: +I thought, at least, he would have said the king; +Or did he make the jest against his will? + +WARWICK: +Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? + +GLOUCESTER: +Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give: +I'll do thee service for so good a gift. + +WARWICK: +'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift. + +WARWICK: +Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: +And weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; +And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. + +KING EDWARD IV: +But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner: +And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: +What is the body when the head is off? + +GLOUCESTER: +Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, +But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, +The king was slily finger'd from the deck! +You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace, +And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower. + +EDWARD: +'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still. + +GLOUCESTER: +Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down: +Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. + +WARWICK: +I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, +And with the other fling it at thy face, +Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend, +This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair +Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off, +Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, +'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.' + +WARWICK: +O cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes! + +OXFORD: +Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster! + +GLOUCESTER: +The gates are open, let us enter too. + +KING EDWARD IV: +So other foes may set upon our backs. +Stand we in good array; for they no doubt +Will issue out again and bid us battle: +If not, the city being but of small defence, +We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same. + +WARWICK: +O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. + +MONTAGUE: +Montague, Montague, for Lancaster! + +GLOUCESTER: +Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason +Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. + +KING EDWARD IV: +The harder match'd, the greater victory: +My mind presageth happy gain and conquest. + +SOMERSET: +Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster! + +GLOUCESTER: +Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, +Have sold their lives unto the house of York; +And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold. + +WARWICK: +And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, +Of force enough to bid his brother battle; +With whom an upright zeal to right prevails +More than the nature of a brother's love! +Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call. + +CLARENCE: +Father of Warwick, know you what this means? +Look here, I throw my infamy at thee +I will not ruinate my father's house, +Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, +And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick, +That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, +To bend the fatal instruments of war +Against his brother and his lawful king? +Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath: +To keep that oath were more impiety +Than Jephthah's, when he sacrificed his daughter. +I am so sorry for my trespass made +That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, +I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe, +With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee-- +As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad-- +To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. +And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, +And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. +Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends: +And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, +For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved, +Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate. + +GLOUCESTER: +Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike. + +WARWICK: +O passing traitor, perjured and unjust! + +KING EDWARD IV: +What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight? +Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears? + +WARWICK: +Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence! +I will away towards Barnet presently, +And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way. +Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory! +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING EDWARD IV: +So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear; +For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all. +Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, +That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. + +WARWICK: +Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe, +And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? +Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, +My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows. +That I must yield my body to the earth +And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. +Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, +Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, +Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, +Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree +And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. +These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, +Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, +To search the secret treasons of the world: +The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, +Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; +For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? +And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow? +Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! +My parks, my walks, my manors that I had. +Even now forsake me, and of all my lands +Is nothing left me but my body's length. +Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? +And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + +SOMERSET: +Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are. +We might recover all our loss again; +The queen from France hath brought a puissant power: +Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly! + +WARWICK: +Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, +If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand. +And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile! +Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst, +Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood +That glues my lips and will not let me speak. +Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. + +SOMERSET: +Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last; +And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, +And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.' +And more he would have said, and more he spoke, +Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, +That mought not be distinguished; but at last +I well might hear, delivered with a groan, +'O, farewell, Warwick!' + +WARWICK: +Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves; +For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven. + +OXFORD: +Away, away, to meet the queen's great power! +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING EDWARD IV: +Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, +And we are graced with wreaths of victory. +But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, +I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud, +That will encounter with our glorious sun, +Ere he attain his easeful western bed: +I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen +Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast +And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. + +CLARENCE: +A little gale will soon disperse that cloud +And blow it to the source from whence it came: +The very beams will dry those vapours up, +For every cloud engenders not a storm. + +GLOUCESTER: +The queen is valued thirty thousand strong, +And Somerset, with Oxford fled to her: +If she have time to breathe be well assured +Her faction will be full as strong as ours. + +KING EDWARD IV: +We are advertised by our loving friends +That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury: +We, having now the best at Barnet field, +Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; +And, as we march, our strength will be augmented +In every county as we go along. +Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage!' and away. +3 KING HENRY VI + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, +But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. +What though the mast be now blown overboard, +The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, +And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? +Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he +Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad +With tearful eyes add water to the sea +And give more strength to that which hath too much, +Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, +Which industry and courage might have saved? +Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! +Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? +And Montague our topmost; what of him? +Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these? +Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? +And Somerset another goodly mast? +The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? +And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I +For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? +We will not from the helm to sit and weep, +But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, +From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck. +As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. +And what is Edward but ruthless sea? +What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? +And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? +All these the enemies to our poor bark. +Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while! +Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink: +Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off, +Or else you famish; that's a threefold death. +This speak I, lords, to let you understand, +If case some one of you would fly from us, +That there's no hoped-for mercy with the brothers +More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks. +Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided +'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit +Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, +Infuse his breast with magnanimity +And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. +I speak not this as doubting any here +For did I but suspect a fearful man +He should have leave to go away betimes, +Lest in our need he might infect another +And make him of like spirit to himself. +If any such be here--as God forbid!-- +Let him depart before we need his help. + +OXFORD: +Women and children of so high a courage, +And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame. +O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather +Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live +To bear his image and renew his glories! + +SOMERSET: +And he that will not fight for such a hope. +Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, +If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else. + +Messenger: +Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand. +Ready to fight; therefore be resolute. + +OXFORD: +I thought no less: it is his policy +To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. + +SOMERSET: +But he's deceived; we are in readiness. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness. + +OXFORD: +Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood, +Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength, +Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. +I need not add more fuel to your fire, +For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out +Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords! + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say +My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, +Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. +Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign, +Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd, +His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, +His statutes cancell'd and his treasure spent; +And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. +You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords, +Be valiant and give signal to the fight. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now here a period of tumultuous broils. +Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight: +For Somerset, off with his guilty head. +Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. + +OXFORD: +For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. + +SOMERSET: +Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +So part we sadly in this troublous world, +To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Is proclamation made, that who finds Edward +Shall have a high reward, and he his life? + +GLOUCESTER: +It is: and lo, where youthful Edward comes! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak. +What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? +Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make +For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, +And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York! +Suppose that I am now my father's mouth; +Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou, +Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, +Which traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Ah, that thy father had been so resolved! + +GLOUCESTER: +That you might still have worn the petticoat, +And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Let AEsop fable in a winter's night; +His currish riddles sort not with this place. + +GLOUCESTER: +By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. + +GLOUCESTER: +For God's sake, take away this captive scold. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue. + +CLARENCE: +Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. + +PRINCE EDWARD: +I know my duty; you are all undutiful: +Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George, +And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all +I am your better, traitors as ye are: +And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Take that, thou likeness of this railer here. + +GLOUCESTER: +Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony. + +CLARENCE: +And there's for twitting me with perjury. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +O, kill me too! + +GLOUCESTER: +Marry, and shall. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done too much. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why should she live, to fill the world with words? + +KING EDWARD IV: +What, doth she swoon? use means for her recovery. + +GLOUCESTER: +Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother; +I'll hence to London on a serious matter: +Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. + +CLARENCE: +What? what? + +GLOUCESTER: +The Tower, the Tower. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy! +Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers! +They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all, +Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, +If this foul deed were by to equal it: +He was a man; this, in respect, a child: +And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. +What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? +No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speak: +And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. +Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals! +How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! +You have no children, butchers! if you had, +The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse: +But if you ever chance to have a child, +Look in his youth to have him so cut off +As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here, +Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: +What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou. + +CLARENCE: +By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it. + +CLARENCE: +Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it? + +QUEEN MARGARET: +Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: +'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. +What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher, +Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? +Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed; +Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence. + +QUEEN MARGARET: +So come to you and yours, as to this Prince! + +KING EDWARD IV: +Where's Richard gone? + +CLARENCE: +To London, all in post; and, as I guess, +To make a bloody supper in the Tower. + +KING EDWARD IV: +He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. +Now march we hence: discharge the common sort +With pay and thanks, and let's away to London +And see our gentle queen how well she fares: +By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. +3 KING HENRY VI + +GLOUCESTER: +Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard? + +KING HENRY VI: +Ay, my good lord:--my lord, I should say rather; +'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better: +'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike, +And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.' + +GLOUCESTER: +Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. + +KING HENRY VI: +So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; +So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece +And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. +What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? + +GLOUCESTER: +Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; +The thief doth fear each bush an officer. + +KING HENRY VI: +The bird that hath been limed in a bush, +With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush; +And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, +Have now the fatal object in my eye +Where my poor young was limed, was caught and kill'd. + +GLOUCESTER: +Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, +That taught his son the office of a fowl! +An yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. + +KING HENRY VI: +I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; +Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; +The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy +Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea +Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. +Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! +My breast can better brook thy dagger's point +Than can my ears that tragic history. +But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life? + +GLOUCESTER: +Think'st thou I am an executioner? + +KING HENRY VI: +A persecutor, I am sure, thou art: +If murdering innocents be executing, +Why, then thou art an executioner. + +GLOUCESTER: +Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. + +KING HENRY VI: +Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume, +Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. +And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand, +Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, +And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's, +And many an orphan's water-standing eye-- +Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, +And orphans for their parents timeless death-- +Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. +The owl shriek'd at thy birth,--an evil sign; +The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; +Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees; +The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, +And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. +Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, +And, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, +To wit, an indigested and deformed lump, +Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. +Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, +To signify thou camest to bite the world: +And, if the rest be true which I have heard, +Thou camest-- + +GLOUCESTER: +I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech: +For this amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. + +KING HENRY VI: +Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. +God forgive my sins, and pardon thee! + +GLOUCESTER: +What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster +Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. +See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! +O, may such purple tears be alway shed +From those that wish the downfall of our house! +If any spark of life be yet remaining, +Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither: +I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. +Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; +For I have often heard my mother say +I came into the world with my legs forward: +Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, +And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? +The midwife wonder'd and the women cried +'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!' +And so I was; which plainly signified +That I should snarl and bite and play the dog. +Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so, +Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. +I have no brother, I am like no brother; +And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine, +Be resident in men like one another +And not in me: I am myself alone. +Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light: +But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; +For I will buz abroad such prophecies +That Edward shall be fearful of his life, +And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. +King Henry and the prince his son are gone: +Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest, +Counting myself but bad till I be best. +I'll throw thy body in another room +And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. +3 KING HENRY VI + +KING EDWARD IV: +Once more we sit in England's royal throne, +Re-purchased with the blood of enemies. +What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, +Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride! +Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd +For hardy and undoubted champions; +Two Cliffords, as the father and the son, +And two Northumberlands; two braver men +Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound; +With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, +That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion +And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. +Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat +And made our footstool of security. +Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. +Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself +Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night, +Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, +That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; +And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. + +GLOUCESTER: + +KING EDWARD IV: +Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; +And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. + +CLARENCE: +The duty that I owe unto your majesty +I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH: +Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks. + +GLOUCESTER: +And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, +Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Now am I seated as my soul delights, +Having my country's peace and brothers' loves. + +CLARENCE: +What will your grace have done with Margaret? +Reignier, her father, to the king of France +Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, +And hither have they sent it for her ransom. + +KING EDWARD IV: +Away with her, and waft her hence to France. +And now what rests but that we spend the time +With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, +Such as befits the pleasure of the court? +Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour annoy! +For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. + +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. + +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: + +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. +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! +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. +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? +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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: + +PAULINA: +The keeper of the prison, call to him; +let him have knowledge who I am. +Good lady, +No court in Europe is too good for thee; +What dost thou then in prison? +Now, good sir, +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. + +Gaoler: +And, madam, +I must be present at your conference. + +PAULINA: +Well, be't so, prithee. +Here's such ado to make no stain a stain +As passes colouring. +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. + +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. +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +LEONTES: +No, I'll not rear +Another's issue. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +LEONTES: +Read the indictment. + +Officer: + +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. + +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! + +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. + +LEONTES: +Break up the seals and read. + +Officer: + +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. + +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. +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. +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Clown: +Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod +yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred +shorn. what comes the wool to? + +AUTOLYCUS: + +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! + +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: + +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! +Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. +I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I +make not this cheat bring out another and the +shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name +put in the book of virtue! +Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, +And merrily hent the stile-a: +A merry heart goes all the day, +Your sad tires in a mile-a. + +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. + +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: + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +AUTOLYCUS: +And you shall pay well for 'em. +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. + +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. + +POLIXENES: +O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. +Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them. +He's simple and tells much. +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, +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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: +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? +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. +I know ye well enough. + +CAMILLO: +Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half +flayed already. + +AUTOLYCUS: +Are you in earnest, sir? +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. +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. +Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. + +AUTOLYCUS: +Adieu, sir. + +FLORIZEL: +O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! +Pray you, a word. + +CAMILLO: + +FLORIZEL: +Fortune speed us! +Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. + +CAMILLO: +The swifter speed the better. + +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. +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: + +Shepherd: +Well, let us to the king: there is that in this +fardel will make him scratch his beard. + +AUTOLYCUS: + +Clown: +Pray heartily he be at palace. + +AUTOLYCUS: + +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. + +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. + +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. +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. + +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 +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. +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! + +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. +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. + +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. +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. +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. + +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. +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. + +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. +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! +'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: +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. + +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. +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE: +Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what +with the gallows and what with poverty, I am +custom-shrunk. +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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: + +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. + +ISABELLA: +Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls + +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. + +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. + +ESCALUS: + +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. +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. +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: +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. + +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. +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. + +Servant: +He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight +I'll tell him of you. + +Provost: +Pray you, do. +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! + +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. + +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. +See you the fornicatress be removed: +Let have needful, but not lavish, means; +There shall be order for't. + +Provost: +God save your honour! + +ANGELO: +Stay a little while. +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: + +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: + +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: + +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: + +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: + +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: + +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: + +Provost: + +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: + +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: + +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: + +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: + +ISABELLA: +Heaven keep your honour safe! + +ANGELO: + +ISABELLA: +At what hour to-morrow +Shall I attend your lordship? + +ANGELO: +At any time 'fore noon. + +ISABELLA: +'Save your honour! + +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. + +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. +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, +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! + +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. + +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. +How now! who's there? + +Servant: +One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. + +ANGELO: +Teach her the way. +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. +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. + +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. + +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: + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. +Provost, a word with you! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. +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. + +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? + +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. +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! +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. + + +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. +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. + +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. + +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! +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? + +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. +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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: +The one has my pity; not a jot the other, +Being a murderer, though he were my brother. +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. +But, hark, what noise? +Heaven give your spirits comfort! +By and by. +I hope it is some pardon or reprieve +For the most gentle Claudio. +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. +Now are they come. +This is a gentle provost: seldom when +The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. +How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste +That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes. + +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. +This is his lordship's man. + +DUKE VINCENTIO: +And here comes Claudio's pardon. + +Messenger: + +Provost: +I shall obey him. + +DUKE VINCENTIO: + +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: + +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. + +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.' + +ABHORSON: +Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. + +POMPEY: +Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged. +Master Barnardine! + +ABHORSON: +What, ho, Barnardine! + +BARNARDINE: + +POMPEY: +Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so +good, sir, to rise and be put to death. + +BARNARDINE: + +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. + +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? + +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. + +DUKE VINCENTIO: +Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart! +After him, fellows; bring him to the block. + +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. +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. + +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. + +ISABELLA: + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. +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. + +DUKE VINCENTIO: +These letters at fit time deliver me +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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! + +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: +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. +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. +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. +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. +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. +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. + +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: + +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? + +DUKE VINCENTIO: +Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke. +First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. +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: + +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. + +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. + +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,-- + +DUKE VINCENTIO: +You do but lose your labour. +Away with him to death! +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, +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. + +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. + +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. + +DUKE VINCENTIO: + +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. +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. + +SLY: +I'll pheeze you, in faith. + +Hostess: +A pair of stocks, you rogue! + +SLY: +Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in +the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. +Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa! + +Hostess: +You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? + +SLY: +No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold +bed, and warm thee. + +Hostess: +I know my remedy; I must go fetch the +third--borough. + +SLY: +Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him +by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, +and kindly. + +Lord: +Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: +Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd; +And couple Clowder with the deep--mouth'd brach. +Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good +At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? +I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. + +First Huntsman: +Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; +He cried upon it at the merest loss +And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: +Trust me, I take him for the better dog. + +Lord: +Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, +I would esteem him worth a dozen such. +But sup them well and look unto them all: +To-morrow I intend to hunt again. + +First Huntsman: +I will, my lord. + +Lord: +What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? + +Second Huntsman: +He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, +This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. + +Lord: +O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! +Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! +Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. +What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, +Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, +A most delicious banquet by his bed, +And brave attendants near him when he wakes, +Would not the beggar then forget himself? + +First Huntsman: +Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. + +Second Huntsman: +It would seem strange unto him when he waked. + +Lord: +Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. +Then take him up and manage well the jest: +Carry him gently to my fairest chamber +And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: +Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters +And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: +Procure me music ready when he wakes, +To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; +And if he chance to speak, be ready straight +And with a low submissive reverence +Say 'What is it your honour will command?' +Let one attend him with a silver basin +Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers, +Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, +And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?' +Some one be ready with a costly suit +And ask him what apparel he will wear; +Another tell him of his hounds and horse, +And that his lady mourns at his disease: +Persuade him that he hath been lunatic; +And when he says he is, say that he dreams, +For he is nothing but a mighty lord. +This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs: +It will be pastime passing excellent, +If it be husbanded with modesty. + +First Huntsman: +My lord, I warrant you we will play our part, +As he shall think by our true diligence +He is no less than what we say he is. + +Lord: +Take him up gently and to bed with him; +And each one to his office when he wakes. +Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: +Belike, some noble gentleman that means, +Travelling some journey, to repose him here. +How now! who is it? + +Servant: +An't please your honour, players +That offer service to your lordship. + +Lord: +Bid them come near. +Now, fellows, you are welcome. + +Players: +We thank your honour. + +Lord: +Do you intend to stay with me tonight? + +A Player: +So please your lordship to accept our duty. + +Lord: +With all my heart. This fellow I remember, +Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son: +'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well: +I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part +Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd. + +A Player: +I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. + +Lord: +'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. +Well, you are come to me in a happy time; +The rather for I have some sport in hand +Wherein your cunning can assist me much. +There is a lord will hear you play to-night: +But I am doubtful of your modesties; +Lest over-eyeing of his odd behavior,-- +For yet his honour never heard a play-- +You break into some merry passion +And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, +If you should smile he grows impatient. + +A Player: +Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, +Were he the veriest antic in the world. + +Lord: +Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, +And give them friendly welcome every one: +Let them want nothing that my house affords. +Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, +And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: +That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber; +And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance. +Tell him from me, as he will win my love, +He bear himself with honourable action, +Such as he hath observed in noble ladies +Unto their lords, by them accomplished: +Such duty to the drunkard let him do +With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, +And say 'What is't your honour will command, +Wherein your lady and your humble wife +May show her duty and make known her love?' +And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses, +And with declining head into his bosom, +Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd +To see her noble lord restored to health, +Who for this seven years hath esteem'd him +No better than a poor and loathsome beggar: +And if the boy have not a woman's gift +To rain a shower of commanded tears, +An onion will do well for such a shift, +Which in a napkin being close convey'd +Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. +See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst: +Anon I'll give thee more instructions. +I know the boy will well usurp the grace, +Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman: +I long to hear him call the drunkard husband, +And how my men will stay themselves from laughter +When they do homage to this simple peasant. +I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence +May well abate the over-merry spleen +Which otherwise would grow into extremes. + +SLY: +For God's sake, a pot of small ale. + +First Servant: +Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? + +Second Servant: +Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? + +Third Servant: +What raiment will your honour wear to-day? + +SLY: +I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor +'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if +you give me any conserves, give me conserves of +beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I +have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings +than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, +sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my +toes look through the over-leather. + +Lord: +Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! +O, that a mighty man of such descent, +Of such possessions and so high esteem, +Should be infused with so foul a spirit! + +SLY: +What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher +Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a +pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a +bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? +Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if +she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence +on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the +lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not +bestraught: here's-- + +Third Servant: +O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! + +Second Servant: +O, this is it that makes your servants droop! + +Lord: +Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, +As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. +O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, +Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment +And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. +Look how thy servants do attend on thee, +Each in his office ready at thy beck. +Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, +And twenty caged nightingales do sing: +Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch +Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed +On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. +Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: +Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, +Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. +Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar +Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt? +Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them +And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. + +First Servant: +Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift +As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. + +Second Servant: +Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight +Adonis painted by a running brook, +And Cytherea all in sedges hid, +Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, +Even as the waving sedges play with wind. + +Lord: +We'll show thee Io as she was a maid, +And how she was beguiled and surprised, +As lively painted as the deed was done. + +Third Servant: +Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, +Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, +And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, +So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. + +Lord: +Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: +Thou hast a lady far more beautiful +Than any woman in this waning age. + +First Servant: +And till the tears that she hath shed for thee +Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, +She was the fairest creature in the world; +And yet she is inferior to none. + +SLY: +Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? +Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now? +I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; +I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: +Upon my life, I am a lord indeed +And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. +Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; +And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. + +Second Servant: +Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? +O, how we joy to see your wit restored! +O, that once more you knew but what you are! +These fifteen years you have been in a dream; +Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. + +SLY: +These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. +But did I never speak of all that time? + +First Servant: +O, yes, my lord, but very idle words: +For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, +Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; +And rail upon the hostess of the house; +And say you would present her at the leet, +Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: +Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. + +SLY: +Ay, the woman's maid of the house. + +Third Servant: +Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid, +Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, +As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece +And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell +And twenty more such names and men as these +Which never were nor no man ever saw. + +SLY: +Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! + +ALL: +Amen. + +SLY: +I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it. + +Page: +How fares my noble lord? + +SLY: +Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough. +Where is my wife? + +Page: +Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her? + +SLY: +Are you my wife and will not call me husband? +My men should call me 'lord:' I am your goodman. + +Page: +My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; +I am your wife in all obedience. + +SLY: +I know it well. What must I call her? + +Lord: +Madam. + +SLY: +Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? + +Lord: +'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords +call ladies. + +SLY: +Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd +And slept above some fifteen year or more. + +Page: +Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, +Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. + +SLY: +'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone. +Madam, undress you and come now to bed. + +Page: +Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you +To pardon me yet for a night or two, +Or, if not so, until the sun be set: +For your physicians have expressly charged, +In peril to incur your former malady, +That I should yet absent me from your bed: +I hope this reason stands for my excuse. + +SLY: +Ay, it stands so that I may hardly +tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into +my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in +despite of the flesh and the blood. + +Messenger: +Your honour's players, heating your amendment, +Are come to play a pleasant comedy; +For so your doctors hold it very meet, +Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, +And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy: +Therefore they thought it good you hear a play +And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, +Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. + +SLY: +Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a +comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? + +Page: +No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. + +SLY: +What, household stuff? + +Page: +It is a kind of history. + +SLY: +Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side +and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. + +LUCENTIO: +Tranio, since for the great desire I had +To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, +I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy, +The pleasant garden of great Italy; +And by my father's love and leave am arm'd +With his good will and thy good company, +My trusty servant, well approved in all, +Here let us breathe and haply institute +A course of learning and ingenious studies. +Pisa renown'd for grave citizens +Gave me my being and my father first, +A merchant of great traffic through the world, +Vincetino come of Bentivolii. +Vincetino's son brought up in Florence +It shall become to serve all hopes conceived, +To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: +And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, +Virtue and that part of philosophy +Will I apply that treats of happiness +By virtue specially to be achieved. +Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left +And am to Padua come, as he that leaves +A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep +And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. + +TRANIO: +Mi perdonato, gentle master mine, +I am in all affected as yourself; +Glad that you thus continue your resolve +To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. +Only, good master, while we do admire +This virtue and this moral discipline, +Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray; +Or so devote to Aristotle's cheques +As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured: +Balk logic with acquaintance that you have +And practise rhetoric in your common talk; +Music and poesy use to quicken you; +The mathematics and the metaphysics, +Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you; +No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en: +In brief, sir, study what you most affect. + +LUCENTIO: +Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. +If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, +We could at once put us in readiness, +And take a lodging fit to entertain +Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. +But stay a while: what company is this? + +TRANIO: +Master, some show to welcome us to town. + +BAPTISTA: +Gentlemen, importune me no farther, +For how I firmly am resolved you know; +That is, not bestow my youngest daughter +Before I have a husband for the elder: +If either of you both love Katharina, +Because I know you well and love you well, +Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. + +GREMIO: + +KATHARINA: +I pray you, sir, is it your will +To make a stale of me amongst these mates? + +HORTENSIO: +Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, +Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. + +KATHARINA: +I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear: +I wis it is not half way to her heart; +But if it were, doubt not her care should be +To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool +And paint your face and use you like a fool. + +HORTENSIA: +From all such devils, good Lord deliver us! + +GREMIO: +And me too, good Lord! + +TRANIO: +Hush, master! here's some good pastime toward: +That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. + +LUCENTIO: +But in the other's silence do I see +Maid's mild behavior and sobriety. +Peace, Tranio! + +TRANIO: +Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. + +BAPTISTA: +Gentlemen, that I may soon make good +What I have said, Bianca, get you in: +And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, +For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. + +KATHARINA: +A pretty peat! it is best +Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. + +BIANCA: +Sister, content you in my discontent. +Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: +My books and instruments shall be my company, +On them to took and practise by myself. + +LUCENTIO: +Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak. + +HORTENSIO: +Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? +Sorry am I that our good will effects +Bianca's grief. + +GREMIO: +Why will you mew her up, +Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, +And make her bear the penance of her tongue? + +BAPTISTA: +Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolved: +Go in, Bianca: +And for I know she taketh most delight +In music, instruments and poetry, +Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, +Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, +Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such, +Prefer them hither; for to cunning men +I will be very kind, and liberal +To mine own children in good bringing up: +And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay; +For I have more to commune with Bianca. + +KATHARINA: +Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, +shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I +knew not what to take and what to leave, ha? + +GREMIO: +You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so +good, here's none will hold you. Their love is not +so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails +together, and fast it fairly out: our cakes dough on +both sides. Farewell: yet for the love I bear my +sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit +man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will +wish him to her father. + +HORTENSIO: +So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray. +Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked +parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, +that we may yet again have access to our fair +mistress and be happy rivals in Bianco's love, to +labour and effect one thing specially. + +GREMIO: +What's that, I pray? + +HORTENSIO: +Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. + +GREMIO: +A husband! a devil. + +HORTENSIO: +I say, a husband. + +GREMIO: +I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though +her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool +to be married to hell? + +HORTENSIO: +Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine +to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good +fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, +would take her with all faults, and money enough. + +GREMIO: +I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with +this condition, to be whipped at the high cross +every morning. + +HORTENSIO: +Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten +apples. But come; since this bar in law makes us +friends, it shall be so far forth friendly +maintained all by helping Baptista's eldest daughter +to a husband we set his youngest free for a husband, +and then have to't a fresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man +be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. +How say you, Signior Gremio? + +GREMIO: +I am agreed; and would I had given him the best +horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would +thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed her and rid the +house of her! Come on. + +TRANIO: +I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible +That love should of a sudden take such hold? + +LUCENTIO: +O Tranio, till I found it to be true, +I never thought it possible or likely; +But see, while idly I stood looking on, +I found the effect of love in idleness: +And now in plainness do confess to thee, +That art to me as secret and as dear +As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, +Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, +If I achieve not this young modest girl. +Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; +Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. + +TRANIO: +Master, it is no time to chide you now; +Affection is not rated from the heart: +If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so, +'Redime te captum quam queas minimo.' + +LUCENTIO: +Gramercies, lad, go forward; this contents: +The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. + +TRANIO: +Master, you look'd so longly on the maid, +Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. + +LUCENTIO: +O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, +Such as the daughter of Agenor had, +That made great Jove to humble him to her hand. +When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. + +TRANIO: +Saw you no more? mark'd you not how her sister +Began to scold and raise up such a storm +That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? + +LUCENTIO: +Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move +And with her breath she did perfume the air: +Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. + +TRANIO: +Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance. +I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid, +Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands: +Her eldest sister is so curst and shrewd +That till the father rid his hands of her, +Master, your love must live a maid at home; +And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, +Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. + +LUCENTIO: +Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he! +But art thou not advised, he took some care +To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? + +TRANIO: +Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted. + +LUCENTIO: +I have it, Tranio. + +TRANIO: +Master, for my hand, +Both our inventions meet and jump in one. + +LUCENTIO: +Tell me thine first. + +TRANIO: +You will be schoolmaster +And undertake the teaching of the maid: +That's your device. + +LUCENTIO: +It is: may it be done? + +TRANIO: +Not possible; for who shall bear your part, +And be in Padua here Vincentio's son, +Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends, +Visit his countrymen and banquet them? + +LUCENTIO: +Basta; content thee, for I have it full. +We have not yet been seen in any house, +Nor can we lie distinguish'd by our faces +For man or master; then it follows thus; +Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, +Keep house and port and servants as I should: +I will some other be, some Florentine, +Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. +'Tis hatch'd and shall be so: Tranio, at once +Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat and cloak: +When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; +But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. + +TRANIO: +So had you need. +In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, +And I am tied to be obedient; +For so your father charged me at our parting, +'Be serviceable to my son,' quoth he, +Although I think 'twas in another sense; +I am content to be Lucentio, +Because so well I love Lucentio. + +LUCENTIO: +Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves: +And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid +Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. +Here comes the rogue. +Sirrah, where have you been? + +BIONDELLO: +Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you? +Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes? Or +you stolen his? or both? pray, what's the news? + +LUCENTIO: +Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest, +And therefore frame your manners to the time. +Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, +Puts my apparel and my countenance on, +And I for my escape have put on his; +For in a quarrel since I came ashore +I kill'd a man and fear I was descried: +Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, +While I make way from hence to save my life: +You understand me? + +BIONDELLO: +I, sir! ne'er a whit. + +LUCENTIO: +And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: +Tranio is changed into Lucentio. + +BIONDELLO: +The better for him: would I were so too! + +TRANIO: +So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after, +That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter. +But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master's, I advise +You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: +When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; +But in all places else your master Lucentio. + +LUCENTIO: +Tranio, let's go: one thing more rests, that +thyself execute, to make one among these wooers: if +thou ask me why, sufficeth, my reasons are both good +and weighty. + +First Servant: +My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play. + +SLY: +Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely: +comes there any more of it? + +Page: +My lord, 'tis but begun. + +SLY: +'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady: +would 'twere done! + +PETRUCHIO: +Verona, for a while I take my leave, +To see my friends in Padua, but of all +My best beloved and approved friend, +Hortensio; and I trow this is his house. +Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say. + +GRUMIO: +Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there man has +rebused your worship? + +PETRUCHIO: +Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. + +GRUMIO: +Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that +I should knock you here, sir? + +PETRUCHIO: +Villain, I say, knock me at this gate +And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. + +GRUMIO: +My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock +you first, +And then I know after who comes by the worst. + +PETRUCHIO: +Will it not be? +Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it; +I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. + +GRUMIO: +Help, masters, help! my master is mad. + +PETRUCHIO: +Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain! + +HORTENSIO: +How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio! +and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona? + +PETRUCHIO: +Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? +'Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato,' may I say. + +HORTENSIO: +'Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor +mio Petruchio.' Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound +this quarrel. + +GRUMIO: +Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin. +if this be not a lawful case for me to leave his +service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him and rap +him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to +use his master so, being perhaps, for aught I see, +two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had +well knock'd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst. + +PETRUCHIO: +A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, +I bade the rascal knock upon your gate +And could not get him for my heart to do it. + +GRUMIO: +Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these +words plain, 'Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here, +knock me well, and knock me soundly'? And come you +now with, 'knocking at the gate'? + +PETRUCHIO: +Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. + +HORTENSIO: +Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge: +Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you, +Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. +And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale +Blows you to Padua here from old Verona? + +PETRUCHIO: +Such wind as scatters young men through the world, +To seek their fortunes farther than at home +Where small experience grows. But in a few, +Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: +Antonio, my father, is deceased; +And I have thrust myself into this maze, +Haply to wive and thrive as best I may: +Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home, +And so am come abroad to see the world. + +HORTENSIO: +Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee +And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife? +Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel: +And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich +And very rich: but thou'rt too much my friend, +And I'll not wish thee to her. + +PETRUCHIO: +Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we +Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know +One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, +As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, +Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, +As old as Sibyl and as curst and shrewd +As Socrates' Xanthippe, or a worse, +She moves me not, or not removes, at least, +Affection's edge in me, were she as rough +As are the swelling Adriatic seas: +I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; +If wealthily, then happily in Padua. + +GRUMIO: +Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his +mind is: Why give him gold enough and marry him to +a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with ne'er +a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases +as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, +so money comes withal. + +HORTENSIO: +Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in, +I will continue that I broach'd in jest. +I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife +With wealth enough and young and beauteous, +Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman: +Her only fault, and that is faults enough, +Is that she is intolerable curst +And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure +That, were my state far worser than it is, +I would not wed her for a mine of gold. + +PETRUCHIO: +Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect: +Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough; +For I will board her, though she chide as loud +As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack. + +HORTENSIO: +Her father is Baptista Minola, +An affable and courteous gentleman: +Her name is Katharina Minola, +Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. + +PETRUCHIO: +I know her father, though I know not her; +And he knew my deceased father well. +I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; +And therefore let me be thus bold with you +To give you over at this first encounter, +Unless you will accompany me thither. + +GRUMIO: +I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. +O' my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she +would think scolding would do little good upon him: +she may perhaps call him half a score knaves or so: +why, that's nothing; an he begin once, he'll rail in +his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what sir, an she +stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in +her face and so disfigure her with it that she +shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat. +You know him not, sir. + +HORTENSIO: +Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, +For in Baptista's keep my treasure is: +He hath the jewel of my life in hold, +His youngest daughter, beautiful Binaca, +And her withholds from me and other more, +Suitors to her and rivals in my love, +Supposing it a thing impossible, +For those defects I have before rehearsed, +That ever Katharina will be woo'd; +Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, +That none shall have access unto Bianca +Till Katharina the curst have got a husband. + +GRUMIO: +Katharina the curst! +A title for a maid of all titles the worst. + +HORTENSIO: +Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace, +And offer me disguised in sober robes +To old Baptista as a schoolmaster +Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; +That so I may, by this device, at least +Have leave and leisure to make love to her +And unsuspected court her by herself. + +GRUMIO: +Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, +how the young folks lay their heads together! +Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha? + +HORTENSIO: +Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love. +Petruchio, stand by a while. + +GRUMIO: +A proper stripling and an amorous! + +GREMIO: +O, very well; I have perused the note. +Hark you, sir: I'll have them very fairly bound: +All books of love, see that at any hand; +And see you read no other lectures to her: +You understand me: over and beside +Signior Baptista's liberality, +I'll mend it with a largess. Take your paper too, +And let me have them very well perfumed +For she is sweeter than perfume itself +To whom they go to. What will you read to her? + +LUCENTIO: +Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you +As for my patron, stand you so assured, +As firmly as yourself were still in place: +Yea, and perhaps with more successful words +Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. + +GREMIO: +O this learning, what a thing it is! + +GRUMIO: +O this woodcock, what an ass it is! + +PETRUCHIO: +Peace, sirrah! + +HORTENSIO: +Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio. + +GREMIO: +And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. +Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. +I promised to inquire carefully +About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca: +And by good fortune I have lighted well +On this young man, for learning and behavior +Fit for her turn, well read in poetry +And other books, good ones, I warrant ye. + +HORTENSIO: +'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman +Hath promised me to help me to another, +A fine musician to instruct our mistress; +So shall I no whit be behind in duty +To fair Bianca, so beloved of me. + +GREMIO: +Beloved of me; and that my deeds shall prove. + +GRUMIO: +And that his bags shall prove. + +HORTENSIO: +Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love: +Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, +I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. +Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, +Upon agreement from us to his liking, +Will undertake to woo curst Katharina, +Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. + +GREMIO: +So said, so done, is well. +Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? + +PETRUCHIO: +I know she is an irksome brawling scold: +If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. + +GREMIO: +No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman? + +PETRUCHIO: +Born in Verona, old Antonio's son: +My father dead, my fortune lives for me; +And I do hope good days and long to see. + +GREMIO: +O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange! +But if you have a stomach, to't i' God's name: +You shall have me assisting you in all. +But will you woo this wild-cat? + +PETRUCHIO: +Will I live? + +GRUMIO: +Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why came I hither but to that intent? +Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? +Have I not in my time heard lions roar? +Have I not heard the sea puff'd up with winds +Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? +Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, +And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? +Have I not in a pitched battle heard +Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? +And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, +That gives not half so great a blow to hear +As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? +Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs. + +GRUMIO: +For he fears none. + +GREMIO: +Hortensio, hark: +This gentleman is happily arrived, +My mind presumes, for his own good and ours. + +HORTENSIO: +I promised we would be contributors +And bear his charging of wooing, whatsoe'er. + +GREMIO: +And so we will, provided that he win her. + +GRUMIO: +I would I were as sure of a good dinner. + +TRANIO: +Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold, +Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way +To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? + +BIONDELLO: +He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean? + +TRANIO: +Even he, Biondello. + +GREMIO: +Hark you, sir; you mean not her to-- + +TRANIO: +Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do? + +PETRUCHIO: +Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. + +TRANIO: +I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away. + +LUCENTIO: +Well begun, Tranio. + +HORTENSIO: +Sir, a word ere you go; +Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? + +TRANIO: +And if I be, sir, is it any offence? + +GREMIO: +No; if without more words you will get you hence. + +TRANIO: +Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free +For me as for you? + +GREMIO: +But so is not she. + +TRANIO: +For what reason, I beseech you? + +GREMIO: +For this reason, if you'll know, +That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio. + +HORTENSIO: +That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio. + +TRANIO: +Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen, +Do me this right; hear me with patience. +Baptista is a noble gentleman, +To whom my father is not all unknown; +And were his daughter fairer than she is, +She may more suitors have and me for one. +Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers; +Then well one more may fair Bianca have: +And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one, +Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. + +GREMIO: +What! this gentleman will out-talk us all. + +LUCENTIO: +Sir, give him head: I know he'll prove a jade. + +PETRUCHIO: +Hortensio, to what end are all these words? + +HORTENSIO: +Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, +Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter? + +TRANIO: +No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two, +The one as famous for a scolding tongue +As is the other for beauteous modesty. + +PETRUCHIO: +Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by. + +GREMIO: +Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules; +And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. + +PETRUCHIO: +Sir, understand you this of me in sooth: +The youngest daughter whom you hearken for +Her father keeps from all access of suitors, +And will not promise her to any man +Until the elder sister first be wed: +The younger then is free and not before. + +TRANIO: +If it be so, sir, that you are the man +Must stead us all and me amongst the rest, +And if you break the ice and do this feat, +Achieve the elder, set the younger free +For our access, whose hap shall be to have her +Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. + +HORTENSIO: +Sir, you say well and well you do conceive; +And since you do profess to be a suitor, +You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, +To whom we all rest generally beholding. + +TRANIO: +Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof, +Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, +And quaff carouses to our mistress' health, +And do as adversaries do in law, +Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. + +GRUMIO: +O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone. + +HORTENSIO: +The motion's good indeed and be it so, +Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. + +BIANCA: +Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, +To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; +That I disdain: but for these other gawds, +Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, +Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat; +Or what you will command me will I do, +So well I know my duty to my elders. + +KATHARINA: +Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell +Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not. + +BIANCA: +Believe me, sister, of all the men alive +I never yet beheld that special face +Which I could fancy more than any other. + +KATHARINA: +Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio? + +BIANCA: +If you affect him, sister, here I swear +I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have +him. + +KATHARINA: +O then, belike, you fancy riches more: +You will have Gremio to keep you fair. + +BIANCA: +Is it for him you do envy me so? +Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive +You have but jested with me all this while: +I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. + +KATHARINA: +If that be jest, then all the rest was so. + +BAPTISTA: +Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence? +Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps. +Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. +For shame, thou helding of a devilish spirit, +Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee? +When did she cross thee with a bitter word? + +KATHARINA: +Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged. + +BAPTISTA: +What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. + +KATHARINA: +What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see +She is your treasure, she must have a husband; +I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day +And for your love to her lead apes in hell. +Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep +Till I can find occasion of revenge. + +BAPTISTA: +Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I? +But who comes here? + +GREMIO: +Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. + +BAPTISTA: +Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. +God save you, gentlemen! + +PETRUCHIO: +And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter +Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous? + +BAPTISTA: +I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina. + +GREMIO: +You are too blunt: go to it orderly. + +PETRUCHIO: +You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave. +I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, +That, hearing of her beauty and her wit, +Her affability and bashful modesty, +Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior, +Am bold to show myself a forward guest +Within your house, to make mine eye the witness +Of that report which I so oft have heard. +And, for an entrance to my entertainment, +I do present you with a man of mine, +Cunning in music and the mathematics, +To instruct her fully in those sciences, +Whereof I know she is not ignorant: +Accept of him, or else you do me wrong: +His name is Licio, born in Mantua. + +BAPTISTA: +You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake. +But for my daughter Katharina, this I know, +She is not for your turn, the more my grief. + +PETRUCHIO: +I see you do not mean to part with her, +Or else you like not of my company. + +BAPTISTA: +Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. +Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name? + +PETRUCHIO: +Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son, +A man well known throughout all Italy. + +BAPTISTA: +I know him well: you are welcome for his sake. + +GREMIO: +Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, +Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too: +Baccare! you are marvellous forward. + +PETRUCHIO: +O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing. + +GREMIO: +I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your +wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am +sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself, +that have been more kindly beholding to you than +any, freely give unto you this young scholar, +that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning +in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other +in music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; pray, +accept his service. + +BAPTISTA: +A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. +Welcome, good Cambio. +But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger: +may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? + +TRANIO: +Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own, +That, being a stranger in this city here, +Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, +Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. +Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, +In the preferment of the eldest sister. +This liberty is all that I request, +That, upon knowledge of my parentage, +I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo +And free access and favour as the rest: +And, toward the education of your daughters, +I here bestow a simple instrument, +And this small packet of Greek and Latin books: +If you accept them, then their worth is great. + +BAPTISTA: +Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray? + +TRANIO: +Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. + +BAPTISTA: +A mighty man of Pisa; by report +I know him well: you are very welcome, sir, +Take you the lute, and you the set of books; +You shall go see your pupils presently. +Holla, within! +Sirrah, lead these gentlemen +To my daughters; and tell them both, +These are their tutors: bid them use them well. +We will go walk a little in the orchard, +And then to dinner. You are passing welcome, +And so I pray you all to think yourselves. + +PETRUCHIO: +Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, +And every day I cannot come to woo. +You knew my father well, and in him me, +Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, +Which I have better'd rather than decreased: +Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, +What dowry shall I have with her to wife? + +BAPTISTA: +After my death the one half of my lands, +And in possession twenty thousand crowns. + +PETRUCHIO: +And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of +Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, +In all my lands and leases whatsoever: +Let specialties be therefore drawn between us, +That covenants may be kept on either hand. + +BAPTISTA: +Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, +That is, her love; for that is all in all. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, +I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; +And where two raging fires meet together +They do consume the thing that feeds their fury: +Though little fire grows great with little wind, +Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: +So I to her and so she yields to me; +For I am rough and woo not like a babe. + +BAPTISTA: +Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! +But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. + +PETRUCHIO: +Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, +That shake not, though they blow perpetually. + +BAPTISTA: +How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale? + +HORTENSIO: +For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. + +BAPTISTA: +What, will my daughter prove a good musician? + +HORTENSIO: +I think she'll sooner prove a soldier +Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. + +BAPTISTA: +Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? + +HORTENSIO: +Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. +I did but tell her she mistook her frets, +And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; +When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, +'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume +with them:' +And, with that word, she struck me on the head, +And through the instrument my pate made way; +And there I stood amazed for a while, +As on a pillory, looking through the lute; +While she did call me rascal fiddler +And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms, +As had she studied to misuse me so. + +PETRUCHIO: +Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; +I love her ten times more than e'er I did: +O, how I long to have some chat with her! + +BAPTISTA: +Well, go with me and be not so discomfited: +Proceed in practise with my younger daughter; +She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns. +Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, +Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? + +PETRUCHIO: +I pray you do. +I will attend her here, +And woo her with some spirit when she comes. +Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain +She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: +Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear +As morning roses newly wash'd with dew: +Say she be mute and will not speak a word; +Then I'll commend her volubility, +And say she uttereth piercing eloquence: +If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, +As though she bid me stay by her a week: +If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day +When I shall ask the banns and when be married. +But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. +Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. + +KATHARINA: +Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: +They call me Katharina that do talk of me. + +PETRUCHIO: +You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate, +And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst; +But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom +Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, +For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, +Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; +Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, +Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, +Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, +Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife. + +KATHARINA: +Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither +Remove you hence: I knew you at the first +You were a moveable. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, what's a moveable? + +KATHARINA: +A join'd-stool. + +PETRUCHIO: +Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. + +KATHARINA: +Asses are made to bear, and so are you. + +PETRUCHIO: +Women are made to bear, and so are you. + +KATHARINA: +No such jade as you, if me you mean. + +PETRUCHIO: +Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee; +For, knowing thee to be but young and light-- + +KATHARINA: +Too light for such a swain as you to catch; +And yet as heavy as my weight should be. + +PETRUCHIO: +Should be! should--buzz! + +KATHARINA: +Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. + +PETRUCHIO: +O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? + +KATHARINA: +Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. + +PETRUCHIO: +Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. + +KATHARINA: +If I be waspish, best beware my sting. + +PETRUCHIO: +My remedy is then, to pluck it out. + +KATHARINA: +Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies, + +PETRUCHIO: +Who knows not where a wasp does +wear his sting? In his tail. + +KATHARINA: +In his tongue. + +PETRUCHIO: +Whose tongue? + +KATHARINA: +Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. + +PETRUCHIO: +What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, +Good Kate; I am a gentleman. + +KATHARINA: +That I'll try. + +PETRUCHIO: +I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. + +KATHARINA: +So may you lose your arms: +If you strike me, you are no gentleman; +And if no gentleman, why then no arms. + +PETRUCHIO: +A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books! + +KATHARINA: +What is your crest? a coxcomb? + +PETRUCHIO: +A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. + +KATHARINA: +No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. + +KATHARINA: +It is my fashion, when I see a crab. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour. + +KATHARINA: +There is, there is. + +PETRUCHIO: +Then show it me. + +KATHARINA: +Had I a glass, I would. + +PETRUCHIO: +What, you mean my face? + +KATHARINA: +Well aim'd of such a young one. + +PETRUCHIO: +Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. + +KATHARINA: +Yet you are wither'd. + +PETRUCHIO: +'Tis with cares. + +KATHARINA: +I care not. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so. + +KATHARINA: +I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. + +PETRUCHIO: +No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle. +'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen, +And now I find report a very liar; +For thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, +But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers: +Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, +Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, +Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk, +But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers, +With gentle conference, soft and affable. +Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? +O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig +Is straight and slender and as brown in hue +As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels. +O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. + +KATHARINA: +Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command. + +PETRUCHIO: +Did ever Dian so become a grove +As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? +O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; +And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful! + +KATHARINA: +Where did you study all this goodly speech? + +PETRUCHIO: +It is extempore, from my mother-wit. + +KATHARINA: +A witty mother! witless else her son. + +PETRUCHIO: +Am I not wise? + +KATHARINA: +Yes; keep you warm. + +PETRUCHIO: +Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, in thy bed: +And therefore, setting all this chat aside, +Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented +That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on; +And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you. +Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; +For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, +Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, +Thou must be married to no man but me; +For I am he am born to tame you Kate, +And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate +Conformable as other household Kates. +Here comes your father: never make denial; +I must and will have Katharina to my wife. + +BAPTISTA: +Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? + +PETRUCHIO: +How but well, sir? how but well? +It were impossible I should speed amiss. + +BAPTISTA: +Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps? + +KATHARINA: +Call you me daughter? now, I promise you +You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, +To wish me wed to one half lunatic; +A mad-cup ruffian and a swearing Jack, +That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. + +PETRUCHIO: +Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world, +That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her: +If she be curst, it is for policy, +For she's not froward, but modest as the dove; +She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; +For patience she will prove a second Grissel, +And Roman Lucrece for her chastity: +And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together, +That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. + +KATHARINA: +I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. + +GREMIO: +Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee +hang'd first. + +TRANIO: +Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part! + +PETRUCHIO: +Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself: +If she and I be pleased, what's that to you? +'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, +That she shall still be curst in company. +I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe +How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate! +She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss +She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, +That in a twink she won me to her love. +O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see, +How tame, when men and women are alone, +A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. +Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, +To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day. +Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; +I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine. + +BAPTISTA: +I know not what to say: but give me your hands; +God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. + +GREMIO: +Amen, say we: we will be witnesses. + +PETRUCHIO: +Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; +I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace: +We will have rings and things and fine array; +And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday. + +GREMIO: +Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly? + +BAPTISTA: +Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part, +And venture madly on a desperate mart. + +TRANIO: +'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you: +'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. + +BAPTISTA: +The gain I seek is, quiet in the match. + +GREMIO: +No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. +But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter: +Now is the day we long have looked for: +I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. + +TRANIO: +And I am one that love Bianca more +Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess. + +GREMIO: +Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. + +TRANIO: +Graybeard, thy love doth freeze. + +GREMIO: +But thine doth fry. +Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth. + +TRANIO: +But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. + +BAPTISTA: +Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife: +'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both +That can assure my daughter greatest dower +Shall have my Bianca's love. +Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her? + +GREMIO: +First, as you know, my house within the city +Is richly furnished with plate and gold; +Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; +My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; +In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns; +In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, +Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, +Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, +Valance of Venice gold in needlework, +Pewter and brass and all things that belong +To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm +I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, +Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, +And all things answerable to this portion. +Myself am struck in years, I must confess; +And if I die to-morrow, this is hers, +If whilst I live she will be only mine. + +TRANIO: +That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me: +I am my father's heir and only son: +If I may have your daughter to my wife, +I'll leave her houses three or four as good, +Within rich Pisa walls, as any one +Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; +Besides two thousand ducats by the year +Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. +What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio? + +GREMIO: +Two thousand ducats by the year of land! +My land amounts not to so much in all: +That she shall have; besides an argosy +That now is lying in Marseilles' road. +What, have I choked you with an argosy? + +TRANIO: +Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less +Than three great argosies; besides two galliases, +And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her, +And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. + +GREMIO: +Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; +And she can have no more than all I have: +If you like me, she shall have me and mine. + +TRANIO: +Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, +By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied. + +BAPTISTA: +I must confess your offer is the best; +And, let your father make her the assurance, +She is your own; else, you must pardon me, +if you should die before him, where's her dower? + +TRANIO: +That's but a cavil: he is old, I young. + +GREMIO: +And may not young men die, as well as old? + +BAPTISTA: +Well, gentlemen, +I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know +My daughter Katharina is to be married: +Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca +Be bride to you, if you this assurance; +If not, Signior Gremio: +And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. + +GREMIO: +Adieu, good neighbour. +Now I fear thee not: +Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool +To give thee all, and in his waning age +Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy! +An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. + +TRANIO: +A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! +Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. +'Tis in my head to do my master good: +I see no reason but supposed Lucentio +Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;' +And that's a wonder: fathers commonly +Do get their children; but in this case of wooing, +A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. + +LUCENTIO: +Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: +Have you so soon forgot the entertainment +Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal? + +HORTENSIO: +But, wrangling pedant, this is +The patroness of heavenly harmony: +Then give me leave to have prerogative; +And when in music we have spent an hour, +Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. + +LUCENTIO: +Preposterous ass, that never read so far +To know the cause why music was ordain'd! +Was it not to refresh the mind of man +After his studies or his usual pain? +Then give me leave to read philosophy, +And while I pause, serve in your harmony. + +HORTENSIO: +Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. + +BIANCA: +Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, +To strive for that which resteth in my choice: +I am no breeching scholar in the schools; +I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, +But learn my lessons as I please myself. +And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: +Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; +His lecture will be done ere you have tuned. + +HORTENSIO: +You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? + +LUCENTIO: +That will be never: tune your instrument. + +BIANCA: +Where left we last? + +LUCENTIO: +Here, madam: +'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; +Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' + +BIANCA: +Construe them. + +LUCENTIO: +'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am +Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa, +'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love; +'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes +a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,' +bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might +beguile the old pantaloon. + +HORTENSIO: +Madam, my instrument's in tune. + +BIANCA: +Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. + +LUCENTIO: +Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. + +BIANCA: +Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat +Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I +trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed +he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,' +despair not. + +HORTENSIO: +Madam, 'tis now in tune. + +LUCENTIO: +All but the base. + +HORTENSIO: +The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. +How fiery and forward our pedant is! +Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: +Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet. + +BIANCA: +In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. + +LUCENTIO: +Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides +Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. + +BIANCA: +I must believe my master; else, I promise you, +I should be arguing still upon that doubt: +But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you: +Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, +That I have been thus pleasant with you both. + +HORTENSIO: +You may go walk, and give me leave a while: +My lessons make no music in three parts. + +LUCENTIO: +Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, +And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, +Our fine musician groweth amorous. + +HORTENSIO: +Madam, before you touch the instrument, +To learn the order of my fingering, +I must begin with rudiments of art; +To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, +More pleasant, pithy and effectual, +Than hath been taught by any of my trade: +And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. + +BIANCA: +Why, I am past my gamut long ago. + +HORTENSIO: +Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. + +BIANCA: + +Servant: +Mistress, your father prays you leave your books +And help to dress your sister's chamber up: +You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. + +BIANCA: +Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone. + +LUCENTIO: +Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. + +HORTENSIO: +But I have cause to pry into this pedant: +Methinks he looks as though he were in love: +Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble +To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, +Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, +Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. + +BAPTISTA: + +KATHARINA: +No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced +To give my hand opposed against my heart +Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen; +Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure. +I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, +Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior: +And, to be noted for a merry man, +He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage, +Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns; +Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd. +Now must the world point at poor Katharina, +And say, 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife, +If it would please him come and marry her!' + +TRANIO: +Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too. +Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, +Whatever fortune stays him from his word: +Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise; +Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. + +KATHARINA: +Would Katharina had never seen him though! + +BAPTISTA: +Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; +For such an injury would vex a very saint, +Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. + +BIONDELLO: +Master, master! news, old news, and such news as +you never heard of! + +BAPTISTA: +Is it new and old too? how may that be? + +BIONDELLO: +Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming? + +BAPTISTA: +Is he come? + +BIONDELLO: +Why, no, sir. + +BAPTISTA: +What then? + +BIONDELLO: +He is coming. + +BAPTISTA: +When will he be here? + +BIONDELLO: +When he stands where I am and sees you there. + +TRANIO: +But say, what to thine old news? + +BIONDELLO: +Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old +jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair +of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, +another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the +town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; +with two broken points: his horse hipped with an +old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; +besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose +in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected +with the fashions, full of wingdalls, sped with +spavins, rayed with yellows, past cure of the fives, +stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the +bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten; +near-legged before and with, a half-chequed bit +and a head-stall of sheeps leather which, being +restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been +often burst and now repaired with knots; one girth +six time pieced and a woman's crupper of velure, +which hath two letters for her name fairly set down +in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread. + +BAPTISTA: +Who comes with him? + +BIONDELLO: +O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned +like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a +kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red +and blue list; an old hat and 'the humour of forty +fancies' pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a +very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian +footboy or a gentleman's lackey. + +TRANIO: +'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion; +Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd. + +BAPTISTA: +I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes. + +BIONDELLO: +Why, sir, he comes not. + +BAPTISTA: +Didst thou not say he comes? + +BIONDELLO: +Who? that Petruchio came? + +BAPTISTA: +Ay, that Petruchio came. + +BIONDELLO: +No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back. + +BAPTISTA: +Why, that's all one. + +BIONDELLO: +Nay, by Saint Jamy, +I hold you a penny, +A horse and a man +Is more than one, +And yet not many. + +PETRUCHIO: +Come, where be these gallants? who's at home? + +BAPTISTA: +You are welcome, sir. + +PETRUCHIO: +And yet I come not well. + +BAPTISTA: +And yet you halt not. + +TRANIO: +Not so well apparell'd +As I wish you were. + +PETRUCHIO: +Were it better, I should rush in thus. +But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride? +How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown: +And wherefore gaze this goodly company, +As if they saw some wondrous monument, +Some comet or unusual prodigy? + +BAPTISTA: +Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day: +First were we sad, fearing you would not come; +Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. +Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, +An eye-sore to our solemn festival! + +TRANIO: +And tells us, what occasion of import +Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, +And sent you hither so unlike yourself? + +PETRUCHIO: +Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear: +Sufficeth I am come to keep my word, +Though in some part enforced to digress; +Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse +As you shall well be satisfied withal. +But where is Kate? I stay too long from her: +The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. + +TRANIO: +See not your bride in these unreverent robes: +Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine. + +PETRUCHIO: +Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her. + +BAPTISTA: +But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. + +PETRUCHIO: +Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words: +To me she's married, not unto my clothes: +Could I repair what she will wear in me, +As I can change these poor accoutrements, +'Twere well for Kate and better for myself. +But what a fool am I to chat with you, +When I should bid good morrow to my bride, +And seal the title with a lovely kiss! + +TRANIO: +He hath some meaning in his mad attire: +We will persuade him, be it possible, +To put on better ere he go to church. + +BAPTISTA: +I'll after him, and see the event of this. + +TRANIO: +But to her love concerneth us to add +Her father's liking: which to bring to pass, +As I before unparted to your worship, +I am to get a man,--whate'er he be, +It skills not much. we'll fit him to our turn,-- +And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa; +And make assurance here in Padua +Of greater sums than I have promised. +So shall you quietly enjoy your hope, +And marry sweet Bianca with consent. + +LUCENTIO: +Were it not that my fellow-school-master +Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, +'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; +Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, +I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. + +TRANIO: +That by degrees we mean to look into, +And watch our vantage in this business: +We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, +The narrow-prying father, Minola, +The quaint musician, amorous Licio; +All for my master's sake, Lucentio. +Signior Gremio, came you from the church? + +GREMIO: +As willingly as e'er I came from school. + +TRANIO: +And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? + +GREMIO: +A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed, +A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. + +TRANIO: +Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible. + +GREMIO: +Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. + +TRANIO: +Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. + +GREMIO: +Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him! +I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest +Should ask, if Katharina should be his wife, +'Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he; and swore so loud, +That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book; +And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, +The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff +That down fell priest and book and book and priest: +'Now take them up,' quoth he, 'if any list.' + +TRANIO: +What said the wench when he rose again? + +GREMIO: +Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd and swore, +As if the vicar meant to cozen him. +But after many ceremonies done, +He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if +He had been aboard, carousing to his mates +After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel +And threw the sops all in the sexton's face; +Having no other reason +But that his beard grew thin and hungerly +And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. +This done, he took the bride about the neck +And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack +That at the parting all the church did echo: +And I seeing this came thence for very shame; +And after me, I know, the rout is coming. +Such a mad marriage never was before: +Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. + +PETRUCHIO: +Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains: +I know you think to dine with me to-day, +And have prepared great store of wedding cheer; +But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, +And therefore here I mean to take my leave. + +BAPTISTA: +Is't possible you will away to-night? + +PETRUCHIO: +I must away to-day, before night come: +Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, +You would entreat me rather go than stay. +And, honest company, I thank you all, +That have beheld me give away myself +To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife: +Dine with my father, drink a health to me; +For I must hence; and farewell to you all. + +TRANIO: +Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. + +PETRUCHIO: +It may not be. + +GREMIO: +Let me entreat you. + +PETRUCHIO: +It cannot be. + +KATHARINA: +Let me entreat you. + +PETRUCHIO: +I am content. + +KATHARINA: +Are you content to stay? + +PETRUCHIO: +I am content you shall entreat me stay; +But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. + +KATHARINA: +Now, if you love me, stay. + +PETRUCHIO: +Grumio, my horse. + +GRUMIO: +Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horses. + +KATHARINA: +Nay, then, +Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day; +No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself. +The door is open, sir; there lies your way; +You may be jogging whiles your boots are green; +For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself: +'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom, +That take it on you at the first so roundly. + +PETRUCHIO: +O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not angry. + +KATHARINA: +I will be angry: what hast thou to do? +Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. + +GREMIO: +Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. + +KATARINA: +Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner: +I see a woman may be made a fool, +If she had not a spirit to resist. + +PETRUCHIO: +They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command. +Obey the bride, you that attend on her; +Go to the feast, revel and domineer, +Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, +Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves: +But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. +Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; +I will be master of what is mine own: +She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, +My household stuff, my field, my barn, +My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; +And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; +I'll bring mine action on the proudest he +That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, +Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves; +Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man. +Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch +thee, Kate: +I'll buckler thee against a million. + +BAPTISTA: +Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. + +GREMIO: +Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. + +TRANIO: +Of all mad matches never was the like. + +LUCENTIO: +Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister? + +BIANCA: +That, being mad herself, she's madly mated. + +GREMIO: +I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. + +BAPTISTA: +Neighbours and friends, though bride and +bridegroom wants +For to supply the places at the table, +You know there wants no junkets at the feast. +Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place: +And let Bianca take her sister's room. + +TRANIO: +Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? + +BAPTISTA: +She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go. + +GRUMIO: +Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and +all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever +man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent +before to make a fire, and they are coming after to +warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon +hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my +tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my +belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but +I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for, +considering the weather, a taller man than I will +take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis. + +CURTIS: +Who is that calls so coldly? + +GRUMIO: +A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide +from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run +but my head and my neck. A fire good Curtis. + +CURTIS: +Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? + +GRUMIO: +O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast +on no water. + +CURTIS: +Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? + +GRUMIO: +She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou +knowest, winter tames man, woman and beast; for it +hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and +myself, fellow Curtis. + +CURTIS: +Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast. + +GRUMIO: +Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and +so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a +fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, +whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon +feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office? + +CURTIS: +I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world? + +GRUMIO: +A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and +therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for +my master and mistress are almost frozen to death. + +CURTIS: +There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news. + +GRUMIO: +Why, 'Jack, boy! ho! boy!' and as much news as +will thaw. + +CURTIS: +Come, you are so full of cony-catching! + +GRUMIO: +Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold. +Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house +trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the +serving-men in their new fustian, their white +stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? +Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, +the carpets laid, and every thing in order? + +CURTIS: +All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news. + +GRUMIO: +First, know, my horse is tired; my master and +mistress fallen out. + +CURTIS: +How? + +GRUMIO: +Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby +hangs a tale. + +CURTIS: +Let's ha't, good Grumio. + +GRUMIO: +Lend thine ear. + +CURTIS: +Here. + +GRUMIO: +There. + +CURTIS: +This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. + +GRUMIO: +And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this +cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech +listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a +foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,-- + +CURTIS: +Both of one horse? + +GRUMIO: +What's that to thee? + +CURTIS: +Why, a horse. + +GRUMIO: +Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me, +thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she +under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how +miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her +with the horse upon her, how he beat me because +her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt +to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed, +that never prayed before, how I cried, how the +horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I +lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory, +which now shall die in oblivion and thou return +unexperienced to thy grave. + +CURTIS: +By this reckoning he is more shrew than she. + +GRUMIO: +Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall +find when he comes home. But what talk I of this? +Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, +Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be +sleekly combed their blue coats brushed and their +garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy +with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair +of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their +hands. Are they all ready? + +CURTIS: +They are. + +GRUMIO: +Call them forth. + +CURTIS: +Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to +countenance my mistress. + +GRUMIO: +Why, she hath a face of her own. + +CURTIS: +Who knows not that? + +GRUMIO: +Thou, it seems, that calls for company to +countenance her. + +CURTIS: +I call them forth to credit her. + +GRUMIO: +Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. + +NATHANIEL: +Welcome home, Grumio! + +PHILIP: +How now, Grumio! + +JOSEPH: +What, Grumio! + +NICHOLAS: +Fellow Grumio! + +NATHANIEL: +How now, old lad? + +GRUMIO: +Welcome, you;--how now, you;-- what, you;--fellow, +you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce +companions, is all ready, and all things neat? + +NATHANIEL: +All things is ready. How near is our master? + +GRUMIO: +E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be +not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master. + +PETRUCHIO: +Where be these knaves? What, no man at door +To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! +Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? + +ALL SERVING-MEN: +Here, here, sir; here, sir. + +PETRUCHIO: +Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! +You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms! +What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? +Where is the foolish knave I sent before? + +GRUMIO: +Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. + +PETRUCHIO: +You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge! +Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, +And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? + +GRUMIO: +Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, +And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel; +There was no link to colour Peter's hat, +And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing: +There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory; +The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; +Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. + +PETRUCHIO: +Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. +Where is the life that late I led-- +Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.-- +Sound, sound, sound, sound! +Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. +Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when? +It was the friar of orders grey, +As he forth walked on his way:-- +Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry: +Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. +Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho! +Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence, +And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither: +One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with. +Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? +Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily. +You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? + +KATHARINA: +Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling. + +PETRUCHIO: +A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave! +Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach. +Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I? +What's this? mutton? + +First Servant: +Ay. + +PETRUCHIO: +Who brought it? + +PETER: +I. + +PETRUCHIO: +'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. +What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook? +How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, +And serve it thus to me that love it not? +Theretake it to you, trenchers, cups, and all; +You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves! +What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight. + +KATHARINA: +I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet: +The meat was well, if you were so contented. + +PETRUCHIO: +I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away; +And I expressly am forbid to touch it, +For it engenders choler, planteth anger; +And better 'twere that both of us did fast, +Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, +Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. +Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended, +And, for this night, we'll fast for company: +Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. + +NATHANIEL: +Peter, didst ever see the like? + +PETER: +He kills her in her own humour. + +GRUMIO: +Where is he? + +CURTIS: +In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her; +And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul, +Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak, +And sits as one new-risen from a dream. +Away, away! for he is coming hither. + +PETRUCHIO: +Thus have I politicly begun my reign, +And 'tis my hope to end successfully. +My falcon now is sharp and passing empty; +And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, +For then she never looks upon her lure. +Another way I have to man my haggard, +To make her come and know her keeper's call, +That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites +That bate and beat and will not be obedient. +She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; +Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not; +As with the meat, some undeserved fault +I'll find about the making of the bed; +And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, +This way the coverlet, another way the sheets: +Ay, and amid this hurly I intend +That all is done in reverend care of her; +And in conclusion she shall watch all night: +And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl +And with the clamour keep her still awake. +This is a way to kill a wife with kindness; +And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour. +He that knows better how to tame a shrew, +Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show. + +TRANIO: +Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca +Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? +I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. + +HORTENSIO: +Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, +Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching. + +LUCENTIO: +Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? + +BIANCA: +What, master, read you? first resolve me that. + +LUCENTIO: +I read that I profess, the Art to Love. + +BIANCA: +And may you prove, sir, master of your art! + +LUCENTIO: +While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart! + +HORTENSIO: +Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray, +You that durst swear at your mistress Bianca +Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio. + +TRANIO: +O despiteful love! unconstant womankind! +I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. + +HORTENSIO: +Mistake no more: I am not Licio, +Nor a musician, as I seem to be; +But one that scorn to live in this disguise, +For such a one as leaves a gentleman, +And makes a god of such a cullion: +Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio. + +TRANIO: +Signior Hortensio, I have often heard +Of your entire affection to Bianca; +And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, +I will with you, if you be so contented, +Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. + +HORTENSIO: +See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio, +Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow +Never to woo her no more, but do forswear her, +As one unworthy all the former favours +That I have fondly flatter'd her withal. + +TRANIO: +And here I take the unfeigned oath, +Never to marry with her though she would entreat: +Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him! + +HORTENSIO: +Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! +For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, +I will be married to a wealthy widow, +Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me +As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard. +And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. +Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, +Shall win my love: and so I take my leave, +In resolution as I swore before. + +TRANIO: +Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace +As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! +Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, +And have forsworn you with Hortensio. + +BIANCA: +Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me? + +TRANIO: +Mistress, we have. + +LUCENTIO: +Then we are rid of Licio. + +TRANIO: +I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, +That shall be wood and wedded in a day. + +BIANCA: +God give him joy! + +TRANIO: +Ay, and he'll tame her. + +BIANCA: +He says so, Tranio. + +TRANIO: +Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. + +BIANCA: +The taming-school! what, is there such a place? + +TRANIO: +Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master; +That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, +To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue. + +BIONDELLO: +O master, master, I have watch'd so long +That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied +An ancient angel coming down the hill, +Will serve the turn. + +TRANIO: +What is he, Biondello? + +BIONDELLO: +Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, +I know not what; but format in apparel, +In gait and countenance surely like a father. + +LUCENTIO: +And what of him, Tranio? + +TRANIO: +If he be credulous and trust my tale, +I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, +And give assurance to Baptista Minola, +As if he were the right Vincentio +Take in your love, and then let me alone. + +Pedant: +God save you, sir! + +TRANIO: +And you, sir! you are welcome. +Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? + +Pedant: +Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: +But then up farther, and as for as Rome; +And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. + +TRANIO: +What countryman, I pray? + +Pedant: +Of Mantua. + +TRANIO: +Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid! +And come to Padua, careless of your life? + +Pedant: +My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard. + +TRANIO: +'Tis death for any one in Mantua +To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? +Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke, +For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, +Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly: +'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come, +You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. + +Pedant: +Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so; +For I have bills for money by exchange +From Florence and must here deliver them. + +TRANIO: +Well, sir, to do you courtesy, +This will I do, and this I will advise you: +First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? + +Pedant: +Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, +Pisa renowned for grave citizens. + +TRANIO: +Among them know you one Vincentio? + +Pedant: +I know him not, but I have heard of him; +A merchant of incomparable wealth. + +TRANIO: +He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, +In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. + +BIONDELLO: + +TRANIO: +To save your life in this extremity, +This favour will I do you for his sake; +And think it not the worst of an your fortunes +That you are like to Sir Vincentio. +His name and credit shall you undertake, +And in my house you shall be friendly lodged: +Look that you take upon you as you should; +You understand me, sir: so shall you stay +Till you have done your business in the city: +If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. + +Pedant: +O sir, I do; and will repute you ever +The patron of my life and liberty. + +TRANIO: +Then go with me to make the matter good. +This, by the way, I let you understand; +my father is here look'd for every day, +To pass assurance of a dower in marriage +'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: +In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: +Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. + +GRUMIO: +No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life. + +KATHARINA: +The more my wrong, the more his spite appears: +What, did he marry me to famish me? +Beggars, that come unto my father's door, +Upon entreaty have a present aims; +If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: +But I, who never knew how to entreat, +Nor never needed that I should entreat, +Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, +With oath kept waking and with brawling fed: +And that which spites me more than all these wants, +He does it under name of perfect love; +As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, +'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. +I prithee go and get me some repast; +I care not what, so it be wholesome food. + +GRUMIO: +What say you to a neat's foot? + +KATHARINA: +'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it. + +GRUMIO: +I fear it is too choleric a meat. +How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd? + +KATHARINA: +I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me. + +GRUMIO: +I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. +What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? + +KATHARINA: +A dish that I do love to feed upon. + +GRUMIO: +Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. + +KATHARINA: +Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest. + +GRUMIO: +Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard, +Or else you get no beef of Grumio. + +KATHARINA: +Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. + +GRUMIO: +Why then, the mustard without the beef. + +KATHARINA: +Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, +That feed'st me with the very name of meat: +Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you, +That triumph thus upon my misery! +Go, get thee gone, I say. + +PETRUCHIO: +How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? + +HORTENSIO: +Mistress, what cheer? + +KATHARINA: +Faith, as cold as can be. + +PETRUCHIO: +Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. +Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am +To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: +I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. +What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not; +And all my pains is sorted to no proof. +Here, take away this dish. + +KATHARINA: +I pray you, let it stand. + +PETRUCHIO: +The poorest service is repaid with thanks; +And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. + +KATHARINA: +I thank you, sir. + +HORTENSIO: +Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. +Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. + +PETRUCHIO: + +Haberdasher: +Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, this was moulded on a porringer; +A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: +Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, +A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap: +Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. + +KATHARINA: +I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time, +And gentlewomen wear such caps as these + +PETRUCHIO: +When you are gentle, you shall have one too, +And not till then. + +HORTENSIO: + +KATHARINA: +Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; +And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: +Your betters have endured me say my mind, +And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. +My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, +Or else my heart concealing it will break, +And rather than it shall, I will be free +Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, +A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: +I love thee well, in that thou likest it not. + +KATHARINA: +Love me or love me not, I like the cap; +And it I will have, or I will have none. + +PETRUCHIO: +Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't. +O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? +What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: +What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart? +Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, +Like to a censer in a barber's shop: +Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? + +HORTENSIO: + +Tailor: +You bid me make it orderly and well, +According to the fashion and the time. + +PETRUCHIO: +Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd, +I did not bid you mar it to the time. +Go, hop me over every kennel home, +For you shall hop without my custom, sir: +I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it. + +KATHARINA: +I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, +More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: +Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. + +Tailor: +She says your worship means to make +a puppet of her. + +PETRUCHIO: +O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, +thou thimble, +Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail! +Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! +Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread? +Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; +Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard +As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest! +I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown. + +Tailor: +Your worship is deceived; the gown is made +Just as my master had direction: +Grumio gave order how it should be done. + +GRUMIO: +I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff. + +Tailor: +But how did you desire it should be made? + +GRUMIO: +Marry, sir, with needle and thread. + +Tailor: +But did you not request to have it cut? + +GRUMIO: +Thou hast faced many things. + +Tailor: +I have. + +GRUMIO: +Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not +me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto +thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did +not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest. + +Tailor: +Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify + +PETRUCHIO: +Read it. + +GRUMIO: +The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so. + +Tailor: + +GRUMIO: +Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in +the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom +of brown thread: I said a gown. + +PETRUCHIO: +Proceed. + +Tailor: + +GRUMIO: +I confess the cape. + +Tailor: + +GRUMIO: +I confess two sleeves. + +Tailor: + +PETRUCHIO: +Ay, there's the villany. + +GRUMIO: +Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. +I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and +sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, +though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. + +Tailor: +This is true that I say: an I had thee +in place where, thou shouldst know it. + +GRUMIO: +I am for thee straight: take thou the +bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. + +HORTENSIO: +God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds. + +PETRUCHIO: +Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. + +GRUMIO: +You are i' the right, sir: 'tis for my mistress. + +PETRUCHIO: +Go, take it up unto thy master's use. + +GRUMIO: +Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress' +gown for thy master's use! + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? + +GRUMIO: +O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for: +Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! +O, fie, fie, fie! + +PETRUCHIO: + +HORTENSIO: +Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow: +Take no unkindness of his hasty words: +Away! I say; commend me to thy master. + +PETRUCHIO: +Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's +Even in these honest mean habiliments: +Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; +For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; +And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, +So honour peereth in the meanest habit. +What is the jay more precious than the lark, +Because his fathers are more beautiful? +Or is the adder better than the eel, +Because his painted skin contents the eye? +O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse +For this poor furniture and mean array. +if thou account'st it shame. lay it on me; +And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith, +To feast and sport us at thy father's house. +Go, call my men, and let us straight to him; +And bring our horses unto Long-lane end; +There will we mount, and thither walk on foot +Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock, +And well we may come there by dinner-time. + +KATHARINA: +I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two; +And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there. + +PETRUCHIO: +It shall be seven ere I go to horse: +Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, +You are still crossing it. Sirs, let't alone: +I will not go to-day; and ere I do, +It shall be what o'clock I say it is. + +HORTENSIO: + +TRANIO: +Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call? + +Pedant: +Ay, what else? and but I be deceived +Signior Baptista may remember me, +Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, +Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus. + +TRANIO: +'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case, +With such austerity as 'longeth to a father. + +Pedant: +I warrant you. +But, sir, here comes your boy; +'Twere good he were school'd. + +TRANIO: +Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello, +Now do your duty throughly, I advise you: +Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. + +BIONDELLO: +Tut, fear not me. + +TRANIO: +But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? + +BIONDELLO: +I told him that your father was at Venice, +And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. + +TRANIO: +Thou'rt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink. +Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir. +Signior Baptista, you are happily met. +Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of: +I pray you stand good father to me now, +Give me Bianca for my patrimony. + +Pedant: +Soft son! +Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua +To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio +Made me acquainted with a weighty cause +Of love between your daughter and himself: +And, for the good report I hear of you +And for the love he beareth to your daughter +And she to him, to stay him not too long, +I am content, in a good father's care, +To have him match'd; and if you please to like +No worse than I, upon some agreement +Me shall you find ready and willing +With one consent to have her so bestow'd; +For curious I cannot be with you, +Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. + +BAPTISTA: +Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: +Your plainness and your shortness please me well. +Right true it is, your son Lucentio here +Doth love my daughter and she loveth him, +Or both dissemble deeply their affections: +And therefore, if you say no more than this, +That like a father you will deal with him +And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, +The match is made, and all is done: +Your son shall have my daughter with consent. + +TRANIO: +I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best +We be affied and such assurance ta'en +As shall with either part's agreement stand? + +BAPTISTA: +Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know, +Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants: +Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still; +And happily we might be interrupted. + +TRANIO: +Then at my lodging, an it like you: +There doth my father lie; and there, this night, +We'll pass the business privately and well. +Send for your daughter by your servant here: +My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. +The worst is this, that, at so slender warning, +You are like to have a thin and slender pittance. + +BAPTISTA: +It likes me well. Biondello, hie you home, +And bid Bianca make her ready straight; +And, if you will, tell what hath happened, +Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua, +And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. + +BIONDELLO: +I pray the gods she may with all my heart! + +TRANIO: +Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. +Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? +Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer: +Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa. + +BAPTISTA: +I follow you. + +BIONDELLO: +Cambio! + +LUCENTIO: +What sayest thou, Biondello? + +BIONDELLO: +You saw my master wink and laugh upon you? + +LUCENTIO: +Biondello, what of that? + +BIONDELLO: +Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to +expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens. + +LUCENTIO: +I pray thee, moralize them. + +BIONDELLO: +Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the +deceiving father of a deceitful son. + +LUCENTIO: +And what of him? + +BIONDELLO: +His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper. + +LUCENTIO: +And then? + +BIONDELLO: +The old priest of Saint Luke's church is at your +command at all hours. + +LUCENTIO: +And what of all this? + +BIONDELLO: +I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a +counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, +'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:' to the +church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient +honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for, +I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for +ever and a day. + +LUCENTIO: +Hearest thou, Biondello? + +BIONDELLO: +I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an +afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to +stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu, +sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint +Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against +you come with your appendix. + +LUCENTIO: +I may, and will, if she be so contented: +She will be pleased; then wherefore should I doubt? +Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: +It shall go hard if Cambio go without her. + +PETRUCHIO: +Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's. +Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! + +KATHARINA: +The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now. + +PETRUCHIO: +I say it is the moon that shines so bright. + +KATHARINA: +I know it is the sun that shines so bright. + +PETRUCHIO: +Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, +It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, +Or ere I journey to your father's house. +Go on, and fetch our horses back again. +Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd! + +HORTENSIO: +Say as he says, or we shall never go. + +KATHARINA: +Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, +And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: +An if you please to call it a rush-candle, +Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. + +PETRUCHIO: +I say it is the moon. + +KATHARINA: +I know it is the moon. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun. + +KATHARINA: +Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: +But sun it is not, when you say it is not; +And the moon changes even as your mind. +What you will have it named, even that it is; +And so it shall be so for Katharina. + +HORTENSIO: +Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. + +PETRUCHIO: +Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, +And not unluckily against the bias. +But, soft! company is coming here. +Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away? +Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, +Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? +Such war of white and red within her cheeks! +What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, +As those two eyes become that heavenly face? +Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. +Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. + +HORTENSIO: +A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. + +KATHARINA: +Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, +Whither away, or where is thy abode? +Happy the parents of so fair a child; +Happier the man, whom favourable stars +Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad: +This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd, +And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. + +KATHARINA: +Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, +That have been so bedazzled with the sun +That everything I look on seemeth green: +Now I perceive thou art a reverend father; +Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. + +PETRUCHIO: +Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known +Which way thou travellest: if along with us, +We shall be joyful of thy company. + +VINCENTIO: +Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, +That with your strange encounter much amazed me, +My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa; +And bound I am to Padua; there to visit +A son of mine, which long I have not seen. + +PETRUCHIO: +What is his name? + +VINCENTIO: +Lucentio, gentle sir. + +PETRUCHIO: +Happily we met; the happier for thy son. +And now by law, as well as reverend age, +I may entitle thee my loving father: +The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, +Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, +Nor be grieved: she is of good esteem, +Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth; +Beside, so qualified as may beseem +The spouse of any noble gentleman. +Let me embrace with old Vincentio, +And wander we to see thy honest son, +Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. + +VINCENTIO: +But is it true? or else is it your pleasure, +Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest +Upon the company you overtake? + +HORTENSIO: +I do assure thee, father, so it is. + +PETRUCHIO: +Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; +For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. + +HORTENSIO: +Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. +Have to my widow! and if she be froward, +Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. + +BIONDELLO: +Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready. + +LUCENTIO: +I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee +at home; therefore leave us. + +BIONDELLO: +Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and +then come back to my master's as soon as I can. + +GREMIO: +I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. + +PETRUCHIO: +Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house: +My father's bears more toward the market-place; +Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. + +VINCENTIO: +You shall not choose but drink before you go: +I think I shall command your welcome here, +And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. + +GREMIO: +They're busy within; you were best knock louder. + +Pedant: +What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate? + +VINCENTIO: +Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? + +Pedant: +He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. + +VINCENTIO: +What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to +make merry withal? + +Pedant: +Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall +need none, so long as I live. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua. +Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, +I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is +come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him. + +Pedant: +Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here +looking out at the window. + +VINCENTIO: +Art thou his father? + +Pedant: +Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her. + +PETRUCHIO: + +Pedant: +Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to +cozen somebody in this city under my countenance. + +BIONDELLO: +I have seen them in the church together: God send +'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old +master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing. + +VINCENTIO: + +BIONDELLO: +Hope I may choose, sir. + +VINCENTIO: +Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me? + +BIONDELLO: +Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I +never saw you before in all my life. + +VINCENTIO: +What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see +thy master's father, Vincentio? + +BIONDELLO: +What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir: +see where he looks out of the window. + +VINCENTIO: +Is't so, indeed. + +BIONDELLO: +Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me. + +Pedant: +Help, son! help, Signior Baptista! + +PETRUCHIO: +Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of +this controversy. + +TRANIO: +Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant? + +VINCENTIO: +What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal +gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet +hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I +am undone! I am undone! while I play the good +husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at +the university. + +TRANIO: +How now! what's the matter? + +BAPTISTA: +What, is the man lunatic? + +TRANIO: +Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your +habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir, +what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I +thank my good father, I am able to maintain it. + +VINCENTIO: +Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. + +BAPTISTA: +You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do +you think is his name? + +VINCENTIO: +His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought +him up ever since he was three years old, and his +name is Tranio. + +Pedant: +Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is +mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio. + +VINCENTIO: +Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold +on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O, my +son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio? + +TRANIO: +Call forth an officer. +Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista, +I charge you see that he be forthcoming. + +VINCENTIO: +Carry me to the gaol! + +GREMIO: +Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison. + +BAPTISTA: +Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison. + +GREMIO: +Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be +cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this +is the right Vincentio. + +Pedant: +Swear, if thou darest. + +GREMIO: +Nay, I dare not swear it. + +TRANIO: +Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio. + +GREMIO: +Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio. + +BAPTISTA: +Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him! + +VINCENTIO: +Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O +monstrous villain! + +BIONDELLO: +O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him, +forswear him, or else we are all undone. + +LUCENTIO: + +VINCENTIO: +Lives my sweet son? + +BIANCA: +Pardon, dear father. + +BAPTISTA: +How hast thou offended? +Where is Lucentio? + +LUCENTIO: +Here's Lucentio, +Right son to the right Vincentio; +That have by marriage made thy daughter mine, +While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne. + +GREMIO: +Here's packing, with a witness to deceive us all! + +VINCENTIO: +Where is that damned villain Tranio, +That faced and braved me in this matter so? + +BAPTISTA: +Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? + +BIANCA: +Cambio is changed into Lucentio. + +LUCENTIO: +Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love +Made me exchange my state with Tranio, +While he did bear my countenance in the town; +And happily I have arrived at the last +Unto the wished haven of my bliss. +What Tranio did, myself enforced him to; +Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. + +VINCENTIO: +I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent +me to the gaol. + +BAPTISTA: +But do you hear, sir? have you married my daughter +without asking my good will? + +VINCENTIO: +Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: but +I will in, to be revenged for this villany. + +BAPTISTA: +And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. + +LUCENTIO: +Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. + +GREMIO: +My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest, +Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. + +KATHARINA: +Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado. + +PETRUCHIO: +First kiss me, Kate, and we will. + +KATHARINA: +What, in the midst of the street? + +PETRUCHIO: +What, art thou ashamed of me? + +KATHARINA: +No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, then let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away. + +KATHARINA: +Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay. + +PETRUCHIO: +Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate: +Better once than never, for never too late. + +LUCENTIO: +At last, though long, our jarring notes agree: +And time it is, when raging war is done, +To smile at scapes and perils overblown. +My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, +While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. +Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, +And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, +Feast with the best, and welcome to my house: +My banquet is to close our stomachs up, +After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down; +For now we sit to chat as well as eat. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! + +BAPTISTA: +Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. + +PETRUCHIO: +Padua affords nothing but what is kind. + +HORTENSIO: +For both our sakes, I would that word were true. + +PETRUCHIO: +Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. + +Widow: +Then never trust me, if I be afeard. + +PETRUCHIO: +You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: +I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you. + +Widow: +He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. + +PETRUCHIO: +Roundly replied. + +KATHARINA: +Mistress, how mean you that? + +Widow: +Thus I conceive by him. + +PETRUCHIO: +Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? + +HORTENSIO: +My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. + +PETRUCHIO: +Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. + +KATHARINA: +'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:' +I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. + +Widow: +Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, +Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe: +And now you know my meaning, + +KATHARINA: +A very mean meaning. + +Widow: +Right, I mean you. + +KATHARINA: +And I am mean indeed, respecting you. + +PETRUCHIO: +To her, Kate! + +HORTENSIO: +To her, widow! + +PETRUCHIO: +A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. + +HORTENSIO: +That's my office. + +PETRUCHIO: +Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad! + +BAPTISTA: +How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? + +GREMIO: +Believe me, sir, they butt together well. + +BIANCA: +Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body +Would say your head and butt were head and horn. + +VINCENTIO: +Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you? + +BIANCA: +Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nay, that you shall not: since you have begun, +Have at you for a bitter jest or two! + +BIANCA: +Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush; +And then pursue me as you draw your bow. +You are welcome all. + +PETRUCHIO: +She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio. +This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; +Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. + +TRANIO: +O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound, +Which runs himself and catches for his master. + +PETRUCHIO: +A good swift simile, but something currish. + +TRANIO: +'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself: +'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. + +BAPTISTA: +O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. + +LUCENTIO: +I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. + +HORTENSIO: +Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here? + +PETRUCHIO: +A' has a little gall'd me, I confess; +And, as the jest did glance away from me, +'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. + +BAPTISTA: +Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, +I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. + +PETRUCHIO: +Well, I say no: and therefore for assurance +Let's each one send unto his wife; +And he whose wife is most obedient +To come at first when he doth send for her, +Shall win the wager which we will propose. + +HORTENSIO: +Content. What is the wager? + +LUCENTIO: +Twenty crowns. + +PETRUCHIO: +Twenty crowns! +I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, +But twenty times so much upon my wife. + +LUCENTIO: +A hundred then. + +HORTENSIO: +Content. + +PETRUCHIO: +A match! 'tis done. + +HORTENSIO: +Who shall begin? + +LUCENTIO: +That will I. +Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. + +BIONDELLO: +I go. + +BAPTISTA: +Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes. + +LUCENTIO: +I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. +How now! what news? + +BIONDELLO: +Sir, my mistress sends you word +That she is busy and she cannot come. + +PETRUCHIO: +How! she is busy and she cannot come! +Is that an answer? + +GREMIO: +Ay, and a kind one too: +Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. + +PETRUCHIO: +I hope better. + +HORTENSIO: +Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife +To come to me forthwith. + +PETRUCHIO: +O, ho! entreat her! +Nay, then she must needs come. + +HORTENSIO: +I am afraid, sir, +Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. +Now, where's my wife? + +BIONDELLO: +She says you have some goodly jest in hand: +She will not come: she bids you come to her. + +PETRUCHIO: +Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, +Intolerable, not to be endured! +Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; +Say, I command her to come to me. + +HORTENSIO: +I know her answer. + +PETRUCHIO: +What? + +HORTENSIO: +She will not. + +PETRUCHIO: +The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. + +BAPTISTA: +Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina! + +KATHARINA: +What is your will, sir, that you send for me? + +PETRUCHIO: +Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? + +KATHARINA: +They sit conferring by the parlor fire. + +PETRUCHIO: +Go fetch them hither: if they deny to come. +Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands: +Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. + +LUCENTIO: +Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. + +HORTENSIO: +And so it is: I wonder what it bodes. + +PETRUCHIO: +Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life, +And awful rule and right supremacy; +And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy? + +BAPTISTA: +Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio! +The wager thou hast won; and I will add +Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; +Another dowry to another daughter, +For she is changed, as she had never been. + +PETRUCHIO: +Nay, I will win my wager better yet +And show more sign of her obedience, +Her new-built virtue and obedience. +See where she comes and brings your froward wives +As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. +Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not: +Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot. + +Widow: +Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, +Till I be brought to such a silly pass! + +BIANCA: +Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? + +LUCENTIO: +I would your duty were as foolish too: +The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, +Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time. + +BIANCA: +The more fool you, for laying on my duty. + +PETRUCHIO: +Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women +What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. + +Widow: +Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling. + +PETRUCHIO: +Come on, I say; and first begin with her. + +Widow: +She shall not. + +PETRUCHIO: +I say she shall: and first begin with her. + +KATHARINA: +Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, +And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, +To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: +It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, +Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, +And in no sense is meet or amiable. +A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, +Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; +And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty +Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. +Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, +Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, +And for thy maintenance commits his body +To painful labour both by sea and land, +To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, +Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; +And craves no other tribute at thy hands +But love, fair looks and true obedience; +Too little payment for so great a debt. +Such duty as the subject owes the prince +Even such a woman oweth to her husband; +And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, +And not obedient to his honest will, +What is she but a foul contending rebel +And graceless traitor to her loving lord? +I am ashamed that women are so simple +To offer war where they should kneel for peace; +Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, +When they are bound to serve, love and obey. +Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, +Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, +But that our soft conditions and our hearts +Should well agree with our external parts? +Come, come, you froward and unable worms! +My mind hath been as big as one of yours, +My heart as great, my reason haply more, +To bandy word for word and frown for frown; +But now I see our lances are but straws, +Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, +That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. +Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, +And place your hands below your husband's foot: +In token of which duty, if he please, +My hand is ready; may it do him ease. + +PETRUCHIO: +Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. + +LUCENTIO: +Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ha't. + +VINCENTIO: +'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. + +LUCENTIO: +But a harsh hearing when women are froward. + +PETRUCHIO: +Come, Kate, we'll to bed. +We three are married, but you two are sped. +'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white; +And, being a winner, God give you good night! + +HORTENSIO: +Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a curst shrew. + +LUCENTIO: +'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so. + +Master: +Boatswain! + +Boatswain: +Here, master: what cheer? + +Master: +Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely, +or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +Boatswain: +Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring +her to try with main-course. +A plague upon this howling! they are louder than +the weather or our office. +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. + +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. + +ANTONIO: +Let's all sink with the king. + +SEBASTIAN: +Let's take leave of him. + +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. + +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: +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: +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. +Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. +Approach, my Ariel, come. + +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! +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: + +PROSPERO: +Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: +Come, thou tortoise! when? +Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, +Hark in thine ear. + +ARIEL: +My lord it shall be done. + +PROSPERO: +Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself +Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! + +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. +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! +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! + +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. +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 +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: + +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: + +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. +They are both in either's powers; but this swift business +I must uneasy make, lest too light winning +Make the prize light. +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. + +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: + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.