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The First Folio [35 Plays] by William Shakespeare To the Reader. This Figure, that thou here feest put, It was for gentle Shakespeare cut: Wherein the Grauer had a strife with Naure, to out-doo the life: O, could he but haue dravvne his vvit As vvell in frasse, as he hath hit Hisface; the Print vvould then surpasse All, that vvas euer in frasse. But, since he cannot, Reader, looke Not on his picture, but his Booke. B.I. MR. William SHAKESPEARES Comedies, Histories & Tragedies, Published according to the True Original Copies London Printed by Ifaac Iaggard, and Ed, Bount. 1623 TO THE MOST NOBLE AND INCOMPARABLE PAIRE OF BRETHREN WILLIAM Earle of Pembroke,&c;. Lord Chamberlaine to the Kings most Excellent Majesty. A N D PHILIP Earle of Montgomery,&c;. Gentleman of his Majesties Bed-Chamber. Both Knights of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and our singular good L O R D S Right Honourable, Whilst we studie to be thankful in our particular, for the many favors we have received from your L.L. we are falne upon the ill fortune, to mingle two the most diverse things that can bee, feare, and rashnesse; rashnesse in the enterprize, and feare of the successe. For, when we valew the places your H.H. sustaine, we cannot but know their dignity greater, then to descend to the reading of these trifles: and, while we name them trifles, we have depriv'd our selves of the defence of our Dedication. But since your L.L. have beene pleas'd to thinke these trifles some-thing, heeretofore; and have prosequuted both them, and their Authour living, with so much favour: we hope, that (they out-living him, and he not having the fate, common with some, to be exequutor to his owne writings) you will use the like indulgence toward them, you have done unto their parent. There is a great difference, whether any Booke choose his Patrones, or finde them: This hath done both. For, so much were your L.L. likings of the severall parts, when they were acted, as before they were published, the Volume ask'd to be yours. We have but collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his Orphanes, Guardians; without ambition either of selfe-profit, or fame: onely to keepe the memory of so worthy a Friend, & Fellow alive, as was our S H A K E S P E A R E , by humble offer of his playes, to your most noble patronage. Wherein, as we have justly observed, no man to come neere your L.L. but with a kind of religious addresse; it hath bin the height of our care, who are the Presenters, to make the present worthy of your H.H. by the perfection. But, there we must also crave our abilities to be considerd, my Lords. We cannot go beyond our owne powers. Country hands reach foorth milke, creame, fruites, or what they have : and many Nations (we have heard) that had not gummes & incense, obtained their requests with a leavened Cake. It was no fault to approach their Gods, by what meanes they could: And the most, though meanest, of thins are made more precious, when they are dedicated to Temples. In that name therefore, we most humbly consecrate to your H.H. these remaines of your servant Shakespeare; that what delight is in them, may be ever your L.L. the reputation his, & the faults ours, if any be committed, by a payre so carefull to shew their gratitude both to the living, and the dead, as is. Your Lordshippes most bounden, JOHN HEMINGE. HENRY CONDELL. To the great Variety of Readers. From the most able, to him that can but spell : There you are number'd. We had rather you were weighd. Especially, when the fate of all Bookes depends upon your capacities : and not of your heads alone, but of your purses. Well ! It is now publique, & you wil stand for your priviledges wee know : to read, and censure. Do so, but buy it first. That doth best commend a Booke, the Stationer saies. Then, how odde soever your braines be, or your wisedomes, make your licence the same, and spare not. Judge your six-pen'orth, your shillings worth, your five shillings worth at a time, or higher, so you rise to the just rates, and welcome. But, whatever you do, Buy. Censure will not drive a Trade, or make the Jacke go. And though you be a Magistrate of wit, and sit on the Stage at Black-Friers, or the Cock-pit, to arraigne Playes dailie, know, these Playes have had their triall alreadie, and stood out all Appeales ; and do now come forth quitted rather by a Decree of Court, then any purchas'd Letters of commendation. It had bene a thing, we confesse, worthie to have bene wished, that the Author himselfe had liv'd to have set forth, and overseen his owne writings ; But since it hath bin ordain'd otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his Friends, the office of their care, and paine, to have collected & publish'd them; and so to have publish'd them, as where (before) you were abus'd with diverse stolne, and surreptitious copies, maimed, and deformed by the frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors, that expos'd them : even those, are now offer'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbes; and all the rest, absolute in their numbers, as he conceived the'. Who, as he was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it. His mind and hand went together: And what he thought, he uttered with that easinesse, that wee have scarse received from him a blot in his papers. But it is not our province, who onely gather his works, and give them you, to praise him. It is yours that reade him. And there we hope, to your divers capacities, you will finde enough, both to draw, and hold you : for his wit can no more lie hid, then it could be lost. Reade him, therefore; and againe, and againe : And if then you doe not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his Friends, whom if you need, can bee your guides : if you neede them not, you can leade your selves, and others. And such Readers we wish him. John Heminge. Henrie Condell. A CATALOGVE of the Seuerall Comedies, Historie, and Tragedies contained in this Volume COMEDIES. The Tempest. The Two Gentlemen of Verona. The Merry Wives of Windsor. Measure for Measure. The Comedy of Errours. Much adoo about Nothing Loves Labour lost. Midsommer Nights Dreame. The Merchant of Venice. As you Like it. The Taming of the Shrew. All is well, that Ends well. Twelfe-Night, or what you will. The Winters Tale. HISTORIES. The Life and Death of King John. The Life & death of Richard the second. The First part of King Henry the fourth. The Second part of K. Henry the fourth. The Life of King Henry the Fift. The First part of King Henry the Sixt. The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt. The Third part of King Henry the Sixt. The Life and Death of Richard the Third The Life of King Henry the Eight. TRAGEDIES. The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Titus Andronicus. Romeo and Juliet. Timon of Athens. The Life and death of Julius Caesar. The Tragedy of Macbeth. The Tragedy of Hamlet. King Lear. Othello, the Moore of Venice. Anthony and Cleopater. Cymbeline King of Britaine. To the memory of my beloved, The Author MR. W I L L I A M S H A K E S P E A R E : A N D what he hath left us. To draw no envy (Shakespeare) on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy Booke, and Fame; While I confesse thy writings to be such, As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much. 'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these wayes Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For seeliest Ignorance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but eccho's right; Or blinde Affection, which doth ne're advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance; Or crafty Malice, might pretend this praise, And thine to ruine, where it seem'd to raise. These are, as some infamous Baud, or Whore, Should praise a Matron. What could hurt her more? But thou art proofe against them, and indeed Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need. I, therefore will begin. Soule of the Age ! The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage ! My Shakespeare, rise; I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye A little further, to make thee a roome : Thou art a Moniment, without a tombe, And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live, And we have wits to read, and praise to give. That I not mixe thee so, my braine excuses ; I meane with great, but disproportion'd Muses : For, if I thought my judgement were of yeeres, I should commit thee surely with thy peeres, And tell, how farre thou dist our Lily out-shine, Or sporting Kid or Marlowes mighty line. And though thou hadst small Latine, and lesse Greeke, From thence to honour thee, I would not seeke For names; but call forth thund'ring ’schilus, Euripides, and Sophocles to vs, Paccuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread, And shake a stage : Or, when thy sockes were on, Leave thee alone, for the comparison Of all, that insolent Greece, or haughtie Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe, To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time ! And all the Muses still were in their prime, When like Apollo he came forth to warme Our eares, or like a Mercury to charme ! Nature her selfe was proud of his designes, And joy'd to weare the dressing of his lines ! Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other Wit. The merry Greeke, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;But antiquated, and deserted lye As they were not of Natures family. Yet must I not give Nature all: Thy Art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part; For though the Poets matter, Nature be, His Art doth give the fashion. And, that he, Who casts to write a living line, must sweat, (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat Upon the Muses anvile : turne the same, (And himselfe with it) that he thinkes to frame; Or for the lawrell, he may gaine a scorne, For a good Poet's made, as well as borne. And such wert thou. Looke how the fathers face Lives in his issue, even so, the race Of Shakespeares minde, and manners brightly shines In his well toned, and true-filed lines : In each of which, he seemes to shake a Lance, As brandish't at the eyes of Ignorance. Sweet swan of Avon! what a fight it were To see thee in our waters yet appeare, And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames, That so did take Eliza, and our James ! But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere Advanc'd, and made a Constellation there ! Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage, Or influence, chide, or cheere the drooping Stage; Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourn'd like night, And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light. B E N: J O N S O N. Upon the Lines and Life of the Famous Scenicke Poet, Master W I L L I A M S H A K E S P E A R E Those hands, which you so clapt, go now, and wring You Britaines brave; for done are Shakespeares dayes : His dayes are done, that made the dainty Playes, Which made the Globe of heav'n and earth to ring. Dry'de is that veine, dry'd is the Thespian Spring, Turn'd all to teares, and Phoebus clouds his rayes : That corp's, that coffin now besticke those bayes, Which crown'd him Poet first, then Poets King. If Tragedies might any Prologue have, All those he made, would scarse make a one to this : Where Fame, now that he gone is to the grave (Deaths publique tyring-house) the Nuncius is, For though his line of life went soone about, The life yet of his lines shall never out. H U G H H O L L A N D. TO THE MEMORIE of the deceased Authour Maister W. S H A K E S P E A R E. Shake-speare, at length thy pious fellowes give The world thy Workes : thy Workes, by which, out-live Thy Tombe, thy name must when that stone is rent, And Time dissolves thy Stratford Moniment, Here we alive shall view thee still. This Booke, When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke Fresh to all Ages: when Posteritie Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie That is not Shake-speares; ev'ry Line, each Verse Here shall revive, redeeme thee from thy Herse. Nor Fire, nor cankring Age, as Naso said, Of his, thy wit-fraught Booke shall once invade. Nor shall I e're beleeve, or thinke thee dead. (Though mist) untill our bankrout Stage be sped (Imposible) with some new straine t'out-do Passions of Juliet, and her Romeo ; Or till I heare a Scene more nobly take, Then when thy half-Sword parlying Romans spake. Till these, till any of thy Volumes rest Shall with more fire, more feeling be exprest, Be sure, our Shake-speare, thou canst never dye, But crown'd with Lawrell, live eternally. L. Digges. To the memorie of M.W.Shakes-speare. WEE wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went'st so soone From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-Tyring-roome. Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth, Tels thy Spectators, that thou went'st but forth To enter with applause. An Actors Art, Can dye, and live, to acte a second part. That's but an Exit of Mortalitie; This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite. J. M. The Workes of William Shakespeare, containing all his Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies: Truely set forth, according to their first O R I G I N A L L The Names of the Principall Actorsin all these Playes. William Shakespeare. Richard Burbadge. John Hemmings. Augustine Phillips. William Kempt. Thomas Poope. George Bryan. Henry Condell. William Slye. Richard Cowly. John Lowine. Samuell Crosse. Alexander Cooke. Samuel Gilburne. Robert Armin. William Ostler. Nathan Field. John Underwood. Nicholas Tooley. William Ecclestone. Joseph Taylor. Robert Benfield. Robert Goughe. Richard Robinson. John Shancke. John Rice. The Tempest Actus primus, Scena prima. A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a Ship-master, and a Boteswaine. Master. Bote-swaine. Botes. Heere Master: What cheere? Mast. Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall too't, yarely, or we run our selues a ground, bestirre, bestirre. Enter. Enter Mariners. Botes. Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts: yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and others. Alon. Good Boteswaine haue care: where's the Master? Play the men. Botes. I pray now keepe below. Anth. Where is the Master, Boson? Botes. Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme. Gonz. Nay, good be patient. Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not. Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord. Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence, and worke the peace of the present, wee will not hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot, giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our way I say. Enter. Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging, make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee hang'd, our case is miserable. Enter. Enter Boteswaine Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower, bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague - A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo. vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather, or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke? Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphemous incharitable Dog. Botes. Worke you then. Anth. Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noyse-maker, we are lesse afraid to be drownde, then thou art. Gonz. I'le warrant him for drowning, though the Ship were no stronger then a Nutt-shell, and as leaky as an vnstanched wench. Botes. Lay her a hold, a hold, set her two courses off to Sea againe, lay her off. Enter Mariners wet. Mari. All lost, to prayers, to prayers, all lost. Botes. What must our mouths be cold? Gonz. The King, and Prince, at prayers, let's assist them, for our case is as theirs Sebas. I'am out of patience An. We are meerly cheated of our liues by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightst lye drowning the washing of ten Tides Gonz. Hee'l be hang'd yet, Though euery drop of water sweare against it, And gape at widst to glut him. A confused noyse within. Mercy on vs. We split, we split, Farewell my wife, and children, Farewell brother: we split, we split, we split Anth. Let's all sinke with' King Seb. Let's take leaue of him. Enter. Gonz. Now would I giue a thousand furlongs of Sea, for an Acre of barren ground: Long heath, Browne firrs, any thing; the wills aboue be done, but I would faine dye a dry death. Enter. Scena Secunda. Enter Prospero and Miranda. Mira. If by your Art (my deerest father) you haue Put the wild waters in this Rore; alay them: The skye it seemes would powre down stinking pitch, But that the Sea, mounting to th' welkins cheeke, Dashes the fire out. Oh! I haue suffered With those that I saw suffer: A braue vessell (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dash'd all to peeces: O the cry did knocke Against my very heart: poore soules, they perish'd. Had I byn any God of power, I would Haue suncke the Sea within the Earth, or ere It should the good Ship so haue swallow'd, and The fraughting Soules within her Pros. Be collected, No more amazement: Tell your pitteous heart there's no harme done Mira. O woe, the day Pros. No harme: I haue done nothing, but in care of thee (Of thee my deere one; thee my daughter) who Art ignorant of what thou art. naught knowing Of whence I am: nor that I am more better Then Prospero, Master of a full poore cell, And thy no greater Father Mira. More to know Did neuer medle with my thoughts Pros. 'Tis time I should informe thee farther: Lend thy hand And plucke my Magick garment from me: So, Lye there my Art: wipe thou thine eyes, haue comfort, The direfull spectacle of the wracke which touch'd The very vertue of compassion in thee: I haue with such prouision in mine Art So safely ordered, that there is no soule No not so much perdition as an hayre Betid to any creature in the vessell Which thou heardst cry, which thou saw'st sinke: Sit downe, For thou must now know farther Mira. You haue often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopt And left me to a bootelesse Inquisition, Concluding, stay: not yet Pros. The howr's now come The very minute byds thee ope thine eare, Obey, and be attentiue. Canst thou remember A time before we came vnto this Cell? I doe not thinke thou canst, for then thou was't not Out three yeeres old Mira. Certainely Sir, I can Pros. By what? by any other house, or person? Of any thing the Image, tell me, that Hath kept with thy remembrance Mira. 'Tis farre off: And rather like a dreame, then an assurance That my remembrance warrants: Had I not Fowre, or fiue women once, that tended me? Pros. Thou hadst; and more Miranda: But how is it That this liues in thy minde? What seest thou els In the dark-backward and Abisme of Time? Yf thou remembrest ought ere thou cam'st here, How thou cam'st here thou maist Mira. But that I doe not Pros. Twelue yere since (Miranda) twelue yere since, Thy father was the Duke of Millaine and A Prince of power: Mira. Sir, are not you my Father? Pros. Thy Mother was a peece of vertue, and She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father Was Duke of Millaine, and his onely heire, And Princesse; no worse Issued Mira. O the heauens, What fowle play had we, that we came from thence? Or blessed was't we did? Pros. Both, both my Girle. By fowle-play (as thou saist) were we heau'd thence, But blessedly holpe hither Mira. O my heart bleedes To thinke oth' teene that I haue turn'd you to, Which is from my remembrance, please you, farther; Pros. My brother and thy vncle, call'd Anthonio: I pray thee marke me, that a brother should Be so perfidious: he, whom next thy selfe Of all the world I lou'd, and to him put The mannage of my state, as at that time Through all the signories it was the first, And Prospero, the prime Duke, being so reputed In dignity; and for the liberall Artes, Without a paralell; those being all my studie, The Gouernment I cast vpon my brother, And to my State grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies, thy false vncle (Do'st thou attend me?) Mira. Sir, most heedefully Pros. Being once perfected how to graunt suites, how to deny them: who t' aduance, and who To trash for ouer-topping; new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or chang'd 'em, Or els new form'd 'em; hauing both the key, Of Officer, and office, set all hearts i'th state To what tune pleas'd his eare, that now he was The Iuy which had hid my princely Trunck, And suckt my verdure out on't: Thou attend'st not? Mira. O good Sir, I doe Pros. I pray thee marke me: I thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closenes, and the bettering of my mind with that, which but by being so retir'd Ore-priz'd all popular rate: in my false brother Awak'd an euill nature, and my trust Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in it's contrarie, as great As my trust was, which had indeede no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus Lorded, Not onely with what my reuenew yeelded, But what my power might els exact. Like one Who hauing into truth, by telling of it, Made such a synner of his memorie To credite his owne lie, he did beleeue He was indeed the Duke, out o'th' Substitution And executing th' outward face of Roialtie With all prerogatiue: hence his Ambition growing: Do'st thou heare ? Mira. Your tale, Sir, would cure deafenesse Pros. To haue no Schreene between this part he plaid, And him he plaid it for, he needes will be Absolute Millaine, Me (poore man) my Librarie Was Dukedome large enough: of temporall roalties He thinks me now incapable. Confederates (so drie he was for Sway) with King of Naples To giue him Annuall tribute, doe him homage Subiect his Coronet, to his Crowne and bend The Dukedom yet vnbow'd (alas poore Millaine) To most ignoble stooping Mira. Oh the heauens: Pros. Marke his condition, and th' euent, then tell me If this might be a brother Mira. I should sinne To thinke but Noblie of my Grand-mother, Good wombes haue borne bad sonnes Pro. Now the Condition. This King of Naples being an Enemy To me inueterate, hearkens my Brothers suit, Which was, That he in lieu o'th' premises, Of homage, and I know not how much Tribute, Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the Dukedome, and confer faire Millaine With all the Honors, on my brother: Whereon A treacherous Armie leuied, one mid-night Fated to th' purpose, did Anthonio open The gates of Millaine, and ith' dead of darkenesse The ministers for th' purpose hurried thence Me, and thy crying selfe Mir. Alack, for pitty: I not remembring how I cride out then Will cry it ore againe: it is a hint That wrings mine eyes too't Pro. Heare a little further, And then I'le bring thee to the present businesse Which now's vpon's: without the which, this Story Were most impertinent Mir. Wherefore did they not That howre destroy vs? Pro. Well demanded, wench: My Tale prouokes that question: Deare, they durst not, So deare the loue my people bore me: nor set A marke so bloudy on the businesse; but With colours fairer, painted their foule ends. In few, they hurried vs aboord a Barke, Bore vs some Leagues to Sea, where they prepared A rotten carkasse of a Butt, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sayle, nor mast, the very rats Instinctiuely haue quit it: There they hoyst vs To cry to th' Sea, that roard to vs; to sigh To th' windes, whose pitty sighing backe againe Did vs but louing wrong Mir. Alack, what trouble Was I then to you? Pro. O, a Cherubin Thou was't that did preserue me; Thou didst smile, Infused with a fortitude from heauen, When I haue deck'd the sea with drops full salt, Vnder my burthen groan'd, which rais'd in me An vndergoing stomacke, to beare vp Against what should ensue Mir. How came we a shore? Pro. By prouidence diuine, Some food, we had, and some fresh water, that A noble Neopolitan Gonzalo Out of his Charity, (who being then appointed Master of this designe) did giue vs, with Rich garments, linnens, stuffs, and necessaries Which since haue steeded much, so of his gentlenesse Knowing I lou'd my bookes, he furnishd me From mine owne Library, with volumes, that I prize aboue my Dukedome Mir. Would I might But euer see that man Pro. Now I arise, Sit still, and heare the last of our sea-sorrow: Heere in this Iland we arriu'd, and heere Haue I, thy Schoolemaster, made thee more profit Then other Princesse can, that haue more time For vainer howres; and Tutors, not so carefull Mir. Heuens thank you for't. And now I pray you Sir, For still 'tis beating in my minde; your reason For raysing this Sea-storme? Pro. Know thus far forth, By accident most strange, bountifull Fortune (Now my deere Lady) hath mine enemies Brought to this shore: And by my prescience I finde my Zenith doth depend vpon A most auspitious starre, whose influence If now I court not, but omit; my fortunes Will euer after droope: Heare cease more questions, Thou art inclinde to sleepe: 'tis a good dulnesse, And giue it way: I know thou canst not chuse: Come away, Seruant, come; I am ready now, Approach my Ariel. Come. Enter Ariel. Ari. All haile, great Master, graue Sir, haile: I come To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, To swim, to diue into the fire: to ride On the curld clowds: to thy strong bidding, taske Ariel, and all his Qualitie Pro. Hast thou, Spirit, Performd to point, the Tempest that I bad thee Ar. To euery Article. I boorded the Kings ship: now on the Beake, Now in the Waste, the Decke, in euery Cabyn, I flam'd amazement, sometime I'ld diuide And burne in many places; on the Top-mast, The Yards and Bore-spritt, would I flame distinctly, Then meete, and ioyne. Ioues Lightning, the precursers O'th dreadfull Thunder-claps more momentarie And sight out-running were not; the fire, and cracks Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune Seeme to besiege, and make his bold waues tremble, Yea, his dread Trident shake Pro. My braue Spirit, Who was so firme, so constant, that this coyle Would not infect his reason? Ar. Not a soule But felt a Feauer of the madde, and plaid Some tricks of desperation; all but Mariners Plung'd in the foaming bryne, and quit the vessell; Then all a fire with me the Kings sonne Ferdinand With haire vp-staring (then like reeds, not haire) Was the first man that leapt; cride hell is empty, And all the Diuels are heere Pro. Why that's my spirit: But was not this nye shore? Ar. Close by, my Master Pro. But are they (Ariell) safe? Ar. Not a haire perishd: On their sustaining garments not a blemish, But fresher then before: and as thou badst me, In troops I haue dispersd them 'bout the Isle: The Kings sonne haue I landed by himselfe, Whom I left cooling of the Ayre with sighes, In an odde Angle of the Isle, and sitting His armes in this sad knot Pro. Of the Kings ship, The Marriners, say how thou hast disposd, And all the rest o'th' Fleete? Ar. Safely in harbour Is the Kings shippe, in the deepe Nooke, where once Thou calldst me vp at midnight to fetch dewe From the still-vext Bermoothes, there she's hid; The Marriners all vnder hatches stowed, Who, with a Charme ioynd to their suffred labour I haue left asleep: and for the rest o'th' Fleet (Which I dispers'd) they all haue met againe, And are vpon the Mediterranian Flote Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the Kings ship wrackt, And his great person perish Pro. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is perform'd; but there's more worke: What is the time o'th' day? Ar. Past the mid season Pro. At least two Glasses: the time 'twixt six & now Must by vs both be spent most preciously Ar. Is there more toyle? Since y dost giue me pains, Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd, Which is not yet perform'd me Pro. How now? moodie? What is't thou canst demand? Ar. My Libertie Pro. Before the time be out? no more: Ar. I prethee, Remember I haue done thee worthy seruice, Told thee no lyes, made thee no mistakings, serv'd Without or grudge, or grumblings; thou did promise To bate me a full yeere Pro. Do'st thou forget From what a torment I did free thee? Ar. No Pro. Thou do'st: & thinkst it much to tread y Ooze Of the salt deepe; To run vpon the sharpe winde of the North, To doe me businesse in the veines o'th' earth When it is bak'd with frost Ar. I doe not Sir Pro. Thou liest, malignant Thing: hast thou forgot The fowle Witch Sycorax, who with Age and Enuy Was growne into a hoope? hast thou forgot her? Ar. No Sir Pro. Thou hast: where was she born? speak: tell me: Ar. Sir, in Argier Pro. Oh, was she so: I must Once in a moneth recount what thou hast bin, Which thou forgetst. This damn'd Witch Sycorax For mischiefes manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter humane hearing, from Argier Thou know'st was banish'd: for one thing she did They wold not take her life: Is not this true? Ar. I, Sir Pro. This blew ey'd hag, was hither brought with child, And here was left by th' Saylors; thou my slaue, As thou reportst thy selfe, was then her seruant, And for thou wast a Spirit too delicate To act her earthy, and abhord commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee By helpe of her more potent Ministers, And in her most vnmittigable rage, Into a clouen Pyne, within which rift Imprison'd, thou didst painefully remaine A dozen yeeres: within which space she di'd, And left thee there: where thou didst vent thy groanes As fast as Mill-wheeles strike: Then was this Island (Saue for the Son, that he did littour heere, A frekelld whelpe, hag-borne) not honour'd with A humane shape Ar. Yes: Caliban her sonne Pro. Dull thing, I say so: he, that Caliban Whom now I keepe in seruice, thou best know'st What torment I did finde thee in; thy grones Did make wolues howle, and penetrate the breasts Of euer-angry Beares; it was a torment To lay vpon the damn'd, which Sycorax Could not againe vndoe: it was mine Art, When I arriu'd, and heard thee, that made gape The Pyne, and let thee out Ar. I thanke thee Master Pro. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an Oake And peg-thee in his knotty entrailes, till Thou hast howl'd away twelue winters Ar. Pardon, Master, I will be correspondent to command And doe my spryting, gently Pro. Doe so: and after two daies I will discharge thee Ar. That's my noble Master: What shall I doe? say what? what shall I doe? Pro. Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o'th' Sea, Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine: inuisible To euery eye-ball else: goe take this shape And hither come in't: goe: hence With diligence. Enter. Pro. Awake, deere hart awake, thou hast slept well, Awake Mir. The strangenes of your story, put Heauinesse in me Pro. Shake it off: Come on, Wee'll visit Caliban, my slaue, who neuer Yeelds vs kinde answere Mir. 'Tis a villaine Sir, I doe not loue to looke on Pro. But as 'tis We cannot misse him: he do's make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serues in Offices That profit vs: What hoa: slaue: Caliban: Thou Earth, thou: speake Cal. within. There's wood enough within Pro. Come forth I say, there's other busines for thee: Come thou Tortoys, when? Enter Ariel like a water Nymph. Fine apparision: my queint Ariel, Hearke in thine eare Ar. My Lord, it shall be done. Enter. Pro. Thou poysonous slaue, got by y diuell himselfe Vpon thy wicked Dam; come forth. Enter Caliban. Cal. As wicked dewe, as ere my mother brush'd With Rauens feather from vnwholesome Fen Drop on you both: A Southwest blow on yee, And blister you all ore Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shalt haue cramps, Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath vp, Vrchins Shall for that vast of night, that they may worke All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees that made 'em Cal. I must eat my dinner: This Island's mine by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me: when thou cam'st first Thou stroakst me, & made much of me: wouldst giue me Water with berries in't: and teach me how To name the bigger Light, and how the lesse That burne by day, and night: and then I lou'd thee And shew'd thee all the qualities o'th' Isle, The fresh Springs, Brine-pits; barren place and fertill, Curs'd be I that did so: All the Charmes Of Sycorax: Toades, Beetles, Batts light on you: For I am all the Subiects that you haue, Which first was min owne King: and here you sty-me In this hard Rocke, whiles you doe keepe from me The rest o'th' Island Pro. Thou most lying slaue, Whom stripes may moue, not kindnes: I haue vs'd thee (Filth as thou art) with humane care, and lodg'd thee In mine owne Cell, till thou didst seeke to violate The honor of my childe Cal. Oh ho, oh ho, would't had bene done: Thou didst preuent me, I had peopel'd else This Isle with Calibans Mira. Abhorred Slaue, Which any print of goodnesse wilt not take, Being capable of all ill: I pittied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each houre One thing or other: when thou didst not (Sauage) Know thine owne meaning; but wouldst gabble, like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them knowne: But thy vild race (Tho thou didst learn) had that in't, which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deseruedly confin'd into this Rocke, who hadst Deseru'd more then a prison Cal. You taught me Language, and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse: the red-plague rid you For learning me your language Pros. Hag-seed, hence: Fetch vs in Fewell, and be quicke thou'rt best To answer other businesse: shrug'st thou (Malice) If thou neglectst, or dost vnwillingly What I command, Ile racke thee with old Crampes, Fill all thy bones with Aches, make thee rore, That beasts shall tremble at thy dyn Cal. No, 'pray thee. I must obey, his Art is of such pow'r, It would controll my Dams god Setebos, And make a vassaile of him Pro. So slaue, hence. Exit Cal. Enter Ferdinand & Ariel, inuisible playing & singing. Ariel Song. Come vnto these yellow sands, and then take hands: Curtsied when you haue, and kist the wilde waues whist: Foote it featly heere, and there, and sweete Sprights beare the burthen. Burthen dispersedly. Harke, harke, bowgh wawgh: the watch-Dogges barke, bowgh-wawgh Ar. Hark, hark, I heare, the straine of strutting Chanticlere cry cockadidle-dowe Fer. Where shold this Musick be? I'th aire, or th' earth? It sounds no more: and sure it waytes vpon Some God o'th' Iland, sitting on a banke, Weeping againe the King my Fathers wracke. This Musicke crept by me vpon the waters, Allaying both their fury, and my passion With it's sweet ayre: thence I haue follow'd it (Or it hath drawne me rather) but 'tis gone. No, it begins againe Ariell Song. Full fadom fiue thy Father lies, Of his bones are Corrall made: Those are pearles that were his eies, Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a Sea-change Into something rich, & strange: Sea-Nimphs hourly ring his knell. Burthen: ding dong. Harke now I heare them, ding-dong bell Fer. The Ditty do's remember my drown'd father, This is no mortall busines, nor no sound That the earth owes: I heare it now aboue me Pro. The fringed Curtaines of thine eye aduance, And say what thou see'st yond Mira. What is't a Spirit? Lord, how it lookes about: Beleeue me sir, It carries a braue forme. But 'tis a spirit Pro. No wench, it eats, and sleeps, & hath such senses As we haue: such. This Gallant which thou seest Was in the wracke: and but hee's something stain'd With greefe (that's beauties canker) y might'st call him A goodly person: he hath lost his fellowes, And strayes about to finde 'em Mir. I might call him A thing diuine, for nothing naturall I euer saw so Noble Pro. It goes on I see As my soule prompts it: Spirit, fine spirit, Ile free thee Within two dayes for this Fer. Most sure the Goddesse On whom these ayres attend: Vouchsafe my pray'r May know if you remaine vpon this Island, And that you will some good instruction giue How I may beare me heere: my prime request (Which I do last pronounce) is (O you wonder) If you be Mayd, or no? Mir. No wonder Sir, But certainly a Mayd Fer. My Language? Heauens: I am the best of them that speake this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken Pro. How? the best? What wer't thou if the King of Naples heard thee? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To heare thee speake of Naples: he do's heare me, And that he do's, I weepe: my selfe am Naples, Who, with mine eyes (neuer since at ebbe) beheld The King my Father wrack't Mir. Alacke, for mercy Fer. Yes faith, & all his Lords, the Duke of Millaine And his braue sonne, being twaine Pro. The Duke of Millaine And his more brauer daughter, could controll thee If now 'twere fit to do't: At the first sight They haue chang'd eyes: Delicate Ariel, Ile set thee free for this. A word good Sir, I feare you haue done your selfe some wrong: A word Mir. Why speakes my father so vngently? This Is the third man that ere I saw: the first That ere I sigh'd for: pitty moue my father To be enclin'd my way Fer. O, if a Virgin, And your affection not gone forth, Ile make you The Queene of Naples Pro. Soft sir, one word more. They are both in eythers pow'rs: But this swift busines I must vneasie make, least too light winning Make the prize light. One word more: I charge thee That thou attend me: Thou do'st heere vsurpe The name thou ow'st not, and hast put thy selfe Vpon this Island, as a spy, to win it From me, the Lord on't Fer. No, as I am a man Mir. Ther's nothing ill, can dwell in such a Temple, If the ill-spirit haue so fayre a house, Good things will striue to dwell with't Pro. Follow me Pros. Speake not you for him: hee's a Traitor: come, Ile manacle thy necke and feete together: Sea water shalt thou drinke: thy food shall be The fresh-brooke Mussels, wither'd roots, and huskes Wherein the Acorne cradled. Follow Fer. No, I will resist such entertainment, till Mine enemy ha's more pow'r. He drawes, and is charmed from mouing. Mira. O deere Father, Make not too rash a triall of him, for Hee's gentle, and not fearfull Pros. What I say, My foote my Tutor? Put thy sword vp Traitor, Who mak'st a shew, but dar'st not strike: thy conscience Is so possest with guilt: Come, from thy ward, For I can heere disarme thee with this sticke, And make thy weapon drop Mira. Beseech you Father Pros. Hence: hang not on my garments Mira. Sir haue pity, Ile be his surety Pros. Silence: One word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee: What, An aduocate for an Impostor? Hush: Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, (Hauing seene but him and Caliban:) Foolish wench, To th' most of men, this is a Caliban, And they to him are Angels Mira. My affections Are then most humble: I haue no ambition To see a goodlier man Pros. Come on, obey: Thy Nerues are in their infancy againe. And haue no vigour in them Fer. So they are: My spirits, as in a dreame, are all bound vp: My Fathers losse, the weaknesse which I feele, The wracke of all my friends, nor this mans threats, To whom I am subdude, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this Mayd: all corners else o'th' Earth Let liberty make vse of: space enough Haue I in such a prison Pros. It workes: Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariell: follow me, Harke what thou else shalt do mee Mira. Be of comfort, My Fathers of a better nature (Sir) Then he appeares by speech: this is vnwonted Which now came from him Pros. Thou shalt be as free As mountaine windes; but then exactly do All points of my command Ariell. To th' syllable Pros. Come follow: speake not for him. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others. Gonz. Beseech you Sir, be merry; you haue cause, (So haue we all) of ioy; for our escape Is much beyond our losse; our hint of woe Is common, euery day, some Saylors wife, The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant Haue iust our Theame of woe: But for the miracle, (I meane our preseruation) few in millions Can speake like vs: then wisely (good Sir) weigh Our sorrow, with our comfort Alons. Prethee peace Seb. He receiues comfort like cold porredge Ant. The Visitor will not giue him ore so Seb. Looke, hee's winding vp the watch of his wit, By and by it will strike Gon. Sir Seb. One: Tell Gon. When euery greefe is entertaind, That's offer'd comes to th' entertainer Seb. A dollor Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you haue spoken truer then you purpos'd Seb. You haue taken it wiselier then I meant you should Gon. Therefore my Lord Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue Alon. I pre-thee spare Gon. Well, I haue done: But yet Seb. He will be talking Ant. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow? Seb. The old Cocke Ant. The Cockrell Seb. Done: The wager? Ant. A Laughter Seb. A match Adr. Though this Island seeme to be desert Seb. Ha, ha, ha Ant. So: you'r paid Adr. Vninhabitable, and almost inaccessible Seb. Yet Adr. Yet Ant. He could not misse't Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench Seb. I, and a subtle, as he most learnedly deliuer'd Adr. The ayre breathes vpon vs here most sweetly Seb. As if it had Lungs, and rotten ones Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a Fen Gon. Heere is euery thing aduantageous to life Ant. True, saue meanes to liue Seb. Of that there's none, or little Gon. How lush and lusty the grasse lookes? How greene? Ant. The ground indeed is tawny Seb. With an eye of greene in't Ant. He misses not much Seb. No: he doth but mistake the truth totally Gon. But the rariety of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit Seb. As many voucht rarieties are Gon. That our Garments being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their freshnesse and glosses, being rather new dy'de then stain'd with salte water Ant. If but one of his pockets could speake, would it not say he lyes? Seb. I, or very falsely pocket vp his report Gon. Me thinkes our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our returne Adri. Tunis was neuer grac'd before with such a Paragon to their Queene Gon. Not since widdow Dido's time Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Widdow in? Widdow Dido! Seb. What if he had said Widdower aeneas too? Good Lord, how you take it? Adri. Widdow Dido said you? You make me study of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage Adri. Carthage? Gon. I assure you Carthage Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too Ant. What impossible matter wil he make easy next? Seb. I thinke hee will carry this Island home in his pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands Gon. I Ant. Why in good time Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seeme now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queene Ant. And the rarest that ere came there Seb. Bate (I beseech you) widdow Dido Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido Gon. Is not Sir my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I meane in a sort Ant. That sort was well fish'd for Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage Alon. You cram these words into mine eares, against the stomacke of my sense: would I had neuer Married my daughter there: For comming thence My sonne is lost, and (in my rate) she too, Who is so farre from Italy remoued, I ne're againe shall see her: O thou mine heire Of Naples and of Millaine, what strange fish Hath made his meale on thee? Fran. Sir he may liue, I saw him beate the surges vnder him, And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water Whose enmity he flung aside: and brested The surge most swolne that met him: his bold head 'Boue the contentious waues he kept, and oared Himselfe with his good armes in lusty stroke To th' shore; that ore his waue-worne basis bowed As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt He came aliue to Land Alon. No, no, hee's gone Seb. Sir you may thank your selfe for this great losse, That would not blesse our Europe with your daughter, But rather loose her to an Affrican, Where she at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't Alon. Pre-thee peace Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son, I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them: The faults your owne Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse Gon. My Lord Sebastian, The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister Seb. Very well Ant. And most Chirurgeonly Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy Seb. Fowle weather? Ant. Very foule Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do? Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate: Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all: And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty Seb. Yet he would be King on't Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning Gon. All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects? Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues, Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T' Excell the Golden Age Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty Ant. Long liue Gonzalo Gon. And do you marke me, Sir? Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still Ant. What a blow was there giuen? Seb. And it had not falne flat-long Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing. Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke. Seb. We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry Gon. No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so Seb. Please you Sir, Do not omit the heauy offer of it: It sildome visits sorrow, when it doth, it is a Comforter Ant. We two my Lord, will guard your person, While you take your rest, and watch your safety Alon. Thanke you: Wondrous heauy Seb. What a strange drowsines possesses them? Ant. It is the quality o'th' Clymate Seb. Why Doth it not then our eye-lids sinke? I finde Not my selfe dispos'd to sleep Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble: They fell together all, as by consent They dropt, as by a Thunder-stroke: what might Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? no more: And yet, me thinkes I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: th' occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination see's a Crowne Dropping vpon thy head Seb. What? art thou waking? Ant. Do you not heare me speake? Seb. I do, and surely It is a sleepy Language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleepe: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepe With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, mouing: And yet so fast asleepe Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleepe: die rather: wink'st Whiles thou art waking Seb. Thou do'st snore distinctly, There's meaning in thy snores Ant. I am more serious then my custome: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebbles thee o're Seb. Well: I am standing water Ant. Ile teach you how to flow Seb. Do so: to ebbe Hereditary Sloth instructs me Ant. O! If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mocke it: how in stripping it You more inuest it: ebbing men, indeed (Most often) do so neere the bottome run By their owne feare, or sloth Seb. 'Pre-thee say on, The setting of thine eye, and cheeke proclaime A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throwes thee much to yeeld Ant. Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weake remembrance; this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth'd, hath here almost perswaded (For hee's a Spirit of perswasion, onely Professes to perswade) the King his sonne's aliue, 'Tis as impossible that hee's vndrown'd, As he that sleepes heere, swims Seb. I haue no hope That hee's vndrown'd Ant. O, out of that no hope, What great hope haue you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a hope, that euen Ambition cannot pierce a winke beyond But doubt discouery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown'd Seb. He's gone Ant. Then tell me, who's the next heire of Naples? Seb. Claribell Ant. She that is Queene of Tunis: she that dwels Ten leagues beyond mans life: she that from Naples Can haue no note, vnlesse the Sun were post: The Man i'th Moone's too slow, till new-borne chinnes Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast againe, (And by that destiny) to performe an act Whereof, what's past is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my discharge Seb. What stuffe is this? How say you? 'Tis true my brothers daughter's Queene of Tunis, So is she heyre of Naples, 'twixt which Regions There is some space Ant. A space, whose eu'ry cubit Seemes to cry out, how shall that Claribell Measure vs backe to Naples? keepe in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleepes: Lords, that can prate As amply, and vnnecessarily As this Gonzallo: I my selfe could make A Chough of as deepe chat: O, that you bore The minde that I do; what a sleepe were this For your aduancement? Do you vnderstand me? Seb. Me thinkes I do Ant. And how do's your content Tender your owne good fortune? Seb. I remember You did supplant your Brother Prospero Ant. True: And looke how well my Garments sit vpon me, Much feater then before: My Brothers seruants Were then my fellowes, now they are my men Seb. But for your conscience Ant. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feele not This Deity in my bosome: 'Twentie consciences That stand 'twixt me, and Millaine, candied be they, And melt ere they mollest: Heere lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies vpon, If he were that which now hee's like (that's dead) Whom I with this obedient steele (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for euer: whiles you doing thus, To the perpetuall winke for aye might put This ancient morsell: this Sir Prudence, who Should not vpbraid our course: for all the rest They'l take suggestion, as a Cat laps milke, They'l tell the clocke, to any businesse that We say befits the houre Seb. Thy case, deere Friend Shall be my president: As thou got'st Millaine, I'le come by Naples: Draw thy sword, one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou paiest, And I the King shall loue thee Ant. Draw together: And when I reare my hand, do you the like To fall it on Gonzalo Seb. O, but one word. Enter Ariell with Musicke and Song. Ariel. My Master through his Art foresees the danger That you (his friend) are in, and sends me forth (For else his proiect dies) to keepe them liuing. Sings in Gonzaloes eare. While you here do snoaring lie, Open-ey'd Conspiracie His time doth take: If of Life you keepe a care, Shake off slumber and beware. Awake, awake Ant. Then let vs both be sodaine Gon. Now, good Angels preserue the King Alo. Why how now hoa; awake? why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? Gon. What's the matter? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, (Euen now) we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like Buls, or rather Lyons, did't not wake you? It strooke mine eare most terribly Alo. I heard nothing Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters eare; To make an earthquake: sure it was the roare Of a whole heard of Lyons Alo. Heard you this Gonzalo? Gon. Vpon mine honour, Sir, I heard a humming, (And that a strange one too) which did awake me: I shak'd you Sir, and cride: as mine eyes opend, I saw their weapons drawne: there was a noyse, That's verily: 'tis best we stand vpon our guard; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons Alo. Lead off this ground & let's make further search For my poore sonne Gon. Heauens keepe him from these Beasts: For he is sure i'th Island Alo. Lead away Ariell. Prospero my Lord, shall know what I haue done. So (King) goe safely on to seeke thy Son. Exeunt. Scoena Secunda. Enter Caliban, with a burthen of Wood (a noyse of thunder heard.) Cal. All the infections that the Sunne suckes vp From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease: his Spirits heare me, And yet I needes must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with Vrchyn-shewes, pitch me i'th mire, Nor lead me like a fire-brand, in the darke Out of my way, vnlesse he bid 'em; but For euery trifle, are they set vpon me, Sometime like Apes, that moe and chatter at me, And after bite me: then like Hedg-hogs, which Lye tumbling in my bare-foote way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall: sometime am I All wound with Adders, who with clouen tongues Doe hisse me into madnesse: Lo, now Lo, Enter Trinculo. Here comes a Spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly: I'le fall flat, Perchance he will not minde me Tri. Here's neither bush, nor shrub to beare off any weather at all: and another Storme brewing, I heare it sing ith' winde: yond same blacke cloud, yond huge one, lookes like a foule bumbard that would shed his licquor: if it should thunder, as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailefuls. What haue we here, a man, or a fish? dead or aliue? a fish, hee smels like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell: a kinde of, not of the newest poore-Iohn: a strange fish: were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this fish painted; not a holiday-foole there but would giue a peece of siluer: there, would this Monster, make a man: any strange beast there, makes a man: when they will not giue a doit to relieue a lame Begger, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian: Leg'd like a man; and his Finnes like Armes: warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer; this is no fish, but an Islander, that hath lately suffered by a Thunderbolt: Alas, the storme is come againe: my best way is to creepe vnder his Gaberdine: there is no other shelter hereabout: Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellowes: I will here shrowd till the dregges of the storme be past. Enter Stephano singing.. Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea, here shall I dye ashore. This is a very scuruy tune to sing at a mans Funerall: well, here's my comfort. Drinkes. Sings. The Master, the Swabber, the Boate-swaine & I; The Gunner, and his Mate Lou'd Mall, Meg, and Marrian, and Margerie, But none of vs car'd for Kate. For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a Sailor goe hang: She lou'd not the sauour of Tar nor of Pitch, Yet a Tailor might scratch her where ere she did itch. Then to Sea Boyes, and let her goe hang. This is a scuruy tune too: But here's my comfort. Drinks. Cal. Doe not torment me: oh Ste. What's the matter? Haue we diuels here? Doe you put trickes vpon's with Saluages, and Men of Inde? ha? I haue not scap'd drowning, to be afeard now of your foure legges: for it hath bin said; as proper a man as euer went on foure legs, cannot make him giue ground: and it shall be said so againe, while Stephano breathes at' nostrils Cal. The Spirit torments me: oh Ste. This is some Monster of the Isle, with foure legs; who hath got (as I take it) an Ague: where the diuell should he learne our language? I will giue him some reliefe if it be but for that: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, and get to Naples with him, he's a Present for any Emperour that euer trod on Neates-leather Cal. Doe not torment me 'prethee: I'le bring my wood home faster Ste. He's in his fit now; and doe's not talke after the wisest; hee shall taste of my Bottle: if hee haue neuer drunke wine afore, it will goe neere to remoue his Fit: if I can recouer him, and keepe him tame, I will not take too much for him; hee shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly Cal. Thou do'st me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now Prosper workes vpon thee Ste. Come on your wayes: open your mouth: here is that which will giue language to you Cat; open your mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend; open your chaps againe Tri. I should know that voyce: It should be, But hee is dround; and these are diuels; O defend me Ste. Foure legges and two voyces; a most delicate Monster: his forward voyce now is to speake well of his friend; his backward voice, is to vtter foule speeches, and to detract: if all the wine in my bottle will recouer him, I will helpe his Ague: Come: Amen, I will poure some in thy other mouth Tri. Stephano Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy: This is a diuell, and no Monster: I will leaue him, I haue no long Spoone Tri. Stephano: if thou beest Stephano, touch me, and speake to me: for I am Trinculo; be not afeard, thy good friend Trinculo Ste. If thou bee'st Trinculo: come forth: I'le pull thee by the lesser legges: if any be Trinculo's legges, these are they: Thou art very Trinculo indeede: how cam'st thou to be the siege of this Moone-calfe? Can he vent Trinculo's? Tri. I tooke him to be kil'd with a thunder-strok; but art thou not dround Stephano: I hope now thou art not dround: Is the Storme ouer-blowne? I hid mee vnder the dead Moone-Calfes Gaberdine, for feare of the Storme: And art thou liuing Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitanes scap'd? Ste. 'Prethee doe not turne me about, my stomacke is not constant Cal. These be fine things, and if they be not sprights: that's a braue God, and beares Celestiall liquor: I will kneele to him Ste. How did'st thou scape? How cam'st thou hither? Sweare by this Bottle how thou cam'st hither: I escap'd vpon a But of Sacke, which the Saylors heaued o'reboord, by this Bottle which I made of the barke of a Tree, with mine owne hands, since I was cast a'shore Cal. I'le sweare vpon that Bottle, to be thy true subiect, for the liquor is not earthly St. Heere: sweare then how thou escap'dst Tri. Swom ashore (man) like a Ducke: I can swim like a Ducke i'le be sworne Ste. Here, kisse the Booke. Though thou canst swim like a Ducke, thou art made like a Goose Tri. O Stephano, ha'st any more of this? Ste. The whole But (man) my Cellar is in a rocke by th' sea-side, where my Wine is hid: How now Moone-Calfe, how do's thine Ague? Cal. Ha'st thou not dropt from heauen? Ste. Out o'th Moone I doe assure thee. I was the Man ith' Moone, when time was Cal. I haue seene thee in her: and I doe adore thee: My Mistris shew'd me thee, and thy Dog, and thy Bush Ste. Come, sweare to that: kisse the Booke: I will furnish it anon with new Contents: Sweare Tri. By this good light, this is a very shallow Monster: I afeard of him? a very weake Monster: The Man ith' Moone? A most poore creadulous Monster: Well drawne Monster, in good sooth Cal. Ile shew thee euery fertill ynch o'th Island: and I will kisse thy foote: I prethee be my god Tri. By this light, a most perfidious, and drunken Monster, when's god's a sleepe he'll rob his Bottle Cal. Ile kisse thy foot, Ile sweare my selfe thy Subiect Ste. Come on then: downe and sweare Tri. I shall laugh my selfe to death at this puppi-headed Monster: a most scuruie Monster: I could finde in my heart to beate him Ste. Come, kisse Tri. But that the poore Monster's in drinke: An abhominable Monster Cal. I'le shew thee the best Springs: I'le plucke thee Berries: I'le fish for thee; and get thee wood enough. A plague vpon the Tyrant that I serue; I'le beare him no more Stickes, but follow thee, thou wondrous man Tri. A most rediculous Monster, to make a wonder of a poore drunkard Cal. I 'prethee let me bring thee where Crabs grow; and I with my long nayles will digge thee pig-nuts; show thee a Iayes nest, and instruct thee how to snare the nimble Marmazet: I'le bring thee to clustring Philbirts, and sometimes I'le get thee young Scamels from the Rocke: Wilt thou goe with me? Ste. I pre'thee now lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the King, and all our company else being dround, wee will inherit here: Here; beare my Bottle: Fellow Trinculo; we'll fill him by and by againe. Caliban Sings drunkenly. Farewell Master; farewell, farewell Tri. A howling Monster: a drunken Monster Cal. No more dams I'le make for fish, Nor fetch in firing, at requiring, Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish, Ban' ban' Cacalyban Has a new Master, get a new Man. Freedome, high-day, high-day freedome, freedome highday, freedome Ste. O braue Monster; lead the way. Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima. Enter Ferdinand (bearing a Log.) Fer. There be some Sports are painfull; & their labor Delight in them set off: Some kindes of basenesse Are nobly vndergon; and most poore matters Point to rich ends: this my meane Taske Would be as heauy to me, as odious, but The Mistris which I serue, quickens what's dead, And makes my labours, pleasures: O She is Ten times more gentle, then her Father's crabbed; And he's compos'd of harshnesse. I must remoue Some thousands of these Logs, and pile them vp, Vpon a sore iniunction; my sweet Mistris Weepes when she sees me worke, & saies, such basenes Had neuer like Executor: I forget: But these sweet thoughts, doe euen refresh my labours, Most busie lest, when I doe it. Enter Miranda | and Prospero. Mir. Alas, now pray you Worke not so hard: I would the lightning had Burnt vp those Logs that you are enioynd to pile: Pray set it downe, and rest you: when this burnes 'Twill weepe for hauing wearied you: my Father Is hard at study; pray now rest your selfe, Hee's safe for these three houres Fer. O most deere Mistris The Sun will set before I shall discharge What I must striue to do Mir. If you'l sit downe Ile beare your Logges the while: pray giue me that, Ile carry it to the pile Fer. No precious Creature, I had rather cracke my sinewes, breake my backe, Then you should such dishonor vndergoe, While I sit lazy by Mir. It would become me As well as it do's you; and I should do it With much more ease: for my good will is to it, And yours it is against Pro. Poore worme thou art infected, This visitation shewes it Mir. You looke wearily Fer. No, noble Mistris, 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night: I do beseech you Cheefely, that I might set it in my prayers, What is your name? Mir. Miranda, O my Father, I haue broke your hest to say so Fer. Admir'd Miranda, Indeede the top of Admiration, worth What's deerest to the world: full many a Lady I haue ey'd with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues, hath into bondage Brought my too diligent eare: for seuerall vertues Haue I lik'd seuerall women, neuer any With so full soule, but some defect in her Did quarrell with the noblest grace she ow'd, And put it to the foile. But you, O you, So perfect, and so peerlesse, are created Of euerie Creatures best Mir. I do not know One of my sexe; no womans face remember, Saue from my glasse, mine owne: Nor haue I seene More that I may call men, then you good friend, And my deere Father: how features are abroad I am skillesse of; but by my modestie (The iewell in my dower) I would not wish Any Companion in the world but you: Nor can imagination forme a shape Besides your selfe, to like of: but I prattle Something too wildely, and my Fathers precepts I therein do forget Fer. I am, in my condition A Prince (Miranda) I do thinke a King (I would not so) and would no more endure This wodden slauerie, then to suffer The flesh-flie blow my mouth: heare my soule speake. The verie instant that I saw you, did My heart flie to your seruice, there resides To make me slaue to it, and for your sake Am I this patient Logge-man Mir. Do you loue me? Fer. O heauen; O earth, beare witnes to this sound, And crowne what I professe with kinde euent If I speake true: if hollowly, inuert What best is boaded me, to mischiefe: I, Beyond all limit of what else i'th world Do loue, prize, honor you Mir. I am a foole To weepe at what I am glad of Pro. Faire encounter Of two most rare affections: heauens raine grace On that which breeds betweene 'em Fer. Wherefore weepe you? Mir. At mine vnworthinesse, that dare not offer What I desire to giue; and much lesse take What I shall die to want: But this is trifling, And all the more it seekes to hide it selfe, The bigger bulke it shewes. Hence bashfull cunning, And prompt me plaine and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marrie me; If not, Ile die your maid: to be your fellow You may denie me, but Ile be your seruant Whether you will or no Fer. My Mistris (deerest) And I thus humble euer Mir. My husband then? Fer. I, with a heart as willing As bondage ere of freedome: heere's my hand Mir. And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewel Till halfe an houre hence Fer. A thousand, thousand. Exeunt. Pro. So glad of this as they I cannot be, Who are surpriz'd with all; but my reioycing At nothing can be more: Ile to my booke, For yet ere supper time, must I performe Much businesse appertaining. Enter. Scoena Secunda. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo. Ste. Tell not me, when the But is out we will drinke water, not a drop before; therefore beare vp, & boord em' Seruant Monster, drinke to me Trin. Seruant Monster? the folly of this Iland, they say there's but fiue vpon this Isle; we are three of them, if th' other two be brain'd like vs, the State totters Ste. Drinke seruant Monster when I bid thee, thy eies are almost set in thy head Trin. Where should they bee set else? hee were a braue Monster indeede if they were set in his taile Ste. My man-Monster hath drown'd his tongue in sacke: for my part the Sea cannot drowne mee, I swam ere I could recouer the shore, fiue and thirtie Leagues off and on, by this light thou shalt bee my Lieutenant Monster, or my Standard Trin. Your Lieutenant if you list, hee's no standard Ste. Weel not run Monsieur Monster Trin. Nor go neither: but you'l lie like dogs, and yet say nothing neither Ste. Moone-calfe, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good Moone-calfe Cal. How does thy honour? Let me licke thy shooe: Ile not serue him, he is not valiant Trin. Thou liest most ignorant Monster, I am in case to iustle a Constable: why, thou debosh'd Fish thou, was there euer man a Coward, that hath drunk so much Sacke as I to day? wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but halfe a Fish, and halfe a Monster? Cal. Loe, how he mockes me, wilt thou let him my Lord? Trin. Lord, quoth he? that a Monster should be such a Naturall? Cal. Loe, loe againe: bite him to death I prethee Ste. Trinculo, keepe a good tongue in your head: If you proue a mutineere, the next Tree: the poore Monster's my subiect, and he shall not suffer indignity Cal. I thanke my noble Lord. Wilt thou be pleas'd to hearken once againe to the suite I made to thee? Ste. Marry will I: kneele, and repeate it, I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. Enter Ariell inuisible. Cal. As I told thee before, I am subiect to a Tirant, A Sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me Of the Island Ariell. Thou lyest Cal. Thou lyest, thou iesting Monkey thou: I would my valiant Master would destroy thee. I do not lye Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, By this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth Trin. Why, I said nothing Ste. Mum then, and no more: proceed Cal. I say by Sorcery he got this Isle From me, he got it. If thy Greatnesse will Reuenge it on him, (for I know thou dar'st) But this Thing dare not Ste. That's most certaine Cal. Thou shalt be Lord of it, and Ile serue thee Ste. How now shall this be compast? Canst thou bring me to the party? Cal. Yea, yea my Lord, Ile yeeld him thee asleepe, Where thou maist knocke a naile into his head Ariell. Thou liest, thou canst not Cal. What a py'de Ninnie's this? Thou scuruy patch: I do beseech thy Greatnesse giue him blowes, And take his bottle from him: When that's gone, He shall drinke nought but brine, for Ile not shew him Where the quicke Freshes are Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: Interrupt the Monster one word further, and by this hand, Ile turne my mercie out o' doores, and make a Stockfish of thee Trin. Why, what did I? I did nothing: Ile go farther off Ste. Didst thou not say he lyed? Ariell. Thou liest Ste. Do I so? Take thou that, As you like this, giue me the lye another time Trin. I did not giue the lie: Out o'your wittes, and hearing too? A pox o'your bottle, this can Sacke and drinking doo: A murren on your Monster, and the diuell take your fingers Cal. Ha, ha, ha Ste. Now forward with your Tale: prethee stand further off Cal. Beate him enough: after a little time Ile beate him too Ste. Stand farther: Come proceede Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custome with him I'th afternoone to sleepe: there thou maist braine him, Hauing first seiz'd his bookes: Or with a logge Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possesse his Bookes; for without them Hee's but a Sot, as I am; nor hath not One Spirit to command: they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burne but his Bookes, He ha's braue Vtensils (for so he calles them) Which when he ha's a house, hee'l decke withall. And that most deeply to consider, is The beautie of his daughter: he himselfe Cals her a non-pareill: I neuer saw a woman But onely Sycorax my Dam, and she; But she as farre surpasseth Sycorax, As great'st do's least Ste. Is it so braue a Lasse? Cal. I Lord, she will become thy bed, I warrant, And bring thee forth braue brood Ste. Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I will be King and Queene, saue our Graces: and Trinculo and thy selfe shall be Viceroyes: Dost thou like the plot Trinculo? Trin. Excellent Ste. Giue me thy hand, I am sorry I beate thee: But while thou liu'st keepe a good tongue in thy head Cal. Within this halfe houre will he be asleepe, Wilt thou destroy him then? Ste. I on mine honour Ariell. This will I tell my Master Cal. Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure, Let vs be iocond. Will you troule the Catch You taught me but whileare? Ste. At thy request Monster, I will do reason, Any reason: Come on Trinculo, let vs sing. Sings. Flout 'em, and cout 'em: and skowt 'em, and flout 'em, Thought is free Cal. That's not the tune. Ariell plaies the tune on a Tabor and Pipe. Ste. What is this same? Trin. This is the tune of our Catch, plaid by the picture of No-body Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thy selfe in thy likenes: If thou beest a diuell, take't as thou list Trin. O forgiue me my sinnes Ste. He that dies payes all debts: I defie thee; Mercy vpon vs Cal. Art thou affeard? Ste. No Monster, not I Cal. Be not affeard, the Isle is full of noyses, Sounds, and sweet aires, that giue delight and hurt not: Sometimes a thousand twangling Instruments Will hum about mine eares; and sometime voices, That if I then had wak'd after long sleepe, Will make me sleepe againe, and then in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and shew riches Ready to drop vpon me, that when I wak'd I cri'de to dreame againe Ste. This will proue a braue kingdome to me, Where I shall haue my Musicke for nothing Cal. When Prospero is destroy'd Ste. That shall be by and by: I remember the storie Trin. The sound is going away, Lets follow it, and after do our worke Ste. Leade Monster, Wee'l follow: I would I could see this Taborer, He layes it on Trin. Wilt come? Ile follow Stephano. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzallo, Adrian, Francisco, &c. Gon. By'r lakin, I can goe no further, Sir, My old bones akes: here's a maze trod indeede Through fourth-rights, & Meanders: by your patience, I needes must rest me Al. Old Lord, I cannot blame thee, Who, am my selfe attach'd with wearinesse To th' dulling of my spirits: Sit downe, and rest: Euen here I will put off my hope, and keepe it No longer for my Flatterer: he is droun'd Whom thus we stray to finde, and the Sea mocks Our frustrate search on land: well, let him goe Ant. I am right glad, that he's so out of hope: Doe not for one repulse forgoe the purpose That you resolu'd t' effect Seb. The next aduantage will we take throughly Ant. Let it be to night, For now they are oppress'd with trauaile, they Will not, nor cannot vse such vigilance As when they are fresh. Solemne and strange Musicke: and Prosper on the top (inuisible:) Enter seuerall strange shapes, bringing in a Banket; and dance about it with gentle actions of salutations, and inuiting the King, &c. to eate, they depart. Seb. I say to night: no more Al. What harmony is this? my good friends, harke Gon. Maruellous sweet Musicke Alo. Giue vs kind keepers, heaue[n]s: what were these? Seb. A liuing Drolerie: now I will beleeue That there are Vnicornes: that in Arabia There is one Tree, the Phoenix throne, one Phoenix At this houre reigning there Ant. Ile beleeue both: And what do's else want credit, come to me And Ile besworne 'tis true: Trauellers nere did lye, Though fooles at home condemne 'em Gon. If in Naples I should report this now, would they beleeue me? If I should say I saw such Islands; (For certes, these are people of the Island) Who though they are of monstrous shape, yet note Their manners are more gentle, kinde, then of Our humaine generation you shall finde Many, nay almost any Pro. Honest Lord, Thou hast said well: for some of you there present; Are worse then diuels Al. I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound expressing (Although they want the vse of tongue) a kinde Of excellent dumbe discourse Pro. Praise in departing Fr. They vanish'd strangely Seb. No matter, since They haue left their Viands behinde; for wee haue stomacks. Wilt please you taste of what is here? Alo. Not I Gon. Faith Sir, you neede not feare: when wee were Boyes Who would beleeue that there were Mountayneeres, Dew-lapt, like Buls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their brests? which now we finde Each putter out of fiue for one, will bring vs Good warrant of Al. I will stand to, and feede, Although my last, no matter, since I feele The best is past: brother: my Lord, the Duke, Stand too, and doe as we. Thunder and Lightning. Enter Ariell (like a Harpey) claps his wings vpon the Table, and with a quient deuice the Banquet vanishes. Ar. You are three men of sinne, whom destiny That hath to instrument this lower world, And what is in't: the neuer surfeited Sea, Hath caus'd to belch vp you: and on this Island, Where man doth not inhabit, you 'mongst men, Being most vnfit to liue: I haue made you mad; And euen with such like valour, men hang, and drowne Their proper selues: you fooles, I and my fellowes Are ministers of Fate, the Elements Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well Wound the loud windes, or with bemockt-at-Stabs Kill the still closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plumbe: My fellow ministers Are like-invulnerable: if you could hurt, Your swords are now too massie for your strengths, And will not be vplifted: But remember (For that's my businesse to you) that you three From Millaine did supplant good Prospero, Expos'd vnto the Sea (which hath requit it) Him, and his innocent childe: for which foule deed, The Powres, delaying (not forgetting) haue Incens'd the Seas, and Shores; yea, all the Creatures Against your peace: Thee of thy Sonne, Alonso They haue bereft; and doe pronounce by me Lingring perdition (worse then any death Can be at once) shall step, by step attend You, and your wayes, whose wraths to guard you from, Which here, in this most desolate Isle, else fals Vpon your heads, is nothing but hearts-sorrow, And a cleere life ensuing. He vanishes in Thunder: then (to soft Musicke.) Enter the shapes againe, and daunce (with mockes and mowes) and carrying out the Table. Pro. Brauely the figure of this Harpie, hast thou Perform'd (my Ariell) a grace it had deuouring: Of my Instruction, hast thou nothing bated In what thou had'st to say: so with good life, And obseruation strange, my meaner ministers Their seuerall kindes haue done: my high charmes work, And these (mine enemies) are all knit vp In their distractions: they now are in my powre; And in these fits, I leaue them, while I visit Yong Ferdinand (whom they suppose is droun'd) And his, and mine lou'd darling Gon. I'th name of something holy, Sir, why stand you In this strange stare? Al. O, it is monstrous: monstrous: Me thought the billowes spoke, and told me of it, The windes did sing it to me: and the Thunder (That deepe and dreadfull Organ-Pipe) pronounc'd The name of Prosper: it did base my Trespasse, Therefore my Sonne i'th Ooze is bedded; and I'le seeke him deeper then ere plummet sounded, And with him there lye mudded. Enter. Seb. But one feend at a time, Ile fight their Legions ore Ant. Ile be thy Second. Exeunt. Gon. All three of them are desperate: their great guilt (Like poyson giuen to worke a great time after) Now gins to bite the spirits: I doe beseech you (That are of suppler ioynts) follow them swiftly, And hinder them from what this extasie May now prouoke them to Ad. Follow, I pray you. Exeunt. omnes. Actus Quartus. Scena Prima. Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda. Pro. If I haue too austerely punish'd you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Haue giuen you here, a third of mine owne life, Or that for which I liue: who, once againe I tender to thy hand: All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy loue, and thou Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore heauen I ratifie this my rich guift: O Ferdinand, Doe not smile at me, that I boast her of, For thou shalt finde she will out-strip all praise And make it halt, behinde her Fer. I doe beleeue it Against an Oracle Pro. Then, as my guest, and thine owne acquisition Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: But If thou do'st breake her Virgin-knot, before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy right, be ministred, No sweet aspersion shall the heauens let fall To make this contract grow; but barraine hate, Sower-ey'd disdaine, and discord shall bestrew The vnion of your bed, with weedes so loathly That you shall hate it both: Therefore take heede, As Hymens Lamps shall light you Fer. As I hope For quiet dayes, faire Issue, and long life, With such loue, as 'tis now the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strongst suggestion, Our worser Genius can, shall neuer melt Mine honor into lust, to take away The edge of that dayes celebration, When I shall thinke, or Phoebus Steeds are founderd, Or Night kept chain'd below Pro. Fairely spoke; Sit then, and talke with her, she is thine owne; What Ariell; my industrious serua[n]t Ariell. Enter Ariell. Ar. What would my potent master? here I am Pro. Thou, and thy meaner fellowes, your last seruice Did worthily performe: and I must vse you In such another tricke: goe bring the rabble (Ore whom I giue thee powre) here, to this place: Incite them to quicke motion, for I must Bestow vpon the eyes of this yong couple Some vanity of mine Art: it is my promise, And they expect it from me Ar. Presently? Pro. I: with a twincke Ar. Before you can say come, and goe, And breathe twice; and cry, so, so: Each one tripping on his Toe, Will be here with mop, and mowe. Doe you loue me Master? no? Pro. Dearely, my delicate Ariell: doe not approach Till thou do'st heare me call Ar. Well: I conceiue. Enter. Pro. Looke thou be true: doe not giue dalliance Too much the raigne: the strongest oathes, are straw To th' fire ith' blood: be more abstenious, Or else good night your vow Fer. I warrant you, Sir, The white cold virgin Snow, vpon my heart Abates the ardour of my Liuer Pro. Well. Now come my Ariell, bring a Corolary, Rather then want a Spirit; appear, & pertly. Soft musick. No tongue: all eyes: be silent. Enter Iris. Ir. Ceres, most bounteous Lady, thy rich Leas Of Wheate, Rye, Barley, Fetches, Oates and Pease; Thy Turphie-Mountaines, where liue nibling Sheepe, And flat Medes thetchd with Stouer, them to keepe: Thy bankes with pioned, and twilled brims Which spungie Aprill, at thy hest betrims; To make cold Nymphes chast crownes; & thy broomegroues; Whose shadow the dismissed Batchelor loues, Being lasse-lorne: thy pole-clipt vineyard, And thy Sea-marge stirrile, and rockey-hard, Where thou thy selfe do'st ayre, the Queene o'th Skie, Whose watry Arch, and messenger, am I. Bids thee leaue these, & with her soueraigne grace, Iuno descends. Here on this grasse-plot, in this very place To come, and sport: here Peacocks flye amaine: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertaine. Enter Ceres. Cer. Haile, many-coloured Messenger, that nere Do'st disobey the wife of Iupiter: Who, with thy saffron wings, vpon my flowres Diffusest hony drops, refreshing showres, And with each end of thy blew bowe do'st crowne My boskie acres, and my vnshrubd downe, Rich scarph to my proud earth: why hath thy Queene Summond me hither, to this short gras'd Greene? Ir. A contract of true Loue, to celebrate, And some donation freely to estate On the bles'd Louers Cer. Tell me heauenly Bowe, If Venus or her Sonne, as thou do'st know, Doe now attend the Queene? since they did plot The meanes, that duskie Dis, my daughter got, Her, and her blind-Boyes scandald company, I haue forsworne Ir. Of her societie Be not afraid: I met her deitie Cutting the clouds towards Paphos: and her Son Doue-drawn with her: here thought they to haue done Some wanton charme, vpon this Man and Maide, Whose vowes are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymens Torch be lighted: but in vaine, Marses hot Minion is returnd againe, Her waspish headed sonne, has broke his arrowes, Swears he will shoote no more, but play with Sparrows, And be a Boy right out Cer. Highest Queene of State, Great Iuno comes, I know her by her gate Iu. How do's my bounteous sister? goe with me To blesse this twaine, that they may prosperous be, And honourd in their Issue. They sing. Iu. Honor, riches, marriage, blessing, Long continuance, and encreasing, Hourely ioyes, be still vpon you, Iuno sings her blessings on you. Earths increase, foyzon plentie, Barnes, and Garners, neuer empty. Vines, with clustring bunches growing, Plants, with goodly burthen bowing: Spring come to you at the farthest, In the very end of Haruest. Scarcity and want shall shun you, Ceres blessing so is on you Fer. This is a most maiesticke vision, and Harmonious charmingly: may I be bold To thinke these spirits? Pro. Spirits, which by mine Art I haue from their confines call'd to enact My present fancies Fer. Let me liue here euer, So rare a wondred Father, and a wise Makes this place Paradise Pro. Sweet now, silence: Iuno and Ceres whisper seriously, There's something else to doe: hush, and be mute Or else our spell is mar'd. Iuno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment. Iris. You Nimphs cald Nayades of y windring brooks, With your sedg'd crownes, and euer-harmelesse lookes, Leaue your crispe channels, and on this green-Land Answere your summons, Iuno do's command. Come temperate Nimphes, and helpe to celebrate A Contract of true Loue: be not too late. Enter Certaine Nimphes. You Sun-burn'd Sicklemen of August weary, Come hether from the furrow, and be merry, Make holly day: your Rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh Nimphes encounter euery one In Country footing. Enter certaine Reapers (properly habited:) they ioyne with the Nimphes, in a gracefull dance, towards the end whereof, Prospero starts sodainly and speakes, after which to a strange hollow and confused noyse, they heauily vanish. Pro. I had forgot that foule conspiracy Of the beast Calliban, and his confederates Against my life: the minute of their plot Is almost come: Well done, auoid: no more Fer. This is strange: your fathers in some passion That workes him strongly Mir. Neuer till this day Saw I him touch'd with anger, so distemper'd Pro. You doe looke (my son) in a mou'd sort, As if you were dismaid: be cheerefull Sir, Our Reuels now are ended: These our actors, (As I foretold you) were all Spirits, and Are melted into Ayre, into thin Ayre, And like the baselesse fabricke of this vision The Clowd-capt Towres, the gorgeous Pallaces, The solemne Temples, the great Globe it selfe, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolue, And like this insubstantiall Pageant faded Leaue not a racke behinde: we are such stuffe As dreames are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleepe: Sir, I am vext, Beare with my weakenesse, my old braine is troubled: Be not disturb'd with my infirmitie, If you be pleas'd, retire into my Cell, And there repose, a turne or two, Ile walke To still my beating minde Fer. Mir. We wish your peace. Enter. Pro. Come with a thought; I thank thee Ariell: come. Enter Ariell. Ar. Thy thoughts I cleaue to, what's thy pleasure? Pro. Spirit: We must prepare to meet with Caliban Ar. I my Commander, when I presented Ceres I thought to haue told thee of it, but I fear'd Least I might anger thee Pro. Say again, where didst thou leaue these varlots? Ar. I told you Sir, they were red-hot with drinking, So full of valour, that they smote the ayre For breathing in their faces: beate the ground For kissing of their feete; yet alwaies bending Towards their proiect: then I beate my Tabor, At which like vnback't colts they prickt their eares, Aduanc'd their eye-lids, lifted vp their noses As they smelt musicke, so I charm'd their eares That Calfe-like, they my lowing follow'd, through Tooth'd briars, sharpe firzes, pricking gosse, & thorns, Which entred their fraile shins: at last I left them I'th' filthy mantled poole beyond your Cell, There dancing vp to th' chins, that the fowle Lake Ore-stunck their feet Pro. This was well done (my bird) Thy shape inuisible retaine thou still: The trumpery in my house, goe bring it hither For stale to catch these theeues Ar. I go, I goe. Enter. Pro. A Deuill, a borne-Deuill, on whose nature Nurture can neuer sticke: on whom my paines Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost, And, as with age, his body ouglier growes, So his minde cankers: I will plague them all, Euen to roaring: Come, hang on them this line. Enter Ariell, loaden with glistering apparell, &c. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet. Cal. Pray you tread softly, that the blinde Mole may not heare a foot fall: we now are neere his Cell St. Monster, your Fairy, w you say is a harmles Fairy, Has done little better then plaid the Iacke with vs Trin. Monster, I do smell all horse-pisse, at which My nose is in great indignation Ste. So is mine. Do you heare Monster: If I should Take a displeasure against you: Looke you Trin. Thou wert but a lost Monster Cal. Good my Lord, giue me thy fauour stil, Be patient, for the prize Ile bring thee too Shall hudwinke this mischance: therefore speake softly, All's husht as midnight yet Trin. I, but to loose our bottles in the Poole Ste. There is not onely disgrace and dishonor in that Monster, but an infinite losse Tr. That's more to me then my wetting: Yet this is your harmlesse Fairy, Monster Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, Though I be o're eares for my labour Cal. Pre-thee (my King) be quiet. Seest thou heere This is the mouth o'th Cell: no noise, and enter: Do that good mischeefe, which may make this Island Thine owne for euer, and I thy Caliban For aye thy foot-licker Ste. Giue me thy hand, I do begin to haue bloody thoughts Trin. O King Stephano, O Peere: O worthy Stephano, Looke what a wardrobe heere is for thee Cal. Let it alone thou foole, it is but trash Tri. Oh, ho, Monster: wee know what belongs to a frippery, O King Stephano Ste. Put off that gowne (Trinculo) by this hand Ile haue that gowne Tri. Thy grace shall haue it Cal. The dropsie drowne this foole, what doe you meane To doate thus on such luggage? let's alone And doe the murther first: if he awake, From toe to crowne hee'l fill our skins with pinches, Make vs strange stuffe Ste. Be you quiet (Monster) Mistris line, is not this my Ierkin? how is the Ierkin vnder the line: now Ierkin you are like to lose your haire, & proue a bald Ierkin Trin. Doe, doe; we steale by lyne and leuell, and't like your grace Ste. I thank thee for that iest; heer's a garment for't: Wit shall not goe vn-rewarded while I am King of this Country: Steale by line and leuell, is an excellent passe of pate: there's another garment for't Tri. Monster, come put some Lime vpon your fingers, and away with the rest Cal. I will haue none on't: we shall loose our time, And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to Apes With foreheads villanous low Ste. Monster, lay to your fingers: helpe to beare this away, where my hogshead of wine is, or Ile turne you out of my kingdome: goe to, carry this Tri. And this Ste. I, and this. A noyse of Hunters heard. Enter diuers Spirits in shape of Dogs and Hounds, hunting them about: Prospero and Ariel setting them on. Pro. Hey Mountaine, hey Ari. Siluer: there it goes, Siluer Pro. Fury, Fury: there Tyrant, there: harke, harke. Goe, charge my Goblins that they grinde their ioynts With dry Convultions, shorten vp their sinewes With aged Cramps, & more pinch-spotted make them, Then Pard, or Cat o' Mountaine Ari. Harke, they rore Pro. Let them be hunted soundly: At this houre Lies at my mercy all mine enemies: Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou Shalt haue the ayre at freedome: for a little Follow, and doe me seruice. Exeunt. Actus quintus: Scoena Prima. Enter Prospero (in his Magicke robes) and Ariel. Pro. Now do's my Proiect gather to a head: My charmes cracke not: my Spirits obey, and Time Goes vpright with his carriage: how's the day? Ar. On the sixt hower, at which time, my Lord You said our worke should cease Pro. I did say so, When first I rais'd the Tempest: say my Spirit, How fares the King, and's followers? Ar. Confin'd together In the same fashion, as you gaue in charge, Iust as you left them; all prisoners Sir In the Line-groue which weather-fends your Cell, They cannot boudge till your release: The King, His Brother, and yours, abide all three distracted, And the remainder mourning ouer them, Brim full of sorrow, and dismay: but chiefly Him that you term'd Sir, the good old Lord Gonzallo, His teares runs downe his beard like winters drops From eaues of reeds: your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender Pro. Dost thou thinke so, Spirit? Ar. Mine would, Sir, were I humane Pro. And mine shall. Hast thou (which art but aire) a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not my selfe, One of their kinde, that rellish all as sharpely, Passion as they, be kindlier mou'd then thou art? Thogh with their high wrongs I am strook to th' quick, Yet, with my nobler reason, gainst my furie Doe I take part: the rarer Action is In vertue, then in vengeance: they, being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frowne further: Goe, release them Ariell, My Charmes Ile breake, their sences Ile restore, And they shall be themselues Ar. Ile fetch them, Sir. Enter. Pro. Ye Elues of hils, brooks, sta[n]ding lakes & groues, And ye, that on the sands with printlesse foote Doe chase the ebbingNeptune, and doe flie him When he comes backe: you demy-Puppets, that By Moone-shine doe the greene sowre Ringlets make, Whereof the Ewe not bites: and you, whose pastime Is to make midnight-Mushrumps, that reioyce To heare the solemne Curfewe, by whose ayde (Weake Masters though ye be) I haue bedymn'd The Noone-tide Sun, call'd forth the mutenous windes, And twixt the greene Sea, and the azur'd vault Set roaring warre: To the dread ratling Thunder Haue I giuen fire, and rifted Ioues stowt Oke With his owne Bolt: The strong bass'd promontorie Haue I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt vp The Pyne, and Cedar. Graues at my command Haue wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth By my so potent Art. But this rough Magicke I heere abiure: and when I haue requir'd Some heauenly Musicke (which euen now I do) To worke mine end vpon their Sences, that This Ayrie-charme is for, I'le breake my staffe, Bury it certaine fadomes in the earth, And deeper then did euer Plummet sound Ile drowne my booke. Solemne musicke. Heere enters Ariel before: Then Alonso with a franticke gesture, attended by Gonzalo. Sebastian and Anthonio in like manner attended by Adrian and Francisco: They all enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charm'd: which Prospero obseruing, speakes. A solemne Ayre, and the best comforter, To an vnsetled fancie, Cure thy braines (Now vselesse) boile within thy skull: there stand For you are Spell-stopt. Holy Gonzallo, Honourable man, Mine eyes ev'n sociable to the shew of thine Fall fellowly drops: The charme dissolues apace, And as the morning steales vpon the night (Melting the darkenesse) so their rising sences Begin to chace the ignorant fumes that mantle Their cleerer reason. O good Gonzallo My true preseruer, and a loyall Sir, To him thou follow'st; I will pay thy graces Home both in word, and deede: Most cruelly Did thou Alonso, vse me, and my daughter: Thy brother was a furtherer in the Act, Thou art pinch'd for't now Sebastian. Flesh, and bloud, You, brother mine, that entertaine ambition, Expelld remorse, and nature, whom, with Sebastian (Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong) Would heere haue kill'd your King: I do forgiue thee, Vnnaturall though thou art: Their vnderstanding Begins to swell, and the approching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now ly foule, and muddy: not one of them That yet lookes on me, or would know me: Ariell, Fetch me the Hat, and Rapier in my Cell, I will discase me, and my selfe present As I was sometime Millaine: quickly Spirit, Thou shalt ere long be free. Ariell sings, and helps to attire him. Where the Bee sucks, there suck I, In a Cowslips bell, I lie, There I cowch when Owles doe crie, On the Batts backe I doe flie after Sommer merrily. Merrily, merrily, shall I liue now, Vnder the blossom that hangs on the Bow Pro. Why that's my dainty Ariell: I shall misse Thee, but yet thou shalt haue freedome: so, so, so, To the Kings ship, inuisible as thou art, There shalt thou finde the Marriners asleepe Vnder the Hatches: the Master and the Boat-swaine Being awake, enforce them to this place; And presently, I pre'thee Ar. I drinke the aire before me, and returne Or ere your pulse twice beate. Enter. Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, and amazement Inhabits heere: some heauenly power guide vs Out of this fearefull Country Pro. Behold Sir King The wronged Duke of Millaine, Prospero: For more assurance that a liuing Prince Do's now speake to thee, I embrace thy body, And to thee, and thy Company, I bid A hearty welcome Alo. Where thou bee'st he or no, Or some inchanted triflle to abuse me, (As late I haue beene) I not know: thy Pulse Beats as of flesh, and blood: and since I saw thee, Th' affliction of my minde amends, with which I feare a madnesse held me: this must craue (And if this be at all) a most strange story. Thy Dukedome I resigne, and doe entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs: But how shold Prospero Be liuing, and be heere? Pro. First, noble Frend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Be measur'd, or confin'd Gonz. Whether this be, Or be not, I'le not sweare Pro. You doe yet taste Some subtleties o'th' Isle, that will nor let you Beleeue things certaine: Wellcome, my friends all, But you, my brace of Lords, were I so minded I heere could plucke his Highnesse frowne vpon you And iustifie you Traitors: at this time I will tell no tales Seb. The Diuell speakes in him: Pro. No: For you (most wicked Sir) whom to call brother Would euen infect my mouth, I do forgiue Thy rankest fault; all of them: and require My Dukedome of thee, which, perforce I know Thou must restore Alo. If thou beest Prospero Giue vs particulars of thy preseruation, How thou hast met vs heere, whom three howres since Were wrackt vpon this shore? where I haue lost (How sharp the point of this remembrance is) My deere sonne Ferdinand Pro. I am woe for't, Sir Alo. Irreparable is the losse, and patience Saies, it is past her cure Pro. I rather thinke You haue not sought her helpe, of whose soft grace For the like losse, I haue her soueraigne aid, And rest my selfe content Alo. You the like losse? Pro. As great to me, as late, and supportable To make the deere losse, haue I meanes much weaker Then you may call to comfort you; for I Haue lost my daughter Alo. A daughter? Oh heauens, that they were liuing both in Naples The King and Queene there, that they were, I wish My selfe were mudded in that oozie bed Where my sonne lies: when did you lose your daughter? Pro. In this last Tempest. I perceiue these Lords At this encounter doe so much admire, That they deuoure their reason, and scarce thinke Their eies doe offices of Truth: Their words Are naturall breath: but howsoeu'r you haue Beene iustled from your sences, know for certain That I am Prospero, and that very Duke Which was thrust forth of Millaine, who most strangely Vpon this shore (where you were wrackt) was landed To be the Lord on't: No more yet of this, For 'tis a Chronicle of day by day, Not a relation for a break-fast, nor Befitting this first meeting: Welcome, Sir; This Cell's my Court: heere haue I few attendants, And Subiects none abroad: pray you looke in: My Dukedome since you haue giuen me againe, I will requite you with as good a thing, At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much, as me my Dukedome. Here Prospero discouers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at Chesse. Mir. Sweet Lord, you play me false Fer. No my dearest loue, I would not for the world Mir. Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should wrangle, And I would call it faire play Alo. If this proue A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne Shall I twice loose Seb. A most high miracle Fer. Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull, I haue curs'd them without cause Alo. Now all the blessings Of a glad father, compasse thee about: Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere Mir. O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there heere? How beauteous mankinde is? O braue new world That has such people in't Pro. 'Tis new to thee Alo. What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at play? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houres: Is she the goddesse that hath seuer'd vs, And brought vs thus together? Fer. Sir, she is mortall; But by immortall prouidence, she's mine; I chose her when I could not aske my Father For his aduise: nor thought I had one: She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Millaine, Of whom, so often I haue heard renowne, But neuer saw before: of whom I haue Receiu'd a second life; and second Father This Lady makes him to me Alo. I am hers. But O, how odly will it sound, that I Must aske my childe forgiuenesse? Pro. There Sir stop, Let vs not burthen our remembrances, with A heauinesse that's gon Gon. I haue inly wept, Or should haue spoke ere this: looke downe you gods And on this couple drop a blessed crowne; For it is you, that haue chalk'd forth the way Which brought vs hither Alo. I say Amen, Gonzallo Gon. Was Millaine thrust from Millaine, that his Issue Should become Kings of Naples? O reioyce Beyond a common ioy, and set it downe With gold on lasting Pillers: In one voyage Did Claribell her husband finde at Tunis, And Ferdinand her brother, found a wife, Where he himselfe was lost: Prospero, his Dukedome In a poore Isle: and all of vs, our selues, When no man was his owne Alo. Giue me your hands: Let griefe and sorrow still embrace his heart, That doth not wish you ioy Gon. Be it so, Amen. Enter Ariell, with the Master and Boatswaine amazedly following. O looke Sir, looke Sir, here is more of vs: I prophesi'd, if a Gallowes were on Land This fellow could not drowne: Now blasphemy, That swear'st Grace ore-boord, not an oath on shore, Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the newes? Bot. The best newes is, that we haue safely found Our King, and company: The next: our Ship, Which but three glasses since, we gaue out split, Is tyte, and yare, and brauely rig'd, as when We first put out to Sea Ar. Sir, all this seruice Haue I done since I went Pro. My tricksey Spirit Alo. These are not naturall euents, they strengthen From strange, to stranger: say, how came you hither? Bot. If I did thinke, Sir, I were well awake, I'ld striue to tell you: we were dead of sleepe, And (how we know not) all clapt vnder hatches, Where, but euen now, with strange, and seuerall noyses Of roring, shreeking, howling, gingling chaines, And mo diuersitie of sounds, all horrible. We were awak'd: straight way, at liberty; Where we, in all our trim, freshly beheld Our royall, good, and gallant Ship: our Master Capring to eye her: on a trice, so please you, Euen in a dreame, were we diuided from them, And were brought moaping hither Ar. Was't well done? Pro. Brauely (my diligence) thou shalt be free Alo. This is as strange a Maze, as ere men trod, And there is in this businesse, more then nature Was euer conduct of: some Oracle Must rectifie our knowledge Pro. Sir, my Leige, Doe not infest your minde, with beating on The strangenesse of this businesse, at pickt leisure (Which shall be shortly single) I'le resolue you, (Which to you shall seeme probable) of euery These happend accidents: till when, be cheerefull And thinke of each thing well: Come hither Spirit, Set Caliban, and his companions free: Vntye the Spell: How fares my gracious Sir? There are yet missing of your Companie Some few odde Lads, that you remember not. Enter Ariell, driuing in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo in their stolne Apparell. Ste. Euery man shift for all the rest, and let No man take care for himselfe; for all is But fortune: Coragio Bully-Monster Coragio Tri. If these be true spies which I weare in my head, here's a goodly sight Cal. O Setebos, these be braue Spirits indeede: How fine my Master is? I am afraid He will chastise me Seb. Ha, ha: What things are these, my Lord Anthonio? Will money buy em? Ant. Very like: one of them Is a plaine Fish, and no doubt marketable Pro. Marke but the badges of these men, my Lords, Then say if they be true: This mishapen knaue; His Mother was a Witch, and one so strong That could controle the Moone; make flowes, and ebs, And deale in her command, without her power: These three haue robd me, and this demy-diuell; (For he's a bastard one) had plotted with them To take my life: two of these Fellowes, you Must know, and owne, this Thing of darkenesse, I Acknowledge mine Cal. I shall be pincht to death Alo. Is not this Stephano, my drunken Butler? Seb. He is drunke now; Where had he wine? Alo. And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they Finde this grand Liquor that hath gilded 'em? How cam'st thou in this pickle? Tri. I haue bin in such a pickle since I saw you last, That I feare me will neuer out of my bones: I shall not feare fly-blowing Seb. Why how now Stephano? Ste. O touch me not, I am not Stephano, but a Cramp Pro. You'ld be King o'the Isle, Sirha? Ste. I should haue bin a sore one then Alo. This is a strange thing as ere I look'd on Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his Manners As in his shape: Goe Sirha, to my Cell, Take with you your Companions: as you looke To haue my pardon, trim it handsomely Cal. I that I will: and Ile be wise hereafter, And seeke for grace: what a thrice double Asse Was I to take this drunkard for a god? And worship this dull foole? Pro. Goe to, away Alo. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it Seb. Or stole it rather Pro. Sir, I inuite your Highnesse, and your traine To my poore Cell: where you shall take your rest For this one night, which part of it, Ile waste With such discourse, as I not doubt, shall make it Goe quicke away: The story of my life, And the particular accidents, gon by Since I came to this Isle: And in the morne I'le bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I haue hope to see the nuptiall Of these our deere-belou'd, solemnized, And thence retire me to my Millaine, where Euery third thought shall be my graue Alo. I long To heare the story of your life; which must Take the eare strangely Pro. I'le deliuer all, And promise you calme Seas, auspicious gales, And saile, so expeditious, that shall catch Your Royall fleete farre off: My Ariel; chicke That is thy charge: Then to the Elements Be free, and fare thou well: please you draw neere. Exeunt. omnes. EPILOGVE, spoken by Prospero. Now my Charmes are all ore-throwne, And what strength I haue's mine owne. Which is most faint: now 'tis true I must be heere confinde by you, Or sent to Naples, Let me not Since I haue my Dukedome got, And pardon'd the deceiuer, dwell In this bare Island, by your Spell, But release me from my bands With the helpe of your good hands: Gentle breath of yours, my Sailes Must fill, or else my proiect failes, Which was to please: Now I want Spirits to enforce: Art to inchant, And my ending is despaire, Vnlesse I be relieu'd by praier Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy it selfe, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your Indulgence set me free. Enter. The-, an vn-inhabited Island Names of the Actors. Alonso, K[ing]. of Naples: Sebastian his Brother. Prospero, the right Duke of Millaine. Anthonio his brother, the vsurping Duke of Millaine. Ferdinand, Son to the King of Naples. Gonzalo, an honest old Councellor. Adrian, & Francisco, Lords. Caliban, a saluage and deformed slaue. Trinculo, a Iester. Stephano, a drunken Butler. Master of a Ship. Boate-Swaine. Marriners. Miranda, daughter to Prospero. Ariell, an ayrie spirit. Iris Ceres Iuno Nymphes Reapers Spirits. FINIS. THE TEMPEST. The Two Gentlemen of Verona Actus primus, Scena prima. Valentine: Protheus, and Speed. Valentine. Cease to perswade, my louing Protheus; Home-keeping youth, haue euer homely wits, Wer't not affection chaines thy tender dayes To the sweet glaunces of thy honour'd Loue, I rather would entreat thy company, To see the wonders of the world abroad, Then (liuing dully sluggardiz'd at home) Weare out thy youth with shapelesse idlenesse. But since thou lou'st; loue still, and thriue therein, Euen as I would, when I to loue begin Pro. Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine adew, Thinke on thy Protheus, when thou (hap'ly) seest Some rare note-worthy obiect in thy trauaile. Wish me partaker in thy happinesse, When thou do'st meet good hap; and in thy danger, (If euer danger doe enuiron thee) Commend thy grieuance to my holy prayers, For I will be thy beades-man, Valentine Val. And on a loue-booke pray for my successe? Pro. Vpon some booke I loue, I'le pray for thee Val. That's on some shallow Storie of deepe loue, How yong Leander crost the Hellespont Pro. That's a deepe Storie, of a deeper loue, For he was more then ouer-shooes in loue Val. 'Tis true; for you are ouer-bootes in loue, And yet you neuer swom the Hellespont Pro. Ouer the Bootes? nay giue me not the Boots Val. No, I will not; for it boots thee not Pro. What? Val. To be in loue; where scorne is bought with grones: Coy looks, with hart-sore sighes: one fading moments mirth, With twenty watchfull, weary, tedious nights; If hap'ly won, perhaps a haplesse gaine; If lost, why then a grieuous labour won; How euer: but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit, by folly vanquished Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me foole Val. So, by your circumstance, I feare you'll proue Pro. 'Tis Loue you cauill at, I am not Loue Val. Loue is your master, for he masters you; And he that is so yoked by a foole, Me thinkes should not be chronicled for wise Pro. Yet Writers say; as in the sweetest Bud, The eating Canker dwels; so eating Loue Inhabits in the finest wits of all Val. And Writers say; as the most forward Bud Is eaten by the Canker ere it blow, Euen so by Loue, the yong, and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the Bud, Loosing his verdure, euen in the prime, And all the faire effects of future hopes. But wherefore waste I time to counsaile thee That art a votary to fond desire? Once more adieu: my Father at the Road Expects my comming, there to see me ship'd Pro. And thither will I bring thee Valentine Val. Sweet Protheus, no: Now let vs take our leaue: To Millaine let me heare from thee by Letters Of thy successe in loue; and what newes else Betideth here in absence of thy Friend: And I likewise will visite thee with mine Pro. All happinesse bechance to thee in Millaine Val. As much to you at home: and so farewell. Enter Pro. He after Honour hunts, I after Loue; He leaues his friends, to dignifie them more; I loue my selfe, my friends, and all for loue: Thou Iulia, thou hast metamorphis'd me: Made me neglect my Studies, loose my time; Warre with good counsaile; set the world at nought; Made Wit with musing, weake; hart sick with thought Sp. Sir Protheus: 'saue you: saw you my Master? Pro. But now he parted hence to embarque for Millain Sp. Twenty to one then, he is ship'd already, And I haue plaid the Sheepe in loosing him Pro. Indeede a Sheepe doth very often stray, And if the Shepheard be awhile away Sp. You conclude that my Master is a Shepheard then, and I Sheepe? Pro. I doe Sp. Why then my hornes are his hornes, whether I wake or sleepe Pro. A silly answere, and fitting well a Sheepe Sp. This proues me still a Sheepe Pro. True: and thy Master a Shepheard Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance Pro. It shall goe hard but ile proue it by another Sp. The Shepheard seekes the Sheepe, and not the Sheepe the Shepheard; but I seeke my Master, and my Master seekes not me: therefore I am no Sheepe Pro. The Sheepe for fodder follow the Shepheard, the Shepheard for foode followes not the Sheepe: thou for wages followest thy Master, thy Master for wages followes not thee: therefore thou art a Sheepe Sp. Such another proofe will make me cry baa Pro. But do'st thou heare: gau'st thou my Letter to Iulia? Sp. I Sir: I (a lost-Mutton) gaue your Letter to her (a lac'd-Mutton) and she (a lac'd-Mutton) gaue mee (a lost-Mutton) nothing for my labour Pro. Here's too small a Pasture for such store of Muttons Sp. If the ground be ouer-charg'd, you were best sticke her Pro. Nay, in that you are astray: 'twere best pound you Sp. Nay Sir, lesse then a pound shall serue me for carrying your Letter Pro. You mistake; I meane the pound, a Pinfold Sp. From a pound to a pin? fold it ouer and ouer, 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your louer Pro. But what said she? Sp. I Pro. Nod-I, why that's noddy Sp. You mistooke Sir: I say she did nod; And you aske me if she did nod, and I say I Pro. And that set together is noddy Sp. Now you haue taken the paines to set it together, take it for your paines Pro. No, no, you shall haue it for bearing the letter Sp. Well, I perceiue I must be faine to beare with you Pro. Why Sir, how doe you beare with me? Sp. Marry Sir, the letter very orderly, Hauing nothing but the word noddy for my paines Pro. Beshrew me, but you haue a quicke wit Sp. And yet it cannot ouer-take your slow purse Pro. Come, come, open the matter in briefe; what said she Sp. Open your purse, that the money, and the matter may be both at once deliuered Pro. Well Sir: here is for your paines: what said she? Sp. Truely Sir, I thinke you'll hardly win her Pro. Why? could'st thou perceiue so much from her? Sp. Sir, I could perceiue nothing at all from her; No, not so much as a ducket for deliuering your letter: And being so hard to me, that brought your minde; I feare she'll proue as hard to you in telling your minde. Giue her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steele Pro. What said she, nothing? Sp. No, not so much as take this for thy pains: To testifie your bounty, I thank you, you haue cestern'd me; In requital whereof, henceforth, carry your letters your selfe; And so Sir, I'le commend you to my Master Pro. Go, go, be gone, to saue your Ship from wrack, Which cannot perish hauing thee aboarde, Being destin'd to a drier death on shore: I must goe send some better Messenger, I feare my Iulia would not daigne my lines, Receiuing them from such a worthlesse post. Enter. Scoena Secunda. Enter Iulia and Lucetta. Iul. But say Lucetta (now we are alone) Would'st thou then counsaile me to fall in loue? Luc. I Madam, so you stumble not vnheedfully Iul. Of all the faire resort of Gentlemen, That euery day with par'le encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest loue? Lu. Please you repeat their names, ile shew my minde, According to my shallow simple skill Iu. What thinkst thou of the faire sir Eglamoure? Lu. As of a Knight, well-spoken, neat, and fine; But were I you, he neuer should be mine Iu. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? Lu. Well of his wealth; but of himselfe, so, so Iu. What think'st thou of the gentle Protheus? Lu. Lord, Lord: to see what folly raignes in vs Iu. How now? what meanes this passion at his name? Lu. Pardon deare Madam, 'tis a passing shame, That I (vnworthy body as I am) Should censure thus on louely Gentlemen Iu. Why not on Protheus, as of all the rest? Lu. Then thus: of many good, I thinke him best Iul. Your reason? Lu. I haue no other but a womans reason: I thinke him so, because I thinke him so Iul. And would'st thou haue me cast my loue on him? Lu. I: if you thought your loue not cast away Iul. Why he, of all the rest, hath neuer mou'd me Lu. Yet he, of all the rest, I thinke best loues ye Iul. His little speaking, shewes his loue but small Lu. Fire that's closest kept, burnes most of all Iul. They doe not loue, that doe not shew their loue Lu. Oh, they loue least, that let men know their loue Iul. I would I knew his minde Lu. Peruse this paper Madam Iul. To Iulia: say, from whom? Lu. That the Contents will shew Iul. Say, say: who gaue it thee? Lu. Sir Valentines page: & sent I think from Protheus; He would haue giuen it you, but I being in the way, Did in your name receiue it: pardon the fault I pray Iul. Now (by my modesty) a goodly Broker: Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? To whisper, and conspire against my youth? Now trust me, 'tis an office of great worth, And you an officer fit for the place: There: take the paper: see it be return'd, Or else returne no more into my sight Lu. To plead for loue, deserues more fee, then hate Iul. Will ye be gon? Lu. That you may ruminate. Enter. Iul. And yet I would I had ore-look'd the Letter; It were a shame to call her backe againe, And pray her to a fault, for which I chid her. What 'foole is she, that knowes I am a Maid, And would not force the letter to my view? Since Maides, in modesty, say no, to that, Which they would haue the profferer construe, I. Fie, fie: how way-ward is this foolish loue; That (like a testie Babe) will scratch the Nurse, And presently, all humbled kisse the Rod? How churlishly, I chid Lucetta hence, When willingly, I would haue had her here? How angerly I taught my brow to frowne, When inward ioy enforc'd my heart to smile? My pennance is, to call Lucetta backe And aske remission, for my folly past. What hoe: Lucetta Lu. What would your Ladiship? Iul. Is't neere dinner time? Lu. I would it were, That you might kill your stomacke on your meat, And not vpon your Maid Iu. What is't that you Tooke vp so gingerly? Lu. Nothing Iu. Why didst thou stoope then? Lu. To take a paper vp, that I let fall Iul. And is that paper nothing? Lu. Nothing concerning me Iul. Then let it lye, for those that it concernes Lu. Madam, it will not lye where it concernes, Vnlesse it haue a false Interpreter Iul. Some loue of yours, hath writ to you in Rime Lu. That I might sing it (Madam) to a tune: Giue me a Note, your Ladiship can set Iul. As little by such toyes, as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light O, Loue Lu. It is too heauy for so light a tune Iu. Heauy? belike it hath some burden then? Lu. I: and melodious were it, would you sing it, Iu. And why not you? Lu. I cannot reach so high Iu. Let's see your Song: How now Minion? Lu. Keepe tune there still; so you will sing it out: And yet me thinkes I do not like this tune Iu. You doe not? Lu. No (Madam) tis too sharpe Iu. You (Minion) are too saucie Lu. Nay, now you are too flat; And marre the concord, with too harsh a descant: There wanteth but a Meane to fill your Song Iu. The meane is dround with you vnruly base Lu. Indeede I bid the base for Protheus Iu. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me; Here is a coile with protestation: Goe, get you gone: and let the papers lye: You would be fingring them, to anger me Lu. She makes it stra[n]ge, but she would be best pleas'd To be so angred with another Letter Iu. Nay, would I were so angred with the same: Oh hatefull hands, to teare such louing words; Iniurious Waspes, to feede on such sweet hony, And kill the Bees that yeelde it, with your stings; Ile kisse each seuerall paper, for amends: Looke, here is writ, kinde Iulia: vnkinde Iulia, As in reuenge of thy ingratitude, I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones, Trampling contemptuously on thy disdaine. And here is writ, Loue wounded Protheus. Poore wounded name: my bosome, as a bed, Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd; And thus I search it with a soueraigne kisse. But twice, or thrice, was Protheus written downe: Be calme (good winde) blow not a word away, Till I haue found each letter, in the Letter, Except mine own name: That, some whirle-winde beare Vnto a ragged, fearefull, hanging Rocke, And throw it thence into the raging Sea. Loe, here in one line is his name twice writ: Poore forlorne Protheus, passionate Protheus: To the sweet Iulia: that ile teare away: And yet I will not, sith so prettily He couples it, to his complaining Names; Thus will I fold them, one vpon another; Now kisse, embrace, contend, doe what you will Lu. Madam: dinner is ready: and your father staies Iu. Well, let vs goe Lu. What, shall these papers lye, like Tel-tales here? Iu. If you respect them; best to take them vp Lu. Nay, I was taken vp, for laying them downe. Yet here they shall not lye, for catching cold Iu. I see you haue a months minde to them Lu. I (Madam) you may say what sights you see; I see things too, although you iudge I winke Iu. Come, come, wilt please you goe. Exeunt. Scoena Tertia. Enter Antonio and Panthino. Protheus. Ant. Tell me Panthino, what sad talke was that, Wherewith my brother held you in the Cloyster? Pan. 'Twas of his Nephew Protheus, your Sonne Ant. Why? what of him? Pan. He wondred that your Lordship Would suffer him, to spend his youth at home, While other men, of slender reputation Put forth their Sonnes, to seeke preferment out. Some to the warres, to try their fortune there; Some, to discouer Islands farre away: Some, to the studious Vniuersities; For any, or for all these exercises, He said, that Protheus, your sonne, was meet; And did request me, to importune you To let him spend his time no more at home; Which would be great impeachment to his age, In hauing knowne no trauaile in his youth Ant. Nor need'st thou much importune me to that Whereon, this month I haue bin hamering. I haue consider'd well, his losse of time, And how he cannot be a perfect man, Not being tryed, and tutord in the world: Experience is by industry atchieu'd, And perfected by the swift course of time: Then tell me, whether were I best to send him? Pan. I thinke your Lordship is not ignorant How his companion, youthfull Valentine, Attends the Emperour in his royall Court Ant. I know it well Pan. 'Twere good, I thinke, your Lordship sent him (thither, There shall he practise Tilts, and Turnaments; Heare sweet discourse, conuerse with Noble-men, And be in eye of euery Exercise Worthy his youth, and noblenesse of birth Ant. I like thy counsaile: well hast thou aduis'd: And that thou maist perceiue how well I like it, The execution of it shall make knowne; Euen with the speediest expedition, I will dispatch him to the Emperors Court Pan. To morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso, With other Gentlemen of good esteeme Are iournying, to salute the Emperor, And to commend their seruice to his will Ant. Good company: with them shall Protheus go: And in good time: now will we breake with him Pro. Sweet Loue, sweet lines, sweet life, Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for loue, her honors paune; O that our Fathers would applaud our loues To seale our happinesse with their consents Pro. Oh heauenly Iulia Ant. How now? What Letter are you reading there? Pro. May't please your Lordship, 'tis a word or two Of commendations sent from Valentine; Deliuer'd by a friend, that came from him Ant. Lend me the Letter: Let me see what newes Pro. There is no newes (my Lord) but that he writes How happily he liues, how well-belou'd, And daily graced by the Emperor; Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune Ant. And how stand you affected to his wish? Pro. As one relying on your Lordships will, And not depending on his friendly wish Ant. My will is something sorted with his wish: Muse not that I thus sodainly proceed; For what I will, I will, and there an end: I am resolu'd, that thou shalt spend some time With Valentinus, in the Emperors Court: What maintenance he from his friends receiues, Like exhibition thou shalt haue from me, To morrow be in readinesse, to goe, Excuse it not: for I am peremptory Pro. My Lord I cannot be so soone prouided, Please you deliberate a day or two Ant. Look what thou want'st shalbe sent after thee: No more of stay: to morrow thou must goe; Come on Panthino; you shall be imployd, To hasten on his Expedition Pro. Thus haue I shund the fire, for feare of burning, And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. I fear'd to shew my Father Iulias Letter, Least he should take exceptions to my loue, And with the vantage of mine owne excuse Hath he excepted most against my loue. Oh, how this spring of loue resembleth The vncertaine glory of an Aprill day, Which now shewes all the beauty of the Sun, And by and by a clowd takes all away Pan. Sir Protheus, your Fathers call's for you, He is in hast, therefore I pray you go Pro. Why this it is: my heart accords thereto, And yet a thousand times it answer's no. Exeunt. Finis. Actus secundus: Scoena Prima. Enter Valentine, Speed, Siluia Speed. Sir, your Gloue Valen. Not mine: my Gloues are on Sp. Why then this may be yours: for this is but one Val. Ha? Let me see: I, giue it me, it's mine: Sweet Ornament, that deckes a thing diuine, Ah Siluia, Siluia Speed. Madam Siluia: Madam Siluia Val. How now Sirha? Speed. Shee is not within hearing Sir Val. Why sir, who bad you call her? Speed. Your worship sir, or else I mistooke Val. Well: you'll still be too forward Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being too slow Val. Goe to, sir, tell me: do you know Madam Siluia? Speed. Shee that your worship loues? Val. Why, how know you that I am in loue? Speed. Marry by these speciall markes: first, you haue learn'd (like Sir Protheus) to wreath your Armes like a Male-content: to rellish a Loue-song, like a Robin-redbreast: to walke alone like one that had the pestilence: to sigh, like a Schoole-boy that had lost his A.B.C. to weep like a yong wench that had buried her Grandam: to fast, like one that takes diet: to watch, like one that feares robbing: to speake puling, like a beggar at Hallow-Masse: You were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cocke; when you walk'd, to walke like one of the Lions: when you fasted, it was presently after dinner: when you look'd sadly, it was for want of money: And now you are Metamorphis'd with a Mistris, that when I looke on you, I can hardly thinke you my Master Val. Are all these things perceiu'd in me? Speed. They are all perceiu'd without ye Val. Without me? they cannot Speed. Without you? nay, that's certaine: for without you were so simple, none else would: but you are so without these follies, that these follies are within you, and shine through you like the water in an Vrinall: that not an eye that sees you, but is a Physician to comment on your Malady Val. But tell me: do'st thou know my Lady Siluia? Speed. Shee that you gaze on so, as she sits at supper? Val. Hast thou obseru'd that? euen she I meane Speed. Why sir, I know her not Val. Do'st thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet know'st her not? Speed. Is she not hard-fauour'd, sir? Val. Not so faire (boy) as well fauour'd Speed. Sir, I know that well enough Val. What dost thou know? Speed. That shee is not so faire, as (of you) well-fauourd? Val. I meane that her beauty is exquisite, But her fauour infinite Speed. That's because the one is painted, and the other out of all count Val. How painted? and how out of count? Speed. Marry sir, so painted to make her faire, that no man counts of her beauty Val. How esteem'st thou me? I account of her beauty Speed. You neuer saw her since she was deform'd Val. How long hath she beene deform'd? Speed. Euer since you lou'd her Val. I haue lou'd her euer since I saw her, And still I see her beautifull Speed. If you loue her, you cannot see her Val. Why? Speed. Because Loue is blinde: O that you had mine eyes, or your owne eyes had the lights they were wont to haue, when you chidde at Sir Protheus, for going vngarter'd Val. What should I see then? Speed. Your owne present folly, and her passing deformitie: for hee beeing in loue, could not see to garter his hose; and you, beeing in loue, cannot see to put on your hose Val. Belike (boy) then you are in loue, for last morning You could not see to wipe my shooes Speed. True sir: I was in loue with my bed, I thanke you, you swing'd me for my loue, which makes mee the bolder to chide you, for yours Val. In conclusion, I stand affected to her Speed. I would you were set, so your affection would cease Val. Last night she enioyn'd me, To write some lines to one she loues Speed. And haue you? Val. I haue Speed. Are they not lamely writt? Val. No (Boy) but as well as I can do them: Peace, here she comes Speed. Oh excellent motion; oh exceeding Puppet: Now will he interpret to her Val. Madam & Mistres, a thousand good-morrows Speed. Oh, 'giue ye-good-ev'n: heer's a million of manners Sil. Sir Valentine, and seruant, to you two thousand Speed. He should giue her interest: & she giues it him Val. As you inioynd me; I haue writ your Letter Vnto the secret, nameles friend of yours: Which I was much vnwilling to proceed in, But for my duty to your Ladiship Sil. I thanke you (gentle Seruant) 'tis very Clerklydone Val. Now trust me (Madam) it came hardly-off: For being ignorant to whom it goes, I writ at randome, very doubtfully Sil. Perchance you think too much of so much pains? Val. No (Madam) so it steed you, I will write (Please you command) a thousand times as much: And yet - Sil. A pretty period: well: I ghesse the sequell; And yet I will not name it: and yet I care not. And yet, take this againe: and yet I thanke you: Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more Speed. And yet you will: and yet, another yet Val. What meanes your Ladiship? Doe you not like it? Sil. Yes, yes: the lines are very queintly writ, But (since vnwillingly) take them againe. Nay, take them Val. Madam, they are for you Silu. I, I: you writ them Sir, at my request, But I will none of them: they are for you: I would haue had them writ more mouingly: Val. Please you, Ile write your Ladiship another Sil. And when it's writ: for my sake read it ouer, And if it please you, so: if not: why so: Val. If it please me, (Madam?) what then? Sil. Why if it please you, take it for your labour; And so good-morrow Seruant. Exit. Sil. Speed. Oh Iest vnseene: inscrutible: inuisible, As a nose on a mans face, or a Wethercocke on a steeple: My Master sues to her: and she hath taught her Sutor, He being her Pupill, to become her Tutor. Oh excellent deuise, was there euer heard a better? That my master being scribe, To himselfe should write the Letter? Val. How now Sir? What are you reasoning with your selfe? Speed. Nay: I was riming: 'tis you y haue the reason Val. To doe what? Speed. To be a Spokes-man from Madam Siluia Val. To whom? Speed. To your selfe: why, she woes you by a figure Val. What figure? Speed. By a Letter, I should say Val. Why she hath not writ to me? Speed. What need she, When shee hath made you write to your selfe? Why, doe you not perceiue the iest? Val. No, beleeue me Speed. No beleeuing you indeed sir: But did you perceiue her earnest? Val. She gaue me none, except an angry word Speed. Why she hath giuen you a Letter Val. That's the Letter I writ to her friend Speed. And y letter hath she deliuer'd, & there an end Val. I would it were no worse Speed. Ile warrant you, 'tis as well: For often haue you writ to her: and she in modesty, Or else for want of idle time, could not againe reply, Or fearing els some messe[n]ger, y might her mind discouer Her self hath taught her Loue himself, to write vnto her louer. All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. Why muse you sir, 'tis dinner time Val. I haue dyn'd Speed. I, but hearken sir: though the Cameleon Loue can feed on the ayre, I am one that am nourish'd by my victuals; and would faine haue meate: oh bee not like your Mistresse, be moued, be moued. Exeunt. Scoena secunda. Enter Protheus, Iulia, Panthion. Pro. Haue patience, gentle Iulia: Iul. I must where is no remedy Pro. When possibly I can, I will returne Iul. If you turne not: you will return the sooner: Keepe this remembrance for thy Iulia's sake Pro. Why then wee'll make exchange; Here, take you this Iul. And seale the bargaine with a holy kisse Pro. Here is my hand, for my true constancie: And when that howre ore-slips me in the day, Wherein I sigh not (Iulia) for thy sake, The next ensuing howre, some foule mischance Torment me for my Loues forgetfulnesse: My father staies my comming: answere not: The tide is now; nay, not thy tide of teares, That tide will stay me longer then I should, Iulia, farewell: what, gon without a word? I, so true loue should doe: it cannot speake, For truth hath better deeds, then words to grace it Panth. Sir Protheus: you are staid for Pro. Goe: I come, I come: Alas, this parting strikes poore Louers dumbe. Exeunt. Scoena Tertia. Enter Launce, Panthion. Launce. Nay, 'twill bee this howre ere I haue done weeping: all the kinde of the Launces, haue this very fault: I haue receiu'd my proportion, like the prodigious Sonne, and am going with Sir Protheus to the Imperialls Court: I thinke Crab my dog, be the sowrest natured dogge that liues: My Mother weeping: my Father wayling: my Sister crying: our Maid howling: our Catte wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexitie, yet did not this cruell-hearted Curre shedde one teare: he is a stone, a very pibble stone, and has no more pitty in him then a dogge: a Iew would haue wept to haue seene our parting: why my Grandam hauing no eyes, looke you, wept her selfe blinde at my parting: nay, Ile shew you the manner of it. This shooe is my father: no, this left shooe is my father; no, no, this left shooe is my mother: nay, that cannot bee so neyther: yes; it is so, it is so: it hath the worser sole: this shooe with the hole in it, is my mother: and this my father: a veng'ance on't, there 'tis: Now sir, this staffe is my sister: for, looke you, she is as white as a lilly, and as small as a wand: this hat is Nan our maid: I am the dogge: no, the dogge is himselfe, and I am the dogge: oh, the dogge is me, and I am my selfe: I; so, so: now come I to my Father; Father, your blessing: now should not the shooe speake a word for weeping: now should I kisse my Father; well, hee weepes on: Now come I to my Mother: Oh that she could speake now, like a would-woman: well, I kisse her: why there 'tis; heere's my mothers breath vp and downe: Now come I to my sister; marke the moane she makes: now the dogge all this while sheds not a teare: nor speakes a word: but see how I lay the dust with my teares Panth. Launce, away, away: a Boord: thy Master is ship'd, and thou art to post after with oares; what's the matter? why weep'st thou man? away asse, you'l loose the Tide, if you tarry any longer Laun. It is no matter if the tide were lost, for it is the vnkindest Tide, that euer any man tide Panth. What's the vnkindest tide? Lau. Why, he that's tide here, Crab my dog Pant. Tut, man: I meane thou'lt loose the flood, and in loosing the flood, loose thy voyage, and in loosing thy voyage, loose thy Master, and in loosing thy Master, loose thy seruice, and in loosing thy seruice: - why dost thou stop my mouth? Laun. For feare thou shouldst loose thy tongue Panth. Where should I loose my tongue? Laun. In thy Tale Panth. In thy Taile Laun. Loose the Tide, and the voyage, and the Master, and the Seruice, and the tide: why man, if the Riuer were drie, I am able to fill it with my teares: if the winde were downe, I could driue the boate with my sighes Panth. Come: come away man, I was sent to call thee Lau. Sir: call me what thou dar'st Pant. Wilt thou goe? Laun. Well, I will goe. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Valentine, Siluia, Thurio, Speed, Duke, Protheus. Sil. Seruant Val. Mistris Spee. Master, Sir Thurio frownes on you Val. I Boy, it's for loue Spee. Not of you Val. Of my Mistresse then Spee. 'Twere good you knockt him Sil. Seruant, you are sad Val. Indeed, Madam, I seeme so Thu. Seeme you that you are not? Val. Hap'ly I doe Thu. So doe Counterfeyts Val. So doe you Thu. What seeme I that I am not? Val. Wise Thu. What instance of the contrary? Val. Your folly Thu. And how quoat you my folly? Val. I quoat it in your Ierkin Thu. My Ierkin is a doublet Val. Well then, Ile double your folly Thu. How? Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio, do you change colour? Val. Giue him leaue, Madam, he is a kind of Camelion Thu. That hath more minde to feed on your bloud, then liue in your ayre Val. You haue said Sir Thu. I Sir, and done too for this time Val. I know it wel sir, you alwaies end ere you begin Sil. A fine volly of words, gentleme[n], & quickly shot off Val. 'Tis indeed, Madam, we thank the giuer Sil. Who is that Seruant? Val. Your selfe (sweet Lady) for you gaue the fire, Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your Ladiships lookes, And spends what he borrowes kindly in your company Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall make your wit bankrupt Val. I know it well sir: you haue an Exchequer of words, And I thinke, no other treasure to giue your followers: For it appeares by their bare Liueries That they liue by your bare words Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more: Here comes my father Duk. Now, daughter Siluia, you are hard beset. Sir Valentine, your father is in good health, What say you to a Letter from your friends Of much good newes? Val. My Lord, I will be thankfull, To any happy messenger from thence Duk. Know ye Don Antonio, your Countriman? Val. I, my good Lord, I know the Gentleman To be of worth, and worthy estimation, And not without desert so well reputed Duk. Hath he not a Sonne? Val. I, my good Lord, a Son, that well deserues The honor, and regard of such a father Duk. You know him well? Val. I knew him as my selfe: for from our Infancie We haue conuerst, and spent our howres together, And though my selfe haue beene an idle Trewant, Omitting the sweet benefit of time To cloath mine age with Angel-like perfection: Yet hath Sir Protheus (for that's his name) Made vse, and faire aduantage of his daies: His yeares but yong, but his experience old: His head vn-mellowed, but his Iudgement ripe; And in a word (for far behinde his worth Comes all the praises that I now bestow.) He is compleat in feature, and in minde, With all good grace, to grace a Gentleman Duk. Beshrew me sir, but if he make this good He is as worthy for an Empresse loue, As meet to be an Emperors Councellor: Well, Sir: this Gentleman is come to me With Commendation from great Potentates, And heere he meanes to spend his time a while, I thinke 'tis no vn-welcome newes to you Val. Should I haue wish'd a thing, it had beene he Duk. Welcome him then according to his worth: Siluia, I speake to you, and you Sir Thurio, For Valentine, I need not cite him to it, I will send him hither to you presently Val. This is the Gentleman I told your Ladiship Had come along with me, but that his Mistresse Did hold his eyes, lockt in her Christall lookes Sil. Be-like that now she hath enfranchis'd them Vpon some other pawne for fealty Val. Nay sure, I thinke she holds them prisoners stil Sil. Nay then he should be blind, and being blind How could he see his way to seeke out you? Val. Why Lady, Loue hath twenty paire of eyes Thur. They say that Loue hath not an eye at all Val. To see such Louers, Thurio, as your selfe, Vpon a homely obiect, Loue can winke Sil. Haue done, haue done: here comes y gentleman Val. Welcome, deer Protheus: Mistris, I beseech you Confirme his welcome, with some speciall fauor Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome hether, If this be he you oft haue wish'd to heare from Val. Mistris, it is: sweet Lady, entertaine him To be my fellow-seruant to your Ladiship Sil. Too low a Mistres for so high a seruant Pro. Not so, sweet Lady, but too meane a seruant To haue a looke of such a worthy a Mistresse Val. Leaue off discourse of disabilitie: Sweet Lady, entertaine him for your Seruant Pro. My dutie will I boast of, nothing else Sil. And dutie neuer yet did want his meed. Seruant, you are welcome to a worthlesse Mistresse Pro. Ile die on him that saies so but your selfe Sil. That you are welcome? Pro. That you are worthlesse Thur. Madam, my Lord your father wold speak with you Sil. I wait vpon his pleasure: Come Sir Thurio, Goe with me: once more, new Seruant welcome; Ile leaue you to confer of home affaires, When you haue done, we looke too heare from you Pro. Wee'll both attend vpon your Ladiship Val. Now tell me: how do al from whence you came? Pro. Your frends are wel, & haue the[m] much co[m]mended Val. And how doe yours? Pro. I left them all in health Val. How does your Lady? & how thriues your loue? Pro. My tales of Loue were wont to weary you, I know you ioy not in a Loue-discourse Val. I Protheus, but that life is alter'd now, I haue done pennance for contemning Loue, Whose high emperious thoughts haue punish'd me With bitter fasts, with penitentiall grones, With nightly teares, and daily hart-sore sighes, For in reuenge of my contempt of loue, Loue hath chas'd sleepe from my enthralled eyes, And made them watchers of mine owne hearts sorrow. O gentle Protheus, Loue's a mighty Lord, And hath so humbled me, as I confesse There is no woe to his correction, Nor to his Seruice, no such ioy on earth: Now, no discourse, except it be of loue: Now can I breake my fast, dine, sup, and sleepe, Vpon the very naked name of Loue Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your eye: Was this the Idoll, that you worship so? Val. Euen She; and is she not a heauenly Saint? Pro. No; But she is an earthly Paragon Val. Call her diuine Pro. I will not flatter her Val. O flatter me: for Loue delights in praises Pro. When I was sick, you gaue me bitter pils, And I must minister the like to you Val. Then speake the truth by her; if not diuine, Yet let her be a principalitie, Soueraigne to all the Creatures on the earth Pro. Except my Mistresse Val. Sweet: except not any, Except thou wilt except against my Loue Pro. Haue I not reason to prefer mine owne? Val. And I will help thee to prefer her to: Shee shall be dignified with this high honour, To beare my Ladies traine, lest the base earth Should from her vesture chance to steale a kisse, And of so great a fauor growing proud, Disdaine to roote the Sommer-swelling flowre, And make rough winter euerlastingly Pro. Why Valentine, what Bragadisme is this? Val. Pardon me (Protheus) all I can is nothing, To her, whose worth, make other worthies nothing; Shee is alone Pro. Then let her alone Val. Not for the world: why man, she is mine owne, And I as rich in hauing such a Iewell As twenty Seas, if all their sand were pearle, The water, Nectar, and the Rocks pure gold. Forgiue me, that I doe not dreame on thee, Because thou seest me doate vpon my loue: My foolish Riuall that her Father likes (Onely for his possessions are so huge) Is gone with her along, and I must after, For Loue (thou know'st is full of iealousie.) Pro. But she loues you? Val. I, and we are betroathd: nay more, our mariage howre, With all the cunning manner of our flight Determin'd of: how I must climbe her window, The Ladder made of Cords, and all the means Plotted, and 'greed on for my happinesse. Good Protheus goe with me to my chamber, In these affaires to aid me with thy counsaile Pro. Goe on before: I shall enquire you forth: I must vnto the Road, to dis-embarque Some necessaries, that I needs must vse, And then Ile presently attend you Val. Will you make haste? Enter. Pro. I will. Euen as one heate, another heate expels, Or as one naile, by strength driues out another. So the remembrance of my former Loue Is by a newer obiect quite forgotten, It is mine, or Valentines praise? Her true perfection, or my false transgression? That makes me reasonlesse, to reason thus? Shee is faire: and so is Iulia that I loue, (That I did loue, for now my loue is thaw'd, Which like a waxen Image 'gainst a fire Beares no impression of the thing it was.) Me thinkes my zeale to Valentine is cold, And that I loue him not as I was wont: O, but I loue his Lady too-too much, And that's the reason I loue him so little. How shall I doate on her with more aduice, That thus without aduice begin to loue her? 'Tis but her picture I haue yet beheld, And that hath dazel'd my reasons light: But when I looke on her perfections, There is no reason, but I shall be blinde. If I can checke my erring loue, I will, If not, to compasse her Ile vse my skill. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Enter Speed and Launce. Speed. Launce, by mine honesty welcome to Padua Laun. Forsweare not thy selfe, sweet youth, for I am not welcome. I reckon this alwaies, that a man is neuer vndon till hee be hang'd, nor neuer welcome to a place, till some certaine shot be paid, and the Hostesse say welcome Speed. Come-on you mad-cap: Ile to the Ale-house with you presently; where, for one shot of fiue pence, thou shalt haue fiue thousand welcomes: But sirha, how did thy Master part with Madam Iulia? Lau. Marry after they cloas'd in earnest, they parted very fairely in iest Spee. But shall she marry him? Lau. No Spee. How then? shall he marry her? Lau. No, neither Spee. What, are they broken? Lau. No; they are both as whole as a fish Spee. Why then, how stands the matter with them? Lau. Marry thus, when it stands well with him, it stands well with her Spee. What an asse art thou, I vnderstand thee not Lau. What a blocke art thou, that thou canst not? My staffe vnderstands me? Spee. What thou saist? Lau. I, and what I do too: looke thee, Ile but leane, and my staffe vnderstands me Spee. It stands vnder thee indeed Lau. Why, stand-vnder: and vnder-stand is all one Spee. But tell me true, wil't be a match? Lau. Aske my dogge, if he say I, it will: if hee say no, it will: if hee shake his taile, and say nothing, it will Spee. The conclusion is then, that it will Lau. Thou shalt neuer get such a secret from me, but by a parable Spee. 'Tis well that I get it so: but Launce, how saist thou that that my master is become a notable Louer? Lau. I neuer knew him otherwise Spee. Then how? Lau. A notable Lubber: as thou reportest him to bee Spee. Why, thou whorson Asse, thou mistak'st me, Lau. Why Foole, I meant not thee, I meant thy Master Spee. I tell thee, my Master is become a hot Louer Lau. Why, I tell thee, I care not, though hee burne himselfe in Loue. If thou wilt goe with me to the Alehouse: if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Iew, and not worth the name of a Christian Spee. Why? Lau. Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to goe to the Ale with a Christian: Wilt thou goe? Spee. At thy seruice. Exeunt. Scoena Sexta. Enter Protheus solus. Pro. To leaue my Iulia; shall I be forsworne? To loue faire Siluia; shall I be forsworne? To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworne. And ev'n that Powre which gaue me first my oath Prouokes me to this three-fold periurie. Loue bad mee sweare, and Loue bids me for-sweare; O sweet-suggesting Loue, if thou hast sin'd, Teach me (thy tempted subiect) to excuse it. At first I did adore a twinkling Starre, But now I worship a celestiall Sunne: Vn-heedfull vowes may heedfully be broken, And he wants wit, that wants resolued will, To learne his wit, t' exchange the bad for better; Fie, fie, vnreuerend tongue, to call her bad, Whose soueraignty so oft thou hast preferd, With twenty thousand soule-confirming oathes. I cannot leaue to loue; and yet I doe: But there I leaue to loue, where I should loue. Iulia I loose, and Valentine I loose, If I keepe them, I needs must loose my selfe: If I loose them, thus finde I by their losse, For Valentine, my selfe: for Iulia, Siluia. I to my selfe am deerer then a friend, For Loue is still most precious in it selfe, And Siluia (witnesse heauen that made her faire) Shewes Iulia but a swarthy Ethiope. I will forget that Iulia is aliue, Remembring that my Loue to her is dead. And Valentine Ile hold an Enemie, Ayming at Siluia as a sweeter friend. I cannot now proue constant to my selfe, Without some treachery vs'd to Valentine. This night he meaneth with a Corded-ladder To climbe celestiall Siluia's chamber window, My selfe in counsaile his competitor. Now presently Ile giue her father notice Of their disguising and pretended flight: Who (all inrag'd) will banish Valentine: For Thurio he intends shall wed his daughter, But Valentine being gon, Ile quickely crosse By some slie tricke, blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. Loue lend me wings, to make my purpose swift As thou hast lent me wit, to plot this drift. Enter. Scoena septima. Enter Iulia and Lucetta. Iul. Counsaile, Lucetta, gentle girle assist me, And eu'n in kinde loue, I doe coniure thee, Who art the Table wherein all my thoughts Are visibly Character'd, and engrau'd, To lesson me, and tell me some good meane How with my honour I may vndertake A iourney to my louing Protheus Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long Iul. A true-deuoted Pilgrime is not weary To measure Kingdomes with his feeble steps, Much lesse shall she that hath Loues wings to flie, And when the flight is made to one so deere, Of such diuine perfection as Sir Protheus Luc. Better forbeare, till Protheus make returne Iul. Oh, know'st y not, his looks are my soules food? Pitty the dearth that I haue pined in, By longing for that food so long a time. Didst thou but know the inly touch of Loue, Thou wouldst as soone goe kindle fire with snow As seeke to quench the fire of Loue with words Luc. I doe not seeke to quench your Loues hot fire, But qualifie the fires extreame rage, Lest it should burne aboue the bounds of reason Iul. The more thou dam'st it vp, the more it burnes: The Current that with gentle murmure glides (Thou know'st) being stop'd, impatiently doth rage: But when his faire course is not hindered, He makes sweet musicke with th' enameld stones, Giuing a gentle kisse to euery sedge He ouer-taketh in his pilgrimage. And so by many winding nookes he straies With willing sport to the wilde Ocean. Then let me goe, and hinder not my course: Ile be as patient as a gentle streame, And make a pastime of each weary step, Till the last step haue brought me to my Loue, And there Ile rest, as after much turmoile A blessed soule doth in Elizium Luc. But in what habit will you goe along? Iul. Not like a woman, for I would preuent The loose encounters of lasciuious men: Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weedes As may beseeme some well reputed Page Luc. Why then your Ladiship must cut your haire Iul. No girle, Ile knit it vp in silken strings, With twentie od-conceited true-loue knots: To be fantastique, may become a youth Of greater time then I shall shew to be Luc. What fashion (Madam) shall I make your breeches? Iul. That fits as well, as tell me (good my Lord) What compasse will you weare your Farthingale? Why eu'n what fashion thou best likes (Lucetta.) Luc. You must needs haue the[m] with a cod-peece Ma[dam] Iul. Out, out, (Lucetta) that wilbe illfauourd Luc. A round hose (Madam) now's not worth a pin Vnlesse you haue a cod-peece to stick pins on Iul. Lucetta, as thou lou'st me let me haue What thou think'st meet, and is most mannerly. But tell me (wench) how will the world repute me For vndertaking so vnstaid a iourney? I feare me it will make me scandaliz'd Luc. If you thinke so, then stay at home, and go not Iul. Nay, that I will not Luc. Then neuer dreame on Infamy, but go: If Protheus like your iourney, when you come, No matter who's displeas'd, when you are gone: I feare me he will scarce be pleas'd with all Iul. That is the least (Lucetta) of my feare: A thousand oathes, an Ocean of his teares, And instances of infinite of Loue, Warrant me welcome to my Protheus Luc. All these are seruants to deceitfull men Iul. Base men, that vse them to so base effect; But truer starres did gouerne Protheus birth, His words are bonds, his oathes are oracles, His loue sincere, his thoughts immaculate, His teares, pure messengers, sent from his heart, His heart, as far from fraud, as heauen from earth Luc. Pray heau'n he proue so when you come to him Iul. Now, as thou lou'st me, do him not that wrong, To beare a hard opinion of his truth: Onely deserue my loue, by louing him, And presently goe with me to my chamber To take a note of what I stand in need of, To furnish me vpon my longing iourney: All that is mine I leaue at thy dispose, My goods, my Lands, my reputation, Onely, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence: Come; answere not: but to it presently, I am impatient of my tarriance. Exeunt. Actus Tertius, Scena Prima. Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus, Valentine, Launce, Speed. Duke. Sir Thurio, giue vs leaue (I pray) a while, We haue some secrets to confer about. Now tell me Protheus, what's your will with me? Pro. My gracious Lord, that which I wold discouer, The Law of friendship bids me to conceale, But when I call to minde your gracious fauours Done to me (vndeseruing as I am) My dutie pricks me on to vtter that Which else, no worldly good should draw from me: Know (worthy Prince) Sir Valentine my friend This night intends to steale away your daughter: My selfe am one made priuy to the plot. I know you haue determin'd to bestow her On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates, And should she thus be stolne away from you, It would be much vexation to your age. Thus (for my duties sake) I rather chose To crosse my friend in his intended drift, Then (by concealing it) heap on your head A pack of sorrowes, which would presse you downe (Being vnpreuented) to your timelesse graue Duke. Protheus, I thank thee for thine honest care, Which to requite, command me while I liue. This loue of theirs, my selfe haue often seene, Haply when they haue iudg'd me fast asleepe, And oftentimes haue purpos'd to forbid Sir Valentine her companie, and my Court. But fearing lest my iealous ayme might erre, And so (vnworthily) disgrace the man (A rashnesse that I euer yet haue shun'd) I gaue him gentle lookes, thereby to finde That which thy selfe hast now disclos'd to me. And that thou maist perceiue my feare of this, Knowing that tender youth is soone suggested, I nightly lodge her in an vpper Towre, The key whereof, my selfe haue euer kept: And thence she cannot be conuay'd away Pro. Know (noble Lord) they haue deuis'd a meane How he her chamber-window will ascend, And with a Corded-ladder fetch her downe: For which, the youthfull Louer now is gone, And this way comes he with it presently. Where (if it please you) you may intercept him. But (good my Lord) doe it so cunningly That my discouery be not aimed at: For, loue of you, not hate vnto my friend, Hath made me publisher of this pretence Duke. Vpon mine Honor, he shall neuer know That I had any light from thee of this Pro. Adiew, my Lord, Sir Valentine is comming Duk. Sir Valentine, whether away so fast? Val. Please it your Grace, there is a Messenger That stayes to beare my Letters to my friends, And I am going to deliuer them Duk. Be they of much import? Val. The tenure of them doth but signifie My health, and happy being at your Court Duk. Nay then no matter: stay with me a while, I am to breake with thee of some affaires That touch me neere: wherein thou must be secret. 'Tis not vnknown to thee, that I haue sought To match my friend Sir Thurio, to my daughter Val. I know it well (my Lord) and sure the Match Were rich and honourable: besides, the gentleman Is full of Vertue, Bounty, Worth, and Qualities Beseeming such a Wife, as your faire daughter: Cannot your Grace win her to fancie him? Duk. No, trust me, She is peeuish, sullen, froward, Prowd, disobedient, stubborne, lacking duty, Neither regarding that she is my childe, Nor fearing me, as if I were her father: And may I say to thee, this pride of hers (Vpon aduice) hath drawne my loue from her, And where I thought the remnant of mine age Should haue beene cherish'd by her child-like dutie, I now am full resolu'd to take a wife, And turne her out, to who will take her in: Then let her beauty be her wedding dowre: For me, and my possessions she esteemes not Val. What would your Grace haue me to do in this? Duk. There is a Lady in Verona heere Whom I affect: but she is nice, and coy, And naught esteemes my aged eloquence. Now therefore would I haue thee to my Tutor (For long agone I haue forgot to court, Besides the fashion of the time is chang'd) How, and which way I may bestow my selfe To be regarded in her sun-bright eye Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not words, Dumbe Iewels often in their silent kinde More then quicke words, doe moue a womans minde Duk. But she did scorne a present that I sent her, Val. A woman somtime scorns what best co[n]tents her. Send her another: neuer giue her ore, For scorne at first, makes after-loue the more. If she doe frowne, 'tis not in hate of you, But rather to beget more loue in you. If she doe chide, 'tis not to haue you gone, For why, the fooles are mad, if left alone. Take no repulse, what euer she doth say, For, get you gon, she doth not meane away. Flatter, and praise, commend, extoll their graces: Though nere so blacke, say they haue Angells faces, That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman Duk. But she I meane, is promis'd by her friends Vnto a youthfull Gentleman of worth, And kept seuerely from resort of men, That no man hath accesse by day to her Val. Why then I would resort to her by night Duk. I, but the doores be lockt, and keyes kept safe, That no man hath recourse to her by night Val. What letts but one may enter at her window? Duk. Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, And built so sheluing, that one cannot climbe it Without apparant hazard of his life Val. Why then a Ladder quaintly made of Cords To cast vp, with a paire of anchoring hookes, Would serue to scale another Hero's towre, So bold Leander would aduenture it Duk. Now as thou art a Gentleman of blood Aduise me, where I may haue such a Ladder Val. When would you vse it? pray sir, tell me that Duk. This very night; for Loue is like a childe That longs for euery thing that he can come by Val. By seauen a clock, ile get you such a Ladder Duk But harke thee: I will goe to her alone, How shall I best conuey the Ladder thither? Val. It will be light (my Lord) that you may beare it Vnder a cloake, that is of any length Duk. A cloake as long as thine will serue the turne? Val. I my good Lord Duk. Then let me see thy cloake, Ile get me one of such another length Val. Why any cloake will serue the turn (my Lord) Duk. How shall I fashion me to weare a cloake? I pray thee let me feele thy cloake vpon me. What Letter is this same? what's here? to Siluia? And heere an Engine fit for my proceeding, Ile be so bold to breake the seale for once. My thoughts do harbour with my Siluia nightly, And slaues they are to me, that send them flying. Oh, could their Master come, and goe as lightly, Himselfe would lodge where (senceles) they are lying. My Herald Thoughts, in thy pure bosome rest-them, While I (their King) that thither them importune Doe curse the grace, that with such grace hath blest them, Because my selfe doe want my seruants fortune. I curse my selfe, for they are sent by me, That they should harbour where their Lord should be. What's here? Siluia, this night I will enfranchise thee. 'Tis so: and heere's the Ladder for the purpose. Why Phaeton (for thou art Merops sonne) Wilt thou aspire to guide the heauenly Car? And with thy daring folly burne the world? Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? Goe base Intruder, ouer-weening Slaue, Bestow thy fawning smiles on equall mates, And thinke my patience, (more then thy desert) Is priuiledge for thy departure hence. Thanke me for this, more then for all the fauors Which (all too-much) I haue bestowed on thee. But if thou linger in my Territories Longer then swiftest expedition Will giue thee time to leaue our royall Court, By heauen, my wrath shall farre exceed the loue I euer bore my daughter, or thy selfe. Be gone, I will not heare thy vaine excuse, But as thou lou'st thy life, make speed from hence Val. And why not death, rather then liuing torment? To die, is to be banisht from my selfe, And Siluia is my selfe: banish'd from her Is selfe from selfe. A deadly banishment: What light, is light, if Siluia be not seene? What ioy is ioy, if Siluia be not by? Vnlesse it be to thinke that she is by And feed vpon the shadow of perfection. Except I be by Siluia in the night, There is no musicke in the Nightingale. Vnlesse I looke on Siluia in the day, There is no day for me to looke vpon. Shee is my essence, and I leaue to be; If I be not by her faire influence Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept aliue. I flie not death, to flie his deadly doome, Tarry I heere, I but attend on death, But flie I hence, I flie away from life Pro. Run (boy) run, run, and seeke him out Lau. So-hough, Soa hough- Pro. What seest thou? Lau. Him we goe to finde, There's not a haire on's head, but 'tis a Valentine Pro. Valentine? Val. No Pro. Who then? his Spirit? Val. Neither, Pro. What then? Val. Nothing Lau. Can nothing speake? Master, shall I strike? Pro. Who wouldst thou strike? Lau. Nothing Pro. Villaine, forbeare Lau. Why Sir, Ile strike nothing: I pray you Pro. Sirha, I say forbeare: friend Valentine, a word Val. My eares are stopt, & cannot hear good newes, So much of bad already hath possest them Pro. Then in dumbe silence will I bury mine, For they are harsh, vn-tuneable, and bad Val. Is Siluia dead? Pro. No, Valentine Val. No Valentine indeed, for sacred Siluia, Hath she forsworne me? Pro. No, Valentine Val. No Valentine, if Siluia haue forsworne me. What is your newes? Lau. Sir, there is a proclamation, y you are vanished Pro. That thou art banish'd: oh that's the newes, From hence, from Siluia, and from me thy friend Val. Oh, I haue fed vpon this woe already, And now excesse of it will make me surfet. Doth Siluia know that I am banish'd? Pro. I, I: and she hath offered to the doome (Which vn-reuerst stands in effectuall force) A Sea of melting pearle, which some call teares; Those at her fathers churlish feete she tenderd, With them vpon her knees, her humble selfe, Wringing her hands, whose whitenes so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe: But neither bended knees, pure hands held vp, Sad sighes, deepe grones, nor siluer-shedding teares Could penetrate her vncompassionate Sire; But Valentine, if he be tane, must die. Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, When she for thy repeale was suppliant, That to close prison he commanded her, With many bitter threats of biding there Val. No more: vnles the next word that thou speak'st Haue some malignant power vpon my life: If so: I pray thee breath it in mine eare, As ending Antheme of my endlesse dolor Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not helpe, And study helpe for that which thou lament'st, Time is the Nurse, and breeder of all good; Here, if thou stay, thou canst not see thy loue: Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life: Hope is a louers staffe, walke hence with that And manage it, against despairing thoughts: Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence, Which, being writ to me, shall be deliuer'd Euen in the milke-white bosome of thy Loue. The time now serues not to expostulate, Come, Ile conuey thee through the City-gate. And ere I part with thee, confer at large Of all that may concerne thy Loue-affaires: As thou lou'st Siluia (though not for thy selfe) Regard thy danger, and along with me Val. I pray thee Launce, and if thou seest my Boy Bid him make haste, and meet me at the North-gate Pro. Goe sirha, finde him out: Come Valentine Val. Oh my deere Siluia; haplesse Valentine Launce. I am but a foole, looke you, and yet I haue the wit to thinke my Master is a kinde of a knaue: but that's all one, if he be but one knaue: He liues not now that knowes me to be in loue, yet I am in loue, but a Teeme of horse shall not plucke that from me: nor who 'tis I loue: and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I will not tell my selfe: and yet 'tis a Milke-maid: yet 'tis not a maid: for shee hath had Gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her Masters maid, and serues for wages. Shee hath more qualities then a Water-Spaniell, which is much in a bare Christian: Heere is the Catelog of her Condition. Inprimis. Shee can fetch and carry: why a horse can doe no more; nay, a horse cannot fetch, but onely carry, therefore is shee better then a Iade. Item. She can milke, looke you, a sweet vertue in a maid with cleane hands Speed. How now Signior Launce? what newes with your Mastership? La. With my Mastership? why, it is at Sea: Sp. Well, your old vice still: mistake the word: what newes then in your paper? La. The black'st newes that euer thou heard'st Sp. Why man? how blacke? La. Why, as blacke as Inke Sp. Let me read them? La. Fie on thee Iolt-head, thou canst not read Sp. Thou lyest: I can La. I will try thee: tell me this: who begot thee? Sp. Marry, the son of my Grand-father La. Oh illiterate loyterer; it was the sonne of thy Grand-mother: this proues that thou canst not read Sp. Come foole, come: try me in thy paper La. There: and S[aint]. Nicholas be thy speed Sp. Inprimis she can milke La. I that she can Sp. Item, she brewes good Ale La. And thereof comes the prouerbe: (Blessing of your heart, you brew good Ale.) Sp. Item, she can sowe La. That's as much as to say (Can she so?) Sp. Item she can knit La. What neede a man care for a stock with a wench, When she can knit him a stocke? Sp. Item, she can wash and scoure La. A speciall vertue: for then shee neede not be wash'd, and scowr'd Sp. Item, she can spin La. Then may I set the world on wheeles, when she can spin for her liuing Sp. Item, she hath many namelesse vertues La. That's as much as to say Bastard-vertues: that indeede know not their fathers; and therefore haue no names Sp. Here follow her vices La. Close at the heeles of her vertues Sp. Item, shee is not to be fasting in respect of her breath La. Well: that fault may be mended with a breakfast: read on Sp. Item, she hath a sweet mouth La. That makes amends for her soure breath Sp. Item, she doth talke in her sleepe La. It's no matter for that; so shee sleepe not in her talke Sp. Item, she is slow in words La. Oh villaine, that set this downe among her vices; To be slow in words, is a womans onely vertue: I pray thee out with't, and place it for her chiefe vertue Sp. Item, she is proud La. Out with that too: It was Eues legacie, and cannot be t'ane from her Sp. Item, she hath no teeth La. I care not for that neither: because I loue crusts Sp. Item, she is curst La. Well: the best is, she hath no teeth to bite Sp. Item, she will often praise her liquor La. If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I will; for good things should be praised Sp. Item, she is too liberall La. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's writ downe she is slow of: of her purse, shee shall not, for that ile keepe shut: Now, of another thing shee may, and that cannot I helpe. Well, proceede Sp. Item, shee hath more haire then wit, and more faults then haires, and more wealth then faults La. Stop there: Ile haue her: she was mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that last Article: rehearse that once more Sp. Item, she hath more haire then wit La. More haire then wit: it may be ile proue it: The couer of the salt, hides the salt, and therefore it is more then the salt; the haire that couers the wit, is more then the wit; for the greater hides the lesse: What's next? Sp. And more faults then haires La. That's monstrous: oh that that were out Sp. And more wealth then faults La. Why that word makes the faults gracious: Well, ile haue her: and if it be a match, as nothing is impossible Sp. What then? La. Why then, will I tell thee, that thy Master staies for thee at the North gate Sp. For me? La. For thee? I, who art thou? he hath staid for a better man then thee Sp. And must I goe to him? La. Thou must run to him; for thou hast staid so long, that going will scarce serue the turne Sp. Why didst not tell me sooner? 'pox of your loue Letters La. Now will he be swing'd for reading my Letter; An vnmannerly slaue, that will thrust himselfe into secrets: Ile after, to reioyce in the boyes correctio[n]. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Duke, Thurio, Protheus. Du. Sir Thurio, feare not, but that she will loue you Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight Th. Since his exile she hath despis'd me most, Forsworne my company, and rail'd at me, That I am desperate of obtaining her Du. This weake impresse of Loue, is as a figure Trenched in ice, which with an houres heate Dissolues to water, and doth loose his forme. A little time will melt her frozen thoughts, And worthlesse Valentine shall be forgot. How now sir Protheus, is your countriman (According to our Proclamation) gon? Pro. Gon, my good Lord Du. My daughter takes his going grieuously? Pro. A little time (my Lord) will kill that griefe Du. So I beleeue: but Thurio thinkes not so: Protheus, the good conceit I hold of thee, (For thou hast showne some signe of good desert) Makes me the better to confer with thee Pro. Longer then I proue loyall to your Grace, Let me not liue, to looke vpon your Grace Du. Thou know'st how willingly, I would effect The match betweene sir Thurio, and my daughter? Pro. I doe my Lord Du. And also, I thinke, thou art not ignorant How she opposes her against my will? Pro. She did my Lord, when Valentine was here Du. I, and peruersly, she perseuers so: What might we doe to make the girle forget The loue of Valentine, and loue sir Thurio? Pro. The best way is, to slander Valentine, With falsehood, cowardize, and poore discent: Three things, that women highly hold in hate Du. I, but she'll thinke, that it is spoke in hate Pro. I, if his enemy deliuer it. Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken By one, whom she esteemeth as his friend Du. Then you must vndertake to slander him Pro. And that (my Lord) I shall be loath to doe: 'Tis an ill office for a Gentleman, Especially against his very friend Du. Where your good word cannot aduantage him, Your slander neuer can endamage him; Therefore the office is indifferent, Being intreated to it by your friend Pro. You haue preuail'd (my Lord) if I can doe it By ought that I can speake in his dispraise, She shall not long continue loue to him: But say this weede her loue from Valentine, It followes not that she will loue sir Thurio Th. Therefore, as you vnwinde her loue from him; Least it should rauell, and be good to none, You must prouide to bottome it on me: Which must be done, by praising me as much As you, in worth dispraise, sir Valentine Du. And Protheus, we dare trust you in this kinde, Because we know (on Valentines report) You are already loues firme votary, And cannot soone reuolt, and change your minde. Vpon this warrant, shall you haue accesse, Where you, with Siluia, may conferre at large. For she is lumpish, heauy, mellancholly, And (for your friends sake) will be glad of you; Where you may temper her, by your perswasion, To hate yong Valentine, and loue my friend Pro. As much as I can doe, I will effect: But you sir Thurio, are not sharpe enough: You must lay Lime, to tangle her desires By walefull Sonnets, whose composed Rimes Should be full fraught with seruiceable vowes Du. I, much is the force of heauen-bred Poesie Pro. Say that vpon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your teares, your sighes, your heart: Write till your inke be dry: and with your teares Moist it againe: and frame some feeling line, That may discouer such integrity: For Orpheus Lute, was strung with Poets sinewes, Whose golden touch could soften steele and stones; Make Tygers tame, and huge Leuiathans Forsake vnsounded deepes, to dance on Sands. After your dire-lamenting Elegies, Visit by night your Ladies chamber-window With some sweet Consort; To their Instruments Tune a deploring dumpe: the nights dead silence Will well become such sweet complaining grieuance: This, or else nothing, will inherit her Du. This discipline, showes thou hast bin in loue Th. And thy aduice, this night, ile put in practise: Therefore, sweet Protheus, my direction-giuer, Let vs into the City presently To sort some Gentlemen, well skil'd in Musicke. I haue a Sonnet, that will serue the turne To giue the on-set to thy good aduise Du. About it Gentlemen Pro. We'll wait vpon your Grace, till after Supper, And afterward determine our proceedings Du. Euen now about it, I will pardon you. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima. Enter Valentine, Speed, and certaine Out-lawes. 1.Outl. Fellowes, stand fast: I see a passenger 2.Out. If there be ten, shrinke not, but down with 'em 3.Out. Stand sir, and throw vs that you haue about 'ye. If not: we'll make you sit, and rifle you Sp. Sir we are vndone; these are the Villaines That all the Trauailers doe feare so much Val. My friends 1.Out. That's not so, sir: we are your enemies 2.Out. Peace: we'll heare him 3.Out. I by my beard will we: for he is a proper man Val. Then know that I haue little wealth to loose; A man I am, cross'd with aduersitie: My riches, are these poore habiliments, Of which, if you should here disfurnish me, You take the sum and substance that I haue 2.Out. Whether trauell you? Val. To Verona 1.Out. Whence came you? Val. From Millaine 3.Out. Haue you long soiourn'd there? Val. Some sixteene moneths, and longer might haue staid, If crooked fortune had not thwarted me 1.Out. What, were you banish'd thence? Val. I was 2.Out. For what offence? Val. For that which now torments me to rehearse; I kil'd a man, whose death I much repent, But yet I slew him manfully, in fight, Without false vantage, or base treachery 1.Out. Why nere repent it, if it were done so; But were you banisht for so small a fault? Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doome 2.Out. Haue you the Tongues? Val. My youthfull trauaile, therein made me happy, Or else I often had beene often miserable 3.Out. By the bare scalpe of Robin Hoods fat Fryer, This fellow were a King, for our wilde faction 1.Out. We'll haue him: Sirs, a word Sp. Master, be one of them: It's an honourable kinde of theeuery Val. Peace villaine 2.Out. Tell vs this: haue you any thing to take to? Val. Nothing but my fortune 3.Out. Know then, that some of vs are Gentlemen, Such as the fury of vngouern'd youth Thrust from the company of awfull men. My selfe was from Verona banished, For practising to steale away a Lady, And heire and Neece, alide vnto the Duke 2.Out. And I from Mantua, for a Gentleman, Who, in my moode, I stab'd vnto the heart 1.Out. And I, for such like petty crimes as these. But to the purpose: for we cite our faults, That they may hold excus'd our lawlesse liues; And partly seeing you are beautifide With goodly shape; and by your owne report, A Linguist, and a man of such perfection, As we doe in our quality much want 2.Out. Indeede because you are a banish'd man, Therefore, aboue the rest, we parley to you: Are you content to be our Generall? To make a vertue of necessity, And liue as we doe in this wildernesse? 3.Out. What saist thou? wilt thou be of our consort? Say I, and be the captaine of vs all: We'll doe thee homage, and be rul'd by thee, Loue thee, as our Commander, and our King 1.Out. But if thou scorne our curtesie, thou dyest 2.Out. Thou shalt not liue, to brag what we haue offer'd Val. I take your offer, and will liue with you, Prouided that you do no outrages On silly women, or poore passengers 3.Out. No, we detest such vile base practises. Come, goe with vs, we'll bring thee to our Crewes, And show thee all the Treasure we haue got; Which, with our selues, all rest at thy dispose. Exeunt. Scoena Secunda. Enter Protheus, Thurio, Iulia, Host, Musitian, Siluia. Pro. Already haue I bin false to Valentine, And now I must be as vniust to Thurio, Vnder the colour of commending him, I haue accesse my owne loue to prefer. But Siluia is too faire, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthlesse guifts; When I protest true loyalty to her, She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; When to her beauty I commend my vowes, She bids me thinke how I haue bin forsworne In breaking faith with Iulia, whom I lou'd; And notwithstanding all her sodaine quips, The least whereof would quell a louers hope: Yet (Spaniel-like) the more she spurnes my loue, The more it growes, and fawneth on her still; But here comes Thurio; now must we to her window, And giue some euening Musique to her eare Th. How now, sir Protheus, are you crept before vs? Pro. I gentle Thurio, for you know that loue Will creepe in seruice, where it cannot goe Th. I, but I hope, Sir, that you loue not here Pro. Sir, but I doe: or else I would be hence Th. Who, Siluia? Pro. I, Siluia, for your sake Th. I thanke you for your owne: Now Gentlemen Let's tune: and too it lustily a while Ho. Now, my yong guest; me thinks your' allycholly; I pray you why is it? Iu. Marry (mine Host) because I cannot be merry Ho. Come, we'll haue you merry: ile bring you where you shall heare Musique, and see the Gentleman that you ask'd for Iu. But shall I heare him speake Ho. I that you shall Iu. That will be Musique Ho. Harke, harke Iu. Is he among these? Ho. I: but peace, let's heare'm Song. Who is Siluia? what is she? That all our Swaines commend her? Holy, faire, and wise is she, The heauen such grace did lend her, that she might admired be. Is she kinde as she is faire? For beauty liues with kindnesse: Loue doth to her eyes repaire, To helpe him of his blindnesse: And being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Siluia, let vs sing, That Siluia is excelling; She excels each mortall thing Vpon the dull earth dwelling. To her let vs Garlands bring Ho. How now? are you sadder then you were before; How doe you, man? the Musicke likes you not Iu. You mistake: the Musitian likes me not Ho. Why, my pretty youth? Iu. He plaies false (father.) Ho. How, out of tune on the strings Iu. Not so: but yet So false that he grieues my very heart-strings Ho. You haue a quicke eare Iu. I, I would I were deafe: it makes me haue a slow heart Ho. I perceiue you delight not in Musique Iu. Not a whit, when it iars so Ho. Harke, what fine change is in the Musique Iu. I: that change is the spight Ho. You would haue them alwaies play but one thing Iu. I would alwaies haue one play but one thing. But Host, doth this Sir Protheus, that we talke on, Often resort vnto this Gentlewoman? Ho. I tell you what Launce his man told me, He lou'd her out of all nicke Iu. Where is Launce? Ho. Gone to seeke his dog, which to morrow, by his Masters command, hee must carry for a present to his Lady Iu. Peace, stand aside, the company parts Pro. Sir Thurio, feare not you, I will so pleade, That you shall say, my cunning drift excels Th. Where meete we? Pro. At Saint Gregories well Th. Farewell Pro. Madam: good eu'n to your Ladiship Sil. I thanke you for your Musique (Gentlemen) Who is that that spake? Pro. One (Lady) if you knew his pure hearts truth, You would quickly learne to know him by his voice Sil. Sir Protheus, as I take it Pro. Sir Protheus (gentle Lady) and your Seruant Sil. What's your will? Pro. That I may compasse yours Sil. You haue your wish: my will is euen this, That presently you hie you home to bed: Thou subtile, periur'd, false, disloyall man: Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitlesse, To be seduced by thy flattery, That has't deceiu'd so many with thy vowes? Returne, returne, and make thy loue amends: For me (by this pale queene of night I sweare) I am so farre from granting thy request, That I despise thee, for thy wrongfull suite; And by and by intend to chide my selfe, Euen for this time I spend in talking to thee Pro. I grant (sweet loue) that I did loue a Lady, But she is dead Iu. 'Twere false, if I should speake it; For I am sure she is not buried Sil. Say that she be: yet Valentine thy friend Suruiues; to whom (thy selfe art witnesse) I am betroth'd; and art thou not asham'd To wrong him, with thy importunacy? Pro. I likewise heare that Valentine is dead Sil. And so suppose am I; for in her graue Assure thy selfe, my loue is buried Pro. Sweet Lady, let me rake it from the earth Sil. Goe to thy Ladies graue and call hers thence, Or at the least, in hers, sepulcher thine Iul. He heard not that Pro. Madam: if your heart be so obdurate: Vouchsafe me yet your Picture for my loue, The Picture that is hanging in your chamber: To that ile speake, to that ile sigh and weepe: For since the substance of your perfect selfe Is else deuoted, I am but a shadow; And to your shadow, will I make true loue Iul. If 'twere a substance you would sure deceiue it, And make it but a shadow, as I am Sil. I am very loath to be your Idoll Sir; But, since your falsehood shall become you well To worship shadowes, and adore false shapes, Send to me in the morning, and ile send it: And so, good rest Pro. As wretches haue ore-night That wait for execution in the morne Iul. Host, will you goe? Ho. By my hallidome, I was fast asleepe Iul. Pray you, where lies Sir Protheus? Ho. Marry, at my house: Trust me, I thinke 'tis almost day Iul. Not so: but it hath bin the longest night That ere I watch'd, and the most heauiest. Scoena Tertia. Enter Eglamore, Siluia. Eg. This is the houre that Madam Siluia Entreated me to call, and know her minde: Ther's some great matter she'ld employ me in. Madam, Madam Sil. Who cals? Eg. Your seruant, and your friend; One that attends your Ladiships command Sil. Sir Eglamore, a thousand times good morrow Eg. As many (worthy Lady) to your selfe: According to your Ladiships impose, I am thus early come, to know what seruice It is your pleasure to command me in Sil. Oh Eglamoure, thou art a Gentleman: Thinke not I flatter (for I sweare I doe not) Valiant, wise, remorse-full, well accomplish'd. Thou art not ignorant what deere good will I beare vnto the banish'd Valentine: Nor how my father would enforce me marry Vaine Thurio (whom my very soule abhor'd.) Thy selfe hast lou'd, and I haue heard thee say No griefe did euer come so neere thy heart, As when thy Lady, and thy true-loue dide, Vpon whose Graue thou vow'dst pure chastitie: Sir Eglamoure: I would to Valentine To Mantua, where I heare, he makes aboad; And for the waies are dangerous to passe, I doe desire thy worthy company, Vpon whose faith and honor, I repose. Vrge not my fathers anger (Eglamoure) But thinke vpon my griefe (a Ladies griefe) And on the iustice of my flying hence, To keepe me from a most vnholy match, Which heauen and fortune still rewards with plagues. I doe desire thee, euen from a heart As full of sorrowes, as the Sea of sands, To beare me company, and goe with me: If not, to hide what I haue said to thee, That I may venture to depart alone Egl. Madam, I pitty much your grieuances, Which, since I know they vertuously are plac'd, I giue consent to goe along with you, Wreaking as little what betideth me, As much, I wish all good befortune you. When will you goe? Sil. This euening comming Eg. Where shall I meete you? Sil. At Frier Patrickes Cell, Where I intend holy Confession Eg. I will not faile your Ladiship: Good morrow (gentle Lady.) Sil. Good morrow, kinde Sir Eglamoure. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Launce, Protheus, Iulia, Siluia. Lau. When a mans seruant shall play the Curre with him (looke you) it goes hard: one that I brought vp of a puppy: one that I sau'd from drowning, when three or foure of his blinde brothers and sisters went to it: I haue taught him (euen as one would say precisely, thus I would teach a dog) I was sent to deliuer him, as a present to Mistris Siluia, from my Master; and I came no sooner into the dyning-chamber, but he steps me to her Trencher, and steales her Capons-leg: O, 'tis a foule thing, when a Cur cannot keepe himselfe in all companies: I would haue (as one should say) one that takes vpon him to be a dog indeede, to be, as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had more wit then he, to take a fault vpon me that he did, I thinke verily hee had bin hang'd for't: sure as I liue he had suffer'd for't: you shall iudge: Hee thrusts me himselfe into the company of three or foure gentleman-like-dogs, vnder the Dukes table: hee had not bin there (blesse the marke) a pissing while, but all the chamber smelt him: out with the dog (saies one) what cur is that (saies another) whip him out (saies the third) hang him vp (saies the Duke.) I hauing bin acquainted with the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes me to the fellow that whips the dogges: friend (quoth I) you meane to whip the dog: I marry doe I (quoth he) you doe him the more wrong (quoth I) 'twas I did the thing you wot of: he makes me no more adoe, but whips me out of the chamber: how many Masters would doe this for his Seruant? nay, ile be sworne I haue sat in the stockes, for puddings he hath stolne, otherwise he had bin executed: I haue stood on the Pillorie for Geese he hath kil'd, otherwise he had sufferd for't: thou think'st not of this now: nay, I remember the tricke you seru'd me, when I tooke my leaue of Madam Siluia: did not I bid thee still marke me, and doe as I do; when did'st thou see me heaue vp my leg, and make water against a Gentlewomans farthingale? did'st thou euer see me doe such a tricke? Pro. Sebastian is thy name: I like thee well, And will imploy thee in some seruice presently Iu. In what you please, ile doe what I can Pro. I hope thou wilt. How now you whorson pezant, Where haue you bin these two dayes loytering? La. Marry Sir, I carried Mistris Siluia the dogge you bad me Pro. And what saies she to my little Iewell? La. Marry she saies your dog was a cur, and tels you currish thanks is good enough for such a present Pro. But she receiu'd my dog? La. No indeede did she not: Here haue I brought him backe againe Pro. What, didst thou offer her this from me? La. I Sir, the other Squirrill was stolne from me By the Hangmans boyes in the market place, And then I offer'd her mine owne, who is a dog As big as ten of yours, & therefore the guift the greater Pro. Goe, get thee hence, and finde my dog againe, Or nere returne againe into my sight. Away, I say: stayest thou to vexe me here; A Slaue, that still an end, turnes me to shame: Sebastian, I haue entertained thee, Partly that I haue neede of such a youth, That can with some discretion doe my businesse: For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish Lowt; But chiefely, for thy face, and thy behauiour, Which (if my Augury deceiue me not) Witnesse good bringing vp, fortune, and truth: Therefore know thee, for this I entertaine thee. Go presently, and take this Ring with thee, Deliuer it to Madam Siluia; She lou'd me well, deliuer'd it to me Iul. It seemes you lou'd not her, not leaue her token: She is dead belike? Pro. Not so: I thinke she liues Iul. Alas Pro. Why do'st thou cry alas? Iul. I cannot choose but pitty her Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pitty her? Iul. Because, me thinkes that she lou'd you as well As you doe loue your Lady Siluia: She dreames on him, that has forgot her loue, You doate on her, that cares not for your loue. 'Tis pitty Loue, should be so contrary: And thinking on it, makes me cry alas Pro. Well: giue her that Ring, and therewithall This Letter: that's her chamber: Tell my Lady, I claime the promise for her heauenly Picture: Your message done, hye home vnto my chamber, Where thou shalt finde me sad, and solitarie Iul. How many women would doe such a message? Alas poore Protheus, thou hast entertain'd A Foxe, to be the Shepheard of thy Lambs; Alas, poore foole, why doe I pitty him That with his very heart despiseth me? Because he loues her, he despiseth me, Because I loue him, I must pitty him. This Ring I gaue him, when he parted from me, To binde him to remember my good will: And now am I (vnhappy Messenger) To plead for that, which I would not obtaine; To carry that, which I would haue refus'd; To praise his faith, which I would haue disprais'd. I am my Masters true confirmed Loue, But cannot be true seruant to my Master, Vnlesse I proue false traitor to my selfe. Yet will I woe for him, but yet so coldly, As (heauen it knowes) I would not haue him speed. Gentlewoman, good day: I pray you be my meane To bring me where to speake with Madam Siluia Sil. What would you with her, if that I be she? Iul. If you be she, I doe intreat your patience To heare me speake the message I am sent on Sil. From whom? Iul. From my Master, Sir Protheus, Madam Sil. Oh: he sends you for a Picture? Iul. I, Madam Sil. Vrsula, bring my Picture there, Goe, giue your Master this: tell him from me, One Iulia, that his changing thoughts forget Would better fit his Chamber, then this Shadow Iul. Madam, please you peruse this Letter; Pardon me (Madam) I haue vnaduis'd Deliuer'd you a paper that I should not; This is the Letter to your Ladiship Sil. I pray thee let me looke on that againe Iul. It may not be: good Madam pardon me Sil. There, hold: I will not looke vpon your Masters lines: I know they are stuft with protestations, And full of new-found oathes, which he will breake As easily, as I doe teare his paper Iul. Madam, he sends your Ladiship this Ring Sil. The more shame for him, that he sends it me; For I haue heard him say a thousand times, His Iulia gaue it him, at his departure: Though his false finger haue prophan'd the Ring, Mine shall not doe his Iulia so much wrong Iul. She thankes you Sil. What sai'st thou? Iul. I thanke you Madam, that you tender her: Poore Gentlewoman, my Master wrongs her much Sil. Do'st thou know her? Iul. Almost as well as I doe know my selfe. To thinke vpon her woes, I doe protest That I haue wept a hundred seuerall times Sil. Belike she thinks that Protheus hath forsook her? Iul. I thinke she doth: and that's her cause of sorrow Sil. Is she not passing faire? Iul. She hath bin fairer (Madam) then she is, When she did thinke my Master lou'd her well; She, in my iudgement, was as faire as you. But since she did neglect her looking-glasse, And threw her Sun-expelling Masque away, The ayre hath staru'd the roses in her cheekes, And pinch'd the lilly-tincture of her face, That now she is become as blacke as I Sil. How tall was she? Iul. About my stature: for at Pentecost, When all our Pageants of delight were plaid, Our youth got me to play the womans part, And I was trim'd in Madam Iulias gowne, Which serued me as fit, by all mens iudgements, As if the garment had bin made for me: Therefore I know she is about my height, And at that time I made her weepe a good, For I did play a lamentable part. (Madam) 'twas Ariadne, passioning For Thesus periury, and vniust flight; Which I so liuely acted with my teares: That my poore Mistris moued therewithall, Wept bitterly: and would I might be dead, If I in thought felt not her very sorrow Sil. She is beholding to thee (gentle youth) Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left; I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words: Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Farewell Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know her. A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull. I hope my Masters suit will be but cold, Since she respects my Mistris loue so much. Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe: Here is her Picture: let me see, I thinke If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine Were full as louely, as is this of hers; And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little, Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much. Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow; If that be all the difference in his loue, Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig: Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine. I, but her fore-head's low, and mine's as high: What should it be that he respects in her, But I can make respectiue in my selfe? If this fond Loue, were not a blinded god. Come shadow, come, and take this shadow vp, For 'tis thy riuall: O thou sencelesse forme, Thou shalt be worship'd, kiss'd, lou'd, and ador'd; And were there sence in his Idolatry, My substance should be statue in thy stead. Ile vse thee kindly, for thy Mistris sake That vs'd me so: or else by Ioue, I vow, I should haue scratch'd out your vnseeing eyes, To make my Master out of loue with thee. Exeunt. Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima. Enter Eglamoure, Siluia. Egl. The Sun begins to guild the westerne skie, And now it is about the very houre That Siluia, at Fryer Patricks Cell should meet me, She will not faile; for Louers breake not houres, Vnlesse it be to come before their time, So much they spur their expedition. See where she comes: Lady a happy euening Sil. Amen, Amen: goe on (good Eglamoure) Out at the Posterne by the Abbey wall; I feare I am attended by some Spies Egl. Feare not: the Forrest is not three leagues off, If we recouer that, we are sure enough. Exeunt. Scoena Secunda. Enter Thurio, Protheus, Iulia, Duke. Th. Sir Protheus, what saies Siluia to my suit? Pro. Oh Sir, I finde her milder then she was, And yet she takes exceptions at your person Thu. What? that my leg is too long? Pro. No, that it is too little Thu. Ile weare a Boote, to make it somewhat rounder Pro. But loue will not be spurd to what it loathes Thu. What saies she to my face? Pro. She saies it is a faire one Thu. Nay then the wanton lyes: my face is blacke Pro. But Pearles are faire; and the old saying is, Blacke men are Pearles, in beauteous Ladies eyes Thu. 'Tis true, such Pearles as put out Ladies eyes, For I had rather winke, then looke on them Thu. How likes she my discourse? Pro. Ill, when you talke of war Thu. But well, when I discourse of loue and peace Iul. But better indeede, when you hold you peace Thu. What sayes she to my valour? Pro. Oh Sir, she makes no doubt of that Iul. She needes not, when she knowes it cowardize Thu. What saies she to my birth? Pro. That you are well deriu'd Iul. True: from a Gentleman, to a foole Thu. Considers she my Possessions? Pro. Oh, I: and pitties them Thu. Wherefore? Iul. That such an Asse should owe them Pro. That they are out by Lease Iul. Here comes the Duke Du. How now sir Protheus; how now Thurio? Which of you saw Eglamoure of late? Thu. Not I Pro. Nor I Du. Saw you my daughter? Pro. Neither Du. Why then She's fled vnto that pezant, Valentine; And Eglamoure is in her Company: 'Tis true: for Frier Laurence met them both As he, in pennance wander'd through the Forrest: Him he knew well: and guesd that it was she, But being mask'd, he was not sure of it. Besides she did intend Confession At Patricks Cell this euen, and there she was not. These likelihoods confirme her flight from hence; Therefore I pray you stand, not to discourse, But mount you presently, and meete with me Vpon the rising of the Mountaine foote That leads toward Mantua, whether they are fled: Dispatch (sweet Gentlemen) and follow me Thu. Why this it is, to be a peeuish Girle, That flies her fortune when it followes her: Ile after; more to be reueng'd on Eglamoure, Then for the loue of reck-lesse Siluia Pro. And I will follow, more for Siluias loue Then hate of Eglamoure that goes with her Iul. And I will follow, more to crosse that loue Then hate for Siluia, that is gone for loue. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Siluia, Outlawes. 1.Out. Come, come be patient: We must bring you to our Captaine Sil. A thousand more mischances then this one Haue learn'd me how to brooke this patiently 2 Out. Come, bring her away 1 Out. Where is the Gentleman that was with her? 3 Out. Being nimble footed, he hath out-run vs. But Moyses and Valerius follow him: Goe thou with her to the West end of the wood, There is our Captaine: Wee'll follow him that's fled, The Thicket is beset, he cannot scape 1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our Captains caue. Feare not: he beares an honourable minde, And will not vse a woman lawlesly Sil. O Valentine: this I endure for thee. Exeunt. Scoena Quarta. Enter Valentine, Protheus, Siluia, Iulia, Duke, Thurio, Outlawes. Val. How vse doth breed a habit in a man? This shadowy desart, vnfrequented woods I better brooke then flourishing peopled Townes: Here can I sit alone, vn-seene of any, And to the Nightingales complaining Notes Tune my distresses, and record my woes. O thou that dost inhabit in my brest, Leaue not the Mansion so long Tenant-lesse, Lest growing ruinous, the building fall, And leaue no memory of what it was, Repaire me, with thy presence, Siluia: Thou gentle Nimph, cherish thy forlorne swaine. What hallowing, and what stir is this to day? These are my mates, that make their wills their Law, Haue some vnhappy passenger in chace; They loue me well: yet I haue much to doe To keepe them from vnciuill outrages. Withdraw thee Valentine: who's this comes heere? Pro. Madam, this seruice I haue done for you (Though you respect not aught your seruant doth) To hazard life, and reskew you from him, That would haue forc'd your honour, and your loue, Vouchsafe me for my meed, but one faire looke: (A smaller boone then this I cannot beg, And lesse then this, I am sure you cannot giue.) Val. How like a dreame is this? I see, and heare: Loue, lend me patience to forbeare a while Sil. O miserable, vnhappy that I am Pro. Vnhappy were you (Madam) ere I came: But by my comming, I haue made you happy Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most vnhappy Iul. And me, when he approcheth to your presence Sil. Had I beene ceazed by a hungry Lion, I would haue beene a breakfast to the Beast, Rather then haue false Protheus reskue me: Oh heauen be iudge how I loue Valentine, Whose life's as tender to me as my soule, And full as much (for more there cannot be) I doe detest false periur'd Protheus: Therefore be gone, sollicit me no more Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to death Would I not vndergoe, for one calme looke: Oh 'tis the curse in Loue, and still approu'd When women cannot loue, where they're belou'd Sil. When Protheus cannot loue, where he's belou'd: Read ouer Iulia's heart, (thy first best Loue) For whose deare sake, thou didst then rend thy faith Into a thousand oathes; and all those oathes, Descended into periury, to loue me, Thou hast no faith left now, vnlesse thou'dst two, And that's farre worse then none: better haue none Then plurall faith, which is too much by one: Thou Counterfeyt, to thy true friend Pro. In Loue, Who respects friend? Sil. All men but Protheus Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of mouing words Can no way change you to a milder forme; Ile wooe you like a Souldier, at armes end, And loue you 'gainst the nature of Loue: force ye Sil. Oh heauen Pro. Ile force thee yeeld to my desire Val. Ruffian: let goe that rude vnciuill touch, Thou friend of an ill fashion Pro. Valentine Val. Thou co[m]mon friend, that's without faith or loue, For such is a friend now: treacherous man, Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but mine eye Could haue perswaded me: now I dare not say I haue one friend aliue; thou wouldst disproue me: Who should be trusted, when ones right hand Is periured to the bosome? Protheus I am sorry I must neuer trust thee more, But count the world a stranger for thy sake: The priuate wound is deepest: oh time, most accurst. 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst? Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me: Forgiue me Valentine: if hearty sorrow Be a sufficient Ransome for offence, I tender't heere: I doe as truely suffer, As ere I did commit Val. Then I am paid: And once againe, I doe receiue thee honest; Who by Repentance is not satisfied, Is nor of heauen, nor earth; for these are pleas'd: By Penitence th' Eternalls wrath's appeas'd: And that my loue may appeare plaine and free, All that was mine, in Siluia, I giue thee Iul. Oh me vnhappy Pro. Looke to the Boy Val. Why, Boy? Why wag: how now? what's the matter? look vp: speak Iul. O good sir, my master charg'd me to deliuer a ring to Madam Siluia: w (out of my neglect) was neuer done Pro. Where is that ring? boy? Iul. Heere 'tis: this is it Pro. How? let me see. Why this is the ring I gaue to Iulia Iul. Oh, cry you mercy sir, I haue mistooke: This is the ring you sent to Siluia Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? at my depart I gaue this vnto Iulia Iul. And Iulia her selfe did giue it me, And Iulia her selfe hath brought it hither Pro. How? Iulia? Iul. Behold her, that gaue ayme to all thy oathes, And entertain'd 'em deepely in her heart. How oft hast thou with periury cleft the roote? Oh Protheus, let this habit make thee blush. Be thou asham'd that I haue tooke vpon me, Such an immodest rayment; if shame liue In a disguise of loue? It is the lesser blot modesty findes, Women to change their shapes, then men their minds Pro. Then men their minds? tis true: oh heuen, were man But Constant, he were perfect; that one error Fils him with faults: makes him run through all th' sins; Inconstancy falls-off, ere it begins: What is in Siluia's face, but I may spie More fresh in Iulia's, with a constant eye? Val. Come, come: a hand from either: Let me be blest to make this happy close: 'Twere pitty two such friends should be long foes Pro. Beare witnes (heauen) I haue my wish for euer Iul. And I mine Outl. A prize: a prize: a prize Val. Forbeare, forbeare I say: It is my Lord the Duke. Your Grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd, Banished Valentine Duke. Sir Valentine? Thu. Yonder is Siluia: and Siluia's mine Val. Thurio giue backe; or else embrace thy death: Come not within the measure of my wrath: Doe not name Siluia thine: if once againe, Verona shall not hold thee: heere she stands, Take but possession of her, with a Touch: I dare thee, but to breath vpon my Loue Thur. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I: I hold him but a foole that will endanger His Body, for a Girle that loues him not: I claime her not, and therefore she is thine Duke. The more degenerate and base art thou To make such meanes for her, as thou hast done, And leaue her on such slight conditions. Now, by the honor of my Ancestry, I doe applaud thy spirit, Valentine, And thinke thee worthy of an Empresse loue: Know then, I heere forget all former greefes, Cancell all grudge, repeale thee home againe, Plead a new state in thy vn-riual'd merit, To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, Thou art a Gentleman, and well deriu'd, Take thou thy Siluia, for thou hast deseru'd her Val. I thank your Grace, y gift hath made me happy: I now beseech you (for your daughters sake) To grant one Boone that I shall aske of you Duke. I grant it (for thine owne) what ere it be Val. These banish'd men, that I haue kept withall, Are men endu'd with worthy qualities: Forgiue them what they haue committed here, And let them be recall'd from their Exile: They are reformed, ciuill, full of good, And fit for great employment (worthy Lord.) Duke. Thou hast preuaild, I pardon them and thee: Dispose of them, as thou knowst their deserts. Come, let vs goe, we will include all iarres, With Triumphes, Mirth, and rare solemnity Val. And as we walke along, I dare be bold With our discourse, to make your Grace to smile. What thinke you of this Page (my Lord?) Duke. I think the Boy hath grace in him, he blushes Val. I warrant you (my Lord) more grace, then Boy Duke. What meane you by that saying? Val. Please you, Ile tell you, as we passe along, That you will wonder what hath fortuned: Come Protheus, 'tis your pennance, but to heare The story of your Loues discouered. That done, our day of marriage shall be yours, One Feast, one house, one mutuall happinesse. Exeunt. The names of all the Actors. Duke: Father to Siluia. Valentine. Protheus. the two Gentlemen. Anthonio: father to Protheus. Thurio: a foolish riuall to Valentine. Eglamoure: Agent for Siluia in her escape. Host: where Iulia lodges. Outlawes with Valentine. Speed: a clownish seruant to Valentine. Launce: the like to Protheus. Panthion: seruant to Antonio. Iulia: beloued of Protheus. Siluia: beloued of Valentine. Lucetta: waighting-woman to Iulia. FINIS. THE Two Gentlemen of Verona. The Merry Wiues of Windsor Actus primus, Scena prima. Enter Iustice Shallow, Slender, Sir Hugh Euans, Master Page, Falstoffe, Bardolph, Nym, Pistoll, Anne Page, Mistresse Ford, Mistresse Page, Simple. Shallow. Sir Hugh, perswade me not: I will make a StarChamber matter of it, if hee were twenty Sir Iohn Falstoffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow Esquire Slen. In the County of Glocester, Iustice of Peace and Coram Shal. I (Cosen Slender) and Custalorum Slen. I, and Ratolorum too; and a Gentleman borne (Master Parson) who writes himselfe Armigero, in any Bill, Warrant, Quittance, or Obligation, Armigero Shal. I that I doe, and haue done any time these three hundred yeeres Slen. All his successors (gone before him) hath don't: and all his Ancestors (that come after him) may: they may giue the dozen white Luces in their Coate Shal. It is an olde Coate Euans. The dozen white Lowses doe become an old Coat well: it agrees well passant: It is a familiar beast to man, and signifies Loue Shal. The Luse is the fresh-fish, the salt-fish, is an old Coate Slen. I may quarter (Coz) Shal. You may, by marrying Euans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it Shal. Not a whit Euan. Yes per-lady: if he ha's a quarter of your coat, there is but three Skirts for your selfe, in my simple coniectures; but that is all one: if Sir Iohn Falstaffe haue committed disparagements vnto you, I am of the Church and will be glad to do my beneuolence, to make attonements and compremises betweene you Shal. The Councell shall heare it, it is a Riot Euan. It is not meet the Councell heare a Riot: there is no feare of Got in a Riot: The Councell (looke you) shall desire to heare the feare of Got, and not to heare a Riot: take your vizaments in that Shal. Ha; o'my life, if I were yong againe, the sword should end it Euans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is also another deuice in my praine, which peraduenture prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas Page, which is pretty virginity Slen. Mistris Anne Page? she has browne haire, and speakes small like a woman Euans. It is that ferry person for all the orld, as iust as you will desire, and seuen hundred pounds of Moneyes, and Gold, and Siluer, is her Grand-sire vpon his deathsbed, (Got deliuer to a ioyfull resurrections) giue, when she is able to ouertake seuenteene yeeres old. It were a goot motion, if we leaue our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage betweene Master Abraham, and Mistris Anne Page Slen. Did her Grand-sire leaue her seauen hundred pound? Euan. I, and her father is make her a petter penny Slen. I know the young Gentlewoman, she has good gifts Euan. Seuen hundred pounds, and possibilities, is goot gifts Shal. Wel, let vs see honest Mr Page: is Falstaffe there? Euan. Shall I tell you a lye? I doe despise a lyer, as I doe despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true: the Knight Sir Iohn is there, and I beseech you be ruled by your well-willers: I will peat the doore for Mr. Page. What hoa? Got-plesse your house heere Mr.Page. Who's there? Euan. Here is go't's plessing and your friend, and Iustice Shallow, and heere yong Master Slender: that peraduentures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings Mr.Page. I am glad to see your Worships well: I thanke you for my Venison Master Shallow Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good doe it your good heart: I wish'd your Venison better, it was ill killd: how doth good Mistresse Page? and I thank you alwaies with my heart, la: with my heart M.Page. Sir, I thanke you Shal. Sir, I thanke you: by yea, and no I doe M.Pa. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender Slen. How do's your fallow Greyhound, Sir, I heard say he was out-run on Cotsall M.Pa. It could not be iudg'd, Sir Slen. You'll not confesse: you'll not confesse Shal. That he will not, 'tis your fault, 'tis your fault: 'tis a good dogge M.Pa. A Cur, Sir Shal. Sir: hee's a good dog, and a faire dog, can there be more said? he is good, and faire. Is Sir Iohn Falstaffe heere? M.Pa. Sir, hee is within: and I would I could doe a good office betweene you Euan. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speake Shal. He hath wrong'd me (Master Page.) M.Pa. Sir, he doth in some sort confesse it Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that so (M[aster]. Page?) he hath wrong'd me, indeed he hath, at a word he hath: beleeue me, Robert Shallow Esquire, saith he is wronged Ma.Pa. Here comes Sir Iohn Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complaine of me to the King? Shal. Knight, you haue beaten my men, kill'd my deere, and broke open my Lodge Fal. But not kiss'd your Keepers daughter? Shal. Tut, a pin: this shall be answer'd Fal. I will answere it strait, I haue done all this: That is now answer'd Shal. The Councell shall know this Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in councell: you'll be laugh'd at Eu. Pauca verba; (Sir Iohn) good worts Fal. Good worts? good Cabidge; Slender, I broke your head: what matter haue you against me? Slen. Marry sir, I haue matter in my head against you, and against your cony-catching Rascalls, Bardolf, Nym, and Pistoll Bar. You Banbery Cheese Slen. I, it is no matter Pist. How now, Mephostophilus? Slen. I, it is no matter Nym. Slice, I say; pauca, pauca: Slice, that's my humor Slen. Where's Simple my man? can you tell, Cosen? Eua. Peace, I pray you: now let vs vnderstand: there is three Vmpires in this matter, as I vnderstand; that is, Master Page (fidelicet Master Page,) & there is my selfe, (fidelicet my selfe) and the three party is (lastly, and finally) mine Host of the Garter Ma.Pa. We three to hear it, & end it between them Euan. Ferry goo't, I will make a priefe of it in my note-booke, and we wil afterwards orke vpon the cause, with as great discreetly as we can Fal. Pistoll Pist. He heares with eares Euan. The Teuill and his Tam: what phrase is this? he heares with eare? why, it is affectations Fal. Pistoll, did you picke M[aster]. Slenders purse? Slen. I, by these gloues did hee, or I would I might neuer come in mine owne great chamber againe else, of seauen groates in mill-sixpences, and two Edward Shouelboords, that cost me two shilling and two pence a peece of Yead Miller: by these gloues Fal. Is this true, Pistoll? Euan. No, it is false, if it is a picke-purse Pist. Ha, thou mountaine Forreyner: Sir Iohn, and Master mine, I combat challenge of this Latine Bilboe: word of deniall in thy labras here; word of denial; froth, and scum thou liest Slen. By these gloues, then 'twas he Nym. Be auis'd sir, and passe good humours: I will say marry trap with you, if you runne the nut-hooks humor on me, that is the very note of it Slen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it: for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunke, yet I am not altogether an asse Fal. What say you Scarlet, and Iohn? Bar. Why sir, (for my part) I say the Gentleman had drunke himselfe out of his fiue sentences Eu. It is his fiue sences: fie, what the ignorance is Bar. And being fap, sir, was (as they say) casheerd: and so conclusions past the Careires Slen. I, you spake in Latten then to: but 'tis no matter; Ile nere be drunk whilst I liue againe, but in honest, ciuill, godly company for this tricke: if I be drunke, Ile be drunke with those that haue the feare of God, and not with drunken knaues Euan. So got-udge me, that is a vertuous minde Fal. You heare all these matters deni'd, Gentlemen; you heare it Mr.Page. Nay daughter, carry the wine in, wee'll drinke within Slen. Oh heauen: This is Mistresse Anne Page Mr.Page. How now Mistris Ford? Fal. Mistris Ford, by my troth you are very wel met: by your leaue good Mistris Mr.Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome: come, we haue a hot Venison pasty to dinner; Come gentlemen, I hope we shall drinke downe all vnkindnesse Slen. I had rather then forty shillings I had my booke of Songs and Sonnets heere: How now Simple, where haue you beene? I must wait on my selfe, must I? you haue not the booke of Riddles about you, haue you? Sim. Booke of Riddles? why did you not lend it to Alice Short-cake vpon Alhallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas Shal. Come Coz, come Coz, we stay for you: a word with you Coz: marry this, Coz: there is as 'twere a tender, a kinde of tender, made a farre-off by Sir Hugh here: doe you vnderstand me? Slen. I Sir, you shall finde me reasonable; if it be so, I shall doe that that is reason Shal. Nay, but vnderstand me Slen. So I doe Sir Euan. Giue eare to his motions; (Mr. Slender) I will description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it Slen. Nay, I will doe as my Cozen Shallow saies: I pray you pardon me, he's a Iustice of Peace in his Countrie, simple though I stand here Euan. But that is not the question: the question is concerning your marriage Shal. I, there's the point Sir Eu. Marry is it: the very point of it, to Mi[stris]. An Page Slen. Why if it be so; I will marry her vpon any reasonable demands Eu. But can you affection the 'oman, let vs command to know that of your mouth, or of your lips: for diuers Philosophers hold, that the lips is parcell of the mouth: therfore precisely, ca[n] you carry your good wil to y maid? Sh. Cosen Abraham Slender, can you loue her? Slen. I hope sir, I will do as it shall become one that would doe reason Eu. Nay, got's Lords, and his Ladies, you must speake possitable, if you can carry-her your desires towards her Shal. That you must: Will you, (vpon good dowry) marry her? Slen. I will doe a greater thing then that, vpon your request (Cosen) in any reason Shal. Nay conceiue me, conceiue mee, (sweet Coz): What I doe is to pleasure you (Coz:) can you loue the maid? Slen. I will marry her (Sir) at your request; but if there bee no great loue in the beginning, yet Heauen may decrease it vpon better acquaintance, when wee are married, and haue more occasion to know one another: I hope vpon familiarity will grow more content: but if you say mary-her, I will mary-her, that I am freely dissolued, and dissolutely Eu. It is a fery discretion-answere; saue the fall is in the 'ord, dissolutely: the ort is (according to our meaning) resolutely: his meaning is good Sh. I: I thinke my Cosen meant well Sl. I, or else I would I might be hang'd (la.) Sh. Here comes faire Mistris Anne; would I were yong for your sake, Mistris Anne An. The dinner is on the Table, my Father desires your worships company Sh. I will wait on him, (faire Mistris Anne.) Eu. Od's plessed-wil: I wil not be abse[n]ce at the grace An. Wil't please your worship to come in, Sir? Sl. No, I thank you forsooth, hartely; I am very well An. The dinner attends you, Sir Sl. I am not a-hungry, I thanke you, forsooth: goe, Sirha, for all you are my man, goe wait vpon my Cosen Shallow: a Iustice of peace sometime may be beholding to his friend, for a Man; I keepe but three Men, and a Boy yet, till my Mother be dead: but what though, yet I liue like a poore Gentleman borne An. I may not goe in without your worship: they will not sit till you come Sl. I' faith, ile eate nothing: I thanke you as much as though I did An. I pray you Sir walke in Sl. I had rather walke here (I thanke you) I bruiz'd my shin th' other day, with playing at Sword and Dagger with a Master of Fence (three veneys for a dish of stew'd Prunes) and by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meate since. Why doe your dogs barke so? be there Beares ith' Towne? An. I thinke there are, Sir, I heard them talk'd of Sl. I loue the sport well, but I shall as soone quarrell at it, as any man in England: you are afraid if you see the Beare loose, are you not? An. I indeede Sir Sl. That's meate and drinke to me now: I haue seene Saskerson loose, twenty times, and haue taken him by the Chaine: but (I warrant you) the women haue so cride and shrekt at it, that it past: But women indeede, cannot abide 'em, they are very ill-fauour'd rough things Ma.Pa. Come, gentle M[aster]. Slender, come; we stay for you Sl. Ile eate nothing, I thanke you Sir Ma.Pa. By cocke and pie, you shall not choose, Sir: come, come Sl. Nay, pray you lead the way Ma.Pa. Come on, Sir Sl. Mistris Anne: your selfe shall goe first An. Not I Sir, pray you keepe on Sl. Truely I will not goe first: truely-la: I will not doe you that wrong An. I pray you Sir Sl. Ile rather be vnmannerly, then troublesome: you doe your selfe wrong indeede-la. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Euans, and Simple. Eu. Go your waies, and aske of Doctor Caius house, which is the way; and there dwels one Mistris Quickly; which is in the manner of his Nurse; or his dry-Nurse; or his Cooke; or his Laundry; his Washer, and his Ringer Si. Well Sir Eu. Nay, it is petter yet: giue her this letter; for it is a 'oman that altogeathers acquainta[n]ce with Mistris Anne Page; and the Letter is to desire, and require her to solicite your Masters desires, to Mistris Anne Page: I pray you be gon: I will make an end of my dinner; ther's Pippins and Cheese to come. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Falstaffe, Host, Bardolfe, Nym, Pistoll, Page. Fal. Mine Host of the Garter? Ho. What saies my Bully Rooke? speake schollerly, and wisely Fal. Truely mine Host; I must turne away some of my followers Ho. Discard, (bully Hercules) casheere; let them wag; trot, trot Fal. I sit at ten pounds a weeke Ho. Thou'rt an Emperor (Cesar, Keiser and Pheazar) I will entertaine Bardolfe: he shall draw; he shall tap; said I well (bully Hector?) Fa. Doe so (good mine Host.) Ho. I haue spoke; let him follow; let me see thee froth, and liue: I am at a word: follow Fal. Bardolfe, follow him: a Tapster is a good trade: an old Cloake, makes a new Ierkin: a wither'd Seruingman, a fresh Tapster: goe, adew Ba. It is a life that I haue desir'd: I will thriue Pist. O base hungarian wight: wilt y the spigot wield Ni. He was gotten in drink: is not the humor co[n]ceited? Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this Tinderbox: his Thefts were too open: his filching was like an vnskilfull Singer, he kept not time Ni. The good humor is to steale at a minutes rest Pist. Conuay: the wise it call: Steale? foh: a fico for the phrase Fal. Well sirs, I am almost out at heeles Pist. Why then let Kibes ensue Fal. There is no remedy: I must conicatch, I must shift Pist. Yong Rauens must haue foode Fal. Which of you know Ford of this Towne? Pist. I ken the wight: he is of substance good Fal. My honest Lads, I will tell you what I am about Pist. Two yards, and more Fal. No quips now Pistoll: (Indeede I am in the waste two yards about: but I am now about no waste: I am about thrift) briefely: I doe meane to make loue to Fords wife: I spie entertainment in her: shee discourses: shee carues: she giues the leere of inuitation: I can construe the action of her familier stile, & the hardest voice of her behauior (to be english'd rightly) is, I am Sir Iohn Falstafs Pist. He hath studied her will; and translated her will: out of honesty, into English Ni. The Anchor is deepe: will that humor passe? Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husbands Purse: he hath a legend of Angels Pist. As many diuels entertaine: and to her Boy say I Ni. The humor rises: it is good: humor me the angels Fal. I haue writ me here a letter to her: & here another to Pages wife, who euen now gaue mee good eyes too; examind my parts with most iudicious illiads: sometimes the beame of her view, guilded my foote: sometimes my portly belly Pist. Then did the Sun on dung-hill shine Ni. I thanke thee for that humour Fal. O she did so course o're my exteriors with such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye, did seeme to scorch me vp like a burning-glasse: here's another letter to her: She beares the Purse too: She is a Region in Guiana: all gold, and bountie: I will be Cheaters to them both, and they shall be Exchequers to mee: they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both: Goe, beare thou this Letter to Mistris Page; and thou this to Mistris Ford: we will thriue (Lads) we will thriue Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, And by my side weare Steele? then Lucifer take all Ni. I will run no base humor: here take the humor-Letter; I will keepe the hauior of reputation Fal. Hold Sirha, beare you these Letters tightly, Saile like my Pinnasse to these golden shores. Rogues, hence, auaunt, vanish like haile-stones; goe, Trudge; plod away ith' hoofe: seeke shelter, packe: Falstaffe will learne the honor of the age, French-thrift, you Rogues, my selfe, and skirted Page Pist. Let Vultures gripe thy guts: for gourd, and Fullam holds: & high and low beguiles the rich & poore, Tester ile haue in pouch when thou shalt lacke, Base Phrygian Turke Ni. I haue opperations, Which be humors of reuenge Pist. Wilt thou reuenge? Ni. By Welkin, and her Star Pist. With wit, or Steele? Ni. With both the humors, I: I will discusse the humour of this Loue to Ford Pist. And I to Page shall eke vnfold How Falstaffe (varlet vile) His Doue will proue; his gold will hold, And his soft couch defile Ni. My humour shall not coole: I will incense Ford to deale with poyson: I will possesse him with yallownesse, for the reuolt of mine is dangerous: that is my true humour Pist. Thou art the Mars of Malecontents: I second thee: troope on. Exeunt. Scoena Quarta. Enter Mistris Quickly, Simple, Iohn Rugby, Doctor, Caius, Fenton. Qu. What, Iohn Rugby, I pray thee goe to the Casement, and see if you can see my Master, Master Docter Caius comming: if he doe (I' faith) and finde any body in the house; here will be an old abusing of Gods patience, and the Kings English Ru. Ile goe watch Qu. Goe, and we'll haue a posset for't soone at night, (in faith) at the latter end of a Sea-cole-fire: An honest, willing, kinde fellow, as euer seruant shall come in house withall: and I warrant you, no tel-tale, nor no breedebate: his worst fault is, that he is giuen to prayer; hee is something peeuish that way: but no body but has his fault: but let that passe. Peter Simple, you say your name is? Si. I: for fault of a better Qu. And Master Slender's your Master? Si. I forsooth Qu. Do's he not weare a great round Beard, like a Glouers pairing-knife? Si. No forsooth: he hath but a little wee-face; with a little yellow Beard: a Caine colourd Beard Qu. A softly-sprighted man, is he not? Si. I forsooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands, as any is betweene this and his head: he hath fought with a Warrener Qu. How say you: oh, I should remember him: do's he not hold vp his head (as it were?) and strut in his gate? Si. Yes indeede do's he Qu. Well, heauen send Anne Page, no worse fortune: Tell Master Parson Euans, I will doe what I can for your Master: Anne is a good girle, and I wish - Ru. Out alas: here comes my Master Qu. We shall all be shent: Run in here, good young man: goe into this Closset: he will not stay long: what Iohn Rugby? Iohn: what Iohn I say? goe Iohn, goe enquire for my Master, I doubt he be not well, that hee comes not home: (and downe, downe, adowne'a. &c Ca. Vat is you sing? I doe not like des-toyes: pray you goe and vetch me in my Closset, vnboyteere verd; a Box, a greene-a-Box: do intend vat I speake? a greene-a-Box Qu. I forsooth ile fetch it you: I am glad hee went not in himselfe: if he had found the yong man he would haue bin horne-mad Ca. Fe, fe, fe, fe, mai foy, il fait for ehando, Ie man voi a le Court la grand affaires Qu. Is it this Sir? Ca. Ouy mette le au mon pocket, depeech quickly: Vere is dat knaue Rugby? Qu. What Iohn Rugby, Iohn? Ru. Here Sir Ca. You are Iohn Rugby, and you are Iacke Rugby: Come, take-a-your Rapier, and come after my heele to the Court Ru. 'Tis ready Sir, here in the Porch Ca. By my trot: I tarry too long: od's-me: que ay ie oublie: dere is some Simples in my Closset, dat I vill not for the varld I shall leaue behinde Qu. Ay-me, he'll finde the yong man there, & be mad Ca. O Diable, Diable: vat is in my Closset? Villanie, Laroone: Rugby, my Rapier Qu. Good Master be content Ca. Wherefore shall I be content-a? Qu. The yong man is an honest man Ca. What shall de honest man do in my Closset: dere is no honest man dat shall come in my Closset Qu. I beseech you be not so flegmaticke: heare the truth of it. He came of an errand to mee, from Parson Hugh Ca. Vell Si. I forsooth: to desire her to - Qu. Peace, I pray you Ca. Peace-a-your tongue: speake-a-your Tale Si. To desire this honest Gentlewoman (your Maid) to speake a good word to Mistris Anne Page, for my Master in the way of Marriage Qu. This is all indeede-la: but ile nere put my finger in the fire, and neede not Ca. Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, ballow mee some paper: tarry you a littell-a-while Qui. I am glad he is so quiet: if he had bin throughly moued, you should haue heard him so loud, and so melancholly: but notwithstanding man, Ile doe yoe your Master what good I can: and the very yea, & the no is, y French Doctor my Master, (I may call him my Master, looke you, for I keepe his house; and I wash, ring, brew, bake, scowre, dresse meat and drinke, make the beds, and doe all my selfe.) Simp. 'Tis a great charge to come vnder one bodies hand Qui. Are you auis'd o'that? you shall finde it a great charge: and to be vp early, and down late: but notwithstanding, (to tell you in your eare, I wold haue no words of it) my Master himselfe is in loue with Mistris Anne Page: but notwithstanding that I know Ans mind, that's neither heere nor there Caius. You, Iack'Nape: giue-'a this Letter to Sir Hugh, by gar it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in de Parke, and I will teach a scuruy Iackanape Priest to meddle, or make:- you may be gon: it is not good you tarry here: by gar I will cut all his two stones: by gar, he shall not haue a stone to throw at his dogge Qui. Alas: he speakes but for his friend Caius. It is no matter 'a ver dat: do not you tell-a-me dat I shall haue Anne Page for my selfe? by gar, I vill kill de Iack-Priest: and I haue appointed mine Host of de Iarteer to measure our weapon: by gar, I wil my selfe haue Anne Page Qui. Sir, the maid loues you, and all shall bee well: We must giue folkes leaue to prate: what the goodier Caius. Rugby, come to the Court with me: by gar, if I haue not Anne Page, I shall turne your head out of my dore: follow my heeles, Rugby Qui. You shall haue An-fooles head of your owne: No, I know Ans mind for that: neuer a woman in Windsor knowes more of Ans minde then I doe, nor can doe more then I doe with her, I thanke heauen Fenton. Who's with in there, hoa? Qui. Who's there, I troa? Come neere the house I pray you Fen. How now (good woman) how dost thou? Qui. The better that it pleases your good Worship to aske? Fen. What newes? how do's pretty Mistris Anne? Qui. In truth Sir, and shee is pretty, and honest, and gentle, and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way, I praise heauen for it Fen. Shall I doe any good thinkst thou? shall I not loose my suit? Qui. Troth Sir, all is in his hands aboue: but notwithstanding (Master Fenton) Ile be sworne on a booke shee loues you: haue not your Worship a wart aboue your eye? Fen. Yes marry haue I, what of that? Qui. Wel, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such another Nan; (but (I detest) an honest maid as euer broke bread: wee had an howres talke of that wart; I shall neuer laugh but in that maids company: but (indeed) shee is giuen too much to Allicholy and musing: but for you - well - goe too - Fen. Well: I shall see her to day: hold, there's money for thee: Let mee haue thy voice in my behalfe: if thou seest her before me, commend me. - Qui. Will I? I faith that wee will: And I will tell your Worship more of the Wart, the next time we haue confidence, and of other wooers Fen. Well, fare-well, I am in great haste now Qui. Fare-well to your Worship: truely an honest Gentleman: but Anne loues him not: for I know Ans minde as well as another do's: out vpon't: what haue I forgot. Enter. Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima. Enter Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Master Page, Master Ford, Pistoll, Nim, Quickly, Host, Shallow. Mist.Page. What, haue scap'd Loue-letters in the holly-day-time of my beauty, and am I now a subiect for them? let me see? Aske me no reason why I loue you, for though Loue vse Reason for his precisian, hee admits him not for his Counsailour: you are not yong, no more am I: goe to then, there's simpathie: you are merry, so am I: ha, ha, then there's more simpathie: you loue sacke, and so do I: would you desire better simpathie? Let it suffice thee (Mistris Page) at the least if the Loue of Souldier can suffice, that I loue thee: I will not say pitty mee, 'tis not a Souldier-like phrase; but I say, loue me: By me, thine owne true Knight, by day or night: Or any kinde of light, with all his might, For thee to fight. Iohn Falstaffe. What a Herod of Iurie is this? O wicked, wicked world: One that is well-nye worne to peeces with age To show himselfe a yong Gallant? What an vnwaied Behauiour hath this Flemish drunkard pickt (with The Deuills name) out of my conuersation, that he dares In this manner assay me? why, hee hath not beene thrice In my Company: what should I say to him? I was then Frugall of my mirth: (heauen forgiue mee:) why Ile Exhibit a Bill in the Parliament for the putting downe of men: how shall I be reueng'd on him? for reueng'd I will be? as sure as his guts are made of puddings Mis.Ford. Mistris Page, trust me, I was going to your house Mis.Page. And trust me, I was comming to you: you looke very ill Mis.Ford. Nay Ile nere beleeue that; I haue to shew to the contrary Mis.Page. 'Faith but you doe in my minde Mis.Ford. Well: I doe then: yet I say, I could shew you to the contrary: O Mistris Page, giue mee some counsaile Mis.Page. What's the matter, woman? Mi.Ford. O woman: if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour Mi.Page. Hang the trifle (woman) take the honour: what is it? dispence with trifles: what is it? Mi.Ford. If I would but goe to hell, for an eternall moment, or so: I could be knighted Mi.Page. What thou liest? Sir Alice Ford? these Knights will hacke, and so thou shouldst not alter the article of thy Gentry Mi.Ford. Wee burne day-light: heere, read, read: perceiue how I might bee knighted, I shall thinke the worse of fat men, as long as I haue an eye to make difference of mens liking: and yet hee would not sweare: praise womens modesty: and gaue such orderly and welbehaued reproofe to al vncomelinesse, that I would haue sworne his disposition would haue gone to the truth of his words: but they doe no more adhere and keep place together, then the hundred Psalms to the tune of Greensleeues: What tempest (I troa) threw this Whale, (with so many Tuns of oyle in his belly) a'shoare at Windsor? How shall I bee reuenged on him? I thinke the best way were, to entertaine him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust haue melted him in his owne greace: Did you euer heare the like? Mis.Page. Letter for letter; but that the name of Page and Ford differs: to thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, heere's the twyn-brother of thy Letter: but let thine inherit first, for I protest mine neuer shall: I warrant he hath a thousand of these Letters, writ with blancke-space for different names (sure more): and these are of the second edition: hee will print them out of doubt: for he cares not what hee puts into the presse, when he would put vs two: I had rather be a Giantesse, and lye vnder Mount Pelion: Well; I will find you twentie lasciuious Turtles ere one chaste man Mis.Ford. Why this is the very same: the very hand: the very words: what doth he thinke of vs? Mis.Page. Nay I know not: it makes me almost readie to wrangle with mine owne honesty: Ile entertaine my selfe like one that I am not acquainted withall: for sure vnlesse hee know some straine in mee, that I know not my selfe, hee would neuer haue boorded me in this furie Mi.Ford. Boording, call you it? Ile bee sure to keepe him aboue decke Mi.Page. So will I: if hee come vnder my hatches, Ile neuer to Sea againe: Let's bee reueng'd on him: let's appoint him a meeting: giue him a show of comfort in his Suit, and lead him on with a fine baited delay, till hee hath pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garter Mi.Ford. Nay, I wil consent to act any villany against him, that may not sully the charinesse of our honesty: oh that my husband saw this Letter: it would giue eternall food to his iealousie Mis.Page. Why look where he comes; and my good man too: hee's as farre from iealousie, as I am from giuing him cause, and that (I hope) is an vnmeasurable distance Mis.Ford. You are the happier woman Mis.Page. Let's consult together against this greasie Knight: Come hither Ford. Well: I hope, it be not so Pist. Hope is a curtall-dog in some affaires: Sir Iohn affects thy wife Ford. Why sir, my wife is not young Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich & poor, both yong and old, one with another (Ford) he loues the Gally-mawfry (Ford) perpend Ford. Loue my wife? Pist. With liuer, burning hot: preuent: Or goe thou like Sir Acteon he, with Ring-wood at thy heeles: O, odious is the name Ford. What name Sir? Pist. The horne I say: Farewell: Take heed, haue open eye, for theeues doe foot by night. Take heed, ere sommer comes, or Cuckoo-birds do sing. Away sir Corporall Nim: Beleeue it (Page) he speakes sence Ford. I will be patient: I will find out this Nim. And this is true: I like not the humor of lying: hee hath wronged mee in some humors: I should haue borne the humour'd Letter to her: but I haue a sword: and it shall bite vpon my necessitie: he loues your wife; There's the short and the long: My name is Corporall Nim: I speak, and I auouch; 'tis true: my name is Nim: and Falstaffe loues your wife: adieu, I loue not the humour of bread and cheese: adieu Page. The humour of it (quoth 'a?) heere's a fellow frights English out of his wits Ford. I will seeke out Falstaffe Page. I neuer heard such a drawling-affecting rogue Ford. If I doe finde it: well Page. I will not beleeue such a Cataian, though the Priest o' th' Towne commended him for a true man Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: well Page. How now Meg? Mist.Page. Whether goe you (George?) harke you Mis.Ford. How now (sweet Frank) why art thou melancholy? Ford. I melancholy? I am not melancholy: Get you home: goe Mis.Ford. Faith, thou hast some crochets in thy head, Now: will you goe, Mistris Page? Mis.Page. Haue with you: you'll come to dinner George? Looke who comes yonder: shee shall bee our Messenger to this paltrie Knight Mis.Ford. Trust me, I thought on her: shee'll fit it Mis.Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne? Qui. I forsooth: and I pray how do's good Mistresse Anne? Mis.Page. Go in with vs and see: we haue an houres talke with you Page. How now Master Ford? For. You heard what this knaue told me, did you not? Page. Yes, and you heard what the other told me? Ford. Doe you thinke there is truth in them? Pag. Hang 'em slaues: I doe not thinke the Knight would offer it: But these that accuse him in his intent towards our wiues, are a yoake of his discarded men: very rogues, now they be out of seruice Ford. Were they his men? Page. Marry were they Ford. I like it neuer the beter for that, Do's he lye at the Garter? Page. I marry do's he: if hee should intend this voyage toward my wife, I would turne her loose to him; and what hee gets more of her, then sharpe words, let it lye on my head Ford. I doe not misdoubt my wife: but I would bee loath to turne them together: a man may be too confident: I would haue nothing lye on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied Page. Looke where my ranting-Host of the Garter comes: there is eyther liquor in his pate, or mony in his purse, when hee lookes so merrily: How now mine Host? Host. How now Bully-Rooke: thou'rt a Gentleman Caueleiro Iustice, I say Shal. I follow, (mine Host) I follow: Good-euen, and twenty (good Master Page.) Master Page, wil you go with vs? we haue sport in hand Host. Tell him Caueleiro-Iustice: tell him Bully-Rooke Shall. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, betweene Sir Hugh the Welch Priest, and Caius the French Doctor Ford. Good mine Host o'th' Garter: a word with you Host. What saist thou, my Bully-Rooke? Shal. Will you goe with vs to behold it? My merry Host hath had the measuring of their weapons; and (I thinke) hath appointed them contrary places: for (beleeue mee) I heare the Parson is no Iester: harke, I will tell you what our sport shall be Host. Hast thou no suit against my Knight? my guest-Caualeire? Shal. None, I protest: but Ile giue you a pottle of burn'd sacke, to giue me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Broome: onely for a iest Host. My hand, (Bully:) thou shalt haue egresse and regresse, (said I well?) and thy name shall be Broome. It is a merry Knight: will you goe An-heires? Shal. Haue with you mine Host Page. I haue heard the French-man hath good skill in his Rapier Shal. Tut sir: I could haue told you more: In these times you stand on distance: your Passes, Stoccado's, and I know not what: 'tis the heart (Master Page) 'tis heere, 'tis heere: I haue seene the time, with my long-sword, I would haue made you fowre tall fellowes skippe like Rattes Host. Heere boyes, heere, heere: shall we wag? Page. Haue with you: I had rather heare them scold, then fight Ford. Though Page be a secure foole, and stands so firmely on his wiues frailty; yet, I cannot put-off my opinion so easily: she was in his company at Pages house: and what they made there, I know not. Well, I wil looke further into't, and I haue a disguise, to sound Falstaffe; if I finde her honest, I loose not my labor: if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed. Exeunt. Scoena Secunda. Enter Falstaffe, Pistoll, Robin, Quickly, Bardolffe, Ford. Fal. I will not lend thee a penny Pist. Why then the world's mine Oyster, which I, with sword will open Fal. Not a penny: I haue beene content (Sir,) you should lay my countenance to pawne: I haue grated vpon my good friends for three Repreeues for you, and your Coach-fellow Nim; or else you had look'd through the grate, like a Geminy of Baboones: I am damn'd in hell, for swearing to Gentlemen my friends, you were good Souldiers, and tall-fellowes. And when Mistresse Briget lost the handle of her Fan, I took't vpon mine honour thou hadst it not Pist. Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteene pence? Fal. Reason, you roague, reason: thinkst thou Ile endanger my soule, gratis? at a word, hang no more about mee, I am no gibbet for you: goe, a short knife, and a throng, to your Mannor of Pickt-hatch: goe, you'll not beare a Letter for mee you roague? you stand vpon your honor: why, (thou vnconfinable basenesse) it is as much as I can doe to keepe the termes of my honor precise: I, I, I my selfe sometimes, leauing the feare of heauen on the left hand, and hiding mine honor in my necessity, am faine to shufflle: to hedge, and to lurch, and yet, you Rogue, will en-sconce your raggs; your Cat-a-Mountaine-lookes, your red-lattice phrases, and your boldbeating-oathes, vnder the shelter of your honor? you will not doe it? you? Pist. I doe relent: what would thou more of man? Robin. Sir, here's a woman would speake with you Fal. Let her approach Qui. Giue your worship good morrow Fal. Good-morrow, good-wife Qui. Not so, and't please your worship Fal. Good maid then Qui. Ile be sworne, As my mother was the first houre I was borne Fal. I doe beleeue the swearer; what with me? Qui. Shall I vouch-safe your worship a word, or two? Fal. Two thousand (faire woman) and ile vouchsafe thee the hearing Qui. There is one Mistresse Ford, (Sir) I pray come a little neerer this waies: I my selfe dwell with M[aster]. Doctor Caius: Fal. Well, on; Mistresse Ford, you say Qui. Your worship saies very true: I pray your worship come a little neerer this waies Fal. I warrant thee, no-bodie heares: mine owne people, mine owne people Qui. Are they so? heauen-blesse them, and make them his Seruants Fal. Well; Mistresse Ford, what of her? Qui. Why, Sir; shee's a good-creature; Lord, Lord, your Worship's a wanton: well: heauen forgiue you, and all of vs, I pray - Fal. Mistresse Ford: come, Mistresse Ford Qui. Marry this is the short, and the long of it: you haue brought her into such a Canaries, as 'tis wonderfull: the best Courtier of them all (when the Court lay at Windsor) could neuer haue brought her to such a Canarie: yet there has beene Knights, and Lords, and Gentlemen, with their Coaches; I warrant you Coach after Coach, letter after letter, gift after gift, smelling so sweetly; all Muske, and so rushling, I warrant you, in silke and golde, and in such alligant termes, and in such wine and suger of the best, and the fairest, that would haue wonne any womans heart: and I warrant you, they could neuer get an eye-winke of her: I had my selfe twentie Angels giuen me this morning, but I defie all Angels (in any such sort, as they say) but in the way of honesty: and I warrant you, they could neuer get her so much as sippe on a cup with the prowdest of them all, and yet there has beene Earles: nay, (which is more) Pentioners, but I warrant you all is one with her Fal. But what saies shee to mee? be briefe my good sheeMercurie Qui. Marry, she hath receiu'd your Letter: for the which she thankes you a thousand times; and she giues you to notifie, that her husband will be absence from his house, betweene ten and eleuen Fal. Ten, and eleuen Qui. I, forsooth: and then you may come and see the picture (she sayes) that you wot of: Master Ford her husband will be from home: alas, the sweet woman leades an ill life with him: hee's a very iealousie-man; she leads a very frampold life with him, (good hart.) Fal. Ten, and eleuen. Woman, commend me to her, I will not faile her Qui. Why, you say well: But I haue another messenger to your worship: Mistresse Page hath her heartie commendations to you to: and let mee tell you in your eare, shee's as fartuous a ciuill modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not misse you morning nor euening prayer, as any is in Windsor, who ere bee the other: and shee bade me tell your worship, that her husband is seldome from home, but she hopes there will come a time. I neuer knew a woman so doate vpon a man; surely I thinke you haue charmes, la: yes in truth Fal. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I haue no other charmes Qui. Blessing on your heart for't Fal. But I pray thee tell me this: has Fords wife, and Pages wife acquainted each other, how they loue me? Qui. That were a iest indeed: they haue not so little grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed: But Mistris Page would desire you to send her your little Page of al loues: her husband has a maruellous infectio[n] to the little Page: and truely Master Page is an honest man: neuer a wife in Windsor leades a better life then she do's: doe what shee will, say what she will, take all, pay all, goe to bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as she will: and truly she deserues it; for if there be a kinde woman in Windsor, she is one: you must send her your Page, no remedie Fal. Why, I will Qu. Nay, but doe so then, and looke you, hee may come and goe betweene you both: and in any case haue a nay-word, that you may know one anothers minde, and the Boy neuer neede to vnderstand any thing; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickednes: olde folkes you know, haue discretion, as they say, and know the world Fal. Farethee-well, commend mee to them both: there's my purse, I am yet thy debter: Boy, goe along with this woman, this newes distracts me Pist. This Puncke is one of Cupids Carriers, Clap on more sailes, pursue: vp with your sights: Giue fire: she is my prize, or Ocean whelme them all Fal. Saist thou so (old Iacke) go thy waies: Ile make more of thy olde body then I haue done: will they yet looke after thee? wilt thou after the expence of so much money, be now a gainer? good Body, I thanke thee: let them say 'tis grossely done, so it bee fairely done, no matter Bar. Sir Iohn, there's one Master Broome below would faine speake with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath sent your worship a mornings draught of Sacke Fal. Broome is his name? Bar. I Sir Fal. Call him in: such Broomes are welcome to mee, that ore'flowes such liquor: ah ha, Mistresse Ford and Mistresse Page, haue I encompass'd you? goe to, via Ford. 'Blesse you sir Fal. And you sir: would you speake with me? Ford. I make bold, to presse, with so little preparation vpon you Fal. You'r welcome, what's your will? giue vs leaue Drawer Ford. Sir, I am a Gentleman that haue spent much, my name is Broome Fal. Good Master Broome, I desire more acquaintance of you Ford. Good Sir Iohn, I sue for yours: not to charge you, for I must let you vnderstand, I thinke my selfe in better plight for a Lender, then you are: the which hath something emboldned me to this vnseason'd intrusion: for they say, if money goe before, all waies doe lye open Fal. Money is a good Souldier (Sir) and will on Ford. Troth, and I haue a bag of money heere troubles me: if you will helpe to beare it (Sir Iohn) take all, or halfe, for easing me of the carriage Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserue to bee your Porter Ford. I will tell you sir, if you will giue mee the hearing Fal. Speake (good Master Broome) I shall be glad to be your Seruant Ford. Sir, I heare you are a Scholler: (I will be briefe with you) and you haue been a man long knowne to me, though I had neuer so good means as desire, to make my selfe acquainted with you. I shall discouer a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine owne imperfection: but (good Sir Iohn) as you haue one eye vpon my follies, as you heare them vnfolded, turne another into the Register of your owne, that I may passe with a reproofe the easier, sith you your selfe know how easie it is to be such an offender Fal. Very well Sir, proceed Ford. There is a Gentlewoman in this Towne, her husbands name is Ford Fal. Well Sir Ford. I haue long lou'd her, and I protest to you, bestowed much on her: followed her with a doating obseruance: Ingross'd opportunities to meete her: fee'd euery slight occasion that could but nigardly giue mee sight of her: not only bought many presents to giue her, but haue giuen largely to many, to know what shee would haue giuen: briefly, I haue pursu'd her, as Loue hath pursued mee, which hath beene on the wing of all occasions: but whatsoeuer I haue merited, either in my minde, or in my meanes, meede I am sure I haue receiued none, vnlesse Experience be a Iewell, that I haue purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath taught mee to say this, ``Loue like a shadow flies, when substance Loue pursues, ``Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues Fal. Haue you receiu'd no promise of satisfaction at her hands? Ford. Neuer Fal. Haue you importun'd her to such a purpose? Ford. Neuer Fal. Of what qualitie was your loue then? Ford. Like a fair house, built on another mans ground, so that I haue lost my edifice, by mistaking the place, where I erected it Fal. To what purpose haue you vnfolded this to me? For. When I haue told you that, I haue told you all: Some say, that though she appeare honest to mee, yet in other places shee enlargeth her mirth so farre, that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now (Sir Iohn) here is the heart of my purpose: you are a gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authenticke in your place and person, generally allow'd for your many war-like, court-like, and learned preparations Fal. O Sir Ford. Beleeue it, for you know it: there is money, spend it, spend it, spend more; spend all I haue, onely giue me so much of your time in enchange of it, as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Fords wife: vse your Art of wooing; win her to consent to you: if any man may, you may as soone as any Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency of your affection that I should win what you would enioy? Methinkes you prescribe to your selfe very preposterously Ford. O, vnderstand my drift: she dwells so securely on the excellency of her honor, that the folly of my soule dares not present it selfe: shee is too bright to be look'd against. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand; my desires had instance and argument to commend themselues, I could driue her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are tootoo strongly embattaild against me: what say you too't, Sir Iohn? Fal. Master Broome, I will first make bold with your money: next, giue mee your hand: and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enioy Fords wife Ford. O good Sir Fal. I say you shall Ford. Want no money (Sir Iohn) you shall want none Fal. Want no Mistresse Ford (Master Broome) you shall want none: I shall be with her (I may tell you) by her owne appointment, euen as you came in to me, her assistant, or goe-betweene, parted from me: I say I shall be with her betweene ten and eleuen: for at that time the iealious-rascally-knaue her husband will be forth: come you to me at night, you shall know how I speed Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance: do you know Ford Sir? Fal. Hang him (poore Cuckoldly knaue) I know him not: yet I wrong him to call him poore: They say the iealous wittolly-knaue hath masses of money, for the which his wife seemes to me well-fauourd: I will vse her as the key of the Cuckoldly-rogues Coffer, & ther's my haruest-home Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might auoid him, if you saw him Fal. Hang him, mechanicall-salt-butter rogue; I wil stare him out of his wits: I will awe-him with my cudgell: it shall hang like a Meteor ore the Cuckolds horns: Master Broome, thou shalt know, I will predominate ouer the pezant, and thou shalt lye with his wife. Come to me soone at night: Ford's a knaue, and I will aggrauate his stile: thou (Master Broome) shalt know him for knaue, and Cuckold. Come to me soone at night Ford. What a damn'd Epicurian-Rascall is this? my heart is ready to cracke with impatience: who saies this is improuident iealousie? my wife hath sent to him, the howre is fixt, the match is made: would any man haue thought this? see the hell of hauing a false woman: my bed shall be abus'd, my Coffers ransack'd, my reputation gnawne at, and I shall not onely receiue this villanous wrong, but stand vnder the adoption of abhominable termes, and by him that does mee this wrong: Termes, names: Amaimon sounds well: Lucifer, well: Barbason, well: yet they are Diuels additions, the names of fiends: But Cuckold, Wittoll, Cuckold? the Diuell himselfe hath not such a name. Page is an Asse, a secure Asse; hee will trust his wife, hee will not be iealous: I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my Cheese, an Irish-man with my Aqua-vitae-bottle, or a Theefe to walke my ambling gelding, then my wife with her selfe. Then she plots, then shee ruminates, then shee deuises: and what they thinke in their hearts they may effect; they will breake their hearts but they will effect. Heauen bee prais'd for my iealousie: eleuen o' clocke the howre, I will preuent this, detect my wife, bee reueng'd on Falstaffe, and laugh at Page. I will about it, better three houres too soone, then a mynute too late: fie, fie, fie: Cuckold, Cuckold, Cuckold. Enter. Scena Tertia. Enter Caius, Rugby, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host. Caius. Iacke Rugby Rug. Sir Caius. Vat is the clocke, Iack Rug. 'Tis past the howre (Sir) that Sir Hugh promis'd to meet Cai. By gar, he has saue his soule, dat he is no-come: hee has pray his Pible well, dat he is no-come: by gar (Iack Rugby) he is dead already, if he be come Rug. Hee is wise Sir: hee knew your worship would kill him if he came Cai. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill kill him: take your Rapier, (Iacke) I vill tell you how I vill kill him Rug. Alas sir, I cannot fence Cai. Villaine, take your Rapier Rug. Forbeare: heer's company Host. 'Blesse thee, bully-Doctor Shal. 'Saue you Mr. Doctor Caius Page. Now good Mr. Doctor Slen. 'Giue you good-morrow, sir Caius. Vat be all you one, two, tree, fowre, come for? Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foigne, to see thee trauerse, to see thee heere, to see thee there, to see thee passe thy puncto, thy stock, thy reuerse, thy distance, thy montant: Is he dead, my Ethiopian? Is he dead, my Francisco? ha Bully? what saies my Esculapius? my Galien? my heart of Elder? ha? is he dead bully-Stale? is he dead? Cai. By gar, he is de Coward-Iack-Priest of de vorld: he is not show his face Host. Thou art a Castalion-king-Vrinall: Hector of Greece (my Boy) Cai. I pray you beare witnesse, that me haue stay, sixe or seuen, two tree howres for him, and hee is nocome Shal. He is the wiser man (M[aster]. Doctor) he is a curer of soules, and you a curer of bodies: if you should fight, you goe against the haire of your professions: is it not true, Master Page? Page. Master Shallow; you haue your selfe beene a great fighter, though now a man of peace Shal. Body-kins M[aster]. Page, though I now be old, and of the peace; if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one: though wee are Iustices, and Doctors, and Church-men (M[aster]. Page) wee haue some salt of our youth in vs, we are the sons of women (M[aster]. Page.) Page. 'Tis true, Mr. Shallow Shal. It wil be found so, (M[aster]. Page:) M[aster]. Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home: I am sworn of the peace: you haue show'd your selfe a wise Physician, and Sir Hugh hath showne himselfe a wise and patient Churchman: you must goe with me, M[aster]. Doctor Host. Pardon, Guest-Iustice; a Mounseur Mocke-water Cai. Mock-vater? vat is dat? Host. Mock-water, in our English tongue, is Valour (Bully.) Cai. By gar, then I haue as much Mock-vater as de Englishman: scuruy-Iack-dog-Priest: by gar, mee vill cut his eares Host. He will Clapper-claw thee tightly (Bully.) Cai. Clapper-de-claw? vat is dat? Host. That is, he will make thee amends Cai. By-gar, me doe looke hee shall clapper-de-claw me, for by-gar, me vill haue it Host. And I will prouoke him to't, or let him wag Cai. Me tanck you for dat Host. And moreouer, (Bully) but first, Mr. Ghuest, and M[aster]. Page, & eeke Caualeiro Slender, goe you through the Towne to Frogmore Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he? Host. He is there, see what humor he is in: and I will bring the Doctor about by the Fields: will it doe well? Shal. We will doe it All. Adieu, good M[aster]. Doctor Cai. By-gar, me vill kill de Priest, for he speake for a Iack-an-Ape to Anne Page Host. Let him die: sheath thy impatience: throw cold water on thy Choller: goe about the fields with mee through Frogmore, I will bring thee where Mistris Anne Page is, at a Farm-house a Feasting: and thou shalt wooe her: Cride-game, said I well? Cai. By-gar, mee dancke you vor dat: by gar I loue you: and I shall procure 'a you de good Guest: de Earle, de Knight, de Lords, de Gentlemen, my patients Host. For the which, I will be thy aduersary toward Anne Page: said I well? Cai. By-gar, 'tis good: vell said Host. Let vs wag then Cai. Come at my heeles, Iack Rugby. Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima. Enter Euans, Simple, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Caius, Rugby. Euans. I pray you now, good Master Slenders seruingman, and friend Simple by your name; which way haue you look'd for Master Caius, that calls himselfe Doctor of Phisicke Sim. Marry Sir, the pittie-ward, the Parke-ward: euery way: olde Windsor way, and euery way but the Towne-way Euan. I most fehemently desire you, you will also looke that way Sim. I will sir Euan. 'Plesse my soule: how full of Chollors I am, and trempling of minde: I shall be glad if he haue deceiued me: how melancholies I am? I will knog his Vrinalls about his knaues costard, when I haue good oportunities for the orke: 'Plesse my soule: To shallow Riuers to whose falls: melodious Birds sings Madrigalls: There will we make our Peds of Roses: and a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow: 'Mercie on mee, I haue a great dispositions to cry. Melodious birds sing Madrigalls: - When as I sat in Pabilon: and a thousand vagram Posies. To shallow, &c Sim. Yonder he is comming, this way, Sir Hugh Euan. Hee's welcome: To shallow Riuers, to whose fals: Heauen prosper the right: what weapons is he? Sim. No weapons, Sir: there comes my Master, Mr. Shallow, and another Gentleman; from Frogmore, ouer the stile, this way Euan. Pray you giue mee my gowne, or else keepe it in your armes Shal. How now Master Parson? good morrow good Sir Hugh: keepe a Gamester from the dice, and a good Studient from his booke, and it is wonderfull Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page Page. 'Saue you, good Sir Hugh Euan. 'Plesse you from his mercy-sake, all of you Shal. What? the Sword, and the Word? Doe you study them both, Mr. Parson? Page. And youthfull still, in your doublet and hose, this raw-rumaticke day? Euan. There is reasons, and causes for it Page. We are come to you, to doe a good office, Mr. Parson Euan. Fery-well: what is it? Page. Yonder is a most reuerend Gentleman; who (be-like) hauing receiued wrong by some person, is at most odds with his owne grauity and patience, that euer you saw Shal. I haue liued foure-score yeeres, and vpward: I neuer heard a man of his place, grauity, and learning, so wide of his owne respect Euan. What is he? Page. I thinke you know him: Mr. Doctor Caius the renowned French Physician Euan. Got's-will, and his passion of my heart: I had as lief you would tell me of a messe of porredge Page. Why? Euan. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen , and hee is a knaue besides: a cowardly knaue, as you would desires to be acquainted withall Page. I warrant you, hee's the man should fight with him Slen. O sweet Anne Page Shal. It appeares so by his weapons: keepe them asunder: here comes Doctor Caius Page. Nay good Mr. Parson, keepe in your weapon Shal. So doe you, good Mr. Doctor Host. Disarme them, and let them question: let them keepe their limbs whole, and hack our English Cai. I pray you let-a-mee speake a word with your eare; vherefore vill you not meet-a me? Euan. Pray you vse your patience in good time Cai. By-gar, you are de Coward: de Iack dog: Iohn Ape Euan. Pray you let vs not be laughing-stocks to other mens humors: I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends: I will knog your Vrinal about your knaues Cogs-combe Cai. Diable: Iack Rugby: mine Host de Iarteer: haue I not stay for him, to kill him? haue I not at de place I did appoint? Euan. As I am a Christians-soule, now looke you: this is the place appointed, Ile bee iudgement by mine Host of the Garter Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaule, French & Welch, Soule-Curer, and Body-Curer Cai. I, dat is very good, excellant Host. Peace, I say: heare mine Host of the Garter, Am I politicke? Am I subtle? Am I a Machiuell? Shall I loose my Doctor? No, hee giues me the Potions and the Motions. Shall I loose my Parson? my Priest? my Sir Hugh? No, he giues me the Prouerbes, and the No-verbes. Giue me thy hand (Celestiall) so: Boyes of Art, I haue deceiu'd you both: I haue directed you to wrong places: your hearts are mighty, your skinnes are whole, and let burn'd Sacke be the issue: Come, lay their swords to pawne: Follow me, Lad of peace, follow, follow, follow Shal. Trust me, a mad Host: follow Gentlemen, follow Slen. O sweet Anne Page Cai. Ha' do I perceiue dat? Haue you make-a-de-sot of vs, ha, ha? Eua. This is well, he has made vs his vlowting-stog: I desire you that we may be friends: and let vs knog our praines together to be reuenge on this same scall scuruy-cogging-companion the Host of the Garter Cai. By gar, with all my heart: he promise to bring me where is Anne Page: by gar he deceiue me too Euan. Well, I will smite his noddles: pray you follow. Scena Secunda. Mist.Page, Robin, Ford, Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Euans, Caius. Mist.Page. Nay keepe your way (little Gallant) you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a Leader: whether had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your masters heeles? Rob. I had rather (forsooth) go before you like a man, then follow him like a dwarfe M.Pa. O you are a flattering boy, now I see you'l be a (Courtier Ford. Well met mistris Page, whether go you M.Pa. Truly Sir, to see your wife, is she at home? Ford. I, and as idle as she may hang together for want of company: I thinke if your husbands were dead, you two would marry M.Pa. Be sure of that, two other husbands Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cocke? M.Pa. I cannot tell what (the dickens) his name is my husband had him of, what do you cal your Knights name sirrah? Rob. Sir Iohn Falstaffe Ford. Sir Iohn Falstaffe M.Pa. He, he, I can neuer hit on's name; there is such a league betweene my goodman, and he: is your Wife at home indeed? Ford. Indeed she is M.Pa. By your leaue sir, I am sicke till I see her Ford. Has Page any braines? Hath he any eies? Hath he any thinking? Sure they sleepe, he hath no vse of them: why this boy will carrie a letter twentie mile as easie, as a Canon will shoot point-blanke twelue score: hee peeces out his wiues inclination: he giues her folly motion and aduantage: and now she's going to my wife, & Falstaffes boy with her: A man may heare this showre sing in the winde; and Falstaffes boy with her: good plots, they are laide, and our reuolted wiues share damnation together. Well, I will take him, then torture my wife, plucke the borrowed vaile of modestie from the so-seeming Mist[ris]. Page, divulge Page himselfe for a secure and wilfull Acteon, and to these violent proceedings all my neighbors shall cry aime. The clocke giues me my Qu, and my assurance bids me search, there I shall finde Falstaffe: I shall be rather praisd for this, then mock'd, for it is as possitiue, as the earth is firme, that Falstaffe is there: I will go Shal. Page, &c. Well met Mr Ford Ford. Trust me, a good knotte; I haue good cheere at home, and I pray you all go with me Shal. I must excuse my selfe Mr Ford Slen. And so must I Sir, We haue appointed to dine with Mistris Anne, And I would not breake with her for more mony Then Ile speake of Shal. We haue linger'd about a match betweene An Page, and my cozen Slender, and this day wee shall haue our answer Slen. I hope I haue your good will Father Page Pag. You haue Mr Slender, I stand wholly for you, But my wife (Mr Doctor) is for you altogether Cai. I be-gar, and de Maid is loue-a-me: my nursh-a-Quickly tell me so mush Host. What say you to yong Mr Fenton? He capers, he dances, he has eies of youth: he writes verses, hee speakes holliday, he smels April and May, he wil carry't, he will carry't, 'tis in his buttons, he will carry't Page. Not by my consent I promise you. The Gentleman is of no hauing, hee kept companie with the wilde Prince, and Pointz: he is of too high a Region, he knows too much: no, hee shall not knit a knot in his fortunes, with the finger of my substance: if he take her, let him take her simply: the wealth I haue waits on my consent, and my consent goes not that way Ford. I beseech you heartily, some of you goe home with me to dinner: besides your cheere you shall haue sport, I will shew you a monster: Mr Doctor, you shal go, so shall you Mr Page, and you Sir Hugh Shal. Well, fare you well: We shall haue the freer woing at Mr Pages Cai. Go home Iohn Rugby, I come anon Host. Farewell my hearts, I will to my honest Knight Falstaffe, and drinke Canarie with him Ford. I thinke I shall drinke in Pipe-wine first with him, Ile make him dance. Will you go Gentles? All. Haue with you, to see this Monster. Scena Tertia. Enter M.Ford, M.Page, Seruants, Robin, Falstaffe, Ford, Page, Caius, Euans. Mist.Ford. What Iohn, what Robert M.Page. Quickly, quickly: Is the Buck-basket - Mis.Ford. I warrant. What Robin I say Mis.Page. Come, come, come Mist.Ford. Heere, set it downe M.Pag. Giue your men the charge, we must be briefe M.Ford. Marrie, as I told you before (Iohn & Robert) be ready here hard-by in the Brew-house, & when I sodainly call you, come forth, and (without any pause, or staggering) take this basket on your shoulders: y done, trudge with it in all hast, and carry it among the Whitsters in Dotchet Mead, and there empty it in the muddie ditch, close by the Thames side M.Page. You will do it? M.Ford. I ha told them ouer and ouer, they lacke no direction. Be gone, and come when you are call'd M.Page. Here comes little Robin Mist.Ford. How now my Eyas-Musket, what newes with you? Rob. My M[aster]. Sir Iohn is come in at your backe doore (Mist[ris]. Ford, and requests your company M.Page. You litle Iack-a-lent, haue you bin true to vs Rob. I, Ile be sworne: my Master knowes not of your being heere: and hath threatned to put me into euerlasting liberty, if I tell you of it: for he sweares he'll turne me away Mist.Pag. Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be a Tailor to thee, and shal make thee a new doublet and hose. Ile go hide me Mi.Ford. Do so: go tell thy Master, I am alone: Mistris Page, remember you your Qu Mist.Pag. I warrant thee, if I do not act it, hisse me Mist.Ford. Go-too then: we'l vse this vnwholsome humidity, this grosse-watry Pumpion; we'll teach him to know Turtles from Iayes Fal. Haue I caught thee, my heauenly Iewell? Why now let me die, for I haue liu'd long enough: This is the period of my ambition: O this blessed houre Mist.Ford. O sweet Sir Iohn Fal. Mistris Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate (Mist[ris]. Ford) now shall I sin in my wish; I would thy Husband were dead, Ile speake it before the best Lord, I would make thee my Lady Mist.Ford. I your Lady Sir Iohn? Alas, I should bee a pittifull Lady Fal. Let the Court of France shew me such another: I see how thine eye would emulate the Diamond: Thou hast the right arched-beauty of the brow, that becomes the Ship-tyre, the Tyre-valiant, or any Tire of Venetian admittance Mist.Ford. A plaine Kerchiefe, Sir Iohn: My browes become nothing else, nor that well neither Fal. Thou art a tyrant to say so: thou wouldst make an absolute Courtier, and the firme fixture of thy foote, would giue an excellent motion to thy gate, in a semicircled Farthingale. I see what thou wert if Fortune thy foe, were not Nature thy friend: Come, thou canst not hide it Mist.Ford. Beleeue me, ther's no such thing in me Fal. What made me loue thee? Let that perswade thee. Ther's something extraordinary in thee: Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a-manie of these lisping-hauthorne buds, that come like women in mens apparrell, and smell like Bucklers-berry in simple time: I cannot, but I loue thee, none but thee; and thou deseru'st it M.Ford. Do not betray me sir, I fear you loue M[istris]. Page Fal. Thou mightst as well say, I loue to walke by the Counter-gate, which is as hatefull to me, as the reeke of a Lime-kill Mis.Ford. Well, heauen knowes how I loue you, And you shall one day finde it Fal. Keepe in that minde, Ile deserue it Mist.Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you doe; Or else I could not be in that minde Rob. Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford: heere's Mistris Page at the doore, sweating, and blowing, and looking wildely, and would needs speake with you presently Fal. She shall not see me, I will ensconce mee behinde the Arras M.Ford. Pray you do so, she's a very tatling woman. Whats the matter? How now? Mist.Page. O mistris Ford what haue you done? You'r sham'd, y'are ouerthrowne, y'are vndone for euer M.Ford. What's the matter, good mistris Page? M.Page. O weladay, mist[ris]. Ford, hauing an honest man to your husband, to giue him such cause of suspition M.Ford. What cause of suspition? M.Page. What cause of suspition? Out vpon you: How am I mistooke in you? M.Ford. Why (alas) what's the matter? M.Page. Your husband's comming hether (Woman) with all the Officers in Windsor, to search for a Gentleman, that he sayes is heere now in the house; by your consent to take an ill aduantage of his absence: you are vndone M.Ford. 'Tis not so, I hope M.Page. Pray heauen it be not so, that you haue such a man heere: but 'tis most certaine your husband's comming, with halfe Windsor at his heeles, to serch for such a one, I come before to tell you: If you know your selfe cleere, why I am glad of it: but if you haue a friend here, conuey, conuey him out. Be not amaz'd, call all your senses to you, defend your reputation, or bid farwell to your good life for euer M.Ford. What shall I do? There is a Gentleman my deere friend: and I feare not mine owne shame so much, as his perill. I had rather then a thousand pound he were out of the house M.Page. For shame, neuer stand (you had rather, and you had rather:) your husband's heere at hand, bethinke you of some conueyance: in the house you cannot hide him. Oh, how haue you deceiu'd me? Looke, heere is a basket, if he be of any reasonable stature, he may creepe in heere, and throw fowle linnen vpon him, as if it were going to bucking: Or it is whiting time, send him by your two men to Datchet-Meade M.Ford. He's too big to go in there: what shall I do? Fal. Let me see't, let me see't, O let me see't: Ile in, Ile in: Follow your friends counsell, Ile in M.Page. What Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Are these your Letters, Knight? Fal. I loue thee, helpe mee away: let me creepe in heere: ile neuer - M.Page. Helpe to couer your master (Boy:) Call your men (Mist[ris]. Ford.) You dissembling Knight M.Ford. What Iohn, Robert, Iohn; Go, take vp these cloathes heere, quickly: Wher's the Cowle-staffe? Look how you drumble? Carry them to the Landresse in Datchet mead: quickly, come Ford. 'Pray you come nere: if I suspect without cause, Why then make sport at me, then let me be your iest, I deserue it: How now? Whether beare you this? Ser. To the Landresse forsooth? M.Ford. Why, what haue you to doe whether they beare it? You were best meddle with buck-washing Ford. Buck? I would I could wash my selfe of y Buck: Bucke, bucke, bucke, I bucke: I warrant you Bucke, And of the season too; it shall appeare. Gentlemen, I haue dream'd to night, Ile tell you my dreame: heere, heere, heere bee my keyes, ascend my Chambers, search, seeke, finde out: Ile warrant wee'le vnkennell the Fox. Let me stop this way first: so, now vncape Page. Good master Ford, be contented: You wrong your selfe too much Ford. True (master Page) vp Gentlemen, You shall see sport anon: Follow me Gentlemen Euans. This is fery fantasticall humors and iealousies Caius. By gar, 'tis no-the fashion of France: It is not iealous in France Page. Nay follow him (Gentlemen) see the yssue of his search Mist.Page. Is there not a double excellency in this? Mist.Ford. I know not which pleases me better, That my husband is deceiued, or Sir Iohn Mist.Page. What a taking was hee in, when your husband askt who was in the basket? Mist.Ford. I am halfe affraid he will haue neede of washing: so throwing him into the water, will doe him a benefit Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest rascall: I would all of the same straine, were in the same distresse Mist.Ford. I thinke my husband hath some speciall suspition of Falstaffs being heere: for I neuer saw him so grosse in his iealousie till now Mist.Page. I will lay a plot to try that, and wee will yet haue more trickes with Falstaffe: his dissolute disease will scarse obey this medicine Mis.Ford. Shall we send that foolishion Carion, Mist[ris]. Quickly to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and giue him another hope, to betray him to another punishment? Mist.Page. We will do it: let him be sent for to morrow eight a clocke to haue amends Ford. I cannot finde him: may be the knaue bragg'd of that he could not compasse Mis.Page. Heard you that? Mis.Ford. You vse me well, M[aster]. Ford? Do you? Ford. I, I do so M.Ford. Heauen make you better then your thoghts Ford. Amen Mi.Page. You do your selfe mighty wrong (M[aster]. Ford) Ford. I, I: I must beare it Eu. If there be any pody in the house, & in the chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses: heauen forgiue my sins at the day of iudgement Caius. Be gar, nor I too: there is no-bodies Page. Fy, fy, M[aster]. Ford, are you not asham'd? What spirit, what diuell suggests this imagination? I wold not ha your distemper in this kind, for y welth of Windsor castle Ford. 'Tis my fault (M[aster]. Page) I suffer for it Euans. You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is as honest a o'mans, as I will desires among fiue thousand, and fiue hundred too Cai. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman Ford. Well, I promisd you a dinner: come, come, walk in the Parke, I pray you pardon me: I wil hereafter make knowne to you why I haue done this. Come wife, come Mi[stris]. Page, I pray you pardon me. Pray hartly pardon me Page. Let's go in Gentlemen, but (trust me) we'l mock him: I doe inuite you to morrow morning to my house to breakfast: after we'll a Birding together, I haue a fine Hawke for the bush. Shall it be so: Ford. Any thing Eu. If there is one, I shall make two in the Companie Ca. If there be one, or two, I shall make-a-theturd Ford. Pray you go, M[aster]. Page Eua. I pray you now remembrance to morrow on the lowsie knaue, mine Host Cai. Dat is good by gar, withall my heart Eua. A lowsie knaue, to haue his gibes, and his mockeries. Exeunt. Scoena Quarta. Enter Fenton, Anne, Page, Shallow, Slender, Quickly, Page, Mist.Page. Fen. I see I cannot get thy Fathers loue, Therefore no more turne me to him (sweet Nan.) Anne. Alas, how then? Fen. Why thou must be thy selfe. He doth obiect, I am too great of birth, And that my state being gall'd with my expence, I seeke to heale it onely by his wealth. Besides these, other barres he layes before me, My Riots past, my wilde Societies, And tels me 'tis a thing impossible I should loue thee, but as a property An. May be he tels you true. No, heauen so speed me in my time to come, Albeit I will confesse, thy Fathers wealth Was the first motiue that I woo'd thee (Anne:) Yet wooing thee, I found thee of more valew Then stampes in Gold, or summes in sealed bagges: And 'tis the very riches of thy selfe, That now I ayme at An. Gentle M[aster]. Fenton, Yet seeke my Fathers loue, still seeke it sir, If opportunity and humblest suite Cannot attaine it, why then harke you hither Shal. Breake their talke Mistris Quickly. My Kinsman shall speake for himselfe Slen. Ile make a shaft or a bolt on't, slid, tis but venturing Shal. Be not dismaid Slen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care not for that, but that I am affeard Qui. Hark ye, M[aster]. Slender would speak a word with you An. I come to him. This is my Fathers choice: O what a world of vilde ill-fauour'd faults Lookes handsome in three hundred pounds a yeere? Qui. And how do's good Master Fenton? Pray you a word with you Shal. Shee's comming; to her Coz: O boy, thou hadst a father Slen. I had a father (M[istris]. An) my vncle can tel you good iests of him: pray you Vncle, tel Mist[ris]. Anne the iest how my Father stole two Geese out of a Pen, good Vnckle Shal. Mistris Anne, my Cozen loues you Slen. I that I do, as well as I loue any woman in Glocestershire Shal. He will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman Slen. I that I will, come cut and long-taile, vnder the degree of a Squire Shal. He will make you a hundred and fiftie pounds ioynture Anne. Good Maister Shallow let him woo for himselfe Shal. Marrie I thanke you for it: I thanke you for that good comfort: she cals you (Coz) Ile leaue you Anne. Now Master Slender Slen. Now good Mistris Anne Anne. What is your will? Slen. My will? Odd's-hartlings, that's a prettie iest indeede: I ne're made my Will yet (I thanke Heauen:) I am not such a sickely creature, I giue Heauen praise Anne. I meane (M[aster]. Slender) what wold you with me? Slen. Truely, for mine owne part, I would little or nothing with you: your father and my vncle hath made motions: if it be my lucke, so; if not, happy man bee his dole, they can tell you how things go, better then I can: you may aske your father, heere he comes Page. Now Mr Slender; Loue him daughter Anne. Why how now? What does Mr Fenten here? You wrong me Sir, thus still to haunt my house. I told you Sir, my daughter is disposd of Fen. Nay Mr Page, be not impatient Mist.Page. Good M[aster]. Fenton, come not to my child Page. She is no match for you Fen. Sir, will you heare me? Page. No, good M[aster]. Fenton. Come M[aster]. Shallow: Come sonne Slender, in; Knowing my minde, you wrong me (M[aster]. Fenton.) Qui. Speake to Mistris Page Fen. Good Mist[ris]. Page, for that I loue your daughter In such a righteous fashion as I do, Perforce, against all checkes, rebukes, and manners, I must aduance the colours of my loue, And not retire. Let me haue your good will An. Good mother, do not marry me to yond foole Mist.Page. I meane it not, I seeke you a better husband Qui. That's my master, M[aster]. Doctor An. Alas I had rather be set quick i'th earth, And bowl'd to death with Turnips Mist.Page. Come, trouble not your selfe good M[aster]. Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy: My daughter will I question how she loues you, And as I finde her, so am I affected: Till then, farewell Sir, she must needs go in, Her father will be angry Fen. Farewell gentle Mistris: farewell Nan Qui. This is my doing now: Nay, saide I, will you cast away your childe on a Foole, and a Physitian: Looke on M[aster]. Fenton, this is my doing Fen. I thanke thee: and I pray thee once to night, Giue my sweet Nan this Ring: there's for thy paines Qui. Now heauen send thee good fortune, a kinde heart he hath: a woman would run through fire & water for such a kinde heart. But yet, I would my Maister had Mistris Anne, or I would M[aster]. Slender had her: or (in sooth) I would M[aster]. Fenton had her; I will do what I can for them all three, for so I haue promisd, and Ile bee as good as my word, but speciously for M[aster]. Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir Iohn Falstaffe from my two Mistresses: what a beast am I to slacke it. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Enter Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Quickly, Ford. Fal. Bardolfe I say Bar. Heere Sir Fal. Go, fetch me a quart of Sacke, put a tost in't. Haue I liu'd to be carried in a Basket like a barrow of butchers Offall? and to be throwne in the Thames? Wel, if I be seru'd such another tricke, Ile haue my braines 'tane out and butter'd, and giue them to a dogge for a New-yeares gift. The rogues slighted me into the riuer with as little remorse, as they would haue drown'de a blinde bitches Puppies, fifteene i'th litter: and you may know by my size, that I haue a kinde of alacrity in sinking: if the bottome were as deepe as hell, I shold down. I had beene drown'd, but that the shore was sheluy and shallow: a death that I abhorre: for the water swelles a man; and what a thing should I haue beene, when I had beene swel'd? I should haue beene a Mountaine of Mummie Bar. Here's M[istris]. Quickly Sir to speake with you Fal. Come, let me poure in some Sack to the Thames water: for my bellies as cold as if I had swallow'd snowbals, for pilles to coole the reines. Call her in Bar. Come in woman Qui. By your leaue: I cry you mercy? Giue your worship good morrow Fal. Take away these Challices: Go, brew me a pottle of Sacke finely Bard. With Egges, Sir? Fal. Simple of it selfe: Ile no Pullet-Spersme in my brewage. How now? Qui. Marry Sir, I come to your worship from M[istris]. Ford Fal. Mist[ris]. Ford? I haue had Ford enough: I was thrown into the Ford; I haue my belly full of Ford Qui. Alas the day, (good-heart) that was not her fault: she do's so take on with her men; they mistooke their erection Fal. So did I mine, to build vpon a foolish Womans promise Qui. Well, she laments Sir for it, that it would yern your heart to see it: her husband goes this morning a birding; she desires you once more to come to her, betweene eight and nine: I must carry her word quickely, she'll make you amends I warrant you Fal. Well, I will visit her, tell her so: and bidde her thinke what a man is: Let her consider his frailety, and then iudge of my merit Qui. I will tell her Fal. Do so. Betweene nine and ten saist thou? Qui. Eight and nine Sir Fal. Well, be gone: I will not misse her Qui. Peace be with you Sir Fal. I meruaile I heare not of Mr Broome: he sent me word to stay within: I like his money well. Oh, heere he comes Ford. Blesse you Sir Fal. Now M[aster]. Broome, you come to know What hath past betweene me, and Fords wife Ford. That indeed (Sir Iohn) is my businesse Fal. M[aster]. Broome I will not lye to you, I was at her house the houre she appointed me Ford. And sped you Sir? Fal. Very ill-fauouredly M[aster]. Broome Ford. How so sir, did she change her determination? Fal. No (M[aster]. Broome) but the peaking Curnuto her husband (M[aster]. Broome) dwelling in a continual larum of ielousie, coms me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embrast, kist, protested, & (as it were) spoke the prologue of our Comedy: and at his heeles, a rabble of his companions, thither prouoked and instigated by his distemper, and (forsooth) to serch his house for his wiues Loue Ford. What? While you were there? Fal. While I was there For. And did he search for you, & could not find you? Fal. You shall heare. As good lucke would haue it, comes in one Mist[ris]. Page, giues intelligence of Fords approch: and in her inuention, and Fords wiues distraction, they conuey'd me into a bucke-basket Ford. A Buck-basket? Fal. Yes: a Buck-basket: ram'd mee in with foule Shirts and Smockes, Socks, foule Stockings, greasie Napkins, that (Master Broome) there was the rankest compound of villanous smell, that euer offended nostrill Ford. And how long lay you there? Fal. Nay, you shall heare (Master Broome) what I haue sufferd, to bring this woman to euill, for your good: Being thus cram'd in the Basket, a couple of Fords knaues, his Hindes, were cald forth by their Mistris, to carry mee in the name of foule Cloathes to Datchet-lane: they tooke me on their shoulders: met the iealous knaue their Master in the doore; who ask'd them once or twice what they had in their Basket? I quak'd for feare least the Lunatique Knaue would haue search'd it: but Fate (ordaining he should be a Cuckold) held his hand: well, on went hee, for a search, and away went I for foule Cloathes: But marke the sequell (Master Broome) I suffered the pangs of three seuerall deaths: First, an intollerable fright, to be detected with a iealious rotten Bell-weather: Next to be compass'd like a good Bilbo in the circumference of a Pecke, hilt to point, heele to head. And then to be stopt in like a strong distillation with stinking Cloathes, that fretted in their owne grease: thinke of that, a man of my Kidney; thinke of that, that am as subiect to heate as butter; a man of continuall dissolution, and thaw: it was a miracle to scape suffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I was more then halfe stew'd in grease (like a Dutch-dish) to be throwne into the Thames, and coold, glowing-hot, in that serge like a Horse-shoo; thinke of that; hissing hot: thinke of that (Master Broome.) Ford. In good sadnesse Sir, I am sorry, that for my sake you haue sufferd all this. My suite then is desperate: You'll vndertake her no more? Fal. Master Broome: I will be throwne into Etna, as I haue beene into Thames, ere I will leaue her thus; her Husband is this morning gone a Birding: I haue receiued from her another ambassie of meeting: 'twixt eight and nine is the houre (Master Broome.) Ford. 'Tis past eight already Sir Fal. Is it? I will then addresse mee to my appointment: Come to mee at your conuenient leisure, and you shall know how I speede: and the conclusion shall be crowned with your enioying her: adiew: you shall haue her (Master Broome) Master Broome, you shall cuckold Ford Ford. Hum: ha? Is this a vision? Is this a dreame? doe I sleepe? Master Ford awake, awake Master Ford: ther's a hole made in your best coate (Master Ford:) this 'tis to be married; this 'tis to haue Lynnen, and Buckbaskets: Well, I will proclaime my selfe what I am: I will now take the Leacher: hee is at my house: hee cannot scape me: 'tis impossible hee should: hee cannot creepe into a halfe-penny purse, nor into a PepperBoxe: But least the Diuell that guides him, should aide him, I will search impossible places: though what I am, I cannot auoide; yet to be what I would not, shall not make me tame: If I haue hornes, to make one mad, let the prouerbe goe with me, Ile be hornemad. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima. Enter Mistris Page, Quickly, William, Euans. Mist.Pag. Is he at M[aster]. Fords already think'st thou? Qui. Sure he is by this; or will be presently; but truely he is very couragious mad, about his throwing into the water. Mistris Ford desires you to come sodainely Mist.Pag. Ile be with her by and by: Ile but bring my yong-man here to Schoole: looke where his Master comes; 'tis a playing day I see: how now Sir Hugh, no Schoole to day? Eua. No: Master Slender is let the Boyes leaue to play Qui 'Blessing of his heart Mist.Pag. Sir Hugh, my husband saies my sonne profits nothing in the world at his Booke: I pray you aske him some questions in his Accidence Eu. Come hither William; hold vp your head; come Mist.Pag. Come-on Sirha; hold vp your head; answere your Master, be not afraid Eua. William, how many Numbers is in Nownes? Will. Two Qui. Truely, I thought there had bin one Number more, because they say od's-Nownes Eua. Peace, your tatlings. What is (Faire) William? Will. Pulcher Qu. Powlcats? there are fairer things then Powlcats, sure Eua. You are a very simplicity o'man: I pray you peace. What is (Lapis) William? Will. A Stone Eua. And what is a Stone (William?) Will. A Peeble Eua. No; it is Lapis: I pray you remember in your praine Will. Lapis Eua. That is a good William: what is he (William) that do's lend Articles Will. Articles are borrowed of the Pronoune; and be thus declined. Singulariter nominatiuo hic, haec, hoc Eua. Nominatiuo hig, hag, hog: pray you marke: genitiuo huius: Well: what is your Accusatiue-case? Will. Accusatiuo hinc Eua. I pray you haue your remembrance (childe) Accusatiuo hing, hang, hog Qu. Hang-hog, is latten for Bacon, I warrant you Eua. Leaue your prables (o'man) What is the Focatiue case (William?) Will. O, Vocatiuo, O Eua. Remember William, Focatiue, is caret Qu. And that's a good roote Eua. O'man, forbeare Mist.Pag. Peace Eua. What is your Genitiue case plurall (William?) Will. Genitiue case? Eua. I Will. Genitiue horum, harum, horum Qu. 'Vengeance of Ginyes case; fie on her; neuer name her (childe) if she be a whore Eua. For shame o'man Qu. You doe ill to teach the childe such words: hee teaches him to hic, and to hac; which they'll doe fast enough of themselues, and to call horum; fie vpon you Euans. O'man, art thou Lunatics? Hast thou no vnderstandings for thy Cases, & the numbers of the Genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures, as I would desires Mi.Page. Pre'thee hold thy peace Eu. Shew me now (William) some declensions of your Pronounes Will. Forsooth, I haue forgot Eu. It is Qui, que, quod; if you forget your Quies, your Ques, and your Quods, you must be preeches: Goe your waies and play, go M.Pag. He is a better scholler then I thought he was Eu. He is a good sprag-memory: Farewel Mis[tris]. Page Mis.Page. Adieu good Sir Hugh: Get you home boy, Come we stay too long. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Falstoffe, Mist.Ford, Mist.Page, Seruants, Ford, Page, Caius, Euans, Shallow. Fal. Mi[stris]. Ford, Your sorrow hath eaten vp my sufferance; I see you are obsequious in your loue, and I professe requitall to a haires bredth, not onely Mist[ris]. Ford, in the simple office of loue, but in all the accustrement, complement, and ceremony of it: But are you sure of your husband now? Mis.Ford. Hee's a birding (sweet Sir Iohn.) Mis.Page. What hoa, gossip Ford: what hoa Mis.Ford. Step into th' chamber, Sir Iohn Mis.Page. How now (sweete heart) whose at home besides your selfe? Mis.Ford. Why none but mine owne people Mis.Page. Indeed? Mis.Ford. No certainly: Speake louder Mist.Pag. Truly, I am so glad you haue no body here Mist.Ford. Why? Mis.Page. Why woman, your husband is in his olde lines againe: he so takes on yonder with my husband, so railes against all married mankinde; so curses all Eues daughters, of what complexion soeuer; and so buffettes himselfe on the for-head: crying peere-out, peere-out, that any madnesse I euer yet beheld, seem'd but tamenesse, ciuility, and patience to this his distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat Knight is not heere Mist.Ford. Why, do's he talke of him? Mist.Page. Of none but him, and sweares he was caried out the last time hee search'd for him, in a Basket: Protests to my husband he is now heere, & hath drawne him and the rest of their company from their sport, to make another experiment of his suspition: But I am glad the Knight is not heere; now he shall see his owne foolerie Mist.Ford. How neere is he Mistris Page? Mist.Pag. Hard by, at street end; he wil be here anon Mist.Ford. I am vndone, the Knight is heere Mist.Page. Why then you are vtterly sham'd, & hee's but a dead man. What a woman are you? Away with him, away with him: Better shame, then murther Mist.Ford. Which way should he go? How should I bestow him? Shall I put him into the basket againe? Fal. No, Ile come no more i'th Basket: May I not go out ere he come? Mist.Page. Alas: three of Mr. Fords brothers watch the doore with Pistols, that none shall issue out: otherwise you might slip away ere hee came: But what make you heere? Fal. What shall I do? Ile creepe vp into the chimney Mist.Ford. There they alwaies vse to discharge their Birding-peeces: creepe into the Kill-hole Fal. Where is it? Mist.Ford. He will seeke there on my word: Neyther Presse, Coffer, Chest, Trunke, Well, Vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his Note: There is no hiding you in the house Fal. Ile go out then Mist.Ford. If you goe out in your owne semblance, you die Sir Iohn, vnlesse you go out disguis'd Mist.Ford. How might we disguise him? Mist.Page. Alas the day I know not, there is no womans gowne bigge enough for him: otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchiefe, and so escape Fal. Good hearts, deuise something: any extremitie, rather then a mischiefe Mist.Ford. My Maids Aunt the fat woman of Brainford, has a gowne aboue Mist.Page. On my word it will serue him: shee's as big as he is: and there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler too: run vp Sir Iohn Mist.Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir Iohn: Mistris Page and I will looke some linnen for your head Mist.Page. Quicke, quicke, wee'le come dresse you straight: put on the gowne the while Mist.Ford. I would my husband would meete him in this shape: he cannot abide the old woman of Brainford; he sweares she's a witch, forbad her my house, and hath threatned to beate her Mist.Page. Heauen guide him to thy husbands cudgell: and the diuell guide his cudgell afterwards Mist.Ford. But is my husband comming? Mist.Page. I in good sadnesse is he, and talkes of the basket too, howsoeuer he hath had intelligence Mist.Ford. Wee'l try that: for Ile appoint my men to carry the basket againe, to meete him at the doore with it, as they did last time Mist.Page. Nay, but hee'l be heere presently: let's go dresse him like the witch of Brainford Mist.Ford. Ile first direct my men, what they shall doe with the basket: Goe vp, Ile bring linnen for him straight Mist.Page. Hang him dishonest Varlet, We cannot misuse enough: We'll leaue a proofe by that which we will doo, Wiues may be merry, and yet honest too: We do not acte that often, iest, and laugh, 'Tis old, but true, Still Swine eats all the draugh Mist.Ford. Go Sirs, take the basket againe on your shoulders: your Master is hard at doore: if hee bid you set it downe, obey him: quickly, dispatch 1 Ser. Come, come, take it vp 2 Ser. Pray heauen it be not full of Knight againe 1 Ser. I hope not, I had liefe as beare so much lead Ford. I, but if it proue true (Mr. Page) haue you any way then to vnfoole me againe. Set downe the basket villaine: some body call my wife: Youth in a basket: Oh you Panderly Rascals, there's a knot: a gin, a packe, a conspiracie against me: Now shall the diuel be sham'd. What wife I say: Come, come forth: behold what honest cloathes you send forth to bleaching Page. Why, this passes M[aster]. Ford: you are not to goe loose any longer, you must be pinnion'd Euans. Why, this is Lunaticks: this is madde, as a mad dogge Shall. Indeed M[aster]. Ford, this is not well indeed Ford. So say I too Sir, come hither Mistris Ford, Mistris Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the vertuous creature, that hath the iealious foole to her husband: I suspect without cause (Mistris) do I? Mist.Ford. Heauen be my witnesse you doe, if you suspect me in any dishonesty Ford. Well said Brazon-face, hold it out: Come forth sirrah Page. This passes Mist.Ford. Are you not asham'd, let the cloths alone Ford. I shall finde you anon Eua. 'Tis vnreasonable; will you take vp your wiues cloathes? Come, away Ford. Empty the basket I say M.Ford. Why man, why? Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conuay'd out of my house yesterday in this basket: why may not he be there againe, in my house I am sure he is: my Intelligence is true, my iealousie is reasonable, pluck me out all the linnen Mist.Ford. If you find a man there, he shall dye a Fleas death Page. Heer's no man Shal. By my fidelity this is not well Mr. Ford: This wrongs you Euans. Mr Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your owne heart: this is iealousies Ford. Well, hee's not heere I seeke for Page. No, nor no where else but in your braine Ford. Helpe to search my house this one time: if I find not what I seeke, shew no colour for my extremity: Let me for euer be your Table-sport: Let them say of me, as iealous as Ford, that search'd a hollow Wall-nut for his wiues Lemman. Satisfie me once more, once more serch with me M.Ford. What hoa (Mistris Page,) come you and the old woman downe: my husband will come into the Chamber Ford. Old woman? what old womans that? M.Ford. Why it is my maids Aunt of Brainford Ford. A witch, a Queane, an olde couzening queane: Haue I not forbid her my house. She comes of errands do's she? We are simple men, wee doe not know what's brought to passe vnder the profession of Fortune-telling. She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th' Figure, & such dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know nothing. Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come downe I say Mist.Ford. Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen, let him strike the old woman Mist.Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your hand Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch, you Ragge, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion, out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile fortune-tell you Mist.Page. Are you not asham'd? I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman Mist.Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite for you Ford. Hang her witch Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch indeede: I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I spie a great peard vnder his muffler Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow: see but the issue of my iealousie: If I cry out thus vpon no traile, neuer trust me when I open againe Page. Let's obey his humour a little further: Come Gentlemen Mist.Page. Trust me he beate him most pittifully Mist.Ford. Nay by th' Masse that he did not: he beate him most vnpittifully, me thought Mist.Page. Ile haue the cudgell hallow'd, and hung ore the Altar, it hath done meritorious seruice Mist.Ford. What thinke you? May we with the warrant of woman-hood, and the witnesse of a good conscience, pursue him with any further reuenge? M.Page. The spirit of wantonnesse is sure scar'd out of him, if the diuell haue him not in fee-simple, with fine and recouery, he will neuer (I thinke) in the way of waste, attempt vs againe Mist.Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how wee haue seru'd him? Mist.Page. Yes, by all meanes: if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husbands braines: if they can find in their hearts, the poore vnuertuous fat Knight shall be any further afflicted, wee two will still bee the ministers Mist.Ford. Ile warrant, they'l haue him publiquely sham'd, and me thinkes there would be no period to the iest, should he not be publikely sham'd Mist.Page. Come, to the Forge with it, then shape it: I would not haue things coole. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Host and Bardolfe. Bar. Sir, the Germane desires to haue three of your horses: the Duke himselfe will be to morrow at Court, and they are going to meet him Host. What Duke should that be comes so secretly? I heare not of him in the Court: let mee speake with the Gentlemen, they speake English? Bar. I Sir? Ile call him to you Host. They shall haue my horses, but Ile make them pay: Ile sauce them, they haue had my houses a week at commaund: I haue turn'd away my other guests, they must come off, Ile sawce them, come. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Page, Ford, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, and Euans. Eua. 'Tis one of the best discretions of a o'man as euer I did looke vpon Page. And did he send you both these Letters at an instant? Mist.Page. Within a quarter of an houre Ford. Pardon me (wife) henceforth do what y wilt: I rather will suspect the Sunne with gold, Then thee with wantonnes: Now doth thy honor stand (In him that was of late an Heretike) As firme as faith Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well, no more: Be not as extreme in submission, as in offence, But let our plot go forward: Let our wiues Yet once againe (to make vs publike sport) Appoint a meeting with this old fat-fellow, Where we may take him, and disgrace him for it Ford. There is no better way then that they spoke of Page. How? to send him word they'll meete him in the Parke at midnight? Fie, fie, he'll neuer come Eu. You say he has bin throwne in the Riuers: and has bin greeuously peaten, as an old o'man: me-thinkes there should be terrors in him, that he should not come: Me-thinkes his flesh is punish'd, hee shall haue no desires Page. So thinke I too M.Ford. Deuise but how you'l vse him whe[n] he comes, And let vs two deuise to bring him thether Mis.Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the Hunter (sometime a keeper heere in Windsor Forrest) Doth all the winter time, at still midnight Walke round about an Oake, with great rag'd-hornes, And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle, And make milch-kine yeeld blood, and shakes a chaine In a most hideous and dreadfull manner. You haue heard of such a Spirit, and well you know The superstitious idle-headed-Eld Receiu'd, and did deliuer to our age This tale of Herne the Hunter, for a truth Page. Why yet there want not many that do feare In deepe of night to walke by this Hernes Oake: But what of this? Mist.Ford. Marry this is our deuise, That Falstaffe at that Oake shall meete with vs Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, And in this shape, when you haue brought him thether, What shall be done with him? What is your plot? Mist.Pa. That likewise haue we thoght vpon: & thus: Nan Page (my daughter) and my little sonne, And three or foure more of their growth, wee'l dresse Like Vrchins, Ouphes, and Fairies, greene and white, With rounds of waxen Tapers on their heads, And rattles in their hands; vpon a sodaine, As Falstaffe, she, and I, are newly met, Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once With some diffused song: Vpon their sight We two, in great amazednesse will flye: Then let them all encircle him about, And Fairy-like to pinch the vncleane Knight; And aske him why that houre of Fairy Reuell, In their so sacred pathes, he dares to tread In shape prophane Ford. And till he tell the truth, Let the supposed Fairies pinch him, sound, And burne him with their Tapers Mist.Page. The truth being knowne, We'll all present our selues; dis-horne the spirit, And mocke him home to Windsor Ford. The children must Be practis'd well to this, or they'll neu'r doo't Eua. I will teach the children their behauiours: and I will be like a Iacke-an-Apes also, to burne the Knight with my Taber Ford. That will be excellent, Ile go buy them vizards Mist.Page. My Nan shall be the Queene of all the Fairies, finely attired in a robe of white Page. That silke will I go buy, and in that time Shall M[aster]. Slender steale my Nan away, And marry her at Eaton: go, send to Falstaffe straight Ford. Nay, Ile to him againe in name of Broome, Hee'l tell me all his purpose: sure hee'l come Mist.Page. Feare not you that: Go get vs properties And tricking for our Fayries Euans. Let vs about it, It is admirable pleasures, and ferry honest knaueries Mis.Page. Go Mist[ris]. Ford, Send quickly to Sir Iohn, to know his minde: Ile to the Doctor, he hath my good will, And none but he to marry with Nan Page: That Slender (though well landed) is an Ideot: And he, my husband best of all affects: The Doctor is well monied, and his friends Potent at Court: he, none but he shall haue her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to craue her. Scena Quinta. Enter Host, Simple, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Euans, Caius, Quickly. Host. What wouldst thou haue? (Boore) what? (thick skin) speake, breathe, discusse: breefe, short, quicke, snap Simp. Marry Sir, I come to speake with Sir Iohn Falstaffe from M[aster]. Slender Host. There's his Chamber, his House, his Castle, his standing-bed and truckle-bed: 'tis painted about with the story of the Prodigall, fresh and new: go, knock and call: hee'l speake like an Anthropophaginian vnto thee: Knocke I say Simp. There's an olde woman, a fat woman gone vp into his chamber: Ile be so bold as stay Sir till she come downe: I come to speake with her indeed Host. Ha? A fat woman? The Knight may be robb'd: Ile call. Bully-Knight, Bully Sir Iohn: speake from thy Lungs Military: Art thou there? It is thine Host, thine Ephesian cals Fal. How now, mine Host? Host. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar taries the comming downe of thy fat-woman: Let her descend (Bully) let her descend: my Chambers are honourable: Fie, priuacy? Fie Fal. There was (mine Host) an old-fat-woman euen now with me, but she's gone Simp. Pray you Sir, was't not the Wise-woman of Brainford? Fal. I marry was it (Mussel-shell) what would you with her? Simp. My Master (Sir) my master Slender, sent to her seeing her go thorough the streets, to know (Sir) whether one Nim (Sir) that beguil'd him of a chaine, had the chaine, or no Fal. I spake with the old woman about it Sim. And what sayes she, I pray Sir? Fal. Marry shee sayes, that the very same man that beguil'd Master Slender of his Chaine, cozon'd him of it Simp. I would I could haue spoken with the Woman her selfe, I had other things to haue spoken with her too, from him Fal. What are they? let vs know Host. I: come: quicke Fal. I may not conceale them (Sir.) Host. Conceale them, or thou di'st Sim. Why sir, they were nothing but about Mistris Anne Page, to know if it were my Masters fortune to haue her, or no Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune Sim. What Sir? Fal. To haue her, or no: goe; say the woman told me so Sim. May I be bold to say so Sir? Fal. I Sir: like who more bold Sim. I thanke your worship: I shall make my Master glad with these tydings Host. Thou art clearkly: thou art clearkly (Sir Iohn) was there a wise woman with thee? Fal. I that there was (mine Host) one that hath taught me more wit, then euer I learn'd before in my life: and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning Bar. Out alas (Sir) cozonage: meere cozonage Host. Where be my horses? speake well of them varletto Bar. Run away with the cozoners: for so soone as I came beyond Eaton, they threw me off, from behinde one of them, in a slough of myre; and set spurres, and away; like three Germane-diuels; three Doctor Faustasses Host. They are gone but to meete the Duke (villaine) doe not say they be fled: Germanes are honest men Euan. Where is mine Host? Host. What is the matter Sir? Euan. Haue a care of your entertainments: there is a friend of mine come to Towne, tels mee there is three Cozen-Iermans, that has cozend all the Hosts of Reading, of Maidenhead; of Cole-brooke, of horses and money: I tell you for good will (looke you) you are wise, and full of gibes, and vlouting-stocks: and 'tis not conuenient you should be cozoned. Fare you well Cai. Ver' is mine Host de Iarteere? Host. Here (Master Doctor) in perplexitie, and doubtfull delemma Cai. I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a-me, dat you make grand preparation for a Duke de Iamanie: by my trot: der is no Duke that the Court is know, to come: I tell you for good will: adieu Host. Huy and cry, (villaine) goe: assist me Knight, I am vndone: fly, run: huy, and cry (villaine) I am vndone Fal. I would all the world might be cozond, for I haue beene cozond and beaten too: if it should come to the eare of the Court, how I haue beene transformed; and how my transformation hath beene washd, and cudgeld, they would melt mee out of my fat drop by drop, and liquor Fishermens-boots with me: I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits, till I were as crest-falne as a dride-peare: I neuer prosper'd, since I forswore my selfe at Primero: well, if my winde were but long enough; I would repent: Now? Whence come you? Qui. From the two parties forsooth Fal. The Diuell take one partie, and his Dam the other: and so they shall be both bestowed; I haue suffer'd more for their sakes; more then the villanous inconstancy of mans disposition is able to beare Qui. And haue not they suffer'd? Yes, I warrant; speciously one of them; Mistris Ford (good heart) is beaten blacke and blew, that you cannot see a white spot about her Fal. What tell'st thou mee of blacke, and blew? I was beaten my selfe into all the colours of the Rainebow: and I was like to be apprehended for the Witch of Braineford, but that my admirable dexteritie of wit, my counterfeiting the action of an old woman deliuer'd me, the knaue Constable had set me ith' Stocks, ith' common Stocks, for a Witch Qu, Sir: let me speake with you in your Chamber, you shall heare how things goe, and (I warrant) to your content: here is a Letter will say somewhat: (good-hearts) what adoe here is to bring you together? Sure, one of you do's not serue heauen well, that you are so cross'd Fal. Come vp into my Chamber. Exeunt. Scena Sexta. Enter Fenton, Host. Host. Master Fenton, talke not to mee, my minde is heauy: I will giue ouer all Fen. Yet heare me speake: assist me in my purpose, And (as I am a gentleman) ile giue thee A hundred pound in gold, more then your losse Host. I will heare you (Master Fenton) and I will (at the least) keepe your counsell Fen. From time to time, I haue acquainted you With the deare loue I beare to faire Anne Page, Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection, (So farre forth, as her selfe might be her chooser) Euen to my wish; I haue a letter from her Of such contents, as you will wonder at; The mirth whereof, so larded with my matter, That neither (singly) can be manifested Without the shew of both: fat Falstaffe Hath a great Scene; the image of the iest Ile show you here at large (harke good mine Host:) To night at Hernes-Oke, iust 'twixt twelue and one, Must my sweet Nan present the Faerie-Queene: The purpose why, is here: in which disguise While other Iests are something ranke on foote, Her father hath commanded her to slip Away with Slender, and with him, at Eaton Immediately to Marry: She hath consented: Now Sir, Her Mother, (euen strong against that match And firme for Doctor Caius) hath appointed That he shall likewise shuffle her away, While other sports are tasking of their mindes, And at the Deanry, where a Priest attends Strait marry her: to this her Mothers plot She seemingly obedient) likewise hath Made promise to the Doctor: Now, thus it rests, Her Father meanes she shall be all in white; And in that habit, when Slender sees his time To take her by the hand, and bid her goe, She shall goe with him: her Mother hath intended (The better to deuote her to the Doctor; For they must all be mask'd, and vizarded) That quaint in greene, she shall be loose en-roab'd, With Ribonds-pendant, flaring 'bout her head; And when the Doctor spies his vantage ripe, To pinch her by the hand, and on that token, The maid hath giuen consent to go with him Host. Which meanes she to deceiue? Father, or Mother Fen. Both (my good Host) to go along with me: And heere it rests, that you'l procure the Vicar To stay for me at Church, 'twixt twelue, and one, And in the lawfull name of marrying, To giue our hearts vnited ceremony Host. Well, husband your deuice; Ile to the Vicar, Bring you the Maid, you shall not lacke a Priest Fen. So shall I euermore be bound to thee; Besides, Ile make a present recompence. Exeunt. Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima. Enter Falstoffe, Quickly, and Ford. Fal. Pre'thee no more pratling: go, Ile hold, this is the third time: I hope good lucke lies in odde numbers: Away, go, they say there is Diuinity in odde Numbers, either in natiuity, chance, or death: away Qui. Ile prouide you a chaine, and Ile do what I can to get you a paire of hornes Fall. Away I say, time weares, hold vp your head & mince. How now M[aster]. Broome? Master Broome, the matter will be knowne to night, or neuer. Bee you in the Parke about midnight, at Hernes-Oake, and you shall see wonders Ford. Went you not to her yesterday (Sir) as you told me you had appointed? Fal. I went to her (Master Broome) as you see, like a poore-old-man, but I came from her (Master Broome) like a poore-old-woman; that same knaue (Ford hir husband) hath the finest mad diuell of iealousie in him (Master Broome) that euer gouern'd Frensie. I will tell you, he beate me greeuously, in the shape of a woman: (for in the shape of Man (Master Broome) I feare not Goliath with a Weauers beame, because I know also, life is a Shuttle) I am in hast, go along with mee, Ile tell you all (Master Broome:) since I pluckt Geese, plaide Trewant, and whipt Top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten, till lately. Follow mee, Ile tell you strange things of this knaue Ford, on whom to night I will be reuenged, and I will deliuer his wife into your hand. Follow, straunge things in hand (M[aster]. Broome) follow. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Page, Shallow, Slender. Page. Come, come: wee'll couch i'th Castle-ditch, till we see the light of our Fairies. Remember son Slender, my Slen. I forsooth, I haue spoke with her, & we haue a nay-word, how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry Mum; she cries Budget, and by that we know one another Shal. That's good too: But what needes either your Mum, or her Budget? The white will decipher her well enough. It hath strooke ten a' clocke Page. The night is darke, Light and Spirits will become it wel: Heauen prosper our sport. No man means euill but the deuill, and we shal know him by his hornes. Lets away: follow me. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Mist.Page, Mist.Ford, Caius. Mist.Page. Mr Doctor, my daughter is in green, when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the Deanerie, and dispatch it quickly: go before into the Parke: we two must go together Cai. I know vat I haue to do, adieu Mist.Page. Fare you well (Sir:) my husband will not reioyce so much at the abuse of Falstaffe, as he will chafe at the Doctors marrying my daughter: But 'tis no matter; better a little chiding, then a great deale of heartbreake Mist.Ford. Where is Nan now? and her troop of Fairies? and the Welch-deuill Herne? Mist.Page. They are all couch'd in a pit hard by Hernes Oake, with obscur'd Lights; which at the very instant of Falstaffes and our meeting, they will at once display to the night Mist.Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him Mist.Page. If he be not amaz'd he will be mock'd: If he be amaz'd, he will euery way be mock'd Mist.Ford. Wee'll betray him finely Mist.Page. Against such Lewdsters, and their lechery, Those that betray them, do no treachery Mist.Ford. The houre drawes-on: to the Oake, to the Oake. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Euans and Fairies. Euans. Trib, trib Fairies: Come, and remember your parts: be pold (I pray you) follow me into the pit, and when I giue the watch-'ords, do as I pid you: Come, come, trib, trib. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Enter Falstaffe, Mistris Page, Mistris Ford, Euans, Anne Page, Fairies, Page, Ford, Quickly, Slender, Fenton, Caius, Pistoll. Fal. The Windsor-bell hath stroke twelue: the Minute drawes-on: Now the hot-bloodied-Gods assist me: Remember Ioue, thou was't a Bull for thy Europa, Loue set on thy hornes. O powerfull Loue, that in some respects makes a Beast a Man: in som other, a Man a beast. You were also (Iupiter) a Swan, for the loue of Leda: O omnipotent Loue, how nere the God drew to the complexion of a Goose: a fault done first in the forme of a beast, (O Ioue, a beastly fault:) and then another fault, in the semblance of a Fowle, thinke on't (Ioue) a fowle-fault. When Gods haue hot backes, what shall poore men do? For me, I am heere a Windsor Stagge, and the fattest (I thinke) i'th Forrest. Send me a coole rut-time (Ioue) or who can blame me to pisse my Tallow? Who comes heere? my Doe? M.Ford. Sir Iohn? Art thou there (my Deere?) My male-Deere? Fal. My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the skie raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greenesleeues, haile-kissing Comfits, and snow Eringoes: Let there come a tempest of prouocation, I will shelter mee heere M.Ford. Mistris Page is come with me (sweet hart.) Fal. Diuide me like a brib'd-Bucke, each a Haunch: I will keepe my sides to my selfe, my shoulders for the fellow of this walke; and my hornes I bequeath your husbands. Am I a Woodman, ha? Speake I like Herne the Hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience, he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome M.Page. Alas, what noise? M.Ford. Heauen forgiue our sinnes Fal. What should this be? M.Ford. M.Page. Away, away Fal. I thinke the diuell wil not haue me damn'd, Least the oyle that's in me should set hell on fire; He would neuer else crosse me thus. Enter Fairies. Qui. Fairies blacke, gray, greene, and white, You Moone-shine reuellers, and shades of night. You Orphan heires of fixed destiny, Attend your office, and your quality. Crier Hob-goblyn, make the Fairy Oyes Pist. Elues, list your names: Silence you aiery toyes. Cricket, to Windsor-chimnies shalt thou leape; Where fires thou find'st vnrak'd, and hearths vnswept, There pinch the Maids as blew as Bill-berry, Our radiant Queene, hates Sluts, and Sluttery Fal. They are Fairies, he that speaks to them shall die, Ile winke, and couch: No man their workes must eie Eu. Wher's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid That ere she sleepe has thrice her prayers said, Raise vp the Organs of her fantasie, Sleepe she as sound as carelesse infancie, But those as sleepe, and thinke not on their sins, Pinch them armes, legs, backes, shoulders, sides, & shins Qu. About, about: Search Windsor Castle (Elues) within, and out. Strew good lucke (Ouphes) on euery sacred roome, That it may stand till the perpetuall doome, In state as wholsome, as in state 'tis fit, Worthy the Owner, and the Owner it. The seuerall Chaires of Order, looke you scowre With iuyce of Balme; and euery precious flowre, Each faire Instalment, Coate, and seu'rall Crest, With loyall Blazon, euermore be blest. And Nightly-meadow-Fairies, looke you sing Like to the Garters-Compasse, in a ring Th' expressure that it beares: Greene let it be, More fertile-fresh then all the Field to see: And, Hony Soit Qui Maly-Pence, write In Emrold-tuffes, Flowres purple, blew, and white, Like Saphire-pearle, and rich embroiderie, Buckled below faire Knight-hoods bending knee; Fairies vse Flowres for their characterie. Away, disperse: But till 'tis one a clocke, Our Dance of Custome, round about the Oke Of Herne the Hunter, let vs not forget Euan. Pray you lock hand in hand: your selues in order set: And twenty glow-wormes shall our Lanthornes bee To guide our Measure round about the Tree. But stay, I smell a man of middle earth Fal. Heauens defend me from that Welsh Fairy, Least he transforme me to a peece of Cheese Pist. Vilde worme, thou wast ore-look'd euen in thy birth Qu. With Triall-fire touch me his finger end: If he be chaste, the flame will backe descend And turne him to no paine: but if he start, It is the flesh of a corrupted hart Pist. A triall, come Eua. Come: will this wood take fire? Fal. Oh, oh, oh Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire. About him (Fairies) sing a scornfull rime, And as you trip, still pinch him to your time. The Song. Fie on sinnefull phantasie: Fie on Lust, and Luxurie: Lust is but a bloudy fire, kindled with vnchaste desire, Fed in heart whose flames aspire, As thoughts do blow them higher and higher. Pinch him (Fairies) mutually: Pinch him for his villanie. Pinch him, and burne him, and turne him about, Till Candles, & Star-light, & Moone-shine be out Page. Nay do not flye, I thinke we haue watcht you now: Will none but Herne the Hunter serue your turne? M.Page. I pray you come, hold vp the iest no higher. Now (good Sir Iohn) how like you Windsor wiues? See you these husband? Do not these faire yoakes Become the Forrest better then the Towne? Ford. Now Sir, whose a Cuckold now? Mr Broome, Falstaffes a Knaue, a Cuckoldly knaue, Heere are his hornes Master Broome: And Master Broome, he hath enioyed nothing of Fords, but his Buck-basket, his cudgell, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Mr Broome, his horses are arrested for it, Mr Broome M.Ford. Sir Iohn, we haue had ill lucke: wee could neuer meete: I will neuer take you for my Loue againe, but I will alwayes count you my Deere Fal. I do begin to perceiue that I am made an Asse Ford. I, and an Oxe too: both the proofes are extant Fal. And these are not Fairies: I was three or foure times in the thought they were not Fairies, and yet the guiltinesse of my minde, the sodaine surprize of my powers, droue the grossenesse of the foppery into a receiu'd beleefe, in despight of the teeth of all rime and reason, that they were Fairies. See now how wit may be made a Iacke-a-Lent, when 'tis vpon ill imployment Euans. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, serue Got, and leaue your desires, and Fairies will not pinse you Ford. Well said Fairy Hugh Euans. And leaue you your iealouzies too, I pray you Ford. I will neuer mistrust my wife againe, till thou art able to woo her in good English Fal. Haue I laid my braine in the Sun, and dri'de it, that it wants matter to preuent so grosse ore-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welch Goate too? Shal I haue a Coxcombe of Frize? Tis time I were choak'd with a peece of toasted Cheese Eu. Seese is not good to giue putter; your belly is al putter Fal. Seese, and Putter? Haue I liu'd to stand at the taunt of one that makes Fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the Realme Mist.Page. Why Sir Iohn, do you thinke though wee would haue thrust vertue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and haue giuen our selues without scruple to hell, that euer the deuill could haue made you our delight? Ford. What, a hodge-pudding? A bag of flax? Mist.Page. A puft man? Page. Old, cold, wither'd, and of intollerable entrailes? Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Sathan? Page. And as poore as Iob? Ford. And as wicked as his wife? Euan. And giuen to Fornications, and to Tauernes, and Sacke, and Wine, and Metheglins, and to drinkings and swearings, and starings? Pribles and prables? Fal. Well, I am your Theame: you haue the start of me, I am deiected: I am not able to answer the Welch Flannell, Ignorance it selfe is a plummet ore me, vse me as you will Ford. Marry Sir, wee'l bring you to Windsor to one Mr Broome, that you haue cozon'd of money, to whom you should haue bin a Pander: ouer and aboue that you haue suffer'd, I thinke, to repay that money will be a biting affliction Page. Yet be cheerefull Knight: thou shalt eat a posset to night at my house, wher I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughes at thee: Tell her Mr Slender hath married her daughter Mist.Page. Doctors doubt that; If Anne Page be my daughter, she is (by this) Doctour Caius wife Slen. Whoa hoe, hoe, Father Page Page. Sonne? How now? How now Sonne, Haue you dispatch'd? Slen. Dispatch'd? Ile make the best in Glostershire know on't: would I were hang'd la, else Page. Of what sonne? Slen. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mistris Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not bene i'th Church, I would haue swing'd him, or hee should haue swing'd me. If I did not thinke it had beene Anne Page, would I might neuer stirre, and 'tis a Post-masters Boy Page. Vpon my life then, you tooke the wrong Slen. What neede you tell me that? I think so, when I tooke a Boy for a Girle: If I had bene married to him, (for all he was in womans apparrell) I would not haue had him Page. Why this is your owne folly, Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter, By her garments? Slen. I went to her in greene, and cried Mum, and she cride budget, as Anne and I had appointed, and yet it was not Anne, but a Post-masters boy Mist.Page. Good George be not angry, I knew of your purpose: turn'd my daughter into white, and indeede she is now with the Doctor at the Deanrie, and there married Cai. Ver is Mistris Page: by gar I am cozoned, I ha married oon Garsoon, a boy; oon pesant, by gar. A boy, it is not An Page, by gar, I am cozened M.Page. Why? did you take her in white? Cai. I bee gar, and 'tis a boy: be gar, Ile raise all Windsor Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the right Anne? Page. My heart misgiues me, here comes Mr Fenton. How now Mr Fenton? Anne. Pardon good father, good my mother pardon Page. Now Mistris: How chance you went not with Mr Slender? M.Page. Why went you not with Mr Doctor, maid? Fen. You do amaze her: heare the truth of it, You would haue married her most shamefully, Where there was no proportion held in loue: The truth is, she and I (long since contracted) Are now so sure that nothing can dissolue vs: Th' offence is holy, that she hath committed, And this deceit looses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or vnduteous title, Since therein she doth euitate and shun A thousand irreligious cursed houres Which forced marriage would haue brought vpon her Ford. Stand not amaz'd, here is no remedie: In Loue, the heauens themselues do guide the state, Money buyes Lands, and wiues are sold by fate Fal. I am glad, though you haue tane a special stand to strike at me, that your Arrow hath glanc'd Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heauen giue thee ioy, what cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd Fal. When night-dogges run, all sorts of Deere are chac'd Mist.Page. Well, I will muse no further: Mr Fenton, Heauen giue you many, many merry dayes: Good husband, let vs euery one go home, And laugh this sport ore by a Countrie fire, Sir Iohn and all Ford. Let it be so (Sir Iohn:) To Master Broome, you yet shall hold your word, For he, to night, shall lye with Mistris Ford: Exeunt. FINIS. THE Merry Wiues of Windsor. Measvre, For Measure Actus primus, Scena prima. Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords. Duke. Escalus Esc. My Lord Duk. Of Gouernment, the properties to vnfold, Would seeme in me t' affect speech & discourse, Since I am put to know, that your owne Science Exceedes (in that) the lists of all aduice My strength can giue you: Then no more remaines But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them worke: The nature of our People, Our Cities Institutions, and the Termes For Common Iustice, y'are as pregnant in As Art, and practise, hath inriched any That we remember: There is our Commission, From which, we would not haue you warpe; call hither, I say, bid come before vs Angelo: What figure of vs thinke you, he will beare. For you must know, we haue with speciall soule Elected him our absence to supply; Lent him our terror, drest him with our loue, And giuen his Deputation all the Organs Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it? Esc. If any in Vienna be of worth To vndergoe such ample grace, and honour, It is Lord Angelo. Enter Angelo. Duk. Looke where he comes Ang. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will, I come to know your pleasure Duke. Angelo: There is a kinde of Character in thy life, That to th' obseruer, doth thy history Fully vnfold: Thy selfe, and thy belongings Are not thine owne so proper, as to waste Thy selfe vpon thy vertues; they on thee: Heauen doth with vs, as we, with Torches doe, Not light them for themselues: For if our vertues Did not goe forth of vs, 'twere all alike As if we had them not: Spirits are not finely touch'd, But to fine issues: nor nature neuer lends The smallest scruple of her excellence, But like a thrifty goddesse, she determines Her selfe the glory of a creditour, Both thanks, and vse; but I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him aduertise; Hold therefore Angelo: In our remoue, be thou at full, our selfe: Mortallitie and Mercie in Vienna Liue in thy tongue, and heart: Old Escalus Though first in question, is thy secondary. Take thy Commission Ang. Now good my Lord Let there be some more test, made of my mettle, Before so noble, and so great a figure Be stamp't vpon it Duk. No more euasion: We haue with a leauen'd, and prepared choice Proceeded to you; therefore take your honors: Our haste from hence is of so quicke condition, That it prefers it selfe, and leaues vnquestion'd Matters of needfull value: We shall write to you As time, and our concernings shall importune, How it goes with vs, and doe looke to know What doth befall you here. So fare you well: To th' hopefull execution doe I leaue you, Of your Commissions Ang. Yet giue leaue (my Lord,) That we may bring you something on the way Duk. My haste may not admit it, Nor neede you (on mine honor) haue to doe With any scruple: your scope is as mine owne, So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes As to your soule seemes good: Giue me your hand, Ile priuily away: I loue the people, But doe not like to stage me to their eyes: Though it doe well, I doe not rellish well Their lowd applause, and Aues vehement: Nor doe I thinke the man of safe discretion That do's affect it. Once more fare you well Ang. The heauens giue safety to your purposes Esc. Lead forth, and bring you backe in happinesse. Enter. Duk. I thanke you, fare you well Esc. I shall desire you, Sir, to giue me leaue To haue free speech with you; and it concernes me To looke into the bottome of my place: A powre I haue, but of what strength and nature, I am not yet instructed Ang. 'Tis so with me: Let vs withdraw together, And we may soone our satisfaction haue Touching that point Esc. Ile wait vpon your honor. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen. Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the Dukes fall vpon the King 1.Gent. Heauen grant vs its peace, but not the King of Hungaries 2.Gent. Amen Luc. Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pirat, that went to sea with the ten Commandements, but scrap'd one out of the Table 2.Gent. Thou shalt not Steale? Luc. I, that he raz'd 1.Gent. Why? 'twas a commandement, to command the Captaine and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steale: There's not a Souldier of vs all, that in the thanks-giuing before meate, do rallish the petition well, that praies for peace 2.Gent. I neuer heard any Souldier dislike it Luc. I beleeue thee: for I thinke thou neuer was't where Grace was said 2.Gent. No? a dozen times at least 1.Gent. What? In meeter? Luc. In any proportion: or in any language 1.Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all controuersie: as for example; Thou thy selfe art a wicked villaine, despight of all Grace 1.Gent. Well: there went but a paire of sheeres betweene vs Luc. I grant: as there may betweene the Lists, and the Veluet. Thou art the List 1.Gent. And thou the Veluet; thou art good veluet; thou'rt a three pild-peece I warrant thee: I had as liefe be a Lyst of an English Kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French Veluet. Do I speake feelingly now? Luc. I thinke thou do'st: and indeed with most painfull feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine owne confession, learne to begin thy health; but, whilst I liue forget to drinke after thee 1.Gen. I think I haue done my selfe wrong, haue I not? 2.Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted, or free. Enter Bawde. Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes. I haue purchas'd as many diseases vnder her Roofe, As come to 2.Gent. To what, I pray? Luc. Iudge 2.Gent. To three thousand Dollours a yeare 1.Gent. I, and more Luc. A French crowne more 1.Gent. Thou art alwayes figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error, I am sound Luc. Nay, not (as one would say) healthy: but so sound, as things that are hollow; thy bones are hollow; Impiety has made a feast of thee 1.Gent. How now, which of your hips has the most profound Ciatica? Bawd. Well, well: there's one yonder arrested, and carried to prison, was worth fiue thousand of you all 2.Gent. Who's that I pray'thee? Bawd. Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio 1.Gent. Claudio to prison? 'tis not so Bawd. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested: saw him carried away: and which is more, within these three daies his head to be chop'd off Luc. But, after all this fooling, I would not haue it so: Art thou sure of this? Bawd. I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam Iulietta with childe Luc. Beleeue me this may be: he promis'd to meete me two howres since, and he was euer precise in promise keeping 2.Gent. Besides you know, it drawes somthing neere to the speech we had to such a purpose 1.Gent. But most of all agreeing with the proclamatio[n] Luc. Away: let's goe learne the truth of it. Enter. Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the sweat, what with the gallowes, and what with pouerty, I am Custom-shrunke. How now? what's the newes with you. Enter Clowne. Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison Baw. Well: what has he done? Clo. A Woman Baw. But what's his offence? Clo. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar Riuer Baw. What? is there a maid with child by him? Clo. No: but there's a woman with maid by him: you haue not heard of the proclamation, haue you? Baw. What proclamation, man? Clow. All howses in the Suburbs of Vienna must bee pluck'd downe Bawd. And what shall become of those in the Citie? Clow. They shall stand for seed: they had gon down to, but that a wise Burger put in for them Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the Suburbs be puld downe? Clow. To the ground, Mistris Bawd. Why heere's a change indeed in the Commonwealth: what shall become of me? Clow. Come: feare not you; good Counsellors lacke no Clients: though you change your place, you neede not change your Trade: Ile bee your Tapster still; courage, there will bee pitty taken on you; you that haue worne your eyes almost out in the seruice, you will bee considered Bawd. What's to doe heere, Thomas Tapster? let's withdraw? Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Prouost to prison: and there's Madam Iuliet. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Prouost, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio, & 2.Gent. Cla. Fellow, why do'st thou show me thus to th' world? Beare me to prison, where I am committed Pro. I do it not in euill disposition, But from Lord Angelo by speciall charge Clau. Thus can the demy-god (Authority) Make vs pay downe, for our offence, by waight The words of heauen; on whom it will, it will, On whom it will not (soe) yet still 'tis iust Luc. Why how now Claudio? whence comes this restraint Cla. From too much liberty, (my Lucio) Liberty As surfet is the father of much fast, So euery Scope by the immoderate vse Turnes to restraint: Our Natures doe pursue Like Rats that rauyn downe their proper Bane, A thirsty euill, and when we drinke, we die Luc. If I could speake so wisely vnder an arrest, I would send for certaine of my Creditors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief haue the foppery of freedome, as the mortality of imprisonment: what's thy offence, Claudio? Cla. What (but to speake of) would offend againe Luc. What, is't murder? Cla. No Luc. Lecherie? Cla. Call it so Pro. Away, Sir, you must goe Cla. One word, good friend: Lucio, a word with you Luc. A hundred: If they'll doe you any good: Is Lechery so look'd after? Cla. Thus stands it with me: vpon a true contract I got possession of Iulietas bed, You know the Lady, she is fast my wife, Saue that we doe the denunciation lacke Of outward Order. This we came not to, Onely for propogation of a Dowre Remaining in the Coffer of her friends, From whom we thought it meet to hide our Loue Till Time had made them for vs. But it chances The stealth of our most mutuall entertainment With Character too grosse, is writ on Iuliet Luc. With childe, perhaps? Cla. Vnhappely, euen so. And the new Deputie, now for the Duke, Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newnes, Or whether that the body publique, be A horse whereon the Gouernor doth ride, Who newly in the Seate, that it may know He can command; lets it strait feele the spur: Whether the Tirranny be in his place, Or in his Eminence that fills it vp I stagger in: But this new Gouernor Awakes me all the inrolled penalties Which haue (like vn-scowr'd Armor) hung by th' wall So long, that ninteene Zodiacks haue gone round, And none of them beene worne; and for a name Now puts the drowsie and neglected Act Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name Luc. I warrant it is: And thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders, that a milke-maid, if she be in loue, may sigh it off: Send after the Duke, and appeale to him Cla. I haue done so, but hee's not to be found. I pre'thee (Lucio) doe me this kinde seruice: This day, my sister should the Cloyster enter, And there receiue her approbation. Acquaint her with the danger of my state, Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputie: bid her selfe assay him, I haue great hope in that: for in her youth There is a prone and speechlesse dialect, Such as moue men: beside, she hath prosperous Art When she will play with reason, and discourse, And well she can perswade Luc. I pray shee may; aswell for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand vnder greeuous imposition: as for the enioying of thy life, who I would be sorry should bee thus foolishly lost, at a game of ticketacke: Ile to her Cla. I thanke you good friend Lucio Luc. Within two houres Cla. Come Officer, away. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Duke and Frier Thomas. Duk. No: holy Father, throw away that thought, Beleeue not that the dribling dart of Loue Can pierce a compleat bosome: why, I desire thee To giue me secret harbour, hath a purpose More graue, and wrinkled, then the aimes, and ends Of burning youth Fri. May your Grace speake of it? Duk. My holy Sir, none better knowes then you How I haue euer lou'd the life remoued And held in idle price, to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost, witlesse brauery keepes. I haue deliuerd to Lord Angelo (A man of stricture and firme abstinence) My absolute power, and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me trauaild to Poland, (For so I haue strewd it in the common eare) And so it is receiu'd: Now (pious Sir) You will demand of me, why I do this Fri. Gladly, my Lord Duk. We haue strict Statutes, and most biting Laws, (The needfull bits and curbes to headstrong weedes,) Which for this foureteene yeares, we haue let slip, Euen like an ore-growne Lyon in a Caue That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers, Hauing bound vp the threatning twigs of birch, Onely to sticke it in their childrens sight, For terror, not to vse: in time the rod More mock'd, then fear'd: so our Decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselues are dead, And libertie, plucks Iustice by the nose; The Baby beates the Nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum Fri. It rested in your Grace To vnloose this tyde-vp Iustice, when you pleas'd: And it in you more dreadfull would haue seem'd Then in Lord Angelo Duk. I doe feare: too dreadfull: Sith 'twas my fault, to giue the people scope, 'Twould be my tirrany to strike and gall them, For what I bid them doe: For, we bid this be done When euill deedes haue their permissiue passe, And not the punishment: therefore indeede (my father) I haue on Angelo impos'd the office, Who may in th' ambush of my name, strike home, And yet, my nature neuer in the sight To do in slander: And to behold his sway I will, as 'twere a brother of your Order, Visit both Prince, and People: Therefore I pre'thee Supply me with the habit, and instruct me How I may formally in person beare Like a true Frier: Moe reasons for this action At our more leysure, shall I render you; Onely, this one: Lord Angelo is precise, Stands at a guard with Enuie: scarce confesses That his blood flowes: or that his appetite Is more to bread then stone: hence shall we see If power change purpose: what our Seemers be. Enter. Scena Quinta. Enter Isabell and Francisca a Nun. Isa. And haue you Nuns no farther priuiledges? Nun. Are not these large enough? Isa. Yes truely; I speake not as desiring more, But rather wishing a more strict restraint Vpon the Sisterhood, the Votarists of Saint Clare. Lucio within. Luc. Hoa? peace be in this place Isa. Who's that which cals? Nun. It is a mans voice: gentle Isabella Turne you the key, and know his businesse of him; You may; I may not: you are yet vnsworne: When you haue vowd, you must not speake with men, But in the presence of the Prioresse; Then if you speake, you must not show your face; Or if you show your face, you must not speake. He cals againe: I pray you answere him Isa. Peace and prosperitie: who is't that cals? Luc. Haile Virgin, (if you be) as those cheeke-Roses Proclaime you are no lesse: can you so steed me, As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A Nouice of this place, and the faire Sister To her vnhappie brother Claudio? Isa. Why her vnhappy Brother? Let me aske, The rather for I now must make you know I am that Isabella, and his Sister Luc. Gentle & faire: your Brother kindly greets you; Not to be weary with you; he's in prison Isa. Woe me; for what? Luc. For that, which if my selfe might be his Iudge, He should receiue his punishment, in thankes: He hath got his friend with childe Isa. Sir, make me not your storie Luc. 'Tis true; I would not, though 'tis my familiar sin, With Maids to seeme the Lapwing, and to iest Tongue, far from heart: play with all Virgins so: I hold you as a thing en-skied, and sainted, By your renouncement, an imortall spirit And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a Saint Isa. You doe blaspheme the good, in mocking me Luc. Doe not beleeue it: fewnes, and truth; tis thus, Your brother, and his louer haue embrac'd; As those that feed, grow full: as blossoming Time That from the seednes, the bare fallow brings To teeming foyson: euen so her plenteous wombe Expresseth his full Tilth, and husbandry Isa. Some one with childe by him? my cosen Iuliet? Luc. Is she your cosen? Isa. Adoptedly, as schoole-maids change their names By vaine, though apt affection Luc. She it is Isa. Oh, let him marry her Luc. This is the point. The Duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen (my selfe being one) In hand, and hope of action: but we doe learne, By those that know the very Nerues of State, His giuing-out, were of an infinite distance From his true meant designe: vpon his place, (And with full line of his authority) Gouernes Lord Angelo; A man, whose blood Is very snow-broth: one, who neuer feeles The wanton stings, and motions of the sence; But doth rebate, and blunt his naturall edge With profits of the minde: Studie, and fast He (to giue feare to vse, and libertie, Which haue, for long, run-by the hideous law, As Myce, by Lyons) hath pickt out an act, Vnder whose heauy sence, your brothers life Fals into forfeit: he arrests him on it, And followes close the rigor of the Statute To make him an example: all hope is gone, Vnlesse you haue the grace, by your faire praier To soften Angelo: And that's my pith of businesse 'Twixt you, and your poore brother Isa. Doth he so, Seeke his life? Luc. Has censur'd him already, And as I heare, the Prouost hath a warrant For's execution Isa. Alas: what poore Abilitie's in me, to doe him good Luc. Assay the powre you haue Isa. My power? alas, I doubt Luc. Our doubts are traitors And makes vs loose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt: Goe to Lord Angelo And let him learne to know, when Maidens sue Men giue like gods: but when they weepe and kneele, All their petitions, are as freely theirs As they themselues would owe them Isa. Ile see what I can doe Luc. But speedily Isa. I will about it strait; No longer staying, but to giue the Mother Notice of my affaire: I humbly thanke you: Commend me to my brother: soone at night Ile send him certaine word of my successe Luc. I take my leaue of you Isa. Good sir, adieu. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima. Enter Angelo, Escalus, and seruants, Iustice. Ang. We must not make a scar-crow of the Law, Setting it vp to feare the Birds of prey, And let it keepe one shape, till custome make it Their pearch, and not their terror Esc. I, but yet Let vs be keene, and rather cut a little Then fall, and bruise to death: alas, this gentleman Whom I would saue, had a most noble father, Let but your honour know (Whom I beleeue to be most strait in vertue) That in the working of your owne affections, Had time coheard with Place, or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of our blood Could haue attaind th' effect of your owne purpose, Whether you had not sometime in your life Er'd in this point, which now you censure him, And puld the Law vpon you Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted (Escalus) Another thing to fall: I not deny The Iury passing on the Prisoners life May in the sworne-twelue haue a thiefe, or two Guiltier then him they try; what's open made to Iustice, That Iustice ceizes; What knowes the Lawes That theeues do passe on theeues? 'Tis very pregnant, The Iewell that we finde, we stoope, and take't, Because we see it; but what we doe not see, We tread vpon, and neuer thinke of it. You may not so extenuate his offence, For I haue had such faults; but rather tell me When I, that censure him, do so offend, Let mine owne Iudgement patterne out my death, And nothing come in partiall. Sir, he must dye. Enter Prouost. Esc. Be it as your wisedome will Ang. Where is the Prouost? Pro. Here if it like your honour Ang. See that Claudio Be executed by nine to morrow morning, Bring him his Confessor, let him be prepar'd, For that's the vtmost of his pilgrimage Esc. Well: heauen forgiue him; and forgiue vs all: Some rise by sinne, and some by vertue fall: Some run from brakes of Ice, and answere none, And some condemned for a fault alone. Enter Elbow, Froth, Clowne, Officers. Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a Common-weale, that doe nothing but vse their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away Ang. How now Sir, what's your name? And what's the matter? Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poore Dukes Constable, and my name is Elbow; I doe leane vpon Iustice Sir, and doe bring in here before your good honor, two notorious Benefactors Ang. Benefactors? Well: What Benefactors are they? Are they not Malefactors? Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: But precise villaines they are, that I am sure of, and void of all prophanation in the world, that good Christians ought to haue Esc. This comes off well: here's a wise Officer Ang. Goe to: What quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why do'st thou not speake Elbow? Clo. He cannot Sir: he's out at Elbow Ang. What are you Sir? Elb. He Sir: a Tapster Sir: parcell Baud: one that serues a bad woman: whose house Sir was (as they say) pluckt downe in the Suborbs: and now shee professes a hot-house; which, I thinke is a very ill house too Esc. How know you that? Elb. My wife Sir? whom I detest before heauen, and your honour Esc. How? thy wife? Elb. I Sir: whom I thanke heauen is an honest woman Esc. Do'st thou detest her therefore? Elb. I say sir, I will detest my selfe also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a Bauds house, it is pitty of her life, for it is a naughty house Esc. How do'st thou know that, Constable? Elb. Marry sir, by my wife, who, if she had bin a woman Cardinally giuen, might haue bin accus'd in fornication, adultery, and all vncleanlinesse there Esc. By the womans meanes? Elb. I sir, by Mistris Ouerdons meanes: but as she spit in his face, so she defide him Clo. Sir, if it please your honor, this is not so Elb. Proue it before these varlets here, thou honorable man, proue it Esc. Doe you heare how he misplaces? Clo. Sir, she came in great with childe: and longing (sauing your honors reuerence) for stewd prewyns; sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were in a fruit dish (a dish of some three pence; your honours haue seene such dishes) they are not China-dishes, but very good dishes Esc. Go too: go too: no matter for the dish sir Clo. No indeede sir not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but, to the point: As I say, this Mistris Elbow, being (as I say) with childe, and being great bellied, and longing (as I said) for prewyns: and hauing but two in the dish (as I said) Master Froth here, this very man, hauing eaten the rest (as I said) & (as I say) paying for them very honestly: for, as you know Master Froth, I could not giue you three pence againe Fro. No indeede Clo. Very well: you being then (if you be remembred) cracking the stones of the foresaid prewyns Fro. I, so I did indeede Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then (if you be remembred) that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, vnlesse they kept very good diet, as I told you Fro. All this is true Clo. Why very well then Esc. Come: you are a tedious foole: to the purpose: what was done to Elbowes wife, that hee hath cause to complaine of? Come me to what was done to her Clo. Sir, your honor cannot come to that yet Esc. No sir, nor I meane it not Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honours leaue: And I beseech you, looke into Master Froth here sir, a man of foure-score pound a yeare; whose father died at Hallowmas: Was't not at Hallowmas Master Froth? Fro. Allhallond-Eue Clo. Why very well: I hope here be truthes: he Sir, sitting (as I say) in a lower chaire, Sir, 'twas in the bunch of Grapes, where indeede you haue a delight to sit, haue you not? Fro. I haue so, because it is an open roome, and good for winter Clo. Why very well then: I hope here be truthes Ang. This will last out a night in Russia When nights are longest there: Ile take my leaue, And leaue you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping youle finde good cause to whip them all. Enter. Esc. I thinke no lesse: good morrow to your Lordship. Now Sir, come on: What was done to Elbowes wife, once more? Clo. Once Sir? there was nothing done to her once Elb. I beseech you Sir, aske him what this man did to my wife Clo. I beseech your honor, aske me Esc. Well sir, what did this Gentleman to her? Clo. I beseech you sir, looke in this Gentlemans face: good Master Froth looke vpon his honor; 'tis for a good purpose: doth your honor marke his face? Esc. I sir, very well Clo. Nay, I beseech you marke it well Esc. Well, I doe so Clo. Doth your honor see any harme in his face? Esc. Why no Clo. Ile be supposd vpon a booke, his face is the worst thing about him: good then: if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth doe the Constables wife any harme? I would know that of your honour Esc. He's in the right (Constable) what say you to it? Elb. First, and it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his Mistris is a respected woman Clo. By this hand Sir, his wife is a more respected person then any of vs all Elb. Varlet, thou lyest; thou lyest wicked varlet: the time is yet to come that shee was euer respected with man, woman, or childe Clo. Sir, she was respected with him, before he married with her Esc. Which is the wiser here; Iustice or Iniquitie? Is this true? Elb. O thou caytiffe: O thou varlet: O thou wicked Hanniball; I respected with her, before I was married to her? If euer I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship thinke mee the poore Dukes Officer: proue this, thou wicked Hanniball, or ile haue mine action of battry on thee Esc. If he tooke you a box o'th' eare, you might haue your action of slander too Elb. Marry I thanke your good worship for it: what is't your Worships pleasure I shall doe with this wicked Caitiffe? Esc. Truly Officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou wouldst discouer, if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou knowst what they are Elb. Marry I thanke your worship for it: Thou seest thou wicked varlet now, what's come vpon thee. Thou art to continue now thou Varlet, thou art to continue Esc. Where were you borne, friend? Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir Esc. Are you of fourescore pounds a yeere? Froth. Yes, and't please you sir Esc. So: what trade are you of, sir? Clo. A Tapster, a poore widdowes Tapster Esc. Your Mistris name? Clo. Mistris Ouerdon Esc. Hath she had any more then one husband? Clo. Nine, sir: Ouerdon by the last Esc. Nine? come hether to me, Master Froth; Master Froth, I would not haue you acquainted with Tapsters; they will draw you Master Froth, and you wil hang them: get you gon, and let me heare no more of you Fro. I thanke your worship: for mine owne part, I neuer come into any roome in a Tap-house, but I am drawne in Esc. Well: no more of it Master Froth: farewell: Come you hether to me, Mr. Tapster: what's your name Mr. Tapster? Clo. Pompey Esc. What else? Clo. Bum, Sir Esc. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that in the beastliest sence, you are Pompey the great; Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey; howsoeuer you colour it in being a Tapster, are you not? come, tell me true, it shall be the better for you Clo. Truly sir, I am a poore fellow that would liue Esc. How would you liue Pompey? by being a bawd? what doe you thinke of the trade Pompey? is it a lawfull trade? Clo. If the Law would allow it, sir Esc. But the Law will not allow it Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna Clo. Do's your Worship meane to geld and splay all the youth of the City? Esc. No, Pompey Clo. Truely Sir, in my poore opinion they will too't then: if your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaues, you need not to feare the bawds Esc. There is pretty orders beginning I can tell you: It is but heading, and hanging Clo. If you head, and hang all that offend that way but for ten yeare together; you'll be glad to giue out a Commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten yeare, ile rent the fairest house in it after three pence a Bay: if you liue to see this come to passe, say Pompey told you so Esc. Thanke you good Pompey; and in requitall of your prophesie, harke you: I aduise you let me not finde you before me againe vpon any complaint whatsoeuer; no, not for dwelling where you doe: if I doe Pompey, I shall beat you to your Tent, and proue a shrewd Cæsar to you: in plaine dealing Pompey, I shall haue you whipt; so for this time, Pompey, fare you well Clo. I thanke your Worship for your good counsell; but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me? no, no, let Carman whip his Iade, The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. Enter. Esc. Come hether to me, Master Elbow: come hither Master Constable: how long haue you bin in this place of Constable? Elb. Seuen yeere, and a halfe sir Esc. I thought by the readinesse in the office, you had continued in it some time: you say seauen yeares together Elb. And a halfe sir Esc. Alas, it hath beene great paines to you: they do you wrong to put you so oft vpon't. Are there not men in your Ward sufficient to serue it? Elb. 'Faith sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some peece of money, and goe through with all Esc. Looke you bring mee in the names of some sixe or seuen, the most sufficient of your parish Elb. To your Worships house sir? Esc. To my house: fare you well: what's a clocke, thinke you? Iust. Eleuen, Sir Esc. I pray you home to dinner with me Iust. I humbly thanke you Esc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio But there's no remedie: Iust. Lord Angelo is seuere Esc. It is but needfull. Mercy is not it selfe, that oft lookes so, Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie. Come Sir. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Prouost, Seruant. Ser. Hee's hearing of a Cause; he will come straight, I'le tell him of you Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know His pleasure, may be he will relent; alas He hath but as offended in a dreame, All Sects, all Ages smack of this vice, and he To die for't? Enter Angelo. Ang. Now, what's the matter Prouost? Pro. Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why do'st thou aske againe? Pro. Lest I might be too rash: Vnder your good correction I haue seene When after execution, Iudgement hath Repented ore his doome Ang. Goe to; let that be mine, Doe you your office, or giue vp your Place, And you shall well be spar'd Pro. I craue your Honours pardon: What shall be done Sir, with the groaning Iuliet? Shee's very neere her howre Ang. Dispose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed Ser. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires accesse to you Ang. Hath he a Sister? Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid, And to be shortlie of a Sister-hood, If not alreadie Ang. Well: let her be admitted, See you the Fornicatresse be remou'd, Let her haue needfull, but not lauish meanes, There shall be order for't. Enter Lucio and Isabella. Pro. 'Saue your Honour Ang. Stay a little while: y'are welcome: what's your will? Isab. I am a wofull Sutor to your Honour, 'Please but your Honor heare me Ang. Well: what's your suite Isab. There is a vice that most I doe abhorre, And most desire should meet the blow of Iustice; For which I would not plead, but that I must, For which I must not plead, but that I am At warre, twixt will, and will not Ang. Well: the matter? Isab. I haue a brother is condemn'd to die, I doe beseech you let it be his fault, And not my brother Pro. Heauen giue thee mouing graces Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the actor of it, Why euery fault's condemnd ere it be done: Mine were the verie Cipher of a Function To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let goe by the Actor Isab. Oh iust, but seuere Law: I had a brother then; heauen keepe your honour Luc. Giue't not ore so: to him againe, entreat him, Kneele downe before him, hang vpon his gowne, You are too cold: if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say Isab. Must he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedie Isab. Yes: I doe thinke that you might pardon him, And neither heauen, nor man grieue at the mercy Ang. I will not doe't Isab. But can you if you would? Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe Isab. But might you doe't & do the world no wrong If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse, As mine is to him? Ang. Hee's sentenc'd, tis too late Luc. You are too cold Isab. Too late? why no: I that doe speak a word May call it againe: well, beleeue this No ceremony that to great ones longs, Not the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed sword, The Marshalls Truncheon, nor the Iudges Robe Become them with one halfe so good a grace As mercie does: If he had bin as you, and you as he, You would haue slipt like him, but he like you Would not haue beene so sterne Ang. Pray you be gone Isab. I would to heauen I had your potencie, And you were Isabell: should it then be thus? No: I would tell what 'twere to be a Iudge, And what a prisoner Luc. I, touch him: there's the veine Ang. Your Brother is a forfeit of the Law, And you but waste your words Isab. Alas, alas: Why all the soules that were, were forfeit once, And he that might the vantage best haue tooke, Found out the remedie: how would you be, If he, which is the top of Iudgement, should But iudge you, as you are? Oh, thinke on that, And mercie then will breathe within your lips Like man new made Ang. Be you content, (faire Maid) It is the Law, not I, condemne your brother, Were he my kinsman, brother, or my sonne, It should be thus with him: he must die to morrow Isab. To morrow? oh, that's sodaine, Spare him, spare him: Hee's not prepar'd for death; euen for our kitchins We kill the fowle of season: shall we serue heauen With lesse respect then we doe minister To our grosse-selues? good, good my Lord, bethink you; Who is it that hath di'd for this offence? There's many haue committed it Luc. I, well said Ang. The Law hath not bin dead, thogh it hath slept Those many had not dar'd to doe that euill If the first, that did th' Edict infringe Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake, Takes note of what is done, and like a Prophet Lookes in a glasse that shewes what future euils Either now, or by remissenesse, new conceiu'd, And so in progresse to be hatch'd, and borne, Are now to haue no successiue degrees, But here they liue to end Isab. Yet shew some pittie Ang. I shew it most of all, when I show Iustice; For then I pittie those I doe not know, Which a dismis'd offence, would after gaule And doe him right, that answering one foule wrong Liues not to act another. Be satisfied; Your Brother dies to morrow; be content Isab. So you must be y first that giues this sentence, And hee, that suffers: Oh, it is excellent To haue a Giants strength: but it is tyrannous To vse it like a Giant Luc. That's well said Isab. Could great men thunder As Ioue himselfe do's, Ioue would neuer be quiet, For euery pelting petty Officer Would vse his heauen for thunder; Nothing but thunder: Mercifull heauen, Thou rather with thy sharpe and sulpherous bolt Splits the vn-wedgable and gnarled Oke, Then the soft Mertill: But man, proud man, Drest in a little briefe authoritie, Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, (His glassie Essence) like an angry Ape Plaies such phantastique tricks before high heauen, As makes the Angels weepe: who with our spleenes, Would all themselues laugh mortall Luc. Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent, Hee's comming: I perceiue't Pro. Pray heauen she win him Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe, Great men may iest with Saints: tis wit in them, But in the lesse fowle prophanation Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girle) more o'that Isab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word, Which in the Souldier is flat blasphemie Luc. Art auis'd o'that? more on't Ang. Why doe you put these sayings vpon me? Isab. Because Authoritie, though it erre like others, Hath yet a kinde of medicine in it selfe That skins the vice o'th top; goe to your bosome, Knock there, and aske your heart what it doth know That's like my brothers fault: if it confesse A naturall guiltinesse, such as is his, Let it not sound a thought vpon your tongue Against my brothers life Ang. Shee speakes, and 'tis such sence That my Sence breeds with it; fare you well Isab. Gentle my Lord, turne backe Ang. I will bethinke me: come againe to morrow Isa. Hark, how Ile bribe you: good my Lord turn back Ang. How? bribe me? Is. I, with such gifts that heauen shall share with you Luc. You had mar'd all else Isab. Not with fond Sickles of the tested-gold, Or Stones, whose rate are either rich, or poore As fancie values them: but with true prayers, That shall be vp at heauen, and enter there Ere Sunne rise: prayers from preserued soules, From fasting Maides, whose mindes are dedicate To nothing temporall Ang. Well: come to me to morrow Luc. Goe to: 'tis well; away Isab. Heauen keepe your honour safe Ang. Amen. For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers crosse Isab. At what hower to morrow, Shall I attend your Lordship? Ang. At any time 'fore-noone Isab. 'Saue your Honour Ang. From thee: euen from thy vertue. What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine? The Tempter, or the Tempted, who sins most? ha? Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I, That, lying by the Violet in the Sunne, Doe as the Carrion do's, not as the flowre, Corrupt with vertuous season: Can it be, That Modesty may more betray our Sence Then womans lightnesse? hauing waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the Sanctuary And pitch our euils there? oh fie, fie, fie: What dost thou? or what art thou Angelo? Dost thou desire her fowly, for those things That make her good? oh, let her brother liue: Theeues for their robbery haue authority, When Iudges steale themselues: what, doe I loue her, That I desire to heare her speake againe? And feast vpon her eyes? what is't I dreame on? Oh cunning enemy, that to catch a Saint, With Saints dost bait thy hooke: most dangerous Is that temptation, that doth goad vs on To sinne, in louing vertue: neuer could the Strumpet With all her double vigor, Art, and Nature Once stir my temper: but this vertuous Maid Subdues me quite: Euer till now When men were fond, I smild, and wondred how. Enter. Scena Tertia. Enter Duke and Prouost. Duke. Haile to you, Prouost, so I thinke you are Pro. I am the Prouost: whats your will, good Frier? Duke. Bound by my charity, and my blest order, I come to visite the afflicted spirits Here in the prison: doe me the common right To let me see them: and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly Pro. I would do more then that, if more were needfull Enter Iuliet. Looke here comes one: a Gentlewoman of mine, Who falling in the flawes of her owne youth, Hath blisterd her report: She is with childe, And he that got it, sentenc'd: a yong man, More fit to doe another such offence, Then dye for this Duk. When must he dye? Pro. As I do thinke to morrow. I haue prouided for you, stay a while And you shall be conducted Duk. Repent you (faire one) of the sin you carry? Iul. I doe; and beare the shame most patiently Du. Ile teach you how you shal araign your conscie[n]ce And try your penitence, if it be sound, Or hollowly put on Iul. Ile gladly learne Duk. Loue you the man that wrong'd you? Iul. Yes, as I loue the woman that wrong'd him Duk. So then it seemes your most offence full act Was mutually committed Iul. Mutually Duk. Then was your sin of heauier kinde then his Iul. I doe confesse it, and repent it (Father.) Duk. 'Tis meet so (daughter) but least you do repent As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is alwaies toward our selues, not heauen, Showing we would not spare heauen, as we loue it, But as we stand in feare Iul. I doe repent me, as it is an euill, And take the shame with ioy Duke. There rest: Your partner (as I heare) must die to morrow, And I am going with instruction to him: Grace goe with you, Benedicite. Enter. Iul. Must die to morrow? oh iniurious Loue That respits me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror Pro. 'Tis pitty of him. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Angelo. An. When I would pray, & think, I thinke, and pray To seuerall subiects: heauen hath my empty words, Whilst my Inuention, hearing not my Tongue, Anchors on Isabell: heauen in my mouth, As if I did but onely chew his name, And in my heart the strong and swelling euill Of my conception: the state whereon I studied Is like a good thing, being often read Growne feard, and tedious: yea, my Grauitie Wherein (let no man heare me) I take pride, Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume Which the ayre beats for vaine: oh place, oh forme, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wiser soules To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art blood, Let's write good Angell on the Deuills horne 'Tis not the Deuills Crest: how now? who's there? Enter Seruant. Ser. One Isabell, a Sister, desires accesse to you Ang. Teach her the way: oh, heauens Why doe's my bloud thus muster to my heart, Making both it vnable for it selfe, And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitnesse? So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds, Come all to help him, and so stop the ayre By which hee should reuiue: and euen so The generall subiect to a wel-wisht King Quit their owne part, and in obsequious fondnesse Crowd to his presence, where their vn-taught loue Must needs appear offence: how now faire Maid. Enter Isabella. Isab. I am come to know your pleasure An. That you might know it, wold much better please me, Then to demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot liue Isab. Euen so: heauen keepe your Honor Ang. Yet may he liue a while: and it may be As long as you, or I: yet he must die Isab. Vnder your Sentence? Ang. Yea Isab. When, I beseech you: that in his Reprieue (Longer, or shorter) he may be so fitted That his soule sicken not Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices: It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolne A man already made, as to remit Their sawcie sweetnes, that do coyne heauens Image In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easie, Falsely to take away a life true made, As to put mettle in restrained meanes To make a false one Isab. 'Tis set downe so in heauen, but not in earth Ang. Say you so: then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most iust Law Now tooke your brothers life, and to redeeme him Giue vp your body to such sweet vncleannesse As she that he hath staind? Isab. Sir, beleeue this. I had rather giue my body, then my soule Ang. I talke not of your soule: our compel'd sins Stand more for number, then for accompt Isab. How say you? Ang. Nay Ile not warrant that: for I can speake Against the thing I say: Answere to this, I (now the voyce of the recorded Law) Pronounce a sentence on your Brothers life, Might there not be a charitie in sinne, To saue this Brothers life? Isab. Please you to doo't, Ile take it as a perill to my soule, It is no sinne at all, but charitie Ang. Pleas'd you to doo't, at perill of your soule Were equall poize of sinne, and charitie Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sinne Heauen let me beare it: you granting of my suit, If that be sin, Ile make it my Morne-praier, To haue it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answere Ang. Nay, but heare me, Your sence pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seeme so crafty; and that's not good Isab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better Ang. Thus wisdome wishes to appeare most bright, When it doth taxe it selfe: As these blacke Masques Proclaime an en-shield beauty ten times louder Then beauty could displaied: But marke me, To be receiued plaine, Ile speake more grosse: Your Brother is to dye Isab. So Ang. And his offence is so, as it appeares, Accountant to the Law, vpon that paine Isab. True Ang. Admit no other way to saue his life (As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the losse of question) that you, his Sister, Finding your selfe desir'd of such a person, Whose creadit with the Iudge, or owne great place, Could fetch your Brother from the Manacles Of the all-building-Law: and that there were No earthly meane to saue him, but that either You must lay downe the treasures of your body, To this supposed, or else to let him suffer: What would you doe? Isab. As much for my poore Brother, as my selfe; That is: were I vnder the tearmes of death, Th' impression of keene whips, I'ld weare as Rubies, And strip my selfe to death, as to a bed, That longing haue bin sicke for, ere I'ld yeeld My body vp to shame Ang. Then must your brother die Isa. And 'twer the cheaper way: Better it were a brother dide at once, Then that a sister, by redeeming him Should die for euer Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence, That you haue slander'd so? Isa. Ignomie in ransome, and free pardon Are of two houses: lawfull mercie, Is nothing kin to fowle redemption Ang. You seem'd of late to make the Law a tirant, And rather prou'd the sliding of your brother A merriment, then a vice Isa. Oh pardon me my Lord, it oft fals out To haue, what we would haue, We speake not what we meane; I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his aduantage that I dearely loue Ang. We are all fraile Isa. Else let my brother die, If not a fedarie but onely he Owe, and succeed thy weaknesse Ang. Nay, women are fraile too Isa. I, as the glasses where they view themselues, Which are as easie broke as they make formes: Women? Helpe heauen; men their creation marre In profiting by them: Nay, call vs ten times fraile, For we are soft, as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints Ang. I thinke it well: And from this testimonie of your owne sex (Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger Then faults may shake our frames) let me be bold; I do arrest your words. Be that you are, That is a woman; if you be more, you'r none. If you be one (as you are well exprest By all externall warrants) shew it now, By putting on the destin'd Liuerie Isa. I haue no tongue but one; gentle my Lord, Let me entreate you speake the former language Ang. Plainlie conceiue I loue you Isa. My brother did loue Iuliet, And you tell me that he shall die for't Ang. He shall not Isabell if you giue me loue Isa. I know your vertue hath a licence in't, Which seemes a little fouler then it is, To plucke on others Ang. Beleeue me on mine Honor, My words expresse my purpose Isa. Ha? Little honor, to be much beleeu'd, And most pernitious purpose: Seeming, seeming. I will proclaime thee Angelo, looke for't. Signe me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an out-stretcht throate Ile tell the world aloud What man thou art Ang. Who will beleeue thee Isabell? My vnsoild name, th' austeerenesse of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i'th State, Will so your accusation ouer-weigh, That you shall stifle in your owne report, And smell of calumnie. I haue begun, And now I giue my sensuall race, the reine, Fit thy consent to my sharpe appetite, Lay by all nicetie, and prolixious blushes That banish what they sue for: Redeeme thy brother, By yeelding vp thy bodie to my will, Or else he must not onelie die the death, But thy vnkindnesse shall his death draw out To lingring sufferance: Answer me to morrow, Or by the affection that now guides me most, Ile proue a Tirant to him. As for you, Say what you can; my false, ore-weighs your true. Exit Isa. To whom should I complaine? Did I tell this, Who would beleeue me? O perilous mouthes That beare in them, one and the selfesame tongue, Either of condemnation, or approofe, Bidding the Law make curtsie to their will, Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite, To follow as it drawes. Ile to my brother, Though he hath falne by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a minde of Honor, That had he twentie heads to tender downe On twentie bloodie blockes, hee'ld yeeld them vp, Before his sister should her bodie stoope To such abhord pollution. Then Isabell liue chaste, and brother die; ``More then our Brother, is our Chastitie. Ile tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his minde to death, for his soules rest. Enter. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Prouost. Du. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? Cla. The miserable haue no other medicine But onely hope: I'haue hope to liue, and am prepar'd to die Duke. Be absolute for death: either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do loose thee, I do loose a thing That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art, Seruile to all the skyie-influences That dost this habitation where thou keepst Hourely afflict: Meerely, thou art deaths foole, For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun, And yet runst toward him still. Thou art not noble, For all th' accommodations that thou bearst, Are nurst by basenesse: Thou'rt by no meanes valiant, For thou dost feare the soft and tender forke Of a poore worme: thy best of rest is sleepe, And that thou oft prouoakst, yet grosselie fearst Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy selfe, For thou exists on manie a thousand graines That issue out of dust. Happie thou art not, For what thou hast not, still thou striu'st to get, And what thou hast forgetst. Thou art not certaine, For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the Moone: If thou art rich, thou'rt poore, For like an Asse, whose backe with Ingots bowes; Thou bearst thy heauie riches but a iournie, And death vnloads thee; Friend hast thou none. For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire The meere effusion of thy proper loines Do curse the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age But as it were an after-dinners sleepe Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes Of palsied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich Thou hast neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beautie To make thy riches pleasant: what's yet in this That beares the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we feare That makes these oddes, all euen Cla. I humblie thanke you. To sue to liue, I finde I seeke to die, And seeking death, finde life: Let it come on. Enter Isabella. Isab. What hoa? Peace heere; Grace, and good companie Pro. Who's there? Come in, the wish deserues a welcome Duke. Deere sir, ere long Ile visit you againe Cla. Most holie Sir, I thanke you Isa. My businesse is a word or two with Claudio Pro. And verie welcom: looke Signior, here's your sister Duke. Prouost, a word with you Pro. As manie as you please Duke. Bring them to heare me speak, where I may be conceal'd Cla. Now sister, what's the comfort? Isa. Why, As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede, Lord Angelo hauing affaires to heauen Intends you for his swift Ambassador, Where you shall be an euerlasting Leiger; Therefore your best appointment make with speed, To Morrow you set on Clau. Is there no remedie? Isa. None, but such remedie, as to saue a head To cleaue a heart in twaine: Clau. But is there anie? Isa. Yes brother, you may liue; There is a diuellish mercie in the Iudge, If you'l implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death Cla. Perpetuall durance? Isa. I iust, perpetuall durance, a restraint Through all the worlds vastiditie you had To a determin'd scope Clau. But in what nature? Isa. In such a one, as you consenting too't, Would barke your honor from that trunke you beare, And leaue you naked Clau. Let me know the point Isa. Oh, I do feare thee Claudio, and I quake, Least thou a feauorous life shouldst entertaine, And six or seuen winters more respect Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar'st thou die? The sence of death is most in apprehension, And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great, As when a Giant dies Cla. Why giue you me this shame? Thinke you I can a resolution fetch From flowrie tendernesse? If I must die, I will encounter darknesse as a bride, And hugge it in mine armes Isa. There spake my brother: there my fathers graue Did vtter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble, to conserue a life In base appliances. This outward sainted Deputie, Whose setled visage, and deliberate word Nips youth i'th head, and follies doth emmew As Falcon doth the Fowle, is yet a diuell: His filth within being cast, he would appeare A pond, as deepe as hell Cla. The prenzie, Angelo? Isa. Oh 'tis the cunning Liuerie of hell, The damnest bodie to inuest, and couer In prenzie gardes; dost thou thinke Claudio, If I would yeeld him my virginitie Thou might'st be freed? Cla. Oh heauens, it cannot be Isa. Yes, he would giu't thee; from this rank offence So to offend him still. This night's the time That I should do what I abhorre to name, Or else thou diest to morrow Clau. Thou shalt not do't Isa. O, were it but my life, I'de throw it downe for your deliuerance As frankely as a pin Clau. Thankes deere Isabell Isa. Be readie Claudio, for your death to morrow Clau. Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose, When he would force it? Sure it is no sinne, Or of the deadly seuen it is the least Isa. Which is the least? Cla. If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentarie tricke Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabell Isa. What saies my brother? Cla. Death is a fearefull thing Isa. And shamed life, a hatefull Cla. I, but to die, and go we know not where, To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot, This sensible warme motion, to become A kneaded clod; And the delighted spirit To bath in fierie floods, or to recide In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice, To be imprison'd in the viewlesse windes And blowne with restlesse violence round about The pendant world: or to be worse then worst Of those, that lawlesse and incertaine thought, Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible. The weariest, and most loathed worldly life That Age, Ache, periury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a Paradise To what we feare of death Isa. Alas, alas Cla. Sweet Sister, let me liue. What sinne you do, to saue a brothers life, Nature dispenses with the deede so farre, That it becomes a vertue Isa. Oh you beast, Oh faithlesse Coward, oh dishonest wretch, Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice? Is't not a kinde of Incest, to take life From thine owne sisters shame? What should I thinke, Heauen shield my Mother plaid my Father faire: For such a warped slip of wildernesse Nere issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance, Die, perish: Might but my bending downe Repreeue thee from thy fate, it should proceede. Ile pray a thousand praiers for thy death, No word to saue thee Cla. Nay heare me Isabell Isa. Oh fie, fie, fie: Thy sinn's not accidentall, but a Trade; Mercy to thee would proue it selfe a Bawd, 'Tis best that thou diest quickly Cla. Oh heare me Isabella Duk. Vouchsafe a word, yong sister, but one word Isa. What is your Will Duk. Might you dispense with your leysure, I would by and by haue some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your owne benefit Isa. I haue no superfluous leysure, my stay must be stolen out of other affaires: but I will attend you a while Duke. Son, I haue ouer-heard what hath past between you & your sister. Angelo had neuer the purpose to corrupt her; onely he hath made an assay of her vertue, to practise his iudgement with the disposition of natures. She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him that gracious deniall, which he is most glad to receiue: I am Confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, therfore prepare your selfe to death: do not satisfie your resolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you must die, goe to your knees, and make ready Cla. Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of loue with life, that I will sue to be rid of it Duke. Hold you there: farewell: Prouost, a word with you Pro. What's your will (father?) Duk. That now you are come, you wil be gone: leaue me a while with the Maid, my minde promises with my habit, no losse shall touch her by my company Pro. In good time. Enter. Duk. The hand that hath made you faire, hath made you good: the goodnes that is cheape in beauty, makes beauty briefe in goodnes; but grace being the soule of your complexion, shall keepe the body of it euer faire: the assault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath conuaid to my vnderstanding; and but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how will you doe to content this Substitute, and to saue your Brother? Isab. I am now going to resolue him: I had rather my brother die by the Law, then my sonne should be vnlawfullie borne. But (oh) how much is the good Duke deceiu'd in Angelo: if euer he returne, and I can speake to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or discouer his gouernment Duke. That shall not be much amisse: yet, as the matter now stands, he will auoid your accusation: he made triall of you onelie. Therefore fasten your eare on my aduisings, to the loue I haue in doing good; a remedie presents it selfe. I doe make my selfe beleeue that you may most vprighteously do a poor wronged Lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry Law; doe no staine to your owne gracious person, and much please the absent Duke, if peraduenture he shall euer returne to haue hearing of this businesse Isab. Let me heare you speake farther; I haue spirit to do any thing that appeares not fowle in the truth of my spirit Duke. Vertue is bold, and goodnes neuer fearefull: Haue you not heard speake of Mariana the sister of Fredericke the great Souldier, who miscarried at Sea? Isa. I haue heard of the Lady, and good words went with her name Duke. Shee should this Angelo haue married: was affianced to her oath, and the nuptiall appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnitie, her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea, hauing in that perished vessell, the dowry of his sister: but marke how heauily this befell to the poore Gentlewoman, there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his loue toward her, euer most kinde and naturall: with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry: with both, her combynate-husband, this well-seeming Angelo Isab. Can this be so? did Angelo so leaue her? Duke. Left her in her teares, & dried not one of them with his comfort: swallowed his vowes whole, pretending in her, discoueries of dishonor: in few, bestow'd her on her owne lamentation, which she yet weares for his sake: and he, a marble to her teares, is washed with them, but relents not Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poore maid from the world? what corruption in this life, that it will let this man liue? But how out of this can shee auaile? Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heale: and the cure of it not onely saues your brother, but keepes you from dishonor in doing it Isab. Shew me how (good Father.) Duk. This fore-named Maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his vniust vnkindenesse (that in all reason should haue quenched her loue) hath (like an impediment in the Current) made it more violent and vnruly: Goe you to Angelo, answere his requiring with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands to the point: onely referre your selfe to this aduantage; first, that your stay with him may not be long: that the time may haue all shadow, and silence in it: and the place answere to conuenience: this being granted in course, and now followes all: wee shall aduise this wronged maid to steed vp your appointment, goe in your place: if the encounter acknowledge it selfe heereafter, it may compell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is your brother saued, your honor vntainted, the poore Mariana aduantaged, and the corrupt Deputy scaled. The Maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt: if you thinke well to carry this as you may, the doublenes of the benefit defends the deceit from reproofe. What thinke you of it? Isab. The image of it giues me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection Duk. It lies much in your holding vp: haste you speedily to Angelo, if for this night he intreat you to his bed, giue him promise of satisfaction: I will presently to S[aint]. Lukes, there at the moated-Grange recides this deiected Mariana; at that place call vpon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well good father. Enter. Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers. Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needes buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall haue all the world drinke browne & white bastard Duk. Oh heauens, what stuffe is heere Clow. Twas neuer merry world since of two vsuries the merriest was put downe, and the worser allow'd by order of Law; a fur'd gowne to keepe him warme; and furd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to signifie, that craft being richer then Innocency, stands for the facing Elb. Come your way sir: 'blesse you good Father Frier Duk. And you good Brother Father; what offence hath this man made you, Sir? Elb. Marry Sir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir, we take him to be a Theefe too Sir: for wee haue found vpon him Sir, a strange Pick-lock, which we haue sent to the Deputie Duke. Fie, sirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd, The euill that thou causest to be done, That is thy meanes to liue. Do thou but thinke What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a backe From such a filthie vice: say to thy selfe, From their abhominable and beastly touches I drinke, I eate away my selfe, and liue: Canst thou beleeue thy liuing is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend Clo. Indeed, it do's stinke in some sort, Sir: But yet Sir I would proue Duke. Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for sin Thou wilt proue his. Take him to prison Officer: Correction, and Instruction must both worke Ere this rude beast will profit Elb. He must before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-master: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand Duke. That we were all, as some would seeme to bee From our faults, as faults from seeming free. Enter Lucio. Elb. His necke will come to your wast, a Cord sir Clo. I spy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine Luc. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What saist thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i'th last raine? Ha? What saist thou Trot? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The tricke of it? Duke. Still thus, and thus: still worse? Luc. How doth my deere Morsell, thy Mistris? Procures she still? Ha? Clo. Troth sir, shee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and she is her selfe in the tub Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Euer your fresh Whore, and your pouder'd Baud, an vnshun'd consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison Pompey? Clo. Yes faith sir Luc. Why 'tis not amisse Pompey: farewell: goe say I sent thee thether: for debt Pompey? Or how? Elb. For being a baud, for being a baud Luc. Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be the due of a baud, why 'tis his right. Baud is he doubtlesse, and of antiquity too: Baud borne. Farwell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the house Clo. I hope Sir, your good Worship wil be my baile? Luc. No indeed wil I not Pompey, it is not the wear: I will pray (Pompey) to encrease your bondage if you take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more: Adieu trustie Pompey. Blesse you Friar Duke. And you Luc. Do's Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? Elb. Come your waies sir, come Clo. You will not baile me then Sir? Luc. Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier? What newes? Elb. Come your waies sir, come Luc. Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe: What newes Frier of the Duke? Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any? Luc. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia: other some, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you? Duke. I know not where: but wheresoeuer, I wish him well Luc. It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to steale from the State, and vsurpe the beggerie hee was neuer borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression too't Duke. He do's well in't Luc. A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Frier Duk. It is too general a vice, and seueritie must cure it Luc. Yes in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirpe it quite, Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They say this Angelo was not made by Man and Woman, after this downe-right way of Creation: is it true, thinke you? Duke. How should he be made then? Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was begot betweene two Stock-fishes. But it is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is congeal'd ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a motion generatiue, that's infallible Duke. You are pleasant sir, and speake apace Luc. Why, what a ruthlesse thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a Cod-peece, to take away the life of a man? Would the Duke that is absent haue done this? Ere he would haue hang'd a man for the getting a hundred Bastards, he would haue paide for the Nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport, hee knew the seruice, and that instructed him to mercie Duke. I neuer heard the absent Duke much detected for Women, he was not enclin'd that way Luc. Oh Sir, you are deceiu'd Duke. 'Tis not possible Luc. Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty: and his vse was, to put a ducket in her Clack-dish; the Duke had Crochets in him. Hee would be drunke too, that let me informe you Duke. You do him wrong, surely Luc. Sir, I was an inward of his: a shie fellow was the Duke, and I beleeue I know the cause of his withdrawing Duke. What (I prethee) might be the cause? Luc. No, pardon: 'Tis a secret must bee lockt within the teeth and the lippes: but this I can let you vnderstand, the greater file of the subiect held the Duke to be wise Duke. Wise? Why no question but he was Luc. A very superficiall, ignorant, vnweighing fellow Duke. Either this is Enuie in you, Folly, or mistaking: The very streame of his life, and the businesse he hath helmed, must vppon a warranted neede, giue him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his owne bringings forth, and hee shall appeare to the enuious, a Scholler, a Statesman, and a Soldier: therefore you speake vnskilfully: or, if your knowledge bee more, it is much darkned in your malice Luc. Sir, I know him, and I loue him Duke. Loue talkes with better knowledge, & knowledge with deare loue Luc. Come Sir, I know what I know Duke. I can hardly beleeue that, since you know not what you speake. But if euer the Duke returne (as our praiers are he may) let mee desire you to make your answer before him: if it bee honest you haue spoke, you haue courage to maintaine it; I am bound to call vppon you, and I pray you your name? Luc. Sir my name is Lucio, wel known to the Duke Duke. He shall know you better Sir, if I may liue to report you Luc. I feare you not Duke. O, you hope the Duke will returne no more: or you imagine me to vnhurtfull an opposite: but indeed I can doe you little harme: You'll for-sweare this againe? Luc. Ile be hang'd first: Thou art deceiu'd in mee Friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell if Claudio die to morrow, or no? Duke. Why should he die Sir? Luc. Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne-dish: I would the Duke we talke of were return'd againe: this vngenitur'd Agent will vn-people the Prouince with Continencie. Sparrowes must not build in his house-eeues, because they are lecherous: The Duke yet would haue darke deeds darkelie answered, hee would neuer bring them to light: would hee were return'd. Marrie this Claudio is condemned for vntrussing. Farwell good Friar, I prethee pray for me: The Duke (I say to thee againe) would eate Mutton on Fridaies. He's now past it, yet (and I say to thee) hee would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt browne-bread and Garlicke: say that I said so: Farewell. Enter. Duke. No might, nor greatnesse in mortality Can censure scape: Back-wounding calumnie The whitest vertue strikes. What King so strong, Can tie the gall vp in the slanderous tong? But who comes heere? Enter Escalus, Prouost, and Bawd. Esc. Go, away with her to prison Bawd. Good my Lord be good to mee, your Honor is accounted a mercifull man: good my Lord Esc. Double, and trebble admonition, and still forfeite in the same kinde? This would make mercy sweare and play the Tirant Pro. A Bawd of eleuen yeares continuance, may it please your Honor Bawd. My Lord, this is one Lucio's information against me, Mistris Kate Keepe-downe was with childe by him in the Dukes time, he promis'd her marriage: his Childe is a yeere and a quarter olde come Philip and Iacob: I haue kept it my selfe; and see how hee goes about to abuse me Esc. That fellow is a fellow of much License: Let him be call'd before vs, Away with her to prison: Goe too, no more words. Prouost, my Brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to morrow: Let him be furnish'd with Diuines, and haue all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pitie, it should not be so with him Pro. So please you, this Friar hath beene with him, and aduis'd him for th' entertainment of death Esc. Good' euen, good Father Duke. Blisse, and goodnesse on you Esc. Of whence are you? Duke. Not of this Countrie, though my chance is now To vse it for my time: I am a brother Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea, In speciall businesse from his Holinesse Esc. What newes abroad i'th World? Duke. None, but that there is so great a Feauor on goodnesse, that the dissolution of it must cure it. Noueltie is onely in request, and as it is as dangerous to be aged in any kinde of course, as it is vertuous to be constant in any vndertaking. There is scarse truth enough aliue to make Societies secure, but Securitie enough to make Fellowships accurst: Much vpon this riddle runs the wisedome of the world: This newes is old enough, yet it is euerie daies newes. I pray you Sir, of what disposition was the Duke? Esc. One, that aboue all other strifes, Contended especially to know himselfe Duke. What pleasure was he giuen to? Esc. Rather reioycing to see another merry, then merrie at anie thing which profest to make him reioice. A Gentleman of all temperance. But leaue wee him to his euents, with a praier they may proue prosperous, & let me desire to know, how you finde Claudio prepar'd? I am made to vnderstand, that you haue lent him visitation Duke. He professes to haue receiued no sinister measure from his Iudge, but most willingly humbles himselfe to the determination of Iustice: yet had he framed to himselfe (by the instruction of his frailty) manie deceyuing promises of life, which I (by my good leisure) haue discredited to him, and now is he resolu'd to die Esc. You haue paid the heauens your Function, and the prisoner the verie debt of your Calling. I haue labour'd for the poore Gentleman, to the extremest shore of my modestie, but my brother-Iustice haue I found so seuere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, hee is indeede Iustice Duke. If his owne life, Answere the straitnesse of his proceeding, It shall become him well: wherein if he chance to faile he hath sentenc'd himselfe Esc I am going to visit the prisoner, Fare you well Duke. Peace be with you. He who the sword of Heauen will beare, Should be as holy, as seueare: Patterne in himselfe to know, Grace to stand, and Vertue go: More, nor lesse to others paying, Then by selfe-offences weighing. Shame to him, whose cruell striking, Kils for faults of his owne liking: Twice trebble shame on Angelo, To weede my vice, and let his grow. Oh, what may Man within him hide, Though Angel on the outward side? How may likenesse made in crimes, Making practise on the Times, To draw with ydle Spiders strings Most ponderous and substantiall things? Craft against vice, I must applie. With Angelo to night shall lye His old betroathed (but despised:) So disguise shall by th' disguised Pay with falshood, false exacting, And performe an olde contracting. Exit Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima. Enter Mariana, and Boy singing. Song. Take, oh take those lips away, that so sweetly were forsworne, And those eyes: the breake of day lights that doe mislead the Morne; But my kisses bring againe, bring againe, Seales of loue, but seal'd in vaine, seal'd in vaine. Enter Duke. Mar. Breake off thy song, and haste thee quick away, Here comes a man of comfort, whose aduice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. I cry you mercie, Sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musicall. Let me excuse me, and beleeue me so, My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe Duk. 'Tis good; though Musick oft hath such a charme To make bad, good; and good prouoake to harme. I pray you tell me, hath any body enquir'd for mee here to day; much vpon this time haue I promis'd here to meete Mar. You haue not bin enquir'd after: I haue sat here all day. Enter Isabell. Duk. I doe constantly beleeue you: the time is come euen now. I shall craue your forbearance a little, may be I will call vpon you anone for some aduantage to your selfe Mar. I am alwayes bound to you. Enter. Duk. Very well met, and well come: What is the newes from this good Deputie? Isab. He hath a Garden circummur'd with Bricke, Whose westerne side is with a Vineyard back't; And to that Vineyard is a planched gate, That makes his opening with this bigger Key: This other doth command a little doore, Which from the Vineyard to the Garden leades, There haue I made my promise, vpon the Heauy midle of the night, to call vpon him Duk. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? Isab. I haue t'ane a due, and wary note vpon't, With whispering, and most guiltie diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice ore Duk. Are there no other tokens Betweene you 'greed, concerning her obseruance? Isab. No: none but onely a repaire ith' darke, And that I haue possest him, my most stay Can be but briefe: for I haue made him know, I haue a Seruant comes with me along That staies vpon me; whose perswasion is, I come about my Brother Duk. 'Tis well borne vp. I haue not yet made knowne to Mariana Enter Mariana. A word of this: what hoa, within; come forth, I pray you be acquainted with this Maid, She comes to doe you good Isab. I doe desire the like Duk. Do you perswade your selfe that I respect you? Mar. Good Frier, I know you do, and haue found it Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand Who hath a storie readie for your eare: I shall attend your leisure, but make haste The vaporous night approaches Mar. Wilt please you walke aside. Enter. Duke. Oh Place, and greatnes: millions of false eies Are stucke vpon thee: volumes of report Run with these false, and most contrarious Quest Vpon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dreame, And racke thee in their fancies. Welcome, how agreed? Enter Mariana and Isabella. Isab. Shee'll take the enterprize vpon her father, If you aduise it Duke. It is not my consent, But my entreaty too Isa. Little haue you to say When you depart from him, but soft and low, Remember now my brother Mar. Feare me not Duk. Nor gentle daughter, feare you not at all: He is your husband on a pre-contract: To bring you thus together 'tis no sinne, Sith that the Iustice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let vs goe, Our Corne's to reape, for yet our Tithes to sow. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Prouost and Clowne. Pro. Come hither sirha; can you cut off a mans head? Clo. If the man be a Bachelor Sir, I can: But if he be a married man, he's his wiues head, And I can neuer cut off a womans head Pro. Come sir, leaue me your snatches, and yeeld mee a direct answere. To morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine: heere is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper, if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeeme you from your Gyues: if not, you shall haue your full time of imprisonment, and your deliuerance with an vnpittied whipping; for you haue beene a notorious bawd Clo. Sir, I haue beene an vnlawfull bawd, time out of minde, but yet I will bee content to be a lawfull hangman: I would bee glad to receiue some instruction from my fellow partner Pro. What hoa, Abhorson: where's Abhorson there? Enter Abhorson. Abh. Doe you call sir? Pro. Sirha, here's a fellow will helpe you to morrow in your execution: if you thinke it meet, compound with him by the yeere, and let him abide here with you, if not, vse him for the present, and dismisse him, hee cannot plead his estimation with you: he hath beene a Bawd Abh. A Bawd Sir? fie vpon him, he will discredit our mysterie Pro. Goe too Sir, you waigh equallie: a feather will turne the Scale. Enter. Clo. Pray sir, by your good fauor: for surely sir, a good fauor you haue, but that you haue a hanging look: Doe you call sir, your occupation a Mysterie? Abh. I Sir, a Misterie Clo. Painting Sir, I haue heard say, is a Misterie; and your Whores sir, being members of my occupation, vsing painting, do proue my Occupation, a Misterie: but what Misterie there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine Abh. Sir, it is a Misterie Clo. Proofe Abh. Euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe Clo. If it be too little for your theefe, your true man thinkes it bigge enough. If it bee too bigge for your Theefe, your Theefe thinkes it little enough: So euerie true mans apparrell fits your Theefe. Enter Prouost. Pro. Are you agreed? Clo. Sir, I will serue him: For I do finde your Hangman is a more penitent Trade then your Bawd: he doth oftner aske forgiuenesse Pro. You sirrah, prouide your blocke and your Axe to morrow, foure a clocke Abh. Come on (Bawd) I will instruct thee in my Trade: follow Clo. I do desire to learne sir: and I hope, if you haue occasion to vse me for your owne turne, you shall finde me y'are. For truly sir, for your kindnesse, I owe you a good turne. Exit Pro. Call hether Barnardine and Claudio: Th' one has my pitie; not a iot the other, Being a Murtherer, though he were my brother. Enter Claudio. Looke, here's the Warrant Claudio, for thy death, 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to morrow Thou must be made immortall. Where's Barnardine? Cla. As fast lock'd vp in sleepe, as guiltlesse labour, When it lies starkely in the Trauellers bones, He will not wake Pro. Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare your selfe. But harke, what noise? Heauen giue your spirits comfort: by, and by, I hope it is some pardon, or repreeue For the most gentle Claudio. Welcome Father. Enter Duke. Duke. The best, and wholsomst spirits of the night, Inuellop you, good Prouost: who call'd heere of late? Pro. None since the Curphew rung Duke. Not Isabell? Pro. No Duke. They will then er't be long Pro. What comfort is for Claudio? Duke. There's some in hope Pro. It is a bitter Deputie Duke. Not so, not so: his life is paralel'd Euen with the stroke and line of his great Iustice: He doth with holie abstinence subdue That in himselfe, which he spurres on his powre To qualifie in others: were he meal'd with that Which he corrects, then were he tirrannous, But this being so, he's iust. Now are they come. This is a gentle Prouost, sildome when The steeled Gaoler is the friend of men: How now? what noise? That spirit's possest with hast, That wounds th' vnsisting Posterne with these strokes Pro. There he must stay vntil the Officer Arise to let him in: he is call'd vp Duke. Haue you no countermand for Claudio yet? But he must die to morrow? Pro. None Sir, none Duke. As neere the dawning Prouost, as it is, You shall heare more ere Morning Pro. Happely You something know: yet I beleeue there comes No countermand: no such example haue we: Besides, vpon the verie siege of Iustice, Lord Angelo hath to the publike eare Profest the contrarie. Enter a Messenger. Duke. This is his Lords man Pro. And heere comes Claudio's pardon Mess. My Lord hath sent you this note, And by mee this further charge; That you swerue not from the smallest Article of it, Neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow: for as I take it, it is almost day Pro. I shall obey him Duke. This is his Pardon purchas'd by such sin, For which the Pardoner himselfe is in: Hence hath offence his quicke celeritie, When it is borne in high Authority. When Vice makes Mercie; Mercie's so extended, That for the faults loue, is th' offender friended. Now Sir, what newes? Pro. I told you: Lord Angelo (be-like) thinking me remisse In mine Office, awakens mee With this vnwonted putting on, methinks strangely: For he hath not vs'd it before Duk. Pray you let's heare. The Letter. Whatsoeuer you may heare to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by foure of the clocke, and in the afternoone Bernardine: For my better satisfaction, let mee haue Claudios head sent me by fiue. Let this be duely performed with a thought that more depends on it, then we must yet deliuer. Thus faile not to doe your Office, as you will answere it at your perill. What say you to this Sir? Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in th' afternoone? Pro. A Bohemian borne: But here nurst vp & bred, One that is a prisoner nine yeeres old Duke. How came it, that the absent Duke had not either deliuer'd him to his libertie, or executed him? I haue heard it was euer his manner to do so Pro. His friends still wrought Repreeues for him: And indeed his fact till now in the gouernment of Lord Angelo, came not to an vndoubtfull proofe Duke. It is now apparant? Pro. Most manifest, and not denied by himselfe Duke. Hath he borne himselfe penitently in prison? How seemes he to be touch'd? Pro. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken sleepe, carelesse, wreaklesse, and fearelesse of what's past, present, or to come: insensible of mortality, and desperately mortall Duke. He wants aduice Pro. He wil heare none: he hath euermore had the liberty of the prison: giue him leaue to escape hence, hee would not. Drunke many times a day, if not many daies entirely drunke. We haue verie oft awak'd him, as if to carrie him to execution, and shew'd him a seeming warrant for it, it hath not moued him at all Duke. More of him anon: There is written in your brow Prouost, honesty and constancie; if I reade it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me: but in the boldnes of my cunning, I will lay my selfe in hazard: Claudio, whom heere you haue warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the Law, then Angelo who hath sentenc'd him. To make you vnderstand this in a manifested effect, I craue but foure daies respit: for the which, you are to do me both a present, and a dangerous courtesie Pro. Pray Sir, in what? Duke. In the delaying death Pro. Alacke, how may I do it? Hauing the houre limited, and an expresse command, vnder penaltie, to deliuer his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to crosse this in the smallest Duke. By the vow of mine Order, I warrant you, If my instructions may be your guide, Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, And his head borne to Angelo Pro. Angelo hath seene them both, And will discouer the fauour Duke. Oh, death's a great disguiser, and you may adde to it; Shaue the head, and tie the beard, and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bar'de before his death: you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you vpon this, more then thankes and good fortune, by the Saint whom I professe, I will plead against it with my life Pro. Pardon me, good Father, it is against my oath Duke. Were you sworne to the Duke, or to the Deputie? Pro. To him, and to his Substitutes Duke. You will thinke you haue made no offence, if the Duke auouch the iustice of your dealing? Pro. But what likelihood is in that? Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty; yet since I see you fearfull, that neither my coate, integrity, nor perswasion, can with ease attempt you, I wil go further then I meant, to plucke all feares out of you. Looke you Sir, heere is the hand and Seale of the Duke: you know the Charracter I doubt not, and the Signet is not strange to you? Pro. I know them both Duke. The Contents of this, is the returne of the Duke; you shall anon ouer-reade it at your pleasure: where you shall finde within these two daies, he wil be heere. This is a thing that Angelo knowes not, for hee this very day receiues letters of strange tenor, perchance of the Dukes death, perchance entering into some Monasterie, but by chance nothing of what is writ. Looke, th' vnfolding Starre calles vp the Shepheard; put not your selfe into amazement, how these things should be; all difficulties are but easie when they are knowne. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardines head: I will giue him a present shrift, and aduise him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd, but this shall absolutely resolue you: Come away, it is almost cleere dawne. Enter. Scena Tertia. Enter Clowne. Clo. I am as well acquainted heere, as I was in our house of profession: one would thinke it were Mistris Ouerdons owne house, for heere be manie of her olde Customers. First, here's yong Mr Rash, hee's in for a commoditie of browne paper, and olde Ginger, nine score and seuenteene pounds, of which hee made fiue Markes readie money: marrie then, Ginger was not much in request, for the olde Women were all dead. Then is there heere one Mr Caper, at the suite of Master Three-Pile the Mercer, for some foure suites of Peachcolour'd Satten, which now peaches him a beggar. Then haue we heere, yong Dizie, and yong Mr Deepevow, and Mr Copperspurre, and Mr Starue-Lackey the Rapier and dagger man, and yong Drop-heire that kild lustie Pudding, and Mr Forthlight the Tilter, and braue Mr Shootie the great Traueller, and wilde Halfe-Canne that stabb'd Pots, and I thinke fortie more, all great doers in our Trade, and are now for the Lords sake. Enter Abhorson. Abh. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hether Clo. Mr Barnardine, you must rise and be hang'd, Mr Barnardine Abh. What hoa Barnardine. Barnardine within. Bar. A pox o'your throats: who makes that noyse there? What are you? Clo. Your friends Sir, the Hangman: You must be so good Sir to rise, and be put to death Bar. Away you Rogue, away, I am sleepie Abh. Tell him he must awake, And that quickly too Clo. Pray Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleepe afterwards Ab. Go in to him, and fetch him out Clo. He is comming Sir, he is comming: I heare his Straw russle. Enter Barnardine. Abh. Is the Axe vpon the blocke, sirrah? Clo. Verie readie Sir Bar. How now Abhorson? What's the newes with you? Abh. Truly Sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers: for looke you, the Warrants come Bar. You Rogue, I haue bin drinking all night, I am not fitted for't Clo. Oh, the better Sir: for he that drinkes all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleepe the sounder all the next day. Enter Duke. Abh. Looke you Sir, heere comes your ghostly Father: do we iest now thinke you? Duke. Sir, induced by my charitie, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to aduise you, Comfort you, and pray with you Bar. Friar, not I: I haue bin drinking hard all night, and I will haue more time to prepare mee, or they shall beat out my braines with billets: I will not consent to die this day, that's certaine Duke. Oh sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you Looke forward on the iournie you shall go Bar. I sweare I will not die to day for anie mans perswasion Duke. But heare you: Bar. Not a word: if you haue anie thing to say to me, come to my Ward: for thence will not I to day. Exit Enter Prouost. Duke. Vnfit to liue, or die: oh grauell heart. After him (Fellowes) bring him to the blocke Pro. Now Sir, how do you finde the prisoner? Duke. A creature vnprepar'd, vnmeet for death, And to transport him in the minde he is, Were damnable Pro. Heere in the prison, Father, There died this morning of a cruell Feauor, One Ragozine, a most notorious Pirate, A man of Claudio's yeares: his beard, and head Iust of his colour. What if we do omit This Reprobate, til he were wel enclin'd, And satisfie the Deputie with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? Duke. Oh, 'tis an accident that heauen prouides: Dispatch it presently, the houre drawes on Prefixt by Angelo: See this be done, And sent according to command, whiles I Perswade this rude wretch willingly to die Pro. This shall be done (good Father) presently: But Barnardine must die this afternoone, And how shall we continue Claudio, To saue me from the danger that might come, If he were knowne aliue? Duke. Let this be done, Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio, Ere twice the Sun hath made his iournall greeting To yond generation, you shal finde Your safetie manifested Pro. I am your free dependant. Enter. Duke. Quicke, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo Now wil I write Letters to Angelo, (The Prouost he shal beare them) whose contents Shal witnesse to him I am neere at home: And that by great Iniunctions I am bound To enter publikely: him Ile desire To meet me at the consecrated Fount, A League below the Citie: and from thence, By cold gradation, and weale-ballanc'd forme. We shal proceed with Angelo. Enter Prouost. Pro. Heere is the head, Ile carrie it my selfe Duke. Conuenient is it: Make a swift returne, For I would commune with you of such things, That want no eare but yours Pro. Ile make all speede. Exit Isabell within. Isa. Peace hoa, be heere Duke. The tongue of Isabell. She's come to know, If yet her brothers pardon be come hither: But I will keepe her ignorant of her good, To make her heauenly comforts of dispaire, When it is least expected. Enter Isabella. Isa. Hoa, by your leaue Duke. Good morning to you, faire, and gracious daughter Isa. The better giuen me by so holy a man, Hath yet the Deputie sent my brothers pardon? Duke. He hath releasd him, Isabell, from the world, His head is off, and sent to Angelo Isa. Nay, but it is not so Duke. It is no other, Shew your wisedome daughter in your close patience Isa. Oh, I wil to him, and plucke out his eies Duk. You shal not be admitted to his sight Isa. Vnhappie Claudio, wretched Isabell, Iniurious world, most damned Angelo Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a iot, Forbeare it therefore, giue your cause to heauen. Marke what I say, which you shal finde By euery sillable a faithful veritie. The Duke comes home to morrow: nay drie your eyes, One of our Couent, and his Confessor Giues me this instance: Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meete him at the gates, There to giue vp their powre: If you can pace your wisdome, In that good path that I would wish it go, And you shal haue your bosome on this wretch, Grace of the Duke, reuenges to your heart, And general Honor Isa. I am directed by you Duk. This Letter then to Friar Peter giue, 'Tis that he sent me of the Dukes returne: Say, by this token, I desire his companie At Mariana's house to night. Her cause, and yours Ile perfect him withall, and he shal bring you Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home and home. For my poore selfe, I am combined by a sacred Vow, And shall be absent. Wend you with this Letter: Command these fretting waters from your eies With a light heart; trust not my holie Order If I peruert your course: whose heere? Enter Lucio. Luc. Good' euen; Frier, where's the Prouost? Duke. Not within Sir Luc. Oh prettie Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes so red: thou must be patient; I am faine to dine and sup with water and bran: I dare not for my head fill my belly. One fruitful Meale would set mee too't: but they say the Duke will be heere to Morrow. By my troth Isabell I lou'd thy brother, if the olde fantastical Duke of darke corners had bene at home, he had liued Duke. Sir, the Duke is marueilous little beholding to your reports, but the best is, he liues not in them Luc. Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so wel as I do: he's a better woodman then thou tak'st him for Duke. Well: you'l answer this one day. Fare ye well Luc. Nay tarrie, Ile go along with thee, I can tel thee pretty tales of the Duke Duke. You haue told me too many of him already sir if they be true: if not true, none were enough Lucio. I was once before him for getting a Wench with childe Duke. Did you such a thing? Luc. Yes marrie did I; but I was faine to forswear it, They would else haue married me to the rotten Medler Duke. Sir your company is fairer then honest, rest you well Lucio. By my troth Ile go with thee to the lanes end: if baudy talke offend you, wee'l haue very litle of it: nay Friar, I am a kind of Burre, I shal sticke. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Angelo & Escalus. Esc. Euery Letter he hath writ, hath disuouch'd other An. In most vneuen and distracted manner, his actions show much like to madnesse, pray heauen his wisedome bee not tainted: and why meet him at the gates and deliuer our authorities there? Esc. I ghesse not Ang. And why should wee proclaime it in an howre before his entring, that if any craue redresse of iniustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? Esc. He showes his reason for that: to haue a dispatch of Complaints, and to deliuer vs from deuices heereafter, which shall then haue no power to stand against vs Ang. Well: I beseech you let it bee proclaim'd betimes i'th' morne, Ile call you at your house: giue notice to such men of sort and suite as are to meete him Esc. I shall sir: fareyouwell. Enter. Ang. Good night. This deede vnshapes me quite, makes me vnpregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflowred maid, And by an eminent body, that enforc'd The Law against it? But that her tender shame Will not proclaime against her maiden losse, How might she tongue me? yet reason dares her no, For my Authority beares of a credent bulke, That no particular scandall once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should haue liu'd, Saue that his riotous youth with dangerous sense Might in the times to come haue ta'ne reuenge By so receiuing a dishonor'd life With ransome of such shame: would yet he had liued. Alack, when once our grace we haue forgot, Nothing goes right, we would, and we would not. Enter. Scena Quinta. Enter Duke and Frier Peter. Duke. These Letters at fit time deliuer me, The Prouost knowes our purpose and our plot, The matter being a foote, keepe your instruction And hold you euer to our speciall drift, Though sometimes you doe blench from this to that As cause doth minister: Goe call at Flauia's house, And tell him where I stay: giue the like notice To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the Trumpets to the gate: But send me Flauius first Peter. It shall be speeded well. Enter Varrius. Duke. I thank thee Varrius, thou hast made good hast, Come, we will walke: There's other of our friends Will greet vs heere anon: my gentle Varrius. Exeunt. Scena Sexta. Enter Isabella and Mariana. Isab. To speake so indirectly I am loath, I would say the truth, but to accuse him so That is your part, yet I am aduis'd to doe it, He saies, to vaile full purpose Mar. Be rul'd by him Isab. Besides he tells me, that if peraduenture He speake against me on the aduerse side, I should not thinke it strange, for 'tis a physicke That's bitter, to sweet end. Enter Peter. Mar. I would Frier Peter Isab. Oh peace, the Frier is come Peter. Come I haue found you out a stand most fit, Where you may haue such vantage on the Duke He shall not passe you: Twice haue the Trumpets sounded. The generous, and grauest Citizens Haue hent the gates, and very neere vpon The Duke is entring: Therefore hence away. Exeunt. Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima. Enter Duke, Varrius, Lords, Angelo, Esculus, Lucio, Citizens at seuerall doores. Duk. My very worthy Cosen, fairely met, Our old, and faithfull friend, we are glad to see you Ang. Esc. Happy returne be to your royall grace Duk. Many and harty thankings to you both: We haue made enquiry of you, and we heare Such goodnesse of your Iustice, that our soule Cannot but yeeld you forth to publique thankes Forerunning more requitall Ang. You make my bonds still greater Duk. Oh your desert speaks loud, & I should wrong it To locke it in the wards of couert bosome When it deserues with characters of brasse A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time, And razure of obliuion: Giue we your hand And let the Subiect see, to make them know That outward curtesies would faine proclaime Fauours that keepe within: Come Escalus, You must walke by vs, on our other hand: And good supporters are you. Enter Peter and Isabella. Peter. Now is your time Speake loud, and kneele before him Isab. Iustice, O royall Duke, vaile your regard Vpon a wrong'd (I would faine haue said a Maid) Oh worthy Prince, dishonor not your eye By throwing it on any other obiect, Till you haue heard me, in my true complaint, And giuen me Iustice, Iustice, Iustice, Iustice Duk. Relate your wrongs; In what, by whom? be briefe: Here is Lord Angelo shall giue you Iustice, Reueale your selfe to him Isab. Oh worthy Duke, You bid me seeke redemption of the diuell, Heare me your selfe: for that which I must speake Must either punish me, not being beleeu'd, Or wring redresse from you: Heare me: oh heare me, heere Ang. My Lord, her wits I feare me are not firme: She hath bin a suitor to me, for her Brother Cut off by course of Iustice Isab. By course of Iustice Ang. And she will speake most bitterly, and strange Isab. Most strange: but yet most truely wil I speake, That Angelo's forsworne, is it not strange? That Angelo's a murtherer, is't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thiefe, An hypocrite, a virgin violator, Is it not strange? and strange? Duke. Nay it is ten times strange? Isa. It is not truer he is Angelo, Then this is all as true, as it is strange; Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth To th' end of reckning Duke. Away with her: poore soule She speakes this, in th' infirmity of sence Isa. Oh Prince, I coniure thee, as thou beleeu'st There is another comfort, then this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madnesse: make not impossible That which but seemes vnlike, 'tis not impossible But one, the wickedst caitiffe on the ground May seeme as shie, as graue, as iust, as absolute: As Angelo, euen so may Angelo In all his dressings, caracts, titles, formes, Be an arch-villaine: Beleeue it, royall Prince If he be lesse, he's nothing, but he's more, Had I more name for badnesse Duke. By mine honesty If she be mad, as I beleeue no other, Her madnesse hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependancy of thing, on thing, As ere I heard in madnesse Isab. Oh gracious Duke Harpe not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality, but let your reason serue To make the truth appeare, where it seemes hid, And hide the false seemes true Duk. Many that are not mad Haue sure more lacke of reason: What would you say? Isab. I am the Sister of one Claudio, Condemnd vpon the Act of Fornication To loose his head, condemn'd by Angelo, I, (in probation of a Sisterhood) Was sent to by my Brother; one Lucio As then the Messenger Luc. That's I, and't like your Grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her, To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo, For her poore Brothers pardon Isab. That's he indeede Duk. You were not bid to speake Luc. No, my good Lord, Nor wish'd to hold my peace Duk. I wish you now then, Pray you take note of it: and when you haue A businesse for your selfe: pray heauen you then Be perfect Luc. I warrant your honor Duk. The warrant's for your selfe: take heede to't Isab. This Gentleman told somewhat of my Tale Luc. Right Duk. It may be right, but you are i'the wrong To speake before your time: proceed, Isab. I went To this pernicious Caitiffe Deputie Duk. That's somewhat madly spoken Isab. Pardon it, The phrase is to the matter Duke. Mended againe: the matter: proceed Isab. In briefe, to set the needlesse processe by: How I perswaded, how I praid, and kneel'd, How he refeld me, and how I replide (For this was of much length) the vild conclusion I now begin with griefe, and shame to vtter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust Release my brother; and after much debatement, My sisterly remorse, confutes mine honour, And I did yeeld to him: But the next morne betimes, His purpose surfetting, he sends a warrant For my poore brothers head Duke. This is most likely Isab. Oh that it were as like as it is true Duk. By heauen (fond wretch) y knowst not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honor In hatefull practise: first his Integritie Stands without blemish: next it imports no reason, That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himselfe: if he had so offended He would haue waigh'd thy brother by himselfe, And not haue cut him off: some one hath set you on: Confesse the truth, and say by whose aduice Thou cam'st heere to complaine Isab. And is this all? Then oh you blessed Ministers aboue Keepe me in patience, and with ripened time Vnfold the euill, which is heere wrapt vp In countenance: heauen shield your Grace from woe, As I thus wrong'd, hence vnbeleeued goe Duke. I know you'ld faine be gone: An Officer: To prison with her: Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall, On him so neere vs? This needs must be a practise: Who knew of your intent and comming hither? Isa. One that I would were heere, Frier Lodowick Duk. A ghostly Father, belike: Who knowes that Lodowicke? Luc. My Lord, I know him, 'tis a medling Fryer, I doe not like the man: had he been Lay my Lord, For certaine words he spake against your Grace In your retirment, I had swing'd him soundly Duke. Words against mee? this' a good Fryer belike And to set on this wretched woman here Against our Substitute: Let this Fryer be found Luc. But yesternight my Lord, she and that Fryer I saw them at the prison: a sawcy Fryar, A very scuruy fellow Peter. Blessed be your Royall Grace: I haue stood by my Lord, and I haue heard Your royall eare abus'd: first hath this woman Most wrongfully accus'd your Substitute, Who is as free from touch, or soyle with her As she from one vngot Duke. We did beleeue no lesse. Know you that Frier Lodowick that she speakes of? Peter. I know him for a man diuine and holy, Not scuruy, nor a temporary medler As he's reported by this Gentleman: And on my trust, a man that neuer yet Did (as he vouches) mis-report your Grace Luc. My Lord, most villanously, beleeue it Peter. Well: he in time may come to cleere himselfe; But at this instant he is sicke, my Lord: Of a strange Feauor: vpon his meere request Being come to knowledge, that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hether To speake as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true, and false: And what he with his oath And all probation will make vp full cleare Whensoeuer he's conuented: First for this woman, To iustifie this worthy Noble man So vulgarly and personally accus'd, Her shall you heare disproued to her eyes, Till she her selfe confesse it Duk. Good Frier, let's heare it: Doe you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? Oh heauen, the vanity of wretched fooles. Giue vs some seates, Come cosen Angelo, In this I'll be impartiall: be you Iudge Of your owne Cause: Is this the Witnes Frier? Enter Mariana. First, let her shew your face, and after, speake Mar. Pardon my Lord, I will not shew my face Vntill my husband bid me Duke. What, are you married? Mar. No my Lord Duke. Are you a Maid? Mar. No my Lord Duk. A Widow then? Mar. Neither, my Lord Duk. Why you are nothing then: neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife? Luc. My Lord, she may be a Puncke: for many of them, are neither Maid, Widow, nor Wife Duk. Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause to prattle for himselfe Luc. Well my Lord Mar. My Lord, I doe confesse I nere was married, And I confesse besides, I am no Maid, I haue known my husband, yet my husband Knowes not, that euer he knew me Luc. He was drunk then, my Lord, it can be no better Duk. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so to Luc. Well, my Lord Duk. This is no witnesse for Lord Angelo Mar. Now I come to't, my Lord. Shee that accuses him of Fornication, In selfe-same manner, doth accuse my husband, And charges him, my Lord, with such a time, When I'le depose I had him in mine Armes With all th' effect of Loue Ang. Charges she moe then me? Mar. Not that I know Duk. No? you say your husband Mar. Why iust, my Lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinkes he knowes, that he nere knew my body, But knows, he thinkes, that he knowes Isabels Ang. This is a strange abuse: Let's see thy face Mar. My husband bids me, now I will vnmaske. This is that face, thou cruell Angelo Which once thou sworst, was worth the looking on: This is the hand, which with a vowd contract Was fast belockt in thine: This is the body That tooke away the match from Isabell, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her Imagin'd person Duke. Know you this woman? Luc. Carnallie she saies Duk. Sirha, no more Luc. Enough my Lord Ang. My Lord, I must confesse, I know this woman, And fiue yeres since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt my selfe, and her: which was broke off, Partly for that her promis'd proportions Came short of Composition: But in chiefe For that her reputation was dis-valued In leuitie: Since which time of fiue yeres I neuer spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her Vpon my faith, and honor Mar. Noble Prince, As there comes light from heauen, and words fro[m] breath, As there is sence in truth, and truth in vertue, I am affianced this mans wife, as strongly As words could make vp vowes: And my good Lord, But Tuesday night last gon, in's garden house, He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees, Or else for euer be confixed here A Marble Monument Ang. I did but smile till now, Now, good my Lord, giue me the scope of Iustice, My patience here is touch'd: I doe perceiue These poore informall women, are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me haue way, my Lord To finde this practise out Duke. I, with my heart, And punish them to your height of pleasure. Thou foolish Frier, and thou pernicious woman Compact with her that's gone: thinkst thou, thy oathes, Though they would swear downe each particular Saint, Were testimonies against his worth, and credit That's seald in approbation? you, Lord Escalus Sit with my Cozen, lend him your kinde paines To finde out this abuse, whence 'tis deriu'd. There is another Frier that set them on, Let him be sent for Peter. Would he were here, my Lord, for he indeed Hath set the women on to this Complaint; Your Prouost knowes the place where he abides, And he may fetch him Duke. Goe, doe it instantly: And you, my noble and well-warranted Cosen Whom it concernes to heare this matter forth, Doe with your iniuries as seemes you best In any chastisement; I for a while Will leaue you; but stir not you till you haue Well determin'd vpon these Slanderers. Enter. Esc. My Lord, wee'll doe it throughly: Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Frier Lodowick to be a dishonest person? Luc. Cucullus non facit Monachum, honest in nothing but in his Clothes, and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the Duke Esc. We shall intreat you to abide heere till he come, and inforce them against him: we shall finde this Frier a notable fellow Luc. As any in Vienna, on my word Esc. Call that same Isabell here once againe, I would speake with her: pray you, my Lord, giue mee leaue to question, you shall see how Ile handle her Luc. Not better then he, by her owne report Esc. Say you? Luc. Marry sir, I thinke, if you handled her priuately She would sooner confesse, perchance publikely she'll be asham'd. Enter Duke, Prouost, Isabella Esc. I will goe darkely to worke with her Luc. That's the way: for women are light at midnight Esc. Come on Mistris, here's a Gentlewoman, Denies all that you haue said Luc. My Lord, here comes the rascall I spoke of, Here, with the Prouost Esc. In very good time: speake not you to him, till we call vpon you Luc. Mum Esc. Come Sir, did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they haue confes'd you did Duk. 'Tis false Esc. How? Know you where you are? Duk. Respect to your great place; and let the diuell Be sometime honour'd, for his burning throne. Where is the Duke? 'tis he should heare me speake Esc. The Duke's in vs: and we will heare you speake, Looke you speake iustly Duk. Boldly, at least. But oh poore soules, Come you to seeke the Lamb here of the Fox; Good night to your redresse: Is the Duke gone? Then is your cause gone too: The Duke's vniust, Thus to retort your manifest Appeale, And put your triall in the villaines mouth, Which here you come to accuse Luc. This is the rascall: this is he I spoke of Esc. Why thou vnreuerend, and vnhallowed Fryer: Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women, To accuse this worthy man? but in foule mouth, And in the witnesse of his proper eare, To call him villaine; and then to glance from him, To th'Duke himselfe, to taxe him with Iniustice? Take him hence; to th' racke with him: we'll towze you Ioynt by ioynt, but we will know his purpose: What? vniust? Duk. Be not so hot: the Duke dare No more stretch this finger of mine, then he Dare racke his owne: his Subiect am I not, Nor here Prouinciall: My businesse in this State Made me a looker on here in Vienna, Where I haue seene corruption boyle and bubble, Till it ore-run the Stew: Lawes, for all faults, But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong Statutes Stand like the forfeites in a Barbers shop, As much in mocke, as marke Esc. Slander to th' State: Away with him to prison Ang. What can you vouch against him Signior Lucio? Is this the man you did tell vs of? Luc. 'Tis he, my Lord: come hither goodman bald-pate, doe you know me? Duk. I remember you Sir, by the sound of your voice, I met you at the Prison, in the absence of the Duke Luc. Oh, did you so? and do you remember what you said of the Duke Duk. Most notedly Sir Luc. Do you so Sir: And was the Duke a flesh-monger, a foole, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? Duk. You must (Sir) change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you indeede spoke so of him, and much more, much worse Luc. Oh thou damnable fellow: did I not plucke thee by the nose, for thy speeches? Duk. I protest, I loue the Duke, as I loue my selfe Ang. Harke how the villaine would close now, after his treasonable abuses Esc. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withall: Away with him to prison: Where is the Prouost? away with him to prison: lay bolts enough vpon him: let him speak no more: away with those Giglets too, and with the other confederate companion Duk. Stay Sir, stay a while Ang. What, resists he? helpe him Lucio Luc. Come sir, come sir, come sir: foh sir, why you bald-pated lying rascall: you must be hooded must you? show your knaues visage with a poxe to you: show your sheepe-biting face, and be hang'd an houre: Will't not off? Duk. Thou art the first knaue, that ere mad'st a Duke. First Prouost, let me bayle these gentle three: Sneake not away Sir, for the Fryer, and you, Must haue a word anon: lay hold on him Luc. This may proue worse then hanging Duk. What you haue spoke, I pardon: sit you downe, We'll borrow place of him; Sir, by your leaue: Ha'st thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can doe thee office? If thou ha'st Rely vpon it, till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out Ang. Oh, my dread Lord, I should be guiltier then my guiltinesse, To thinke I can be vndiscerneable, When I perceiue your grace, like powre diuine, Hath look'd vpon my passes. Then good Prince, No longer Session hold vpon my shame, But let my Triall, be mine owne Confession: Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, Is all the grace I beg Duk. Come hither Mariana, Say: was't thou ere contracted to this woman? Ang. I was my Lord Duk. Goe take her hence, and marry her instantly. Doe you the office (Fryer) which consummate, Returne him here againe: goe with him Prouost. Enter. Esc. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonor, Then at the strangenesse of it Duk. Come hither Isabell, Your Frier is now your Prince: As I was then Aduertysing, and holy to your businesse, (Not changing heart with habit) I am still, Atturnied at your seruice Isab. Oh giue me pardon That I, your vassaile, haue imploid, and pain'd Your vnknowne Soueraigntie Duk. You are pardon'd Isabell: And now, deere Maide, be you as free to vs. Your Brothers death I know sits at your heart: And you may maruaile, why I obscur'd my selfe, Labouring to saue his life: and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden powre, Then let him so be lost: oh most kinde Maid, It was the swift celeritie of his death, Which I did thinke, with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose: but peace be with him, That life is better life past fearing death, Then that which liues to feare: make it your comfort, So happy is your Brother. Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Prouost. Isab. I doe my Lord Duk. For this new-maried man, approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honor: you must pardon For Mariana's sake: But as he adiudg'd your Brother, Being criminall, in double violation Of sacred Chastitie, and of promise-breach, Thereon dependant for your Brothers life, The very mercy of the Law cries out Most audible, euen from his proper tongue. An Angelo for Claudio, death for death: Haste still paies haste, and leasure, answers leasure; Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure: Then Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage. We doe condemne thee to the very Blocke Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. Away with him Mar. Oh my most gracious Lord, I hope you will not mocke me with a husband? Duk. It is your husband mock't you with a husband, Consenting to the safe-guard of your honor, I thought your marriage fit: else Imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life, And choake your good to come: For his Possessions, Although by confutation they are ours; We doe en-state, and widow you with all, To buy you a better husband Mar. Oh my deere Lord, I craue no other, nor no better man Duke. Neuer craue him, we are definitiue Mar. Gentle my Liege Duke. You doe but loose your labour. Away with him to death: Now Sir, to you Mar. Oh my good Lord, sweet Isabell, take my part, Lend me your knees, and all my life to come, I'll lend you all my life to doe you seruice Duke. Against all sence you doe importune her, Should she kneele downe, in mercie of this fact, Her Brothers ghost, his paued bed would breake, And take her hence in horror Mar. Isabell: Sweet Isabel, doe yet but kneele by me, Hold vp your hands, say nothing: I'll speake all. They say best men are moulded out of faults, And for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: So may my husband. Oh Isabel: will you not lend a knee? Duke. He dies for Claudio's death Isab. Most bounteous Sir. Looke if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my Brother liu'd: I partly thinke, A due sinceritie gouerned his deedes, Till he did looke on me: Since it is so, Let him not die: my Brother had but Iustice, In that he did the thing for which he dide. For Angelo, his Act did not ore-take his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subiects Intents, but meerely thoughts Mar. Meerely my Lord Duk. Your suite's vnprofitable: stand vp I say: I haue bethought me of another fault. Prouost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an vnusuall howre? Pro. It was commanded so Duke. Had you a speciall warrant for the deed? Pro. No my good Lord: it was by priuate message Duk. For which I doe discharge you of your office, Giue vp your keyes Pro. Pardon me, noble Lord, I thought it was a fault, but knew it not, Yet did repent me after more aduice, For testimony whereof, one in the prison That should by priuate order else haue dide, I haue reseru'd aliue Duk. What's he? Pro. His name is Barnardine Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio: Goe fetch him hither, let me looke vpon him Esc. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, haue stil appear'd, Should slip so grosselie, both in the heat of bloud And lacke of temper'd iudgement afterward Ang. I am sorrie, that such sorrow I procure, And so deepe sticks it in my penitent heart, That I craue death more willingly then mercy, 'Tis my deseruing, and I doe entreat it. Enter Barnardine and Prouost, Claudio, Iulietta. Duke. Which is that Barnardine? Pro. This my Lord Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man. Sirha, thou art said to haue a stubborne soule That apprehends no further then this world, And squar'st thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd, But for those earthly faults, I quit them all, And pray thee take this mercie to prouide For better times to come: Frier aduise him, I leaue him to your hand. What muffeld fellow's that? Pro. This is another prisoner that I sau'd, Who should haue di'd when Claudio lost his head, As like almost to Claudio, as himselfe Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon'd, and for your louelie sake Giue me your hand, and say you will be mine, He is my brother too: But fitter time for that: By this Lord Angelo perceiues he's safe, Methinkes I see a quickning in his eye: Well Angelo, your euill quits you well. Looke that you loue your wife: her worth, worth yours I finde an apt remission in my selfe: And yet heere's one in place I cannot pardon, You sirha, that knew me for a foole, a Coward, One all of Luxurie, an asse, a mad man: Wherein haue I so deseru'd of you That you extoll me thus? Luc. 'Faith my Lord, I spoke it but according to the trick: if you will hang me for it you may: but I had rather it would please you, I might be whipt Duke. Whipt first, sir, and hang'd after. Proclaime it Prouost round about the Citie, If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow (As I haue heard him sweare himselfe there's one whom he begot with childe) let her appeare, And he shall marry her: the nuptiall finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd Luc. I beseech your Highnesse doe not marry me to a Whore: your Highnesse said euen now I made you a Duke, good my Lord do not recompence me, in making me a Cuckold Duke. Vpon mine honor thou shalt marrie her. Thy slanders I forgiue, and therewithall Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prison, And see our pleasure herein executed Luc. Marrying a punke my Lord, is pressing to death, Whipping and hanging Duke. Slandering a Prince deserues it. She Claudio that you wrong'd, looke you restore. Ioy to you Mariana, loue her Angelo: I haue confes'd her, and I know her vertue. Thanks good friend, Escalus, for thy much goodnesse, There's more behinde that is more gratulate. Thanks Prouost for thy care, and secrecie, We shall imploy thee in a worthier place. Forgiue him Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio's, Th' offence pardons it selfe. Deere Isabell, I haue a motion much imports your good, Whereto if you'll a willing eare incline; What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. So bring vs to our Pallace, where wee'll show What's yet behinde, that meete you all should know. The Scene Vienna. The names of all the Actors. Vincentio: the Duke. Angelo, the Deputie. Escalus, an ancient Lord. Claudio, a yong Gentleman. Lucio, a fantastique. 2. Other like Gentlemen. Prouost. Thomas. 2. Friers. Peter. Elbow, a simple Constable. Froth, a foolish Gentleman. Clowne. Abhorson, an Executioner. Barnardine, a dissolute prisoner. Isabella, sister to Claudio. Mariana, betrothed to Angelo. Iuliet, beloued of Claudio. Francisca, a Nun. Mistris Ouer-don, a Bawd. FINIS. MEASVRE, For Measure. The Comedie of Errors Actus primus, Scena prima. Enter the Duke of Ephesus, with the Merchant of Siracusa, Iaylor, and other attendants. Marchant. Proceed Solinus to procure my fall, And by the doome of death end woes and all Duke. Merchant of Siracusa, plead no more. I am not partiall to infringe our Lawes; The enmity and discord which of late Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your Duke, To Merchants our well-dealing Countrimen, Who wanting gilders to redeeme their liues, Haue seal'd his rigorous statutes with their blouds, Excludes all pitty from our threatning lookes: For since the mortall and intestine iarres Twixt thy seditious Countrimen and vs, It hath in solemne Synodes beene decreed, Both by the Siracusians and our selues, To admit no trafficke to our aduerse townes: Nay more, if any borne at Ephesus Be seene at any Siracusian Marts and Fayres: Againe, if any Siracusian borne Come to the Bay of Ephesus, he dies: His goods confiscate to the Dukes dispose, Vnlesse a thousand markes be leuied To quit the penalty, and to ransome him: Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, Cannot amount vnto a hundred Markes, Therefore by Law thou art condemn'd to die Mer. Yet this my comfort, when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the euening Sonne Duk. Well Siracusian; say in briefe the cause Why thou departedst from thy natiue home? And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus Mer. A heauier taske could not haue beene impos'd, Then I to speake my griefes vnspeakeable: Yet that the world may witnesse that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, Ile vtter what my sorrow giues me leaue. In Syracusa was I borne, and wedde Vnto a woman, happy but for me, And by me; had not our hap beene bad: With her I liu'd in ioy, our wealth increast By prosperous voyages I often made To Epidamium, till my factors death, And he great care of goods at randone left, Drew me from kinde embracements of my spouse; From whom my absence was not sixe moneths olde, Before her selfe (almost at fainting vnder The pleasing punishment that women beare) Had made prouision for her following me, And soone, and safe, arriued where I was: There had she not beene long, but she became A ioyfull mother of two goodly sonnes: And, which was strange, the one so like the other, As could not be distinguish'd but by names. That very howre, and in the selfe-same Inne, A meane woman was deliuered Of such a burthen Male, twins both alike: Those, for their parents were exceeding poore, I bought, and brought vp to attend my sonnes. My wife, not meanely prowd of two such boyes, Made daily motions for our home returne: Vnwilling I agreed, alas, too soone wee came aboord. A league from Epidamium had we saild Before the alwaies winde-obeying deepe Gaue any Tragicke Instance of our harme: But longer did we not retaine much hope; For what obscured light the heauens did grant, Did but conuay vnto our fearefull mindes A doubtfull warrant of immediate death, Which though my selfe would gladly haue imbrac'd, Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before for what she saw must come, And pitteous playnings of the prettie babes That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to feare, Forst me to seeke delayes for them and me, And this it was: (for other meanes was none) The Sailors sought for safety by our boate, And left the ship then sinking ripe to vs. My wife, more carefull for the latter borne, Had fastned him vnto a small spare Mast, Such as sea-faring men prouide for stormes: To him one of the other twins was bound, Whil'st I had beene like heedfull of the other. The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fixt, Fastned our selues at eyther end the mast, And floating straight, obedient to the streame, Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. At length the sonne gazing vpon the earth, Disperst those vapours that offended vs, And by the benefit of his wished light The seas waxt calme, and we discouered Two shippes from farre, making amaine to vs: Of Corinth that, of Epidarus this, But ere they came, oh let me say no more, Gather the sequell by that went before Duk. Nay forward old man, doe not breake off so, For we may pitty, though not pardon thee Merch. Oh had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily tearm'd them mercilesse to vs: For ere the ships could meet by twice fiue leagues, We were encountred by a mighty rocke, Which being violently borne vp, Our helpefull ship was splitted in the midst; So that in this vniust diuorce of vs, Fortune had left to both of vs alike, What to delight in, what to sorrow for, Her part, poore soule, seeming as burdened With lesser waight, but not with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the winde, And in our sight they three were taken vp By Fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. At length another ship had seiz'd on vs, And knowing whom it was their hap to saue, Gaue healthfull welcome to their ship-wrackt guests, And would haue reft the Fishers of their prey, Had not their backe beene very slow of saile; And therefore homeward did they bend their course. Thus haue you heard me seuer'd from my blisse, That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd, To tell sad stories of my owne mishaps Duke. And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Doe me the fauour to dilate at full, What haue befalne of them and they till now Merch. My yongest boy, and yet my eldest care, At eighteene yeeres became inquisitiue After his brother; and importun'd me That his attendant, so his case was like, Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name, Might beare him company in the quest of him: Whom whil'st I laboured of a loue to see, I hazarded the losse of whom I lou'd. Fiue Sommers haue I spent in farthest Greece, Roming cleane through the bounds of Asia, And coasting homeward, came to Ephesus: Hopelesse to finde, yet loth to leaue vnsought Or that, or any place that harbours men: But heere must end the story of my life, And happy were I in my timelie death, Could all my trauells warrant me they liue Duke. Haplesse Egeon whom the fates haue markt To beare the extremitie of dire mishap: Now trust me, were it not against our Lawes, Against my Crowne, my oath, my dignity, Which Princes would they may not disanull, My soule should sue as aduocate for thee: But though thou art adiudged to the death, And passed sentence may not be recal'd But to our honours great disparagement: Yet will I fauour thee in what I can; Therefore Marchant, Ile limit thee this day To seeke thy helpe by beneficiall helpe, Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus, Beg thou, or borrow, to make vp the summe, And liue: if no, then thou art doom'd to die: Iaylor, take him to thy custodie Iaylor. I will my Lord Merch. Hopelesse and helpelesse doth Egean wend, But to procrastinate his liuelesse end. Exeunt. Enter Antipholis Erotes, a Marchant, and Dromio. Mer. Therefore giue out you are of Epidamium, Lest that your goods too soone be confiscate: This very day a Syracusian Marchant Is apprehended for a riuall here, And not being able to buy out his life, According to the statute of the towne, Dies ere the wearie sunne set in the West: There is your monie that I had to keepe Ant. Goe beare it to the Centaure, where we host, And stay there Dromio, till I come to thee; Within this houre it will be dinner time, Till that Ile view the manners of the towne, Peruse the traders, gaze vpon the buildings, And then returne and sleepe within mine Inne, For with long trauaile I am stiffe and wearie. Get thee away Dro. Many a man would take you at your word, And goe indeede, hauing so good a meane. Exit Dromio. Ant. A trustie villaine sir, that very oft, When I am dull with care and melancholly, Lightens my humour with his merry iests: What will you walke with me about the towne, And then goe to my Inne and dine with me? E.Mar. I am inuited sir to certaine Marchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit: I craue your pardon, soone at fiue a clocke, Please you, Ile meete with you vpon the Mart, And afterward consort you till bed time: My present businesse cals me from you now Ant. Farewell till then: I will goe loose my selfe, And wander vp and downe to view the Citie E.Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content. Exeunt. Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content, Commends me to the thing I cannot get: I to the world am like a drop of water, That in the Ocean seekes another drop, Who falling there to finde his fellow forth, (Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe. So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother, In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe. Enter Dromio of Ephesus. Here comes the almanacke of my true date: What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone E.Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late: The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit; The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell: My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke: She is so hot because the meate is colde: The meate is colde, because you come not home: You come not home, because you haue no stomacke: You haue no stomacke, hauing broke your fast: But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray, Are penitent for your default to day Ant. Stop in your winde sir, tell me this I pray? Where haue you left the mony that I gaue you E.Dro. Oh sixe pence that I had a wensday last, To pay the Sadler for my Mistris crupper: The Sadler had it Sir, I kept it not Ant. I am not in a sportiue humor now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the monie? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine owne custodie E.Dro. I pray you iest sir as you sit at dinner: I from my Mistris come to you in post: If I returne I shall be post indeede. For she will scoure your fault vpon my pate: Me thinkes your maw, like mine, should be your cooke, And strike you home without a messenger Ant. Come Dromio, come, these iests are out of season, Reserue them till a merrier houre then this: Where is the gold I gaue in charge to thee? E.Dro. To me sir? why you gaue no gold to me? Ant. Come on sir knaue, haue done your foolishnes, And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge E.Dro. My charge was but to fetch you fro[m] the Mart Home to your house, the Phoenix sir, to dinner; My Mistris and her sister staies for you Ant. Now as I am a Christian answer me, In what safe place you haue bestow'd my monie; Or I shall breake that merrie sconce of yours That stands on tricks, when I am vndispos'd: Where is the thousand Markes thou hadst of me? E.Dro. I haue some markes of yours vpon my pate: Some of my Mistris markes vpon my shoulders: But not a thousand markes betweene you both. If I should pay your worship those againe, Perchance you will not beare them patiently Ant. Thy Mistris markes? what Mistris slaue hast thou? E.Dro. Your worships wife, my Mistris at the Phoenix; She that doth fast till you come home to dinner: And praies that you will hie you home to dinner Ant. What wilt thou flout me thus vnto my face Being forbid? There take you that sir knaue E.Dro. What meane you sir, for God sake hold your hands: Nay, and you will not sir, Ile take my heeles. Exeunt. Dromio Ep. Ant. Vpon my life by some deuise or other, The villaine is ore-wrought of all my monie. They say this towne is full of cosenage: As nimble Iuglers that deceiue the eie: Darke working Sorcerers that change the minde: Soule-killing Witches, that deforme the bodie: Disguised Cheaters, prating Mountebankes; And manie such like liberties of sinne: If it proue so, I will be gone the sooner: Ile to the Centaur to goe seeke this slaue, I greatly feare my monie is not safe. Enter. Actus Secundus. Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her Sister. Adr. Neither my husband nor the slaue return'd, That in such haste I sent to seeke his Master? Sure Luciana it is two a clocke Luc. Perhaps some Merchant hath inuited him, And from the Mart he's somewhere gone to dinner: Good Sister let vs dine, and neuer fret; A man is Master of his libertie: Time is their Master, and when they see time, They'll goe or come; if so, be patient Sister Adr. Why should their libertie then ours be more? Luc. Because their businesse still lies out adore Adr. Looke when I serue him so, he takes it thus Luc. Oh, know he is the bridle of your will Adr. There's none but asses will be bridled so Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lasht with woe: There's nothing situate vnder heauens eye, But hath his bound in earth, in sea, in skie. The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowles Are their males subiects, and at their controules: Man more diuine, the Master of all these, Lord of the wide world, and wilde watry seas, Indued with intellectuall sence and soules, Of more preheminence then fish and fowles, Are masters to their females, and their Lords: Then let your will attend on their accords Adri. This seruitude makes you to keepe vnwed Luci. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed Adr. But were you wedded, you wold bear some sway Luc. Ere I learne loue, Ile practise to obey Adr. How if your husband start some other where? Luc. Till he come home againe, I would forbeare Adr. Patience vnmou'd, no maruel though she pause, They can be meeke, that haue no other cause: A wretched soule bruis'd with aduersitie, We bid be quiet when we heare it crie. But were we burdned with like waight of paine, As much, or more, we should our selues complaine: So thou that hast no vnkinde mate to greeue thee, With vrging helpelesse patience would releeue me; But if thou liue to see like right bereft, This foole-beg'd patience in thee will be left Luci. Well, I will marry one day but to trie: Heere comes your man, now is your husband nie. Enter Dromio Eph. Adr. Say, is your tardie master now at hand? E.Dro. Nay, hee's at too hands with mee, and that my two eares can witnesse Adr. Say, didst thou speake with him? knowst thou his minde? E.Dro. I, I, he told his minde vpon mine eare, Beshrew his hand, I scarce could vnderstand it Luc. Spake hee so doubtfully, thou couldst not feele his meaning E.Dro. Nay, hee strooke so plainly, I could too well feele his blowes; and withall so doubtfully, that I could scarce vnderstand them Adri. But say, I prethee, is he comming home? It seemes he hath great care to please his wife E.Dro. Why Mistresse, sure my Master is horne mad Adri. Horne mad, thou villaine? E.Dro. I meane not Cuckold mad, But sure he is starke mad: When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, He ask'd me for a hundred markes in gold: 'Tis dinner time, quoth I: my gold, quoth he: Your meat doth burne, quoth I: my gold quoth he: Will you come, quoth I: my gold, quoth he; Where is the thousand markes I gaue thee villaine? The Pigge quoth I, is burn'd: my gold, quoth he: My mistresse, sir, quoth I: hang vp thy Mistresse: I know not thy mistresse, out on thy mistresse Luci. Quoth who? E.Dr. Quoth my Master, I know quoth he, no house, no wife, no mistresse: so that my arrant due vnto my tongue, I thanke him, I bare home vpon my shoulders: for in conclusion, he did beat me there Adri. Go back againe, thou slaue, & fetch him home Dro. Goe backe againe, and be new beaten home? For Gods sake send some other messenger Adri. Backe slaue, or I will breake thy pate a-crosse Dro. And he will blesse y crosse with other beating: Betweene you, I shall haue a holy head Adri. Hence prating pesant, fetch thy Master home Dro. Am I so round with you, as you with me, That like a foot-ball you doe spurne me thus: You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither, If I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face Adri. His company must do his minions grace, Whil'st I at home starue for a merrie looke: Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it. Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit, If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd, Vnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard. Doe their gay vestments his affections baite? That's not my fault, hee's master of my state. What ruines are in me that can be found, By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground Of my defeatures. My decayed faire, A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire. But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale, And feedes from home; poore I am but his stale Luci. Selfe-harming Iealousie; fie beat it hence Ad. Vnfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispence: I know his eye doth homage other-where, Or else, what lets it but he would be here? Sister, you know he promis'd me a chaine, Would that alone, a loue he would detaine, So he would keepe faire quarter with his bed: I see the Iewell best enamaled Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still That others touch, and often touching will, Where gold and no man that hath a name, By falshood and corruption doth it shame: Since that my beautie cannot please his eie, Ile weepe (what's left away) and weeping die Luci. How manie fond fooles serue mad Ielousie? Enter. Enter Antipholis Errotis. Ant. The gold I gaue to Dromio is laid vp Safe at the Centaur, and the heedfull slaue Is wandred forth in care to seeke me out By computation and mine hosts report. I could not speake with Dromio, since at first I sent him from the Mart? see here he comes. Enter Dromio Siracusia. How now sir, is your merrie humor alter'd? As you loue stroakes, so iest with me againe: You know no Centaur? you receiu'd no gold? Your Mistresse sent to haue me home to dinner? My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad, That thus so madlie thou did didst answere me? S.Dro. What answer sir? when spake I such a word? E.Ant. Euen now, euen here, not halfe an howre since S.Dro. I did not see you since you sent me hence Home to the Centaur with the gold you gaue me Ant. Villaine, thou didst denie the golds receit, And toldst me of a Mistresse, and a dinner, For which I hope thou feltst I was displeas'd S.Dro. I am glad to see you in this merrie vaine, What meanes this iest, I pray you Master tell me? Ant. Yea, dost thou ieere & flowt me in the teeth? Thinkst y I iest? hold, take thou that, & that. Beats Dro. S.Dr. Hold sir, for Gods sake, now your iest is earnest, Vpon what bargaine do you giue it me? Antiph. Because that I familiarlie sometimes Doe vse you for my foole, and chat with you, Your sawcinesse will iest vpon my loue, And make a Common of my serious howres, When the sunne shines, let foolish gnats make sport, But creepe in crannies, when he hides his beames: If you will iest with me, know my aspect, And fashion your demeanor to my lookes, Or I will beat this method in your sconce S.Dro. Sconce call you it? so you would leaue battering, I had rather haue it a head, and you vse these blows long, I must get a sconce for my head, and Insconce it to, or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders, but I pray sir, why am I beaten? Ant. Dost thou not know? S.Dro. Nothing sir, but that I am beaten Ant. Shall I tell you why? S.Dro. I sir, and wherefore; for they say, euery why hath a wherefore Ant. Why first for flowting me, and then wherefore, for vrging it the second time to me S.Dro. Was there euer anie man thus beaten out of season, when in the why and the wherefore, is neither rime nor reason. Well sir, I thanke you Ant. Thanke me sir, for what? S.Dro. Marry sir, for this something that you gaue me for nothing Ant. Ile make you amends next, to giue you nothing for something. But say sir, is it dinner time? S.Dro. No sir, I thinke the meat wants that I haue Ant. In good time sir: what's that? S.Dro. Basting Ant. Well sir, then 'twill be drie S.Dro. If it be sir, I pray you eat none of it Ant. Your reason? S.Dro. Lest it make you chollericke, and purchase me another drie basting Ant. Well sir, learne to iest in good time, there's a time for all things S.Dro. I durst haue denied that before you were so chollericke Anti. By what rule sir? S.Dro. Marry sir, by a rule as plaine as the plaine bald pate of Father time himselfe Ant. Let's heare it S.Dro. There's no time for a man to recouer his haire that growes bald by nature Ant. May he not doe it by fine and recouerie? S.Dro. Yes, to pay a fine for a perewig, and recouer the lost haire of another man Ant. Why, is Time such a niggard of haire, being (as it is) so plentifull an excrement? S.Dro. Because it is a blessing that hee bestowes on beasts, and what he hath scanted them in haire, hee hath giuen them in wit Ant. Why, but theres manie a man hath more haire then wit S.Dro. Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his haire Ant. Why thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit S.Dro. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost; yet he looseth it in a kinde of iollitie An. For what reason S.Dro. For two, and sound ones to An. Nay not sound I pray you S.Dro. Sure ones then An. Nay, not sure in a thing falsing S.Dro. Certaine ones then An. Name them S.Dro. The one to saue the money that he spends in trying: the other, that at dinner they should not drop in his porrage An. You would all this time haue prou'd, there is no time for all things S.Dro. Marry and did sir: namely, in no time to recouer haire lost by Nature An. But your reason was not substantiall, why there is no time to recouer S.Dro. Thus I mend it: Time himselfe is bald, and therefore to the worlds end, will haue bald followers An. I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: but soft, who wafts vs yonder. Enter Adriana and Luciana. Adri. I, I, Antipholus, looke strange and frowne, Some other Mistresse hath thy sweet aspects: I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. The time was once, when thou vn-vrg'd wouldst vow, That neuer words were musicke to thine eare, That neuer obiect pleasing in thine eye, That neuer touch well welcome to thy hand, That neuer meat sweet-sauour'd in thy taste, Vnlesse I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or caru'd to thee. How comes it now, my Husband, oh how comes it, That thou art then estranged from thy selfe? Thy selfe I call it, being strange to me: That vndiuidable Incorporate Am better then thy deere selfes better part. Ah doe not teare away thy selfe from me; For know my loue: as easie maist thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulfe, And take vnmingled thence that drop againe Without addition or diminishing, As take from me thy selfe, and not me too. How deerely would it touch thee to the quicke, Shouldst thou but heare I were licencious? And that this body consecrate to thee, By Ruffian Lust should be contaminate? Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurne at me, And hurle the name of husband in my face, And teare the stain'd skin of my Harlot brow, And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, And breake it with a deepe-diuorcing vow? I know thou canst, and therefore see thou doe it. I am possest with an adulterate blot, My bloud is mingled with the crime of lust: For if we two be one, and thou play false, I doe digest the poison of thy flesh, Being strumpeted by thy contagion: Keepe then faire league and truce with thy true bed, I liue distain'd, thou vndishonoured Antip. Plead you to me faire dame? I know you not: In Ephesus I am but two houres old, As strange vnto your towne, as to your talke, Who euery word by all my wit being scan'd, Wants wit in all, one word to vnderstand Luci. Fie brother, how the world is chang'd with you: When were you wont to vse my sister thus? She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner Ant. By Dromio? Drom. By me Adr. By thee, and this thou didst returne from him. That he did buffet thee, and in his blowes, Denied my house for his, me for his wife Ant. Did you conuerse sir with this gentlewoman: What is the course and drift of your compact? S.Dro. I sir? I neuer saw her till this time Ant. Villaine thou liest, for euen her verie words, Didst thou deliuer to me on the Mart S.Dro. I neuer spake with her in all my life Ant. How can she thus then call vs by our names? Vnlesse it be by inspiration Adri. How ill agrees it with your grauitie, To counterfeit thus grosely with your slaue, Abetting him to thwart me in my moode; Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt, But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. Come I will fasten on this sleeue of thine: Thou art an Elme my husband, I a Vine: Whose weaknesse married to thy stranger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate: If ought possesse thee from me, it is drosse, Vsurping Iuie, Brier, or idle Mosse, Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion, Infect thy sap, and liue on thy confusion Ant. To mee shee speakes, shee moues mee for her theame; What, was I married to her in my dreame? Or sleepe I now, and thinke I heare all this? What error driues our eies and eares amisse? Vntill I know this sure vncertaintie, Ile entertaine the free'd fallacie Luc. Dromio, goe bid the seruants spred for dinner S.Dro. Oh for my beads, I crosse me for a sinner. This is the Fairie land, oh spight of spights, We talke with Goblins, Owles and Sprights; If we obay them not, this will insue: They'll sucke our breath, or pinch vs blacke and blew Luc. Why prat'st thou to thy selfe, and answer'st not? Dromio, thou Dromio, thou snaile, thou slug, thou sot S.Dro. I am transformed Master, am I not? Ant. I thinke thou art in minde, and so am I S.Dro. Nay Master, both in minde, and in my shape Ant. Thou hast thine owne forme S.Dro. No, I am an Ape Luc. If thou art chang'd to ought, 'tis to an Asse S.Dro. 'Tis true she rides me, and I long for grasse. 'Tis so, I am an Asse, else it could neuer be, But I should know her as well as she knowes me Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a foole, To put the finger in the eie and weepe; Whil'st man and Master laughes my woes to scorne: Come sir to dinner, Dromio keepe the gate: Husband Ile dine aboue with you to day, And shriue you of a thousand idle prankes: Sirra, if any aske you for your Master, Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter: Come sister, Dromio play the Porter well Ant. Am I in earth, in heauen, or in hell? Sleeping or waking, mad or well aduisde: Knowne vnto these, and to my selfe disguisde: Ile say as they say, and perseuer so: And in this mist at all aduentures go S.Dro. Master, shall I be Porter at the gate? Adr. I, and let none enter, least I breake your pate Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine to late. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, his man Dromio, Angelo the Goldsmith, and Balthaser the Merchant. E.Anti. Good signior Angelo you must excuse vs all, My wife is shrewish when I keepe not howres; Say that I lingerd with you at your shop To see the making of her Carkanet, And that to morrow you will bring it home. But here's a villaine that would face me downe He met me on the Mart, and that I beat him, And charg'd him with a thousand markes in gold, And that I did denie my wife and house; Thou drunkard thou, what didst thou meane by this? E.Dro. Say what you wil sir, but I know what I know, That you beat me at the Mart I haue your hand to show; If y skin were parchment, & y blows you gaue were ink, Your owne hand-writing would tell you what I thinke E.Ant. I thinke thou art an asse E.Dro. Marry so it doth appeare By the wrongs I suffer, and the blowes I beare, I should kicke being kickt, and being at that passe, You would keepe from my heeles, and beware of an asse E.An. Y'are sad signior Balthazar, pray God our cheer May answer my good will, and your good welcom here Bal. I hold your dainties cheap sir, & your welcom deer E.An. Oh signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A table full of welcome, makes scarce one dainty dish Bal. Good meat sir is co[m]mon that euery churle affords Anti. And welcome more common, for thats nothing but words Bal. Small cheere and great welcome, makes a merrie feast Anti. I, to a niggardly Host, and more sparing guest: But though my cates be meane, take them in good part, Better cheere may you haue, but not with better hart. But soft, my doore is lockt; goe bid them let vs in E.Dro. Maud, Briget, Marian, Cisley, Gillian, Ginn S.Dro. Mome, Malthorse, Capon, Coxcombe, Idiot, Patch, Either get thee from the dore, or sit downe at the hatch: Dost thou coniure for wenches, that y calst for such store, When one is one too many, goe get thee from the dore E.Dro. What patch is made our Porter? my Master stayes in the street S.Dro. Let him walke from whence he came, lest hee catch cold on's feet E.Ant. Who talks within there? hoa, open the dore S.Dro. Right sir, Ile tell you when, and you'll tell me wherefore Ant. Wherefore? for my dinner: I haue not din'd to day S.Dro. Nor to day here you must not come againe when you may Anti. What art thou that keep'st mee out from the howse I owe? S.Dro. The Porter for this time Sir, and my name is Dromio E.Dro. O villaine, thou hast stolne both mine office and my name, The one nere got me credit, the other mickle blame: If thou hadst beene Dromio to day in my place, Thou wouldst haue chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an asse. Enter Luce. Luce. What a coile is there Dromio? who are those at the gate? E.Dro. Let my Master in Luce Luce. Faith no, hee comes too late, and so tell your Master E.Dro. O Lord I must laugh, haue at you with a Prouerbe, Shall I set in my staffe Luce. Haue at you with another, that's when? can you tell? S.Dro. If thy name be called Luce, Luce thou hast answer'd him well Anti. Doe you heare you minion, you'll let vs in I hope? Luce. I thought to haue askt you S.Dro. And you said no E.Dro. So come helpe, well strooke, there was blow for blow Anti. Thou baggage let me in Luce. Can you tell for whose sake? E.Drom. Master, knocke the doore hard Luce. Let him knocke till it ake Anti. You'll crie for this minion, if I beat the doore downe Luce. What needs all that, and a paire of stocks in the towne? Enter Adriana. Adr. Who is that at the doore y keeps all this noise? S.Dro. By my troth your towne is troubled with vnruly boies Anti. Are you there Wife? you might haue come before Adri. Your wife sir knaue? go get you from the dore E.Dro. If you went in paine Master, this knaue wold goe sore Angelo. Heere is neither cheere sir, nor welcome, we would faine haue either Baltz. In debating which was best, wee shall part with neither E.Dro. They stand at the doore, Master, bid them welcome hither Anti. There is something in the winde, that we cannot get in E.Dro. You would say so Master, if your garments were thin. Your cake here is warme within: you stand here in the cold. It would make a man mad as a Bucke to be so bought and sold Ant. Go fetch me something, Ile break ope the gate S.Dro. Breake any breaking here, and Ile breake your knaues pate E.Dro. A man may breake a word with your sir, and words are but winde: I and breake it in your face, so he break it not behinde S.Dro. It seemes thou want'st breaking, out vpon thee hinde E.Dro. Here's too much out vpon thee, I pray thee let me in S.Dro. I, when fowles haue no feathers, and fish haue no fin Ant. Well, Ile breake in: go borrow me a crow E.Dro. A crow without feather, Master meane you so; For a fish without a finne, ther's a fowle without a fether, If a crow help vs in sirra, wee'll plucke a crow together Ant. Go, get thee gon, fetch me an iron Crow Balth. Haue patience sir, oh let it not be so, Heerein you warre against your reputation, And draw within the compasse of suspect Th' vnuiolated honor of your wife. Once this your long experience of your wisedome, Her sober vertue, yeares, and modestie, Plead on your part some cause to you vnknowne; And doubt not sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the dores are made against you. Be rul'd by me, depart in patience, And let vs to the Tyger all to dinner, And about euening come your selfe alone, To know the reason of this strange restraint: If by strong hand you offer to breake in Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it; And that supposed by the common rowt Against your yet vngalled estimation, That may with foule intrusion enter in, And dwell vpon your graue when you are dead; For slander liues vpon succession: For euer hows'd, where it gets possession Anti. You haue preuail'd, I will depart in quiet, And in despight of mirth meane to be merrie: I know a wench of excellent discourse, Prettie and wittie; wilde, and yet too gentle; There will we dine: this woman that I meane My wife (but I protest without desert) Hath oftentimes vpbraided me withall: To her will we to dinner, get you home And fetch the chaine, by this I know 'tis made, Bring it I pray you to the Porpentine, For there's the house: That chaine will I bestow (Be it for nothing but to spight my wife) Vpon mine hostesse there, good sir make haste: Since mine owne doores refuse to entertaine me, Ile knocke else-where, to see if they'll disdaine me Ang. Ile meet you at that place some houre hence Anti. Do so, this iest shall cost me some expence. Exeunt. Enter Iuliana, with Antipholus of Siracusia. Iulia. And may it be that you haue quite forgot A husbands office? shall Antipholus Euen in the spring of Loue, thy Loue-springs rot? Shall loue in buildings grow so ruinate? If you did wed my sister for her wealth, Then for her wealths-sake vse her with more kindnesse: Or if you like else-where doe it by stealth, Muffle your false loue with some shew of blindnesse: Let not my sister read it in your eye: Be not thy tongue thy owne shames Orator: Looke sweet, speake faire, become disloyaltie: Apparell vice like vertues harbenger: Beare a faire presence, though your heart be tainted, Teach sinne the carriage of a holy Saint, Be secret false: what need she be acquainted? What simple thiefe brags of his owne attaine? 'Tis double wrong to truant with your bed, And let her read it in thy lookes at boord: Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed, Ill deeds is doubled with an euill word: Alas poore women, make vs not beleeue (Being compact of credit) that you loue vs, Though others haue the arme, shew vs the sleeue: We in your motion turne, and you may moue vs. Then gentle brother get you in againe; Comfort my sister, cheere her, call her wise; 'Tis holy sport to be a little vaine, When the sweet breath of flatterie conquers strife S.Anti. Sweete Mistris, what your name is else I know not; Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine: Lesse in your knowledge, and your grace you show not, Then our earths wonder, more then earth diuine. Teach me deere creature how to thinke and speake: Lay open to my earthie grosse conceit: Smothred in errors, feeble, shallow, weake, The foulded meaning of your words deceit: Against my soules pure truth, why labour you, To make it wander in an vnknowne field? Are you a god? would you create me new? Transforme me then, and to your powre Ile yeeld. But if that I am I, then well I know, Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage doe I owe: Farre more, farre more, to you doe I decline: Oh traine me not sweet Mermaide with thy note, To drowne me in thy sister floud of teares: Sing Siren for thy selfe, and I will dote: Spread ore the siluer waues thy golden haires; And as a bud Ile take thee, and there lie: And in that glorious supposition thinke, He gaines by death, that hath such meanes to die: Let Loue, being light, be drowned if she sinke Luc. What are you mad, that you doe reason so? Ant. Not mad, but mated, how I doe not know Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your eie Ant. For gazing on your beames faire sun being by Luc. Gaze when you should, and that will cleere your sight Ant. As good to winke sweet loue, as looke on night Luc. Why call you me loue? Call my sister so Ant. Thy sisters sister Luc. That's my sister Ant. No: it is thy selfe, mine owne selfes better part: Mine eies cleere eie, my deere hearts deerer heart; My foode, my fortune, and my sweet hopes aime; My sole earths heauen, and my heauens claime Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be Ant. Call thy selfe sister sweet, for I am thee: Thee will I loue, and with thee lead my life; Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife: Giue me thy hand Luc. Oh soft sir, hold you still: Ile fetch my sister to get her good will. Enter. Enter Dromio, Siracusia. Ant. Why how now Dromio, where run'st thou so fast? S.Dro. Doe you know me sir? Am I Dromio? Am I your man? Am I my selfe? Ant. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thy selfe Dro. I am an asse, I am a womans man, and besides my selfe Ant. What womans man? and how besides thy selfe? Dro. Marrie sir, besides my selfe, I am due to a woman: One that claimes me, one that haunts me, one that will haue me Anti. What claime laies she to thee? Dro. Marry sir, such claime as you would lay to your horse, and she would haue me as a beast, not that I beeing a beast she would haue me, but that she being a verie beastly creature layes claime to me Anti. What is she? Dro. A very reuerent body: I such a one, as a man may not speake of, without he say sir reuerence, I haue but leane lucke in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage Anti. How dost thou meane a fat marriage? Dro. Marry sir, she's the Kitchin wench, & al grease, and I know not what vse to put her too, but to make a Lampe of her, and run from her by her owne light. I warrant, her ragges and the Tallow in them, will burne a Poland Winter: If she liues till doomesday, she'l burne a weeke longer then the whole World Anti. What complexion is she of? Dro. Swart like my shoo, but her face nothing like so cleane kept: for why? she sweats a man may goe ouer-shooes in the grime of it Anti. That's a fault that water will mend Dro. No sir, 'tis in graine, Noahs flood could not do it Anti. What's her name? Dro. Nell Sir: but her name is three quarters, that's an Ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip Anti. Then she beares some bredth? Dro. No longer from head to foot, then from hippe to hippe: she is sphericall, like a globe: I could find out Countries in her Anti. In what part of her body stands Ireland? Dro. Marry sir in her buttockes, I found it out by the bogges Ant. Where Scotland? Dro. I found it by the barrennesse, hard in the palme of the hand Ant. Where France? Dro. In her forhead, arm'd and reuerted, making warre against her heire Ant. Where England? Dro. I look'd for the chalkle Cliffes, but I could find no whitenesse in them. But I guesse, it stood in her chin by the salt rheume that ranne betweene France, and it Ant. Where Spaine? Dro. Faith I saw it not: but I felt it hot in her breth Ant. Where America, the Indies? Dro. Oh sir, vpon her nose, all ore embellished with Rubies, Carbuncles, Saphires, declining their rich Aspect to the hot breath of Spaine, who sent whole Armadoes of Carrects to be ballast at her nose Anti. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? Dro. Oh sir, I did not looke so low. To conclude, this drudge or Diuiner layd claime to mee, call'd mee Dromio, swore I was assur'd to her, told me what priuie markes I had about mee, as the marke of my shoulder, the Mole in my necke, the great Wart on my left arme, that I amaz'd ranne from her as a witch. And I thinke, if my brest had not beene made of faith, and my heart of steele, she had transform'd me to a Curtull dog, & made me turne i'th wheele Anti. Go hie thee presently, post to the rode, And if the winde blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this Towne to night. If any Barke put forth, come to the Mart, Where I will walke till thou returne to me: If euerie one knowes vs, and we know none, 'Tis time I thinke to trudge, packe, and be gone Dro. As from a Beare a man would run for life, So flie I from her that would be my wife. Exit Anti. There's none but Witches do inhabite heere, And therefore 'tis hie time that I were hence: She that doth call me husband, euen my soule Doth for a wife abhorre. But her faire sister Possest with such a gentle soueraigne grace, Of such inchanting presence and discourse, Hath almost made me Traitor to my selfe: But least my selfe be guilty to selfe wrong, Ile stop mine eares against the Mermaids song. Enter Angelo with the Chaine. Ang. Mr Antipholus Anti. I that's my name Ang. I know it well sir, loe here's the chaine, I thought to haue tane you at the Porpentine, The chaine vnfinish'd made me stay thus long Anti. What is your will that I shal do with this? Ang. What please your selfe sir: I haue made it for you Anti. Made it for me sir, I bespoke it not Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twentie times you haue: Go home with it, and please your Wife withall, And soone at supper time Ile visit you, And then receiue my money for the chaine Anti. I pray you sir receiue the money now. For feare you ne're see chaine, nor mony more Ang. You are a merry man sir, fare you well. Enter. Ant. What I should thinke of this, I cannot tell: But this I thinke, there's no man is so vaine, That would refuse so faire an offer'd Chaine. I see a man heere needs not liue by shifts, When in the streets he meetes such Golden gifts: Ile to the Mart, and there for Dromio stay, If any ship put out, then straight away. Enter. Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima. Enter a Merchant, Goldsmith, and an Officer. Mar. You know since Pentecost the sum is due, And since I haue not much importun'd you, Nor now I had not, but that I am bound To Persia, and want Gilders for my voyage: Therefore make present satisfaction, Or Ile attach you by this Officer Gold. Euen iust the sum that I do owe to you, Is growing to me by Antipholus, And in the instant that I met with you, He had of me a Chaine, at fiue a clocke I shall receiue the money for the same: Pleaseth you walke with me downe to his house, I will discharge my bond, and thanke you too. Enter Antipholus Ephes.Dromio from the Courtizans. Offi. That labour may you saue: See where he comes Ant. While I go to the Goldsmiths house, go thou And buy a ropes end, that will I bestow Among my wife, and their confederates, For locking me out of my doores by day: But soft I see the Goldsmith; get thee gone, Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me Dro. I buy a thousand pound a yeare, I buy a rope. Exit Dromio Eph.Ant. A man is well holpe vp that trusts to you, I promised your presence, and the Chaine, But neither Chaine nor Goldsmith came to me: Belike you thought our loue would last too long If it were chain'd together: and therefore came not Gold. Sauing your merrie humor: here's the note How much your Chaine weighs to the vtmost charect, The finenesse of the Gold, and chargefull fashion, Which doth amount to three odde Duckets more Then I stand debted to this Gentleman, I pray you see him presently discharg'd, For he is bound to Sea, and stayes but for it Anti. I am not furnish'd with the present monie: Besides I haue some businesse in the towne, Good Signior take the stranger to my house, And with you take the Chaine, and bid my wife Disburse the summe, on the receit thereof, Perchance I will be there as soone as you Gold. Then you will bring the Chaine to her your selfe Anti. No beare it with you, least I come not time enough Gold. Well sir, I will? Haue you the Chaine about you? Ant. And if I haue not sir, I hope you haue: Or else you may returne without your money Gold. Nay come I pray you sir, giue me the Chaine: Both winde and tide stayes for this Gentleman, And I too blame haue held him heere too long Anti. Good Lord, you vse this dalliance to excuse Your breach of promise to the Porpentine, I should haue chid you for not bringing it, But like a shrew you first begin to brawle Mar. The houre steales on, I pray you sir dispatch Gold. You heare how he importunes me, the Chaine Ant. Why giue it to my wife, and fetch your mony Gold. Come, come, you know I gaue it you euen now. Either send the Chaine, or send me by some token Ant. Fie, now you run this humor out of breath, Come where's the Chaine, I pray you let me see it Mar. My businesse cannot brooke this dalliance, Good sir say, whe'r you'l answer me, or no: If not, Ile leaue him to the Officer Ant. I answer you? What should I answer you Gold. The monie that you owe me for the Chaine Ant. I owe you none, till I receiue the Chaine Gold. You know I gaue it you halfe an houre since Ant. You gaue me none, you wrong mee much to say so Gold. You wrong me more sir in denying it. Consider how it stands vpon my credit Mar. Well Officer, arrest him at my suite Offi. I do, and charge you in the Dukes name to obey me Gold. This touches me in reputation. Either consent to pay this sum for me, Or I attach you by this Officer Ant. Consent to pay thee that I neuer had: Arrest me foolish fellow if thou dar'st Gold. Heere is thy fee, arrest him Officer. I would not spare my brother in this case, If he should scorne me so apparantly Offic. I do arrest you sir, you heare the suite Ant. I do obey thee, till I giue thee baile. But sirrah, you shall buy this sport as deere, As all the mettall in your shop will answer Gold. Sir, sir, I shall haue Law in Ephesus, To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay. Dro. Master, there's a Barke of Epidamium, That staies but till her Owner comes aboord, And then sir she beares away. Our fraughtage sir, I haue conuei'd aboord, and I haue bought The Oyle, the Balsamum, and Aqua-vitae. The ship is in her trim, the merrie winde Blowes faire from land: they stay for nought at all, But for their Owner, Master, and your selfe An. How now? a Madman? Why thou peeuish sheep What ship of Epidamium staies for me S.Dro. A ship you sent me too, to hier waftage Ant. Thou drunken slaue, I sent thee for a rope, And told thee to what purpose, and what end S.Dro. You sent me for a ropes end as soone, You sent me to the Bay sir, for a Barke Ant. I will debate this matter at more leisure And teach your eares to list me with more heede: To Adriana Villaine hie thee straight: Giue her this key, and tell her in the Deske That's couer'd o're with Turkish Tapistrie, There is a purse of Duckets, let her send it: Tell her, I am arrested in the streete, And that shall baile me: hie thee slaue, be gone, On Officer to prison, till it come. Exeunt. S.Dromio. To Adriana, that is where we din'd, Where Dowsabell did claime me for her husband, She is too bigge I hope for me to compasse, Thither I must, although against my will: For seruants must their Masters mindes fulfill. Exit Enter Adriana and Luciana. Adr. Ah Luciana, did he tempt thee so? Might'st thou perceiue austeerely in his eie, That he did plead in earnest, yea or no: Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? What obseruation mad'st thou in this case? Oh, his hearts Meteors tilting in his face Luc. First he deni'de you had in him no right Adr. He meant he did me none: the more my spight Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger heere Adr. And true he swore, though yet forsworne hee were Luc. Then pleaded I for you Adr. And what said he? Luc. That loue I begg'd for you, he begg'd of me Adr. With what perswasion did he tempt thy loue? Luc. With words, that in an honest suit might moue. First, he did praise my beautie, then my speech Adr. Did'st speake him faire? Luc. Haue patience I beseech Adr. I cannot, nor I will not hold me still. My tongue, though not my heart, shall haue his will. He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, Ill-fac'd, worse bodied, shapelesse euery where: Vicious, vngentle, foolish, blunt, vnkinde, Stigmaticall in making worse in minde Luc. Who would be iealous then of such a one? No euill lost is wail'd, when it is gone Adr. Ah but I thinke him better then I say: And yet would herein others eies were worse: Farre from her nest the Lapwing cries away; My heart praies for him, though my tongue doe curse. Enter S.Dromio. Dro. Here goe: the deske, the purse, sweet now make haste Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath? S.Dro. By running fast Adr. Where is thy Master Dromio? Is he well? S.Dro. No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse then hell: A diuell in an euerlasting garment hath him; On whose hard heart is button'd vp with steele: A Feind, a Fairie, pittilesse and ruffe: A Wolfe, nay worse, a fellow all in buffe: A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that counterma[n]ds The passages of allies, creekes, and narrow lands: A hound that runs Counter, and yet draws drifoot well, One that before the Iudgme[n]t carries poore soules to hel Adr. Why man, what is the matter? S.Dro. I doe not know the matter, hee is rested on the case Adr. What is he arrested? tell me at whose suite? S.Dro. I know not at whose suite he is arested well; but is in a suite of buffe which rested him, that can I tell, will you send him Mistris redemption, the monie in his deske Adr. Go fetch it Sister: this I wonder at. Exit Luciana. Thus he vnknowne to me should be in debt: Tell me, was he arested on a band? S.Dro. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing: A chaine, a chaine, doe you not here it ring Adria. What, the chaine? S.Dro. No, no, the bell, 'tis time that I were gone: It was two ere I left him, and now the clocke strikes one Adr. The houres come backe, that did I neuer here S.Dro. Oh yes, if any houre meete a Serieant, a turnes backe for verie feare Adri. As if time were in debt: how fondly do'st thou reason? S.Dro. Time is a verie bankerout, and owes more then he's worth to season. Nay, he's a theefe too: haue you not heard men say, That time comes stealing on by night and day? If I be in debt and theft, and a Serieant in the way, Hath he not reason to turne backe an houre in a day? Enter Luciana. Adr. Go Dromio, there's the monie, beare it straight, And bring thy Master home imediately. Come sister, I am prest downe with conceit: Conceit, my comfort and my iniurie. Enter. Enter Antipholus Siracusia. There's not a man I meete but doth salute me As if I were their well acquainted friend, And euerie one doth call me by my name: Some tender monie to me, some inuite me; Some other giue me thankes for kindnesses; Some offer me Commodities to buy. Euen now a tailor cal'd me in his shop, And show'd me Silkes that he had bought for me, And therewithall tooke measure of my body. Sure these are but imaginarie wiles, And lapland Sorcerers inhabite here. Enter Dromio. Sir. S.Dro. Master, here's the gold you sent me for: what haue you got the picture of old Adam new apparel'd? Ant. What gold is this? What Adam do'st thou meane? S.Dro. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise: but that Adam that keepes the prison; hee that goes in the calues-skin, that was kil'd for the Prodigall: hee that came behinde you sir, like an euill angel, and bid you forsake your libertie Ant. I vnderstand thee not S.Dro. No? why 'tis a plaine case: he that went like a Base-Viole in a case of leather; the man sir, that when gentlemen are tired giues them a sob, and rests them: he sir, that takes pittie on decaied men, and giues them suites of durance: he that sets vp his rest to doe more exploits with his Mace, then a Moris Pike Ant. What thou mean'st an officer? S.Dro. I sir, the Serieant of the Band: he that brings any man to answer it that breakes his Band: one that thinkes a man alwaies going to bed, and saies, God giue you good rest Ant. Well sir, there rest in your foolerie: Is there any ships puts forth to night? may we be gone? S.Dro. Why sir, I brought you word an houre since, that the Barke Expedition put forth to night, and then were you hindred by the Serieant to tarry for the Hoy Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for to deliuer you Ant. The fellow is distract, and so am I, And here we wander in illusions: Some blessed power deliuer vs from hence. Enter a Curtizan. Cur. Well met, well met, Master Antipholus: I see sir you haue found the Gold-smith now: Is that the chaine you promis'd me to day Ant. Sathan auoide, I charge thee tempt me not S.Dro. Master, is this Mistris Sathan? Ant. It is the diuell S.Dro. Nay, she is worse, she is the diuels dam: And here she comes in the habit of a light wench, and thereof comes, that the wenches say God dam me, That's as much to say, God make me a light wench: It is written, they appeare to men like angels of light, light is an effect of fire, and fire will burne: ergo, light wenches will burne, come not neere her Cur. Your man and you are maruailous merrie sir. Will you goe with me, wee'll mend our dinner here? S.Dro. Master, if do expect spoon-meate, or bespeake a long spoone Ant. Why Dromio? S.Dro. Marrie he must haue a long spoone that must eate with the diuell Ant. Auoid then fiend, what tel'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all a sorceresse: I coniure thee to leaue me, and be gon Cur. Giue me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or for my Diamond the Chaine you promis'd, And Ile be gone sir, and not trouble you S.Dro. Some diuels aske but the parings of ones naile, a rush, a haire, a drop of blood, a pin, a nut, a cherriestone: but she more couetous, wold haue a chaine: Master be wise, and if you giue it her, the diuell will shake her Chaine, and fright vs with it Cur. I pray you sir my Ring, or else the Chaine, I hope you do not meane to cheate me so? Ant. Auant thou witch: Come Dromio let vs go S.Dro. Flie pride saies the Pea-cocke, Mistris that you know. Enter. Cur. Now out of doubt Antipholus is mad, Else would he neuer so demeane himselfe, A Ring he hath of mine worth fortie Duckets, And for the same he promis'd me a Chaine, Both one and other he denies me now: The reason that I gather he is mad, Besides this present instance of his rage, Is a mad tale he told to day at dinner, Of his owne doores being shut against his entrance. Belike his wife acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doores against his way: My way is now to hie home to his house, And tell his wife, that being Lunaticke, He rush'd into my house, and tooke perforce My Ring away. This course I fittest choose, For fortie Duckets is too much to loose. Enter Antipholus Ephes. with a Iailor. An. Feare me not man, I will not breake away, Ile giue thee ere I leaue thee so much money To warrant thee as I am rested for. My wife is in a wayward moode to day, And will not lightly trust the Messenger, That I should be attach'd in Ephesus, I tell you 'twill sound harshly in her eares. Enter Dromio Eph. with a ropes end. Heere comes my Man, I thinke he brings the monie. How now sir? Haue you that I sent you for? E.Dro. Here's that I warrant you will pay them all Anti. But where's the Money? E.Dro. Why sir, I gaue the Monie for the Rope Ant. Fiue hundred Duckets villaine for a rope? E.Dro. Ile serue you sir fiue hundred at the rate Ant. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? E.Dro. To a ropes end sir, and to that end am I return'd Ant. And to that end sir, I will welcome you Offi. Good sir be patient E.Dro. Nay 'tis for me to be patient, I am in aduersitie Offi. Good now hold thy tongue E.Dro. Nay, rather perswade him to hold his hands Anti. Thou whoreson senselesse Villaine E.Dro. I would I were senselesse sir, that I might not feele your blowes Anti. Thou art sensible in nothing but blowes, and so is an Asse E.Dro. I am an Asse indeede, you may prooue it by my long eares. I haue serued him from the houre of my Natiuitie to this instant, and haue nothing at his hands for my seruice but blowes. When I am cold, he heates me with beating: when I am warme, he cooles me with beating: I am wak'd with it when I sleepe, rais'd with it when I sit, driuen out of doores with it when I goe from home, welcom'd home with it when I returne, nay I beare it on my shoulders, as a begger woont her brat: and I thinke when he hath lam'd me, I shall begge with it from doore to doore. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtizan, and a Schoolemaster, call'd Pinch. Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end Anti. Wilt thou still talke? Beats Dro. Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad? Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse: Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer, Establish him in his true sence againe, And I will please you what you will demand Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your pulse Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man, To yeeld possession to my holie praiers, And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight, I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen Anti. Peace doting wizard, peace; I am not mad Adr. Oh that thou wer't not, poore distressed soule Anti. You Minion you, are these your Customers? Did this Companion with the saffron face Reuell and feast it at my house to day, Whil'st vpon me the guiltie doores were shut, And I denied to enter in my house Adr. O husband, God doth know you din'd at home Where would you had remain'd vntill this time, Free from these slanders, and this open shame Anti. Din'd at home? Thou Villaine, what sayest thou? Dro. Sir sooth to say, you did not dine at home Ant. Were not my doores lockt vp, and I shut out? Dro. Perdie, your doores were lockt, and you shut out Anti. And did not she her selfe reuile me there? Dro. Sans Fable, she her selfe reuil'd you there Anti. Did not her Kitchen maide raile, taunt, and scorne me? Dro. Certis she did, the kitchin vestall scorn'd you Ant. And did not I in rage depart from thence? Dro. In veritie you did, my bones beares witnesse, That since haue felt the vigor of his rage Adr. Is't good to sooth him in these contraries? Pinch. It is no shame, the fellow finds his vaine, And yeelding to him, humors well his frensie Ant. Thou hast subborn'd the Goldsmith to arrest mee Adr. Alas, I sent you Monie to redeeme you, By Dromio heere, who came in hast for it Dro. Monie by me? Heart and good will you might, But surely Master not a ragge of Monie Ant. Wentst not thou to her for a purse of Duckets Adri. He came to me, and I deliuer'd it Luci. And I am witnesse with her that she did: Dro. God and the Rope-maker beare me witnesse, That I was sent for nothing but a rope Pinch. Mistris, both Man and Master is possest, I know it by their pale and deadly lookes, They must be bound and laide in some darke roome Ant. Say wherefore didst thou locke me forth to day, And why dost thou denie the bagge of gold? Adr. I did not gentle husband locke thee forth Dro. And gentle Mr I receiu'd no gold: But I confesse sir, that we were lock'd out Adr. Dissembling Villain, thou speak'st false in both Ant. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all, And art confederate with a damned packe, To make a loathsome abiect scorne of me: But with these nailes, Ile plucke out these false eyes, That would behold in me this shamefull sport. Enter three or foure, and offer to binde him: Hee striues. Adr. Oh binde him, binde him, let him not come neere me Pinch. More company, the fiend is strong within him Luc. Aye me poore man, how pale and wan he looks Ant. What will you murther me, thou Iailor thou? I am thy prisoner, wilt thou suffer them to make a rescue? Offi. Masters let him go: he is my prisoner, and you shall not haue him Pinch. Go binde this man, for he is franticke too Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peeuish Officer? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himselfe? Offi. He is my prisoner, if I let him go, The debt he owes will be requir'd of me Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from thee, Beare me forthwith vnto his Creditor, And knowing how the debt growes I will pay it. Good Master Doctor see him safe conuey'd Home to my house, oh most vnhappy day Ant. Oh most vnhappie strumpet Dro. Master, I am heere entred in bond for you Ant. Out on thee Villaine, wherefore dost thou mad mee? Dro. Will you be bound for nothing, be mad good Master, cry the diuell Luc. God helpe poore soules, how idlely doe they talke Adr. Go beare him hence, sister go you with me: Say now, whose suite is he arrested at? Exeunt. Manet Offic. Adri. Luci. Courtizan Off. One Angelo a Goldsmith, do you know him? Adr. I know the man: what is the summe he owes? Off. Two hundred Duckets Adr. Say, how growes it due Off. Due for a Chaine your husband had of him Adr. He did bespeake a Chain for me, but had it not Cur. When as your husband all in rage to day Came to my house, and tooke away my Ring, The Ring I saw vpon his finger now, Straight after did I meete him with a Chaine Adr. It may be so, but I did neuer see it. Come Iailor, bring me where the Goldsmith is, I long to know the truth heereof at large. Enter Antipholus Siracusia with his Rapier drawne, and Dromio Sirac. Luc. God for thy mercy, they are loose againe Adr. And come with naked swords, Let's call more helpe to haue them bound againe. Runne all out. Off. Away, they'l kill vs. Exeunt. omnes, as fast as may be, frighted. S.Ant. I see these Witches are affraid of swords S.Dro. She that would be your wife, now ran from you Ant. Come to the Centaur, fetch our stuffe from thence: I long that we were safe and sound aboord Dro. Faith stay heere this night, they will surely do vs no harme: you saw they speake vs faire, giue vs gold: me thinkes they are such a gentle Nation, that but for the Mountaine of mad flesh that claimes mariage of me, I could finde in my heart to stay heere still, and turne Witch Ant. I will not stay to night for all the Towne, Therefore away, to get our stuffe aboord. Exeunt. Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima. Enter the Merchant and the Goldsmith. Gold. I am sorry Sir that I haue hindred you, But I protest he had the Chaine of me, Though most dishonestly he doth denie it Mar. How is the man esteem'd heere in the Citie? Gold. Of very reuerent reputation sir, Of credit infinite, highly belou'd, Second to none that liues heere in the Citie: His word might beare my wealth at any time Mar. Speake softly, yonder as I thinke he walkes. Enter Antipholus and Dromio againe. Gold. 'Tis so: and that selfe chaine about his necke, Which he forswore most monstrously to haue. Good sir draw neere to me, Ile speake to him: Signior Antipholus, I wonder much That you would put me to this shame and trouble, And not without some scandall to your selfe, With circumstance and oaths, so to denie This Chaine, which now you weare so openly. Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, You haue done wrong to this my honest friend, Who but for staying on our Controuersie, Had hoisted saile, and put to sea to day: This Chaine you had of me, can you deny it? Ant. I thinke I had, I neuer did deny it Mar. Yes that you did sir, and forswore it too Ant. Who heard me to denie it or forsweare it? Mar. These eares of mine thou knowst did hear thee: Fie on thee wretch, 'tis pitty that thou liu'st To walke where any honest men resort Ant. Thou art a Villaine to impeach me thus, Ile proue mine honor, and mine honestie Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand: Mar. I dare and do defie thee for a villaine. They draw. Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtezan, & others. Adr. Hold, hurt him not for God sake, he is mad, Some get within him, take his sword away: Binde Dromio too, and beare them to my house S.Dro. Runne master run, for Gods sake take a house, This is some Priorie, in, or we are spoyl'd. Exeunt. to the Priorie. Enter Ladie Abbesse. Ab. Be quiet people, wherefore throng you hither? Adr. To fetch my poore distracted husband hence, Let vs come in, that we may binde him fast, And beare him home for his recouerie Gold. I knew he was not in his perfect wits Mar. I am sorry now that I did draw on him Ab. How long hath this possession held the man Adr. This weeke he hath beene heauie, sower sad, And much different from the man he was: But till this afternoone his passion Ne're brake into extremity of rage Ab. Hath he not lost much wealth by wrack of sea, Buried some deere friend, hath not else his eye Stray'd his affection in vnlawfull loue, A sinne preuailing much in youthfull men, Who giue their eies the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrowes is he subiect too? Adr. To none of these, except it be the last, Namely, some loue that drew him oft from home Ab. You should for that haue reprehended him Adr. Why so I did Ab. I but not rough enough Adr. As roughly as my modestie would let me Ab. Haply in priuate Adr. And in assemblies too Ab. I, but not enough Adr. It was the copie of our Conference. In bed he slept not for my vrging it, At boord he fed not for my vrging it: Alone, it was the subiect of my Theame: In company I often glanced it: Still did I tell him, it was vilde and bad Ab. And thereof came it, that the man was mad. The venome clamors of a iealous woman, Poisons more deadly then a mad dogges tooth. It seemes his sleepes were hindred by thy railing, And thereof comes it that his head is light. Thou saist his meate was sawc'd with thy vpbraidings, Vnquiet meales make ill digestions, Thereof the raging fire of feauer bred, And what's a Feauer, but a fit of madnesse? Thou sayest his sports were hindred by thy bralles. Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue But moodie and dull melancholly, Kinsman to grim and comfortlesse dispaire, And at her heeles a huge infectious troope Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life? In food, in sport, and life-preseruing rest To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast: The consequence is then, thy iealous fits Hath scar'd thy husband from the vse of wits Luc. She neuer reprehended him but mildely, When he demean'd himselfe, rough, rude, and wildly, Why beare you these rebukes, and answer not? Adri. She did betray me to my owne reproofe, Good people enter, and lay hold on him Ab. No, not a creature enters in my house Ad. Then let your seruants bring my husband forth Ab. Neither: he tooke this place for sanctuary, And it shall priuiledge him from your hands, Till I haue brought him to his wits againe, Or loose my labour in assaying it Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse, Diet his sicknesse, for it is my Office, And will haue no atturney but my selfe, And therefore let me haue him home with me Ab. Be patient, for I will not let him stirre, Till I haue vs'd the approoued meanes I haue, With wholsome sirrups, drugges, and holy prayers To make of him a formall man againe: It is a branch and parcell of mine oath, A charitable dutie of my order, Therefore depart, and leaue him heere with me Adr. I will not hence, and leaue my husband heere: And ill it doth beseeme your holinesse To separate the husband and the wife Ab. Be quiet and depart, thou shalt not haue him Luc. Complaine vnto the Duke of this indignity Adr. Come go, I will fall prostrate at his feete, And neuer rise vntill my teares and prayers Haue won his grace to come in person hither, And take perforce my husband from the Abbesse Mar. By this I thinke the Diall points at fiue: Anon I'me sure the Duke himselfe in person Comes this way to the melancholly vale; The place of depth, and sorrie execution, Behinde the ditches of the Abbey heere Gold. Vpon what cause? Mar. To see a reuerent Siracusian Merchant, Who put vnluckily into this Bay Against the Lawes and Statutes of this Towne, Beheaded publikely for his offence Gold. See where they come, we wil behold his death Luc. Kneele to the Duke before he passe the Abbey. Enter the Duke of Ephesus, and the Merchant of Siracuse bare head, with the Headsman, & other Officers. Duke. Yet once againe proclaime it publikely, If any friend will pay the summe for him, He shall not die, so much we tender him Adr. Iustice most sacred Duke against the Abbesse Duke. She is a vertuous and a reuerend Lady, It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong Adr. May it please your Grace, Antipholus my husba[n]d, Who I made Lord of me, and all I had, At your important Letters this ill day, A most outragious fit of madnesse tooke him: That desp'rately he hurried through the streete, With him his bondman, all as mad as he, Doing displeasure to the Citizens, By rushing in their houses: bearing thence Rings, Iewels, any thing his rage did like. Once did I get him bound, and sent him home, Whil'st to take order for the wrongs I went, That heere and there his furie had committed, Anon I wot not, by what strong escape He broke from those that had the guard of him, And with his mad attendant and himselfe, Each one with irefull passion, with drawne swords Met vs againe, and madly bent on vs Chac'd vs away: till raising of more aide We came againe to binde them: then they fled Into this Abbey, whether we pursu'd them, And heere the Abbesse shuts the gates on vs, And will not suffer vs to fetch him out, Nor send him forth, that we may beare him hence. Therefore most gracious Duke with thy command, Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for helpe Duke. Long since thy husband seru'd me in my wars And I to thee ingag'd a Princes word, When thou didst make him Master of thy bed, To do him all the grace and good I could. Go some of you, knocke at the Abbey gate, And bid the Lady Abbesse come to me: I will determine this before I stirre. Enter a Messenger. Oh Mistris, Mistris, shift and saue your selfe, My Master and his man are both broke loose, Beaten the Maids a-row, and bound the Doctor, Whose beard they haue sindg'd off with brands of fire, And euer as it blaz'd, they threw on him Great pailes of puddled myre to quench the haire; My Mr preaches patience to him, and the while His man with Cizers nickes him like a foole: And sure (vnlesse you send some present helpe) Betweene them they will kill the Coniurer Adr. Peace foole, thy Master and his man are here, And that is false thou dost report to vs Mess. Mistris, vpon my life I tel you true, I haue not breath'd almost since I did see it. He cries for you, and vowes if he can take you, To scorch your face, and to disfigure you: Cry within. Harke, harke, I heare him Mistris: flie, be gone Duke. Come stand by me, feare nothing: guard with Halberds Adr. Ay me, it is my husband: witnesse you, That he is borne about inuisible, Euen now we hous'd him in the Abbey heere. And now he's there, past thought of humane reason. Enter Antipholus, and E.Dromio of Ephesus. E.Ant. Iustice most gracious Duke, oh grant me iustice, Euen for the seruice that long since I did thee, When I bestrid thee in the warres, and tooke Deepe scarres to saue thy life; euen for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me iustice Mar.Fat. Vnlesse the feare of death doth make me dote, I see my sonne Antipholus and Dromio E.Ant. Iustice (sweet Prince) against y Woman there: She whom thou gau'st to me to be my wife; That hath abused and dishonored me, Euen in the strength and height of iniurie: Beyond imagination is the wrong That she this day hath shamelesse throwne on me Duke. Discouer how, and thou shalt finde me iust E.Ant. This day (great Duke) she shut the doores vpon me, While she with Harlots feasted in my house Duke. A greeuous fault: say woman, didst thou so? Adr. No my good Lord. My selfe, he, and my sister, To day did dine together: so befall my soule, As this is false he burthens me withall Luc. Nere may I looke on day, nor sleepe on night, But she tels to your Highnesse simple truth Gold. O periur'd woman! They are both forsworne, In this the Madman iustly chargeth them E.Ant. My Liege, I am aduised what I say, Neither disturbed with the effect of Wine, Nor headie-rash prouoak'd with raging ire, Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner; That Goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, Could witnesse it: for he was with me then, Who parted with me to go fetch a Chaine, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthasar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not comming thither, I went to seeke him. In the street I met him, And in his companie that Gentleman. There did this periur'd Goldsmith sweare me downe, That I this day of him receiu'd the Chaine, Which God he knowes, I saw not. For the which, He did arrest me with an Officer. I did obey, and sent my Pesant home For certaine Duckets: he with none return'd. Then fairely I bespoke the Officer To go in person with me to my house. By'th' way, we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vilde Confederates: Along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry leane-fac'd Villaine; A meere Anatomie, a Mountebanke, A thred-bare Iugler, and a Fortune-teller, A needy-hollow-ey'd-sharpe-looking-wretch; A liuing dead man. This pernicious slaue, Forsooth tooke on him as a Coniurer: And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no-face (as 'twere) out-facing me, Cries out, I was possest. Then altogether They fell vpon me, bound me, bore me thence, And in a darke and dankish vault at home There left me and my man, both bound together, Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedome; and immediately Ran hether to your Grace, whom I beseech To giue me ample satisfaction For these deepe shames, and great indignities Gold. My Lord, in truth, thus far I witnes with him: That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out Duke. But had he such a Chaine of thee, or no? Gold. He had my Lord, and when he ran in heere, These people saw the Chaine about his necke Mar. Besides, I will be sworne these eares of mine, Heard you confesse you had the Chaine of him, After you first forswore it on the Mart, And thereupon I drew my sword on you: And then you fled into this Abbey heere, From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle E.Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals, Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me: I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen: And this is false you burthen me withall Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this? I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup: If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin. If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly: You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you? E.Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring E.Anti. Tis true (my Liege) this Ring I had of her Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the Abbey heere? Curt. As sure (my Liege) as I do see your Grace Duke. Why this is straunge: Go call the Abbesse hither. I thinke you are all mated, or starke mad. Exit one to the Abbesse. Fa. Most mighty Duke, vouchsafe me speak a word: Haply I see a friend will saue my life, And pay the sum that may deliuer me Duke. Speake freely Siracusian what thou wilt Fath. Is not your name sir call'd Antipholus? And is not that your bondman Dromio? E.Dro. Within this houre I was his bondman sir, But he I thanke him gnaw'd in two my cords, Now am I Dromio, and his man, vnbound Fath. I am sure you both of you remember me Dro. Our selues we do remember sir by you: For lately we were bound as you are now. You are not Pinches patient, are you sir? Father. Why looke you strange on me? you know me well E.Ant. I neuer saw you in my life till now Fa. Oh! griefe hath chang'd me since you saw me last, And carefull houres with times deformed hand, Haue written strange defeatures in my face: But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? Ant. Neither Fat. Dromio, nor thou? Dro. No trust me sir, nor I Fa. I am sure thou dost? E.Dromio. I sir, but I am sure I do not, and whatsoeuer a man denies, you are now bound to beleeue him Fath. Not know my voice, oh times extremity Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poore tongue In seuen short yeares, that heere my onely sonne Knowes not my feeble key of vntun'd cares? Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming Winters drizled snow, And all the Conduits of my blood froze vp: Yet hath my night of life some memorie: My wasting lampes some fading glimmer left; My dull deafe eares a little vse to heare: All these old witnesses, I cannot erre. Tell me, thou art my sonne Antipholus Ant. I neuer saw my Father in my life Fa. But seuen yeares since, in Siracusa boy Thou know'st we parted, but perhaps my sonne, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in miserie Ant. The Duke, and all that know me in the City, Can witnesse with me that it is not so. I ne're saw Siracusa in my life Duke. I tell thee Siracusian, twentie yeares Haue I bin Patron to Antipholus, During which time, he ne're saw Siracusa: I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. Enter the Abbesse with Antipholus Siracusa, and Dromio Sir. Abbesse. Most mightie Duke, behold a man much wrong'd. All gather to see them. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceiue me Duke. One of these men is genius to the other: And so of these, which is the naturall man, And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? S.Dromio. I Sir am Dromio, command him away E.Dro. I Sir am Dromio, pray let me stay S.Ant. Egeon art thou not? or else his ghost S.Drom. Oh my olde Master, who hath bound him heere? Abb. Who euer bound him, I will lose his bonds, And gaine a husband by his libertie: Speake olde Egeon, if thou bee'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd Aemilia, That bore thee at a burthen two faire sonnes? Oh if thou bee'st the same Egeon, speake: And speake vnto the same Aemilia Duke. Why heere begins his Morning storie right: These two Antipholus, these two so like, And these two Dromio's, one in semblance: Besides her vrging of her wracke at sea, These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together Fa. If I dreame not, thou art Aemilia, If thou art she, tell me, where is that sonne That floated with thee on the fatall rafte Abb. By men of Epidamium, he, and I, And the twin Dromio, all were taken vp; But by and by, rude Fishermen of Corinth By force tooke Dromio, and my sonne from them, And me they left with those of Epidamium. What then became of them, I cannot tell: I, to this fortune that you see mee in Duke. Antipholus thou cam'st from Corinth first S.Ant. No sir, not I, I came from Siracuse Duke. Stay, stand apart, I know not which is which E.Ant. I came from Corinth my most gracious Lord E.Dro. And I with him E.Ant. Brought to this Town by that most famous Warriour, Duke Menaphon your most renowned Vnckle Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to day? S.Ant. I, gentle Mistris Adr. And are not you my husband? E.Ant. No, I say nay to that S.Ant. And so do I, yet did she call me so: And this faire Gentlewoman her sister heere Did call me brother. What I told you then, I hope I shall haue leisure to make good, If this be not a dreame I see and heare Goldsmith. That is the Chaine sir, which you had of mee S.Ant. I thinke it be sir, I denie it not E.Ant. And you sir for this Chaine arrested me Gold. I thinke I did sir, I deny it not Adr. I sent you monie sir to be your baile By Dromio, but I thinke he brought it not E.Dro. No, none by me S.Ant. This purse of Duckets I receiu'd from you, And Dromio my man did bring them me: I see we still did meete each others man, And I was tane for him, and he for me, And thereupon these errors are arose E.Ant. These Duckets pawne I for my father heere Duke. It shall not neede, thy father hath his life Cur. Sir I must haue that Diamond from you E.Ant. There take it, and much thanks for my good cheere Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the paines To go with vs into the Abbey heere, And heare at large discoursed all our fortunes, And all that are assembled in this place: That by this simpathized one daies error Haue suffer'd wrong. Goe, keepe vs companie, And we shall make full satisfaction. Thirtie three yeares haue I but gone in trauaile Of you my sonnes, and till this present houre My heauie burthen are deliuered: The Duke my husband, and my children both, And you the Kalenders of their Natiuity, Go to a Gossips feast, and go with mee, After so long greefe such Natiuitie Duke. With all my heart, Ile Gossip at this feast. Exeunt. omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers. S.Dro. Mast[er]. shall I fetch your stuffe from shipbord? E.An. Dromio, what stuffe of mine hast thou imbarkt S.Dro. Your goods that lay at host sir in the Centaur S.Ant. He speakes to me, I am your master Dromio. Come go with vs, wee'l looke to that anon, Embrace thy brother there, reioyce with him. Exit S.Dro. There is a fat friend at your masters house, That kitchin'd me for you to day at dinner: She now shall be my sister, not my wife, E.D. Me thinks you are my glasse, & not my brother: I see by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth, Will you walke in to see their gossipping? S.Dro. Not I sir, you are my elder E.Dro. That's a question, how shall we trie it S.Dro. Wee'l draw Cuts for the Signior, till then, lead thou first E.Dro. Nay then thus: We came into the world like brother and brother: And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. Exeunt. FINIS. The Comedie of Errors. Much adoe about Nothing Actus primus, Scena prima. Enter Leonato Gouernour of Messina, Innogen his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his Neece, with a messenger. Leonato. I learne in this Letter, that Don Peter of Arragon, comes this night to Messina Mess. He is very neere by this: he was not three Leagues off when I left him Leon. How many Gentlemen haue you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name Leon. A victorie is twice it selfe, when the atchieuer brings home full numbers: I finde heere, that Don Peter hath bestowed much honor on a yong Florentine, called Claudio Mess. Much deseru'd on his part, and equally remembred by Don Pedro, he hath borne himselfe beyond the promise of his age, doing in the figure of a Lambe, the feats of a Lion, he hath indeede better bettred expectation, then you must expect of me to tell you how Leo. He hath an Vnckle heere in Messina, wil be very much glad of it Mess. I haue alreadie deliuered him letters, and there appeares much ioy in him, euen so much, that ioy could not shew it selfe modest enough, without a badg of bitternesse Leo. Did he breake out into teares? Mess. In great measure Leo. A kinde ouerflow of kindnesse, there are no faces truer, then those that are so wash'd, how much better is it to weepe at ioy, then to ioy at weeping? Bea. I pray you, is Signior Mountanto return'd from the warres, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, Lady, there was none such in the armie of any sort Leon. What is he that you aske for Neece? Hero. My cousin meanes Signior Benedick of Padua Mess. O he's return'd, and as pleasant as euer he was Beat. He set vp his bils here in Messina, & challeng'd Cupid at the Flight: and my Vnckles foole reading the Challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, and challeng'd him at the Burbolt. I pray you, how many hath hee kil'd and eaten in these warres? But how many hath he kil'd? for indeed, I promis'd to eate all of his killing Leon. 'Faith Neece, you taxe Signior Benedicke too much, but hee'l be meete with you, I doubt it not Mess. He hath done good seruice Lady in these wars Beat. You had musty victuall, and he hath holpe to ease it: he's a very valiant Trencher-man, hee hath an excellent stomacke Mess. And a good souldier too Lady Beat. And a good souldier to a Lady. But what is he to a Lord? Mess. A Lord to a Lord, a man to a man, stuft with all honourable vertues Beat. It is so indeed, he is no lesse then a stuft man: but for the stuffing well, we are all mortall Leon. You must not (sir) mistake my Neece, there is a kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick, & her: they neuer meet, but there's a skirmish of wit between them Bea. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, foure of his fiue wits went halting off, and now is the whole man gouern'd with one: so that if hee haue wit enough to keepe himselfe warme, let him beare it for a difference betweene himselfe and his horse: For it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be knowne a reasonable creature. Who is his companion now? He hath euery month a new sworne brother Mess. Is't possible? Beat. Very easily possible: he weares his faith but as the fashion of his hat, it euer changes with y next block Mess. I see (Lady) the Gentleman is not in your bookes Bea. No, and he were, I would burne my study. But I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer now, that will make a voyage with him to the diuell? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio Beat. O Lord, he will hang vpon him like a disease: he is sooner caught then the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God helpe the noble Claudio, if hee haue caught the Benedict, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cur'd Mess. I will hold friends with you Lady Bea. Do good friend Leo. You'l ne're run mad Neece Bea. No, not till a hot Ianuary Mess. Don Pedro is approach'd. Enter don Pedro, Claudio, Benedicke, Balthasar, and Iohn the bastard. Pedro. Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your trouble: the fashion of the world is to auoid cost, and you encounter it Leon. Neuer came trouble to my house in the likenes of your Grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should remaine: but when you depart from me, sorrow abides, and happinesse takes his leaue Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly: I thinke this is your daughter Leonato. Her mother hath many times told me so Bened. Were you in doubt that you askt her? Leonato. Signior Benedicke, no, for then were you a childe Pedro. You haue it full Benedicke, we may ghesse by this, what you are, being a man, truely the Lady fathers her selfe: be happie Lady, for you are like an honorable father Ben. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not haue his head on her shoulders for al Messina, as like him as she is Beat. I wonder that you will still be talking, signior Benedicke, no body markes you Ben. What my deere Ladie Disdaine! are you yet liuing? Beat. Is it possible Disdaine should die, while shee hath such meete foode to feede it, as Signior Benedicke? Curtesie it selfe must conuert to Disdaine, if you come in her presence Bene. Then is curtesie a turne-coate, but it is certaine I am loued of all Ladies, onely you excepted: and I would I could finde in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truely I loue none Beat. A deere happinesse to women, they would else haue beene troubled with a pernitious Suter, I thanke God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that, I had rather heare my Dog barke at a Crow, than a man sweare he loues me Bene. God keepe your Ladiship still in that minde, so some Gentleman or other shall scape a predestinate scratcht face Beat. Scratching could not make it worse, and 'twere such a face as yours were Bene. Well, you are a rare Parrat teacher Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast of your Ben. I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer, but keepe your way a Gods name, I haue done Beat. You alwaies end with a Iades tricke, I know you of old Pedro. This is the summe of all: Leonato, signior Claudio, and signior Benedicke; my deere friend Leonato, hath inuited you all, I tell him we shall stay here, at the least a moneth, and he heartily praies some occasion may detaine vs longer: I dare sweare hee is no hypocrite, but praies from his heart Leon. If you sweare, my Lord, you shall not be forsworne, let mee bid you welcome, my Lord, being reconciled to the Prince your brother: I owe you all duetie Iohn. I thanke you, I am not of many words, but I thanke you Leon. Please it your grace leade on? Pedro. Your hand Leonato, we will goe together. Exeunt. Manet Benedicke and Claudio. Clau. Benedicke, didst thou note the daughter of signior Leonato? Bene. I noted her not, but I lookt on her Claud. Is she not a modest yong Ladie? Bene. Doe you question me as an honest man should doe, for my simple true iudgement? or would you haue me speake after my custome, as being a professed tyrant to their sexe? Clau. No, I pray thee speake in sober iudgement Bene. Why yfaith me thinks shee's too low for a hie praise, too browne for a faire praise, and too little for a great praise, onely this commendation I can affoord her, that were shee other then she is, she were vnhandsome, and being no other, but as she is, I doe not like her Clau. Thou think'st I am in sport, I pray thee tell me truely how thou lik'st her Bene. Would you buie her, that you enquier after her? Clau. Can the world buie such a iewell? Ben. Yea, and a case to put it into, but speake you this with a sad brow? Or doe you play the flowting iacke, to tell vs Cupid is a good Hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare Carpenter: Come, in what key shall a man take you to goe in the song? Clau. In mine eie, she is the sweetest Ladie that euer I lookt on Bene. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you? Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the contrarie, if Hero would be my wife Bene. Ist come to this? in faith hath not the world one man but he will weare his cap with suspition? shall I neuer see a batcheller of three score againe? goe to yfaith, and thou wilt needes thrust thy necke into a yoke, weare the print of it, and sigh away sundaies: looke, don Pedro is returned to seeke you. Enter don Pedro, Iohn the bastard. Pedr. What secret hath held you here, that you followed not to Leonatoes? Bened. I would your Grace would constraine mee to tell Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegeance Ben. You heare, Count Claudio, I can be secret as a dumbe man, I would haue you thinke so (but on my allegiance, marke you this, on my allegiance) hee is in loue, With who? now that is your Graces part: marke how short his answere is, with Hero, Leonatoes short daughter Clau. If this were so, so were it vttred Bened. Like the old tale, my Lord, it is not so, nor 'twas not so: but indeede, God forbid it should be so Clau. If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it should be otherwise Pedro. Amen, if you loue her, for the Ladie is verie well worthie Clau. You speake this to fetch me in, my Lord Pedr. By my troth I speake my thought Clau. And in faith, my Lord, I spoke mine Bened. And by my two faiths and troths, my Lord, I speake mine Clau. That I loue her, I feele Pedr. That she is worthie, I know Bened. That I neither feele how shee should be loued, nor know how shee should be worthie, is the opinion that fire cannot melt out of me, I will die in it at the stake Pedr. Thou wast euer an obstinate heretique in the despight of Beautie Clau. And neuer could maintaine his part, but in the force of his will Ben. That a woman conceiued me, I thanke her: that she brought mee vp, I likewise giue her most humble thankes: but that I will haue a rechate winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an inuisible baldricke, all women shall pardon me: because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will doe my selfe the right to trust none: and the fine is, (for the which I may goe the finer) I will liue a Batchellor Pedro. I shall see thee ere I die, looke pale with loue Bene. With anger, with sicknesse, or with hunger, my Lord, not with loue: proue that euer I loose more blood with loue, then I will get againe with drinking, picke out mine eyes with a Ballet-makers penne, and hang me vp at the doore of a brothel-house for the signe of blinde Cupid Pedro. Well, if euer thou doost fall from this faith, thou wilt proue a notable argument Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a Cat, & shoot at me, and he that hit's me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and cal'd Adam Pedro. Well, as time shall trie: In time the sauage Bull doth beare the yoake Bene. The sauage bull may, but if euer the sensible Benedicke beare it, plucke off the bulles hornes, and set them in my forehead, and let me be vildely painted, and in such great Letters as they write, heere is good horse to hire: let them signifie vnder my signe, here you may see Benedicke the married man Clau. If this should euer happen, thou wouldst bee horne mad Pedro. Nay, if Cupid haue not spent all his Quiuer in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly Bene. I looke for an earthquake too then Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the houres, in the meane time, good Signior Benedicke, repaire to Leonatoes, commend me to him, and tell him I will not faile him at supper, for indeede he hath made great preparation Bene. I haue almost matter enough in me for such an Embassage, and so I commit you Clau. To the tuition of God. From my house, if I had it Pedro. The sixt of Iuly. Your louing friend, Benedick Bene. Nay mocke not, mocke not; the body of your discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and the guardes are but slightly basted on neither, ere you flout old ends any further, examine your conscience, and so I leaue you. Enter. Clau. My Liege, your Highnesse now may doe mee good Pedro. My loue is thine to teach, teach it but how, And thou shalt see how apt it is to learne Any hard Lesson that may do thee good Clau. Hath Leonato any sonne my Lord? Pedro. No childe but Hero, she's his onely heire. Dost thou affect her Claudio? Clau. O my Lord, When you went onward on this ended action, I look'd vpon her with a souldiers eie, That lik'd, but had a rougher taske in hand, Than to driue liking to the name of loue: But now I am return'd, and that warre-thoughts Haue left their places vacant: in their roomes, Come thronging soft and delicate desires, All prompting mee how faire yong Hero is, Saying I lik'd her ere I went to warres Pedro. Thou wilt be like a louer presently, And tire the hearer with a booke of words: If thou dost loue faire Hero, cherish it, And I will breake with her: wast not to this end, That thou beganst to twist so fine a story? Clau. How sweetly doe you minister to loue, That know loues griefe by his complexion! But lest my liking might too sodaine seeme, I would haue salu'd it with a longer treatise Ped. What need y bridge much broder then the flood? The fairest graunt is the necessitie: Looke what will serue, is fit: 'tis once, thou louest, And I will fit thee with the remedie, I know we shall haue reuelling to night, I will assume thy part in some disguise, And tell faire Hero I am Claudio, And in her bosome Ile vnclaspe my heart, And take her hearing prisoner with the force And strong incounter of my amorous tale: Then after, to her father will I breake, And the conclusion is, shee shall be thine, In practise let vs put it presently. Exeunt. Enter Leonato and an old man, brother to Leonato. Leo. How now brother, where is my cosen your son: hath he prouided this musicke? Old. He is very busie about it, but brother, I can tell you newes that you yet dreamt not of Lo. Are they good? Old. As the euents stamps them, but they haue a good couer: they shew well outward, the Prince and Count Claudio walking in a thick pleached alley in my orchard, were thus ouer-heard by a man of mine: the Prince discouered to Claudio that hee loued my niece your daughter, and meant to acknowledge it this night in a dance, and if hee found her accordant, hee meant to take the present time by the top, and instantly breake with you of it Leo. Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? Old. A good sharpe fellow, I will send for him, and question him your selfe Leo. No, no; wee will hold it as a dreame, till it appeare it selfe: but I will acquaint my daughter withall, that she may be the better prepared for an answer, if peraduenture this bee true: goe you and tell her of it: coosins, you know what you haue to doe, O I crie you mercie friend, goe you with mee and I will vse your skill, good cosin haue a care this busie time. Exeunt. Enter Sir Iohn the Bastard, and Conrade his companion. Con. What the good yeere my Lord, why are you thus out of measure sad? Ioh. There is no measure in the occasion that breeds, therefore the sadnesse is without limit Con. You should heare reason Iohn. And when I haue heard it, what blessing bringeth it? Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient sufferance Ioh. I wonder that thou (being as thou saist thou art, borne vnder Saturne) goest about to apply a morall medicine, to a mortifying mischiefe: I cannot hide what I am: I must bee sad when I haue cause, and smile at no mans iests, eat when I haue stomacke, and wait for no mans leisure: sleepe when I am drowsie, and tend on no mans businesse, laugh when I am merry, and claw no man in his humor Con. Yea, but you must not make the ful show of this, till you may doe it without controllment, you haue of late stood out against your brother, and hee hath tane you newly into his grace, where it is impossible you should take root, but by the faire weather that you make your selfe, it is needful that you frame the season for your owne haruest Iohn. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, then a rose in his grace, and it better fits my bloud to be disdain'd of all, then to fashion a carriage to rob loue from any: in this (though I cannot be said to be a flattering honest man) it must not be denied but I am a plaine dealing villaine, I am trusted with a mussell, and enfranchisde with a clog, therefore I haue decreed, not to sing in my cage: if I had my mouth, I would bite: if I had my liberty, I would do my liking: in the meane time, let me be that I am, and seeke not to alter me Con. Can you make no vse of your discontent? Iohn. I will make all vse of it, for I vse it onely. Who comes here? what newes Borachio? Enter Borachio. Bor. I came yonder from a great supper, the Prince your brother is royally entertained by Leonato, and I can giue you intelligence of an intended marriage Iohn. Will it serue for any Modell to build mischiefe on? What is hee for a foole that betrothes himselfe to vnquietnesse? Bor. Mary it is your brothers right hand Iohn. Who, the most exquisite Claudio? Bor. Euen he Iohn. A proper squier, and who, and who, which way lookes he? Bor. Mary on Hero, the daughter and Heire of Leonato Iohn. A very forward March-chicke, how came you to this: Bor. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as I was smoaking a musty roome, comes me the Prince and Claudio, hand in hand in sad conference: I whipt behind the Arras, and there heard it agreed vpon, that the Prince should wooe Hero for himselfe, and hauing obtain'd her, giue her to Count Claudio Iohn. Come, come, let vs thither, this may proue food to my displeasure, that young start-vp hath all the glorie of my ouerthrow: if I can crosse him any way, I blesse my selfe euery way, you are both sure, and will assist mee? Conr. To the death my Lord Iohn. Let vs to the great supper, their cheere is the greater that I am subdued, would the Cooke were of my minde: shall we goe proue whats to be done? Bor. Wee'll wait vpon your Lordship. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Enter Leonato, his brother, his wife, Hero his daughter, and Beatrice his neece, and a kinsman. Leonato. Was not Count Iohn here at supper? Brother. I saw him not Beatrice. How tartly that Gentleman lookes, I neuer can see him, but I am heart-burn'd an howre after Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition Beatrice. Hee were an excellent man that were made iust in the mid-way betweene him and Benedicke, the one is too like an image and saies nothing, and the other too like my Ladies eldest sonne, euermore tatling Leon. Then halfe signior Benedicks tongue in Count Iohns mouth, and halfe Count Iohns melancholy in Signior Benedicks face Beat. With a good legge, and a good foot vnckle, and money enough in his purse, such a man would winne any woman in the world, if he could get her good will Leon. By my troth Neece, thou wilt neuer get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue Brother. Infaith shee's too curst Beat. Too curst is more then curst, I shall lessen Gods sending that way: for it is said, God sends a curst Cow short hornes, but to a Cow too curst he sends none Leon. So, by being too curst, God will send you no hornes Beat. Iust, if he send me no husband, for the which blessing, I am at him vpon my knees euery morning and euening: Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face, I had rather lie in the woollen Leonato. You may light vpon a husband that hath no beard Beatrice. What should I doe with him? dresse him in my apparell, and make him my waiting gentlewoman? he that hath a beard, is more then a youth: and he that hath no beard, is lesse then a man: and hee that is more then a youth, is not for mee: and he that is lesse then a man, I am not for him: therefore I will euen take sixepence in earnest of the Berrord, and leade his Apes into hell Leon. Well then, goe you into hell Beat. No, but to the gate, and there will the Deuill meete mee like an old Cuckold with hornes on his head, and say, get you to heauen Beatrice, get you to heauen, heere's no place for you maids, so deliuer I vp my Apes, and away to S[aint]. Peter: for the heauens, hee shewes mee where the Batchellers sit, and there liue wee as merry as the day is long Brother. Well neece, I trust you will be rul'd by your father Beatrice. Yes faith, it is my cosens dutie to make curtsie, and say, as it please you: but yet for all that cosin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make an other cursie, and say, father, as it please me Leonato. Well neece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband Beatrice. Not till God make men of some other mettall then earth, would it not grieue a woman to be ouermastred with a peece of valiant dust: to make account of her life to a clod of waiward marle? no vnckle, ile none: Adams sonnes are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sinne to match in my kinred Leon. Daughter, remember what I told you, if the Prince doe solicit you in that kinde, you know your answere Beatrice. The fault will be in the musicke cosin, if you be not woed in good time: if the Prince bee too important, tell him there is measure in euery thing, & so dance out the answere, for heare me Hero, wooing, wedding, & repenting, is as a Scotch jigge, a measure, and a cinquepace: the first suite is hot and hasty like a Scotch jigge (and full as fantasticall) the wedding manerly modest, (as a measure) full of state & aunchentry, and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sinkes into his graue Leonato. Cosin you apprehend passing shrewdly Beatrice. I haue a good eye vnckle, I can see a Church by daylight Leon. The reuellers are entring brother, make good roome. Enter Prince, Pedro, Claudio, and Benedicke, and Balthasar, or dumbe Iohn, Maskers with a drum. Pedro. Lady, will you walke about with your friend? Hero. So you walke softly, and looke sweetly, and say nothing, I am yours for the walke, and especially when I walke away Pedro. With me in your company Hero. I may say so when I please Pedro. And when please you to say so? Hero. When I like your fauour, for God defend the Lute should be like the case Pedro. My visor is Philemons roofe, within the house is Loue Hero. Why then your visor should be thatcht Pedro. Speake low if you speake Loue Bene. Well, I would you did like me Mar. So would not I for your owne sake, for I haue manie ill qualities Bene. Which is one? Mar. I say my prayers alowd Ben. I loue you the better, the hearers may cry Amen Mar. God match me with a good dauncer Balt. Amen Mar. And God keepe him out of my sight when the daunce is done: answer Clarke Balt. No more words, the Clarke is answered Vrsula. I know you well enough, you are Signior Anthonio Anth. At a word, I am not Vrsula. I know you by the wagling of your head Anth. To tell you true, I counterfet him Vrsu. You could neuer doe him so ill well, vnlesse you were the very man: here's his dry hand vp & down, you are he, you are he Anth. At a word I am not Vrsula. Come, come, doe you thinke I doe not know you by your excellent wit? can vertue hide it selfe? goe to mumme, you are he, graces will appeare, and there's an end Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so? Bene. No, you shall pardon me Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are? Bened. Not now Beat. That I was disdainfull, and that I had my good wit out of the hundred merry tales: well, this was Signior Benedicke that said so Bene. What's he? Beat. I am sure you know him well enough Bene. Not I, beleeue me Beat. Did he neuer make you laugh? Bene. I pray you what is he? Beat. Why he is the Princes ieaster, a very dull foole, onely his gift is, in deuising impossible slanders, none but Libertines delight in him, and the commendation is not in his witte, but in his villanie, for hee both pleaseth men and angers them, and then they laugh at him, and beat him: I am sure he is in the Fleet, I would he had boorded me Bene. When I know the Gentleman, Ile tell him what you say Beat. Do, do, hee'l but breake a comparison or two on me, which peraduenture (not markt, or not laugh'd at) strikes him into melancholly, and then there's a Partridge wing saued, for the foole will eate no supper that night. We must follow the Leaders Ben. In euery good thing Bea. Nay, if they leade to any ill, I will leaue them at the next turning. Exeunt. Musicke for the dance. Iohn. Sure my brother is amorous on Hero, and hath withdrawne her father to breake with him about it: the Ladies follow her, and but one visor remaines Borachio. And that is Claudio, I know him by his bearing Iohn. Are not you signior Benedicke? Clau. You know me well, I am hee Iohn. Signior, you are verie neere my Brother in his loue, he is enamor'd on Hero, I pray you disswade him from her, she is no equall for his birth: you may do the part of an honest man in it Claudio. How know you he loues her? Iohn. I heard him sweare his affection Bor. So did I too, and he swore he would marrie her to night Iohn. Come, let vs to the banquet. Ex. manet Clau. Clau. Thus answere I in name of Benedicke, But heare these ill newes with the eares of Claudio: 'Tis certaine so, the Prince woes for himselfe: Friendship is constant in all other things, Saue in the Office and affaires of loue: Therefore all hearts in loue vse their owne tongues. Let euerie eye negotiate for it selfe, And trust no Agent: for beautie is a witch, Against whose charmes, faith melteth into blood: This is an accident of hourely proofe, Which I mistrusted not. Farewell therefore Hero. Enter Benedicke. Ben. Count Claudio Clau. Yea, the same Ben. Come, will you goe with me? Clau. Whither? Ben. Euen to the next Willow, about your own businesse, Count. What fashion will you weare the Garland off? About your necke, like an Vsurers chaine? Or vnder your arme, like a Lieutenants scarfe? You must weare it one way, for the Prince hath got your Hero Clau . I wish him ioy of her Ben. Why that's spoken like an honest Drouier, so they sel Bullockes: but did you thinke the Prince wold haue serued you thus? Clau. I pray you leaue me Ben. Ho now you strike like the blindman, 'twas the boy that stole your meate, and you'l beat the post Clau. If it will not be, Ile leaue you. Enter. Ben. Alas poore hurt fowle, now will he creepe into sedges: But that my Ladie Beatrice should know me, & not know me: the Princes foole! Hah? It may be I goe vnder that title, because I am merrie: yea but so I am apt to do my selfe wrong: I am not so reputed, it is the base (though bitter) disposition of Beatrice, that putt's the world into her person, and so giues me out: well, Ile be reuenged as I may. Enter the Prince. Pedro. Now Signior, where's the Count, did you see him? Bene. Troth my Lord, I haue played the part of Lady Fame, I found him heere as melancholy as a Lodge in a Warren, I told him, and I thinke, told him true, that your grace had got the will of this young Lady, and I offered him my company to a willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or to binde him a rod, as being worthy to be whipt Pedro. To be whipt, what's his fault? Bene. The flat transgression of a Schoole-boy, who being ouer-ioyed with finding a birds nest, shewes it his companion, and he steales it Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust, a transgression? the transgression is in the stealer Ben. Yet it had not been amisse the rod had beene made, and the garland too, for the garland he might haue worne himselfe, and the rod hee might haue bestowed on you, who (as I take it) haue stolne his birds nest Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to the owner Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my faith you say honestly Pedro. The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrell to you, the Gentleman that daunst with her, told her shee is much wrong'd by you Bene. O she misusde me past the indurance of a block: an oake but with one greene leafe on it, would haue answered her: my very visor began to assume life, and scold with her: shee told mee, not thinking I had beene my selfe, that I was the Princes Iester, and that I was duller then a great thaw, hudling iest vpon iest, with such impossible conueiance vpon me, that I stood like a man at a marke, with a whole army shooting at me: shee speakes poynyards, and euery word stabbes: if her breath were as terrible as terminations, there were no liuing neere her, she would infect to the north starre: I would not marry her, though she were indowed with all that Adam had left him before he transgrest, she would haue made Hercules haue turnd spit, yea, and haue cleft his club to make the fire too: come, talke not of her, you shall finde her the infernall Ate in good apparell. I would to God some scholler would coniure her, for certainely while she is heere, a man may liue as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary, and people sinne vpon purpose, because they would goe thither, so indeed all disquiet, horror, and perturbation followes her. Enter Claudio and Beatrice, Leonato, Hero. Pedro. Looke heere she comes Bene. Will your Grace command mee any seruice to the worlds end? I will goe on the slightest arrand now to the Antypodes that you can deuise to send me on: I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the furthest inch of Asia: bring you the length of Prester Iohns foot: fetch you a hayre off the great Chams beard: doe you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather then hould three words conference, with this Harpy: you haue no employment for me? Pedro. None, but to desire your good company Bene. O God sir, heeres a dish I loue not, I cannot indure this Lady tongue. Enter. Pedr. Come Lady, come, you haue lost the heart of Signior Benedicke Beatr. Indeed my Lord, hee lent it me a while, and I gaue him vse for it, a double heart for a single one, marry once before he wonne it of mee, with false dice, therefore your Grace may well say I haue lost it Pedro. You haue put him downe Lady, you haue put him downe Beat. So I would not he should do me, my Lord, lest I should prooue the mother of fooles: I haue brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seeke Pedro. Why how now Count, wherfore are you sad? Claud. Not sad my Lord Pedro. How then? sicke? Claud. Neither, my Lord Beat. The Count is neither sad, nor sicke, nor merry, nor well: but ciuill Count, ciuill as an Orange, and something of a iealous complexion Pedro. Ifaith Lady, I thinke your blazon to be true. though Ile be sworne, if hee be so, his conceit is false: heere Claudio, I haue wooed in thy name, and faire Hero is won, I haue broke with her father, and his good will obtained, name the day of marriage, and God giue thee ioy Leona. Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my fortunes: his grace hath made the match, & all grace say, Amen to it Beatr. Speake Count, tis your Qu Claud. Silence is the perfectest Herault of ioy, I were but little happy if I could say, how much? Lady, as you are mine, I am yours, I giue away my selfe for you, and doat vpon the exchange Beat. Speake cosin, or (if you cannot) stop his mouth with a kisse, and let not him speake neither Pedro. In faith Lady you haue a merry heart Beatr. Yea my Lord I thanke it, poore foole it keepes on the windy side of Care, my coosin tells him in his eare that he is in my heart Clau. And so she doth coosin Beat. Good Lord for alliance: thus goes euery one to the world but I, and I am sun-burn'd, I may sit in a corner and cry, heigh ho for a husband Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one Beat. I would rather haue one of your fathers getting: hath your Grace ne're a brother like you? your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them Prince. Will you haue me? Lady Beat. No, my Lord, vnlesse I might haue another for working-daies, your Grace is too costly to weare euerie day: but I beseech your Grace pardon mee, I was borne to speake all mirth, and no matter Prince. Your silence most offends me, and to be merry, best becomes you, for out of question, you were born in a merry howre Beatr. No sure my Lord, my Mother cried, but then there was a starre daunst, and vnder that was I borne: cosins God giue you ioy Leonato. Neece, will you looke to those things I told you of? Beat. I cry you mercy Vncle, by your Graces pardon. Exit Beatrice. Prince. By my troth a pleasant spirited Lady Leon. There's little of the melancholy element in her my Lord, she is neuer sad, but when she sleepes, and not euer sad then: for I haue heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of vnhappinesse, and wakt her selfe with laughing Pedro. Shee cannot indure to heare tell of a husband Leonato. O, by no meanes, she mocks all her wooers out of suite Prince. She were an excellent wife for Benedick Leonato. O Lord, my Lord, if they were but a weeke married, they would talke themselues madde Prince. Counte Claudio, when meane you to goe to Church? Clau. To morrow my Lord, Time goes on crutches, till Loue haue all his rites Leonato. Not till monday, my deare sonne, which is hence a iust seuen night, and a time too briefe too, to haue all things answer minde Prince. Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing, but I warrant thee Claudio, the time shall not goe dully by vs, I will in the interim, vndertake one of Hercules labors, which is, to bring Signior Benedicke and the Lady Beatrice into a mountaine of affection, th' one with th' other, I would faine haue it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you three will but minister such assistance as I shall giue you direction Leonato. My Lord, I am for you, though it cost mee ten nights watchings Claud. And I my Lord Prin. And you to gentle Hero? Hero. I will doe any modest office, my Lord, to helpe my cosin to a good husband Prin. And Benedick is not the vnhopefullest husband that I know: thus farre can I praise him, hee is of a noble straine, of approued valour, and confirm'd honesty, I will teach you how to humour your cosin, that shee shall fall in loue with Benedicke, and I, with your two helpes, will so practise on Benedicke, that in despight of his quicke wit, and his queasie stomacke, hee shall fall in loue with Beatrice: if wee can doe this, Cupid is no longer an Archer, his glory shall be ours, for wee are the onely louegods, goe in with me, and I will tell you my drift. Enter. Enter Iohn and Borachio. Ioh. It is so, the Count Claudio shal marry the daughter of Leonato Bora. Yea my Lord, but I can crosse it Iohn. Any barre, any crosse, any impediment, will be medicinable to me, I am sicke in displeasure to him, and whatsoeuer comes athwart his affection, ranges euenly with mine, how canst thou crosse this marriage? Bor. Not honestly my Lord, but so couertly, that no dishonesty shall appeare in me Iohn. Shew me breefely how Bor. I thinke I told your Lordship a yeere since, how much I am in the fauour of Margaret, the waiting gentlewoman to Hero Iohn. I remember Bor. I can at any vnseasonable instant of the night, appoint her to looke out at her Ladies chamber window Iohn. What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? Bor. The poyson of that lies in you to temper, goe you to the Prince your brother, spare not to tell him, that hee hath wronged his Honor in marrying the renowned Claudio, whose estimation do you mightily hold vp, to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero Iohn. What proofe shall I make of that? Bor. Proofe enough, to misuse the Prince, to vexe Claudio, to vndoe Hero, and kill Leonato, looke you for any other issue? Iohn. Onely to despight them, I will endeauour any thing Bor. Goe then, finde me a meete howre, to draw on Pedro and the Count Claudio alone, tell them that you know that Hero loues me, intend a kinde of zeale both to the Prince and Claudio (as in a loue of your brothers honor who hath made this match) and his friends reputation, who is thus like to be cosen'd with the semblance of a maid, that you haue discouer'd thus: they will scarcely beleeue this without triall: offer them instances which shall beare no lesse likelihood, than to see mee at her chamber window, heare me call Margaret, Hero; heare Margaret terme me Claudio, and bring them to see this the very night before the intended wedding, for in the meane time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent, and there shall appeare such seeming truths of Heroes disloyaltie, that iealousie shall be cal'd assurance, and all the preparation ouerthrowne Iohn. Grow this to what aduerse issue it can, I will put it in practise: be cunning in the working this, and thy fee is a thousand ducates Bor. Be thou constant in the accusation, and my cunning shall not shame me Iohn. I will presentlie goe learne their day of marriage. Enter. Enter Benedicke alone. Bene. Boy Boy. Signior Bene. In my chamber window lies a booke, bring it hither to me in the orchard Boy. I am heere already sir. Enter. Bene. I know that, but I would haue thee hence, and heere againe. I doe much wonder, that one man seeing how much another man is a foole, when he dedicates his behauiours to loue, will after hee hath laught at such shallow follies in others, become the argument of his owne scorne, by falling in loue, & such a man is Claudio. I haue known when there was no musicke with him but the drum and the fife, and now had hee rather heare the taber and the pipe: I haue knowne when he would haue walkt ten mile afoot, to see a good armor, and now will he lie ten nights awake caruing the fashion of a new dublet: he was wont to speake plaine, & to the purpose (like an honest man & a souldier) and now is he turn'd orthography, his words are a very fantasticall banquet, iust so many strange dishes: may I be so conuerted, & see with these eyes? I cannot tell, I thinke not: I will not bee sworne, but loue may transforme me to an oyster, but Ile take my oath on it, till he haue made an oyster of me, he shall neuer make me such a foole: one woman is faire, yet I am well: another is wise, yet I am well: another vertuous, yet I am well: but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace: rich shee shall be, that's certaine: wise, or Ile none: vertuous, or Ile neuer cheapen her: faire, or Ile neuer looke on her: milde, or come not neere me: Noble, or not for an Angell: of good discourse: an excellent Musitian, and her haire shal be of what colour it please God, hah! the Prince and Monsieur Loue, I will hide me in the Arbor. Enter Prince, Leonato, Claudio, and Iacke Wilson. Prin. Come, shall we heare this musicke? Claud. Yea my good Lord: how still the euening is. As husht on purpose to grace harmonie Prin. See you where Benedicke hath hid himselfe? Clau. O very well my Lord: the musicke ended, Wee'll fit the kid-foxe with a penny worth Prince. Come Balthasar, wee'll heare that song again Balth. O good my Lord, taxe not so bad a voyce, To slander musicke any more then once Prin. It is the witnesse still of excellency, To slander Musicke any more then once Prince. It is the witnesse still of excellencie, To put a strange face on his owne perfection, I pray thee sing, and let me woe no more Balth. Because you talke of wooing, I will sing, Since many a wooer doth commence his suit, To her he thinkes not worthy, yet he wooes, Yet will he sweare he loues Prince. Nay pray thee come, Or if thou wilt hold longer argument, Doe it in notes Balth. Note this before my notes, Theres not a note of mine that's worth the noting Prince. Why these are very crotchets that he speaks, Note notes forsooth, and nothing Bene. Now diuine aire, now is his soule rauisht, is it not strange that sheepes guts should hale soules out of mens bodies? well, a horne for my money when all's done. The Song. Sigh no more Ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceiuers euer, One foote in Sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant neuer, Then sigh not so, but let them goe, And be you blithe and bonnie, Conuerting all your sounds of woe, Into hey nony nony. Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, Of dumps so dull and heauy, The fraud of men were euer so, Since summer first was leauy, Then sigh not so, &c Prince. By my troth a good song Balth. And an ill singer, my Lord Prince. Ha, no, no faith, thou singst well enough for a shift Ben. And he had been a dog that should haue howld thus, they would haue hang'd him, and I pray God his bad voyce bode no mischiefe, I had as liefe haue heard the night-rauen, come what plague could haue come after it Prince. Yea marry, dost thou heare Balthasar? I pray thee get vs some excellent musick: for to morrow night we would haue it at the Lady Heroes chamber window Balth. The best I can, my Lord. Exit Balthasar. Prince. Do so, farewell. Come hither Leonato, what was it you told me of to day, that your Niece Beatrice was in loue with signior Benedicke? Cla. O I, stalke on, stalke on, the foule sits. I did neuer thinke that Lady would haue loued any man Leon. No, nor I neither, but most wonderful, that she should so dote on Signior Benedicke, whom shee hath in all outward behauiours seemed euer to abhorre Bene. Is't possible? sits the winde in that corner? Leo. By my troth my Lord, I cannot tell what to thinke of it, but that she loues him with an inraged affection, it is past the infinite of thought Prince. May be she doth but counterfeit Claud. Faith like enough Leon. O God! counterfeit? there was neuer counterfeit of passion, came so neere the life of passion as she discouers it Prince. Why what effects of passion shewes she? Claud. Baite the hooke well, this fish will bite Leon. What effects my Lord? shee will sit you, you heard my daughter tell you how Clau. She did indeed Prince. How, how I pray you? you amaze me, I would haue thought her spirit had beene inuincible against all assaults of affection Leo. I would haue sworne it had, my Lord, especially against Benedicke Bene. I should thinke this a gull, but that the whitebearded fellow speakes it: knauery cannot sure hide himselfe in such reuerence Claud. He hath tane th' infection, hold it vp Prince. Hath shee made her affection known to Benedicke: Leonato. No, and sweares she neuer will, that's her torment Claud. 'Tis true indeed, so your daughter saies: shall I, saies she, that haue so oft encountred him with scorne, write to him that I loue him? Leo. This saies shee now when shee is beginning to write to him, for shee'll be vp twenty times a night, and there will she sit in her smocke, till she haue writ a sheet of paper: my daughter tells vs all Clau. Now you talke of a sheet of paper, I remember a pretty iest your daughter told vs of Leon. O when she had writ it, & was reading it ouer, she found Benedicke and Beatrice betweene the sheete Clau. That Leon. O she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence, raild at her self, that she should be so immodest to write, to one that shee knew would flout her: I measure him, saies she, by my owne spirit, for I should flout him if hee writ to mee, yea though I loue him, I should Clau. Then downe vpon her knees she falls, weepes, sobs, beates her heart, teares her hayre, praies, curses, O sweet Benedicke, God giue me patience Leon. She doth indeed, my daughter saies so, and the extasie hath so much ouerborne her, that my daughter is somtime afeard she will doe a desperate out-rage to her selfe, it is very true Prince. It were good that Benedicke knew of it by some other, if she will not discouer it Clau. To what end? he would but make a sport of it, and torment the poore Lady worse Prin. And he should, it were an almes to hang him, shee's an excellent sweet Lady, and (out of all suspition,) she is vertuous Claudio. And she is exceeding wise Prince. In euery thing, but in louing Benedicke Leon. O my Lord, wisedome and bloud combating in so tender a body, we haue ten proofes to one, that bloud hath the victory, I am sorry for her, as I haue iust cause, being her Vncle, and her Guardian Prince. I would shee had bestowed this dotage on mee, I would haue daft all other respects, and made her halfe my selfe: I pray you tell Benedicke of it, and heare what he will say Leon. Were it good thinke you? Clau. Hero thinkes surely she wil die, for she saies she will die, if hee loue her not, and shee will die ere shee make her loue knowne, and she will die if hee wooe her, rather than shee will bate one breath of her accustomed crossenesse Prince. She doth well, if she should make tender of her loue, 'tis very possible hee'l scorne it, for the man (as you know all) hath a contemptible spirit Clau. He is a very proper man Prin. He hath indeed a good outward happines Clau. 'Fore God, and in my minde very wise Prin. He doth indeed shew some sparkes that are like wit Leon. And I take him to be valiant Prin. As Hector, I assure you, and in the managing of quarrels you may see hee is wise, for either hee auoydes them with great discretion, or vndertakes them with a Christian-like feare Leon. If hee doe feare God, a must necessarilie keepe peace, if hee breake the peace, hee ought to enter into a quarrell with feare and trembling Prin. And so will he doe, for the man doth fear God, howsoeuer it seemes not in him, by some large ieasts hee will make: well, I am sorry for your niece, shall we goe see Benedicke, and tell him of her loue Claud. Neuer tell him, my Lord, let her weare it out with good counsell Leon. Nay that's impossible, she may weare her heart out first Prin. Well, we will heare further of it by your daughter, let it coole the while, I loue Benedicke well, and I could wish he would modestly examine himselfe, to see how much he is vnworthy to haue so good a Lady Leon. My Lord, will you walke? dinner is ready Clau. If he do not doat on her vpon this, I wil neuer trust my expectation Prin. Let there be the same Net spread for her, and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman carry: the sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of anothers dotage, and no such matter, that's the Scene that I would see, which will be meerely a dumbe shew: let vs send her to call him into dinner. Exeunt. Bene. This can be no tricke, the conference was sadly borne, they haue the truth of this from Hero, they seeme to pittie the Lady: it seemes her affections haue the full bent: loue me? why it must be requited: I heare how I am censur'd, they say I will beare my selfe proudly, if I perceiue the loue come from her: they say too, that she will rather die than giue any signe of affection: I did neuer thinke to marry, I must not seeme proud, happy are they that heare their detractions, and can put them to mending: they say the Lady is faire, 'tis a truth, I can beare them witnesse: and vertuous, tis so, I cannot reprooue it, and wise, but for louing me, by my troth it is no addition to her witte, nor no great argument of her folly; for I wil be horribly in loue with her, I may chance haue some odde quirkes and remnants of witte broken on mee, because I haue rail'd so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loues the meat in his youth, that he cannot indure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper bullets of the braine awe a man from the careere of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a batcheler, I did not think I should liue till I were maried, here comes Beatrice: by this day, shee's a faire Lady, I doe spie some markes of loue in her. Enter Beatrice. Beat. Against my wil I am sent to bid you come in to dinner Bene. Faire Beatrice, I thanke you for your paines Beat. I tooke no more paines for those thankes, then you take paines to thanke me, if it had been painefull, I would not haue come Bene. You take pleasure then in the message Beat. Yea iust so much as you may take vpon a kniues point, and choake a daw withall: you haue no stomacke signior, fare you well. Enter. Bene. Ha, against my will I am sent to bid you come into dinner: there's a double meaning in that: I tooke no more paines for those thankes then you took paines to thanke me, that's as much as to say, any paines that I take for you is as easie as thankes: if I do not take pitty of her I am a villaine, if I doe not loue her I am a Iew, I will goe get her picture. Enter. Actus Tertius. Enter Hero and two Gentlemen, Margaret, and Vrsula. Hero. Good Margaret runne thee to the parlour, There shalt thou finde my Cosin Beatrice, Proposing with the Prince and Claudio, Whisper her eare, and tell her I and Vrsula, Walke in the Orchard, and our whole discourse Is all of her, say that thou ouer-heardst vs, And bid her steale into the pleached bower, Where hony-suckles ripened by the sunne, Forbid the sunne to enter: like fauourites, Made proud by Princes, that aduance their pride, Against that power that bred it, there will she hide her, To listen our purpose, this is thy office, Beare thee well in it, and leaue vs alone Marg. Ile make her come I warrant you presently Hero. Now Vrsula, when Beatrice doth come, As we do trace this alley vp and downe, Our talke must onely be of Benedicke, When I doe name him, let it be thy part, To praise him more then euer man did merit, My talke to thee must be how Benedicke Is sicke in loue with Beatrice; of this matter, Is little Cupids crafty arrow made, That onely wounds by heare-say: now begin, Enter Beatrice. For looke where Beatrice like a Lapwing runs Close by the ground, to heare our conference Vrs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish Cut with her golden ores the siluer streame, And greedily deuoure the treacherous baite: So angle we for Beatrice, who euen now, Is couched in the wood-bine couerture, Feare you not my part of the Dialogue Her. Then go we neare her that her eare loose nothing, Of the false sweete baite that we lay for it: No truely Vrsula, she is too disdainfull, I know her spirits are as coy and wilde, As Haggerds of the rocke Vrsula. But are you sure, That Benedicke loues Beatrice so intirely? Her. So saies the Prince, and my new trothed Lord Vrs. And did they bid you tell her of it, Madam? Her. They did intreate me to acquaint her of it, But I perswaded them, if they lou'd Benedicke, To wish him wrastle with affection, And neuer to let Beatrice know of it Vrsula. Why did you so, doth not the Gentleman Deserue as full as fortunate a bed, As euer Beatrice shall couch vpon? Hero. O God of loue! I know he doth deserue, As much as may be yeelded to a man: But Nature neuer fram'd a womans heart, Of prowder stuffe then that of Beatrice: Disdaine and Scorne ride sparkling in her eyes, Mis-prizing what they looke on, and her wit Values it selfe so highly, that to her All matter else seemes weake: she cannot loue, Nor take no shape nor proiect of affection, Shee is so selfe indeared Vrsula. Sure I thinke so, And therefore certainely it were not good She knew his loue, lest she make sport at it Hero. Why you speake truth, I neuer yet saw man, How wise, how noble, yong, how rarely featur'd. But she would spell him backward: if faire fac'd, She would sweare the gentleman should be her sister: If blacke, why Nature drawing of an anticke, Made a foule blot: if tall, a launce ill headed: If low, an agot very vildlie cut: If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes: If silent, why a blocke moued with none. So turnes she euery man the wrong side out, And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions, As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable, But who dare tell her so? if I should speake, She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit, Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire, Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly: It were a better death, to die with mockes, Which is as bad as die with tickling Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say Hero. No, rather I will goe to Benedicke, And counsaile him to fight against his passion, And truly Ile deuise some honest slanders, To staine my cosin with, one doth not know, How much an ill word may impoison liking Vrsu. O doe not doe your cosin such a wrong, She cannot be so much without true iudgement, Hauing so swift and excellent a wit As she is prisde to haue, as to refuse So rare a Gentleman as signior Benedicke Hero. He is the onely man of Italy, Alwaies excepted, my deare Claudio Vrsu. I pray you be not angry with me, Madame, Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedicke, For shape, for bearing argument and valour, Goes formost in report through Italy Hero. Indeed he hath an excellent good name Vrsu. His excellence did earne it ere he had it: When are you married Madame? Hero. Why euerie day to morrow, come goe in, Ile shew thee some attires, and haue thy counsell, Which is the best to furnish me to morrow Vrsu. Shee's tane I warrant you, We haue caught her Madame? Hero. If it proue so, then louing goes by haps, Some Cupid kills with arrowes, some with traps. Enter. Beat. What fire is in mine eares? can this be true? Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorne so much? Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adew, No glory liues behinde the backe of such. And Benedicke, loue on, I will requite thee, Taming my wilde heart to thy louing hand: If thou dost loue, my kindnesse shall incite thee To binde our loues vp in a holy band. For others say thou dost deserue, and I Beleeue it better then reportingly. Enter. Enter Prince, Claudio, Benedicke, and Leonato. Prince. I doe but stay till your marriage be consummate, and then go I toward Arragon Clau. Ile bring you thither my Lord, if you'l vouchsafe me Prin. Nay, that would be as great a soyle in the new glosse of your marriage, as to shew a childe his new coat and forbid him to weare it, I will onely bee bold with Benedicke for his companie, for from the crowne of his head, to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth, he hath twice or thrice cut Cupids bow-string, and the little hang-man dare not shoot at him, he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinkes, his tongue speakes Bene. Gallants, I am not as I haue bin Leo. So say I, methinkes you are sadder Claud. I hope he be in loue Prin. Hang him truant, there's no true drop of bloud in him to be truly toucht with loue, if he be sad, he wants money Bene. I haue the tooth-ach Prin. Draw it Bene. Hang it Claud. You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards Prin. What? sigh for the tooth-ach Leon. Where is but a humour or a worme Bene. Well, euery one cannot master a griefe, but hee that has it Clau. Yet say I, he is in loue Prin. There is no appearance of fancie in him, vnlesse it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises, as to bee a Dutchman to day, a Frenchman to morrow: vnlesse hee haue a fancy to this foolery, as it appeares hee hath, hee is no foole for fancy, as you would haue it to appeare he is Clau. If he be not in loue with some woman, there is no beleeuing old signes, a brushes his hat a mornings, What should that bode? Prin. Hath any man seene him at the Barbers? Clau. No, but the Barbers man hath beene seen with him, and the olde ornament of his cheeke hath alreadie stuft tennis balls Leon. Indeed he lookes yonger than hee did, by the losse of a beard Prin. Nay a rubs himselfe with Ciuit, can you smell him out by that? Clau. That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in loue Prin. The greatest note of it is his melancholy Clau. And when was he wont to wash his face? Prin. Yea, or to paint himselfe? for the which I heare what they say of him Clau. Nay, but his iesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now gouern'd by stops Prin. Indeed that tels a heauy tale for him: conclude, he is in loue Clau. Nay, but I know who loues him Prince. That would I know too, I warrant one that knowes him not Cla. Yes, and his ill conditions, and in despight of all, dies for him Prin. Shee shall be buried with her face vpwards Bene. Yet is this no charme for the tooth-ake, old signior, walke aside with mee, I haue studied eight or nine wise words to speake to you, which these hobby-horses must not heare Prin. For my life to breake with him about Beatrice Clau. 'Tis euen so, Hero and Margaret haue by this played their parts with Beatrice, and then the two Beares will not bite one another when they meete. Enter Iohn the Bastard. Bast. My Lord and brother, God saue you Prin. Good den brother Bast. If your leisure seru'd, I would speake with you Prince. In priuate? Bast. If it please you, yet Count Claudio may heare, for what I would speake of, concernes him Prin. What's the matter? Basta. Meanes your Lordship to be married to morrow? Prin. You know he does Bast. I know not that when he knowes what I know Clau. If there be any impediment, I pray you discouer it Bast. You may thinke I loue you not, let that appeare hereafter, and ayme better at me by that I now will manifest, for my brother (I thinke, he holds you well, and in dearenesse of heart) hath holpe to effect your ensuing marriage: surely sute ill spent, and labour ill bestowed Prin. Why, what's the matter? Bastard. I came hither to tell you, and circumstances shortned, (for she hath beene too long a talking of) the Lady is disloyall Clau. Who Hero? Bast. Euen shee, Leonatoes Hero, your Hero, euery mans Hero Clau. Disloyall? Bast. The word is too good to paint out her wickednesse, I could say she were worse, thinke you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it: wonder not till further warrant: goe but with mee to night, you shal see her chamber window entred, euen the night before her wedding day, if you loue her, then to morrow wed her: But it would better fit your honour to change your minde Claud. May this be so? Princ. I will not thinke it Bast. If you dare not trust that you see, confesse not that you know: if you will follow mee, I will shew you enough, and when you haue seene more, & heard more, proceed accordingly Clau. If I see any thing to night, why I should not marry her to morrow in the congregation, where I shold wedde, there will I shame her Prin. And as I wooed for thee to obtaine her, I will ioyne with thee to disgrace her Bast. I will disparage her no farther, till you are my witnesses, beare it coldly but till night, and let the issue shew it selfe Prin. O day vntowardly turned! Claud. O mischiefe strangelie thwarting! Bastard. O plague right well preuented! so will you say, when you haue seene the sequele. Enter. Enter Dogbery and his compartner with the watch. Dog. Are you good men and true? Verg. Yea, or else it were pitty but they should suffer saluation body and soule Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if they should haue any allegiance in them, being chosen for the Princes watch Verges. Well, giue them their charge, neighbour Dogbery Dog. First, who thinke you the most desartlesse man to be Constable Watch.1. Hugh Ote-cake sir, or George Sea-coale, for they can write and reade Dogb. Come hither neighbour Sea-coale, God hath blest you with a good name: to be a wel-fauoured man, is the gift of Fortune, but to write and reade, comes by Nature Watch 2. Both which Master Constable Dogb. You haue: I knew it would be your answere: well, for your fauour sir, why giue God thankes, & make no boast of it, and for your writing and reading, let that appeare when there is no need of such vanity, you are thought heere to be the most senslesse and fit man for the Constable of the watch: therefore beare you the lanthorne: this is your charge: You shall comprehend all vagrom men, you are to bid any man stand in the Princes name Watch 2. How if a will not stand? Dogb. Why then take no note of him, but let him go, and presently call the rest of the Watch together, and thanke God you are ridde of a knaue Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, hee is none of the Princes subiects Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but the Princes subiects: you shall also make no noise in the streetes: for, for the Watch to babble and talke, is most tollerable, and not to be indured Watch. We will rather sleepe than talke, wee know what belongs to a Watch Dog. Why you speake like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend: only haue a care that your bills be not stolne: well, you are to call at all the Alehouses, and bid them that are drunke get them to bed Watch. How if they will not? Dogb. Why then let them alone till they are sober, if they make you not then the better answere, you may say, they are not the men you tooke them for Watch. Well sir, Dogb. If you meet a theefe, you may suspect him, by vertue of your office, to be no true man: and for such kinde of men, the lesse you meddle or make with them, why the more is for your honesty Watch. If wee know him to be a thiefe, shall wee not lay hands on him Dogb. Truly by your office you may, but I think they that touch pitch will be defil'd: the most peaceable way for you, if you doe take a theefe, is, to let him shew himselfe what he is, and steale out of your company Ver. You haue bin alwaies cal'd a merciful ma[n] partner Dog. Truely I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath anie honestie in him Verges. If you heare a child crie in the night you must call to the nurse, and bid her still it Watch. How if the nurse be asleepe and will not heare vs? Dog. Why then depart in peace, and let the childe wake her with crying, for the ewe that will not heare her Lambe when it baes, will neuer answere a calfe when he bleates Verges. 'Tis verie true Dog. This is the end of the charge: you constable are to present the Princes owne person, if you meete the Prince in the night, you may staie him Verges. Nay birladie that I thinke a cannot Dog. Fiue shillings to one on't with anie man that knowes the Statutes, he may staie him, marrie not without the prince be willing, for indeed the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will Verges. Birladie I thinke it be so Dog. Ha, ah ha, well masters good night, and there be anie matter of weight chances, call vp me, keepe your fellowes counsailes, and your owne, and good night, come neighbour Watch. Well masters, we heare our charge, let vs go sit here vpon the Church bench till two, and then all to bed Dog. One word more, honest neighbors. I pray you watch about signior Leonatoes doore, for the wedding being there to morrow, there is a great coyle to night, adiew, be vigitant I beseech you. Exeunt. Enter Borachio and Conrade. Bor. What, Conrade? Watch. Peace, stir not Bor. Conrade I say Con. Here man, I am at thy elbow Bor. Mas and my elbow itcht, I thought there would a scabbe follow Con. I will owe thee an answere for that, and now forward with thy tale Bor. Stand thee close then vnder this penthouse, for it drissels raine, and I will, like a true drunkard, vtter all to thee Watch. Some treason masters, yet stand close Bor. Therefore know, I haue earned of Don Iohn a thousand Ducates Con. Is it possible that anie villanie should be so deare? Bor. Thou should'st rather aske if it were possible anie villanie should be so rich? for when rich villains haue neede of poore ones, poore ones may make what price they will Con. I wonder at it Bor. That shewes thou art vnconfirm'd, thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloake, is nothing to a man Con. Yes, it is apparell Bor. I meane the fashion Con. Yes the fashion is the fashion Bor. Tush, I may as well say the foole's the foole, but seest thou not what a deformed theefe this fashion is? Watch. I know that deformed, a has bin a vile theefe, this vii. yeares, a goes vp and downe like a gentle man: I remember his name Bor. Did'st thou not heare some bodie? Con. No, 'twas the vaine on the house Bor. Seest thou not (I say) what a deformed thiefe this fashion is, how giddily a turnes about all the Hotblouds, betweene, foureteene & fiue & thirtie, sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoes souldiours in the rechie painting, sometime like god Bels priests in the old Church window, sometime like the shauen Hercules in the smircht worm-eaten tapestrie, where his cod-peece seemes as massie as his club Con. All this I see, and see that the fashion weares out more apparrell then the man; but art not thou thy selfe giddie with the fashion too that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? Bor. Not so neither, but know that I haue to night wooed Margaret the Lady Heroes gentle-woman, by the name of Hero, she leanes me out at her mistris chamberwindow, bids me a thousand times good night: I tell this tale vildly. I should first tell thee how the Prince Claudio and my Master planted, and placed, and possessed by my Master Don Iohn, saw a far off in the Orchard this amiable incounter Con. And thought thy Margaret was Hero? Bor. Two of them did, the Prince and Claudio, but the diuell my Master knew she was Margaret and partly by his oathes, which first possest them, partly by the darke night which did deceiue them, but chiefely, by my villanie, which did confirme any slander that Don Iohn had made, away went Claudio enraged, swore hee would meete her as he was apointed next morning at the Temple, and there, before the whole congregation shame her with what he saw o're night, and send her home againe without a husband Watch.1. We charge you in the Princes name stand Watch.2. Call vp the right master Constable, we haue here recouered the most dangerous peece of lechery, that euer was knowne in the Common-wealth Watch.1. And one Deformed is one of them, I know him, a weares a locke Conr. Masters, masters Watch.2. Youle be made bring deformed forth I warrant you, Conr. Masters, neuer speake, we charge you, let vs obey you to goe with vs Bor. We are like to proue a goodly commoditie, being taken vp of these mens bils Conr. A commoditie in question I warrant you, come weele obey you. Exeunt. Enter Hero, and Margaret, and Vrsula. Hero. Good Vrsula wake my cosin Beatrice, and desire her to rise Vrsu. I will Lady Her. And bid her come hither Vrs. Well Mar. Troth I thinke your other rebato were better Hero. No pray thee good Meg, Ile weare this Marg. By my troth's not so good, and I warrant your cosin will say so Hero. My cosin's a foole, and thou art another, ile weare none but this Mar. I like the new tire within excellently, if the haire were a thought browner: and your gown's a most rare fashion yfaith, I saw the Dutchesse of Millaines gowne that they praise so Hero. O that exceedes they say Mar. By my troth's but a night-gowne in respect of yours, cloth a gold and cuts, and lac'd with siluer, set with pearles, downe sleeues, side sleeues, and skirts, round vnderborn with a blewish tinsel, but for a fine queint gracefull and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't Hero. God giue mee ioy to weare it, for my heart is exceeding heauy Marga. 'Twill be heauier soone, by the waight of a man Hero. Fie vpon thee, art not asham'd? Marg. Of what Lady? of speaking honourably? is not marriage honourable in a beggar? is not your Lord honourable without marriage? I thinke you would haue me say, sauing your reuerence a husband: and bad thinking doe not wrest true speaking, Ile offend no body, is there any harme in the heauier for a husband? none I thinke, and it be the right husband, and the right wife, otherwise 'tis light and not heauy, aske my Lady Beatrice else, here she comes. Enter Beatrice. Hero. Good morrow Coze Beat. Good morrow sweet Hero Hero. Why how now? do you speake in the sick tune? Beat. I am out of all other tune, me thinkes Mar. Claps into Light a loue, (that goes without a burden,) do you sing it and Ile dance it Beat. Ye Light aloue with your heeles, then if your husband haue stables enough, you'll looke he shall lacke no barnes Mar. O illegitimate construction! I scorne that with my heeles Beat. 'Tis almost fiue a clocke cosin, 'tis time you were ready, by my troth I am exceeding ill, hey ho Mar. For a hauke, a horse, or a husband? Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H Mar. Well, and you be not turn'd Turke, there's no more sayling by the starre Beat. What meanes the foole trow? Mar. Nothing I, but God send euery one their harts desire Hero. These gloues the Count sent mee, they are an excellent perfume Beat. I am stuft cosin, I cannot smell Mar. A maid and stuft! there's goodly catching of colde Beat. O God helpe me, God help me, how long haue you profest apprehension? Mar. Euer since you left it, doth not my wit become me rarely? Beat. It is not seene enough, you should weare it in your cap, by my troth I am sicke Mar. Get you some of this distill'd carduus benedictus and lay it to your heart, it is the onely thing for a qualm Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thissell Beat. Benedictus, why benedictus? you haue some morall in this benedictus Mar. Morall? no by my troth, I haue no morall meaning, I meant plaine holy thissell, you may thinke perchance that I thinke you are in loue, nay birlady I am not such a foole to thinke what I list, nor I list not to thinke what I can, nor indeed, I cannot thinke, if I would thinke my hart out of thinking, that you are in loue, or that you will be in loue, or that you can be in loue: yet Benedicke was such another, and now is he become a man, he swore hee would neuer marry, and yet now in despight of his heart he eates his meat without grudging, and how you may be conuerted I know not, but me thinkes you looke with your eies as other women doe Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue keepes Mar. Not a false gallop. Enter Vrsula. Vrsula. Madam, withdraw, the Prince, the Count, signior Benedicke, Don Iohn, and all the gallants of the towne are come to fetch you to Church Hero. Helpe me to dresse mee good coze, good Meg, good Vrsula. Enter Leonato, and the Constable, and the Headborough. Leonato. What would you with mee, honest neighbour? Const.Dog. Mary sir I would haue some confidence with you, that decernes you nearely Leon. Briefe I pray you, for you see it is a busie time with me Const.Dog. Mary this it is sir Headb. Yes in truth it is sir Leon. What is it my good friends? Con.Do. Goodman Verges sir speakes a little of the matter, an old man sir, and his wits are not so blunt, as God helpe I would desire they were, but infaith honest as the skin betweene his browes Head. Yes I thank God, I am as honest as any man liuing, that is an old man, and no honester then I Con.Dog. Comparisons are odorous, palabras, neighbour Verges Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious Con.Dog. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poore Dukes officers, but truely for mine owne part, if I were as tedious as a King I could finde in my heart to bestow it all of your worship Leon. All thy tediousnesse on me, ah? Const.Dog. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more than 'tis, for I heare as good exclamation on your Worship as of any man in the Citie, and though I bee but a poore man, I am glad to heare it Head. And so am I Leon. I would faine know what you haue to say Head. Marry sir our watch to night, excepting your worships presence, haue tane a couple of as arrant knaues as any in Messina Con.Dog. A good old man sir, hee will be talking as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out, God helpe vs, it is a world to see: well said yfaith neighbour Verges, well, God's a good man, and two men ride of a horse, one must ride behinde, an honest soule yfaith sir, by my troth he is, as euer broke bread, but God is to bee worshipt, all men are not alike, alas good neighbour Leon. Indeed neighbour he comes too short of you Con.Do. Gifts that God giues Leon. I must leaue you Con.Dog. One word sir, our watch sir haue indeede comprehended two aspitious persons, & we would haue them this morning examined before your worship Leon. Take their examination your selfe, and bring it me, I am now in great haste, as may appeare vnto you Const. It shall be suffigance Leon. Drinke some wine ere you goe: fare you well. Enter. Messenger. My Lord, they stay for you to giue your daughter to her husband Leon. Ile wait vpon them, I am ready Dogb. Goe good partner, goe get you to Francis Seacoale, bid him bring his pen and inkehorne to the Gaole: we are now to examine those men Verges. And we must doe it wisely Dogb. Wee will spare for no witte I warrant you: heere's that shall driue some to a non-come, only get the learned writer to set downe our excommunication, and meet me at the Iaile. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Enter Prince, Bastard, Leonato, Frier, Claudio, Benedicke, Hero, and Beatrice. Leonato. Come Frier Francis, be briefe, onely to the plaine forme of marriage, and you shal recount their particular duties afterwards Fran. You come hither, my Lord, to marry this Lady Clau. No Leo. To be married to her: Frier, you come to marrie her Frier. Lady, you come hither to be married to this Count Hero. I doe Frier. If either of you know any inward impediment why you should not be conioyned, I charge you on your soules to vtter it Claud. Know you anie, Hero? Hero. None my Lord Frier. Know you anie, Count? Leon. I dare make his answer, None Clau. O what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do! Bene. How now! interiections? why then, some be of laughing, as ha, ha, he Clau. Stand thee by Frier, father, by your leaue, Will you with free and vnconstrained soule Giue me this maid your daughter? Leon. As freely sonne as God did giue her me Cla. And what haue I to giue you back, whose worth May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? Prin. Nothing, vnlesse you render her againe Clau. Sweet Prince, you learn me noble thankfulnes: There Leonato, take her backe againe, Giue not this rotten Orenge to your friend, Shee's but the signe and semblance of her honour: Behold how like a maid she blushes heere! O what authoritie and shew of truth Can cunning sinne couer it selfe withall! Comes not that bloud, as modest euidence, To witnesse simple Vertue? would you not sweare All you that see her, that she were a maide, By these exterior shewes? But she is none: She knowes the heat of a luxurious bed: Her blush is guiltinesse, not modestie Leonato. What doe you meane, my Lord? Clau. Not to be married, Not to knit my soule to an approued wanton Leon. Deere my Lord, if you in your owne proofe, Haue vanquisht the resistance of her youth, And made defeat of her virginitie Clau. I know what you would say: if I haue knowne (her, You will say, she did imbrace me as a husband, And so extenuate the forehand sinne: No Leonato, I neuer tempted her with word too large, But as a brother to his sister, shewed Bashfull sinceritie and comely loue Hero. And seem'd I euer otherwise to you? Clau. Out on thee seeming, I will write against it, You seeme to me as Diane in her Orbe, As chaste as is the budde ere it be blowne: But you are more intemperate in your blood, Than Venus, or those pampred animalls, That rage in sauage sensualitie Hero. Is my Lord well, that he doth speake so wide? Leon. Sweete Prince, why speake not you? Prin. What should I speake? I stand dishonour'd that haue gone about, To linke my deare friend to a common stale Leon. Are these things spoken, or doe I but dreame? Bast. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true Bene. This lookes not like a nuptiall Hero. True, O God! Clau. Leonato, stand I here? Is this the Prince? is this the Princes brother? Is this face Heroes? are our eies our owne? Leon. All this is so, but what of this my Lord? Clau. Let me but moue one question to your daughter, And by that fatherly and kindly power, That you haue in her, bid her answer truly Leo. I charge thee doe, as thou art my childe Hero. O God defend me how am I beset, What kinde of catechizing call you this? Clau. To make you answer truly to your name Hero. Is it not Hero? who can blot that name With any iust reproach? Claud. Marry that can Hero, Hero it selfe can blot out Heroes vertue. What man was he, talkt with you yesternight, Out at your window betwixt twelue and one? Now if you are a maid, answer to this Hero. I talkt with no man at that howre my Lord Prince. Why then you are no maiden. Leonato, I am sorry you must heare: vpon mine honor, My selfe, my brother, and this grieued Count Did see her, heare her, at that howre last night, Talke with a ruffian at her chamber window, Who hath indeed most like a liberall villaine, Confest the vile encounters they haue had A thousand times in secret Iohn. Fie, fie, they are not to be named my Lord, Not to be spoken of, There is not chastitie enough in language, Without offence to vtter them: thus pretty Lady I am sorry for thy much misgouernment Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart? But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie, For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue, And on my eie-lids shall Coniecture hang, To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme, And neuer shall it more be gracious Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me? Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down? Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light, Smother her spirits vp Bene. How doth the Lady? Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle, Hero, why Hero, Vncle, Signor Benedicke, Frier Leonato. O Fate! take not away thy heauy hand, Death is the fairest couer for her shame That may be wisht for Beatr. How now cosin Hero? Fri. Haue comfort Ladie Leon. Dost thou looke vp? Frier. Yea, wherefore should she not? Leon. Wherfore? Why doth not euery earthly thing Cry shame vpon her? Could she heere denie The storie that is printed in her blood? Do not liue Hero, do not ope thine eyes: For did I thinke thou wouldst not quickly die, Thought I thy spirits were stronger then thy shames, My selfe would on the reward of reproaches Strike at thy life. Grieu'd I, I had but one? Chid I, for that at frugal Natures frame? O one too much by thee: why had I one? Why euer was't thou louelie in my eies? Why had I not with charitable hand Tooke vp a beggars issue at my gates, Who smeered thus, and mir'd with infamie, I might haue said, no part of it is mine: This shame deriues it selfe from vnknowne loines, But mine, and mine I lou'd, and mine I prais'd, And mine that I was proud on mine so much, That I my selfe, was to my selfe not mine: Valewing of her, why she, O she is falne Into a pit of Inke, that the wide sea Hath drops too few to wash her cleane againe, And salt too little, which may season giue To her foule tainted flesh Ben. Sir, sir, be patient: for my part, I am so attired in wonder, I know not what to say Bea. O on my soule my cosin is belied Ben. Ladie, were you her bedfellow last night? Bea. No, truly: not although vntill last night, I haue this tweluemonth bin her bedfellow Leon. Confirm'd, confirm'd, O that is stronger made Which was before barr'd vp with ribs of iron. Would the Princes lie, and Claudio lie, Who lou'd her so, that speaking of her foulnesse, Wash'd it with teares? Hence from her, let her die Fri. Heare me a little, for I haue onely bene silent so long, and giuen way vnto this course of fortune, by noting of the Ladie, I haue markt. A thousand blushing apparitions, To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames, In Angel whitenesse beare away those blushes, And in her eie there hath appear'd a fire To burne the errors that these Princes hold Against her maiden truth. Call me a foole, Trust not my reading, nor my obseruations, Which with experimental seale doth warrant The tenure of my booke: trust not my age, My reuerence, calling, nor diuinitie, If this sweet Ladie lye not guiltlesse heere, Vnder some biting error Leo. Friar, it cannot be: Thou seest that all the Grace that she hath left, Is, that she wil not adde to her damnation, A sinne of periury, she not denies it: Why seek'st thou then to couer with excuse, That which appeares in proper nakednesse? Fri. Ladie, what man is he you are accus'd of? Hero. They know that do accuse me, I know none: If I know more of any man aliue Then that which maiden modestie doth warrant, Let all my sinnes lacke mercy. O my Father, Proue you that any man with me conuerst, At houres vnmeete, or that I yesternight Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death Fri. There is some strange misprision in the Princes Ben. Two of them haue the verie bent of honor, And if their wisedomes be misled in this: The practise of it liues in Iohn the bastard, Whose spirits toile in frame of villanies Leo. I know not: if they speake but truth of her, These hands shall teare her: If they wrong her honour, The proudest of them shall wel heare of it. Time hath not yet so dried this bloud of mine, Nor age so eate vp my inuention, Nor Fortune made such hauocke of my meanes, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall finde, awak'd in such a kinde, Both strength of limbe, and policie of minde, Ability in meanes, and choise of friends, To quit me of them throughly Fri. Pause awhile: And let my counsell sway you in this case, Your daughter heere the Princesse (left for dead) Let her awhile be secretly kept in, And publish it, that she is dead indeed: Maintaine a mourning ostentation, And on your Families old monument, Hang mournfull Epitaphes, and do all rites, That appertaine vnto a buriall Leon. What shall become of this? What wil this do? Fri. Marry this wel carried, shall on her behalfe, Change slander to remorse, that is some good, But not for that dreame I on this strange course, But on this trauaile looke for greater birth: She dying, as it must be so maintain'd, Vpon the instant that she was accus'd, Shal be lamented, pittied, and excus'd Of euery hearer: for it so fals out, That what we haue, we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enioy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why then we racke the value, then we finde The vertue that possession would not shew vs Whiles it was ours, so will it fare with Claudio: When he shal heare she dyed vpon his words, Th' Idea of her life shal sweetly creepe Into his study of imagination. And euery louely Organ of her life, Shall come apparel'd in more precious habite: More mouing delicate, and ful of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soule Then when she liu'd indeed: then shal he mourne, If euer Loue had interest in his Liuer, And wish he had not so accused her: No, though he thought his accusation true: Let this be so, and doubt not but successe Wil fashion the euent in better shape, Then I can lay it downe in likelihood. But if all ayme but this be leuelld false, The supposition of the Ladies death, Will quench the wonder of her infamie. And if it sort not well, you may conceale her As best befits her wounded reputation, In some reclusiue and religious life, Out of all eyes, tongues, mindes and iniuries Bene. Signior Leonato, let the Frier aduise you, And though you know my inwardnesse and loue Is very much vnto the Prince and Claudio. Yet, by mine honor, I will deale in this, As secretly and iustlie, as your soule Should with your bodie Leon. Being that I flow in greefe, The smallest twine may lead me Frier. 'Tis well consented, presently away, For to strange sores, strangely they straine the cure, Come Lady, die to liue, this wedding day Perhaps is but prolong'd, haue patience & endure. Enter. Bene. Lady Beatrice, haue you wept all this while? Beat. Yea, and I will weepe a while longer Bene. I will not desire that Beat. You haue no reason, I doe it freely Bene. Surelie I do beleeue your fair cosin is wrong'd Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserue of mee that would right her! Bene. Is there any way to shew such friendship? Beat. A verie euen way, but no such friend Bene. May a man doe it? Beat. It is a mans office, but not yours Bene. I doe loue nothing in the world so well as you, is not that strange? Beat. As strange as the thing I know not, it were as possible for me to say, I loued nothing so well as you, but beleeue me not, and yet I lie not, I confesse nothing, nor I deny nothing, I am sorry for my cousin Bene. By my sword Beatrice thou lou'st me Beat. Doe not sweare by it and eat it Bene. I will sweare by it that you loue mee, and I will make him eat it that sayes I loue not you Beat. Will you not eat your word? Bene. With no sawce that can be deuised to it, I protest I loue thee Beat. Why then God forgiue me Bene. What offence sweet Beatrice? Beat. You haue stayed me in a happy howre, I was about to protest I loued you Bene. And doe it with all thy heart Beat. I loue you with so much of my heart, that none is left to protest Bened. Come, bid me doe any thing for thee Beat. Kill Claudio Bene. Ha, not for the wide world Beat. You kill me to denie, farewell Bene. Tarrie sweet Beatrice Beat. I am gone, though I am heere, there is no loue in you, nay I pray you let me goe Bene. Beatrice Beat. Infaith I will goe Bene. Wee'll be friends first Beat. You dare easier be friends with mee, than fight with mine enemy Bene. Is Claudio thine enemie? Beat. Is a not approued in the height a villaine, that hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O that I were a man! what, beare her in hand vntill they come to take hands, and then with publike accusation vncouered slander, vnmittigated rancour? O God that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the market-place Bene. Heare me Beatrice Beat. Talke with a man out at a window, a proper saying Bene. Nay but Beatrice Beat. Sweet Hero, she is wrong'd, shee is slandered, she is vndone Bene. Beat? Beat. Princes and Counties! surelie a Princely testimonie, a goodly Count, Comfect, a sweet Gallant surelie, O that I were a man for his sake! or that I had any friend would be a man for my sake! But manhood is melted into cursies, valour into complement, and men are onelie turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, that only tells a lie, and sweares it: I cannot be a man with wishing, therfore I will die a woman with grieuing Bene. Tarry good Beatrice, by this hand I loue thee Beat. Vse it for my loue some other way then swearing by it Bened. Thinke you in your soule the Count Claudio hath wrong'd Hero? Beat. Yea, as sure as I haue a thought, or a soule Bene. Enough, I am engagde, I will challenge him, I will kisse your hand, and so leaue you: by this hand Claudio shall render me a deere account: as you heare of me, so thinke of me: goe comfort your coosin, I must say she is dead, and so farewell. Enter the Constables, Borachio, and the Towne Clerke in gownes. Keeper. Is our whole dissembly appeard? Cowley. O a stoole and a cushion for the Sexton Sexton. Which be the malefactors? Andrew. Marry that am I, and my partner Cowley. Nay that's certaine, wee haue the exhibition to examine Sexton. But which are the offenders that are to be examined, let them come before master Constable Kemp. Yea marry, let them come before mee, what is your name, friend? Bor. Borachio Kem. Pray write downe Borachio. Yours sirra Con. I am a Gentleman sir, and my name is Conrade Kee. Write downe Master gentleman Conrade: maisters, doe you serue God: maisters, it is proued alreadie that you are little better than false knaues, and it will goe neere to be thought so shortly, how answer you for your selues? Con. Marry sir, we say we are none Kemp. A maruellous witty fellow I assure you, but I will goe about with him: come you hither sirra, a word in your eare sir, I say to you, it is thought you are false knaues Bor. Sir, I say to you, we are none Kemp. Well, stand aside, 'fore God they are both in a tale: haue you writ downe that they are none? Sext. Master Constable, you goe not the way to examine, you must call forth the watch that are their accusers Kemp. Yea marry, that's the eftest way, let the watch come forth: masters, I charge you in the Princes name, accuse these men Watch 1. This man said sir, that Don Iohn the Princes brother was a villaine Kemp. Write down, Prince Iohn a villaine: why this is flat periurie, to call a Princes brother villaine Bora. Master Constable Kemp. Pray thee fellow peace, I do not like thy looke I promise thee Sexton. What heard you him say else? Watch 2. Mary that he had receiued a thousand Dukates of Don Iohn, for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully Kemp. Flat Burglarie as euer was committed Const. Yea by th' masse that it is Sexton. What else fellow? Watch 1. And that Count Claudio did meane vpon his words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, and not marry her Kemp. O villaine! thou wilt be condemn'd into euerlasting redemption for this Sexton. What else? Watch. This is all Sexton. And this is more masters then you can deny, Prince Iohn is this morning secretly stolne away: Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very manner refus'd, and vpon the griefe of this sodainely died: Master Constable, let these men be bound, and brought to Leonato, I will goe before, and shew him their examination Const. Come, let them be opinion'd Sex. Let them be in the hands of Coxcombe Kem. Gods my life, where's the Sexton? let him write downe the Princes Officer Coxcombe: come, binde them thou naughty varlet Couley. Away, you are an asse, you are an asse Kemp. Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not suspect my yeeres? O that hee were heere to write mee downe an asse! but masters, remember that I am an asse: though it be not written down, yet forget not y I am an asse: No thou villaine, y art full of piety as shall be prou'd vpon thee by good witnesse, I am a wise fellow, and which is more, an officer, and which is more, a houshoulder, and which is more, as pretty a peece of flesh as any in Messina, and one that knowes the Law, goe to, & a rich fellow enough, goe to, and a fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gownes, and euery thing handsome about him: bring him away: O that I had been writ downe an asse! Enter. Actus Quintus. Enter Leonato and his brother. Brother. If you goe on thus, you will kill your selfe, And 'tis not wisedome thus to second griefe, Against your selfe Leon. I pray thee cease thy counsaile, Which falls into mine eares as profitlesse, As water in a siue: giue not me counsaile, Nor let no comfort delight mine eare, But such a one whose wrongs doth sute with mine. Bring me a father that so lou'd his childe, Whose ioy of her is ouer-whelmed like mine, And bid him speake of patience, Measure his woe the length and bredth of mine, And let it answere euery straine for straine, As thus for thus, and such a griefe for such, In euery lineament, branch, shape, and forme: If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, And sorrow, wagge, crie hem, when he should grone, Patch griefe with prouerbs, make misfortune drunke, With candle-wasters: bring him yet to me, And I of him will gather patience: But there is no such man, for brother, men Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe, Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it, Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before, Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage, Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred, Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words, No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow: But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie To be so morall, when he shall endure The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile, My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud, For there was neuer yet Philosopher, That could endure the tooth-ake patiently, How euer they haue writ the stile of gods, And made a push at chance and sufferance Brother. Yet bend not all the harme vpon your selfe, Make those that doe offend you, suffer too Leon. There thou speak'st reason, nay I will doe so, My soule doth tell me, Hero is belied, And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, And all of them that thus dishonour her. Enter Prince and Claudio. Brot. Here comes the Prince and Claudio hastily Prin. Good den, good den Clau. Good day to both of you Leon. Heare you my Lords? Prin. We haue some haste Leonato Leo. Some haste my Lord! wel, fareyouwel my Lord, Are you so hasty now? well, all is one Prin. Nay, do not quarrel with vs, good old man Brot. If he could rite himselfe with quarrelling, Some of vs would lie low Claud. Who wrongs him? Leon. Marry y dost wrong me, thou dissembler, thou: Nay, neuer lay thy hand vpon thy sword, I feare thee not Claud. Marry beshrew my hand, If it should giue your age such cause of feare, Infaith my hand meant nothing to my sword Leonato. Tush, tush, man, neuer fleere and iest at me, I speake not like a dotard, nor a foole, As vnder priuiledge of age to bragge, What I haue done being yong, or what would doe, Were I not old, know Claudio to thy head, Thou hast so wrong'd my innocent childe and me, That I am forc'd to lay my reuerence by, And with grey haires and bruise of many daies, Doe challenge thee to triall of a man, I say thou hast belied mine innocent childe. Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, And she lies buried with her ancestors: O in a tombe where neuer scandall slept, Saue this of hers, fram'd by thy villanie Claud. My villany? Leonato. Thine Claudio, thine I say Prin. You say not right old man Leon. My Lord, my Lord, Ile proue it on his body if he dare, Despight his nice fence, and his actiue practise, His Maie of youth, and bloome of lustihood Claud. Away, I will not haue to do with you Leo. Canst thou so daffe me? thou hast kild my child, If thou kilst me, boy, thou shalt kill a man Bro. He shall kill two of vs, and men indeed, But that's no matter, let him kill one first: Win me and weare me, let him answere me, Come follow me boy, come sir boy, come follow me Sir boy, ile whip you from your foyning fence, Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will Leon. Brother Brot. Content your self, God knows I lou'd my neece, And she is dead, slander'd to death by villaines, That dare as well answer a man indeede, As I dare take a serpent by the tongue. Boyes, apes, braggarts, Iackes, milke-sops Leon. Brother Anthony Brot. Hold you content, what man? I know them, yea And what they weigh, euen to the vtmost scruple, Scambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boyes, That lye, and cog, and flout, depraue, and slander, Goe antiquely, and show outward hidiousnesse, And speake of halfe a dozen dang'rous words, How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst. And this is all Leon. But brother Anthonie Ant. Come, 'tis no matter, Do not you meddle, let me deale in this Pri. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience My heart is sorry for your daughters death: But on my honour she was charg'd with nothing But what was true, and very full of proofe Leon. My Lord, my Lord Prin. I will not heare you. Enter Benedicke. Leo. No come brother, away, I will be heard. Exeunt. ambo. Bro. And shall, or some of vs will smart for it Prin. See, see, here comes the man we went to seeke Clau. Now signior, what newes? Ben. Good day my Lord Prin. Welcome signior, you are almost come to part almost a fray Clau. Wee had likt to haue had our two noses snapt off with two old men without teeth Prin. Leonato and his brother, what think'st thou? had wee fought, I doubt we should haue beene too yong for them Ben. In a false quarrell there is no true valour, I came to seeke you both Clau. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke thee, for we are high proofe melancholly, and would faine haue it beaten away, wilt thou vse thy wit? Ben. It is in my scabberd, shall I draw it? Prin. Doest thou weare thy wit by thy side? Clau. Neuer any did so, though verie many haue been beside their wit, I will bid thee drawe, as we do the minstrels, draw to pleasure vs Prin. As I am an honest man he lookes pale, art thou sicke, or angrie? Clau. What, courage man: what though care kil'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care Ben. Sir, I shall meete your wit in the careere, and you charge it against me, I pray you chuse another subiect Clau. Nay then giue him another staffe, this last was broke crosse Prin. By this light, he changes more and more, I thinke he be angrie indeede Clau. If he be, he knowes how to turne his girdle Ben. Shall I speake a word in your eare? Clau. God blesse me from a challenge Ben. You are a villaine, I iest not, I will make it good how you dare, with what you dare, and when you dare: do me right, or I will protest your cowardise: you haue kill'd a sweete Ladie, and her death shall fall heauie on you, let me heare from you Clau. Well, I will meete you, so I may haue good cheare Prin. What, a feast, a feast? Clau. I faith I thanke him, he hath bid me to a calues head and a Capon, the which if I doe not carue most curiously, say my knife's naught, shall I not finde a woodcocke too? Ben. Sir, your wit ambles well, it goes easily Prin. Ile tell thee how Beatrice prais'd thy wit the other day: I said thou hadst a fine wit: true saies she, a fine little one: no said I, a great wit: right saies shee, a great grosse one: nay said I, a good wit: iust said she, it hurts no body: nay said I, the gentleman is wise: certaine said she, a wise gentleman: nay said I, he hath the tongues: that I beleeue said shee, for hee swore a thing to me on munday night, which he forswore on tuesday morning: there's a double tongue, there's two tongues: thus did shee an howre together trans-shape thy particular vertues, yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou wast the proprest man in Italie Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said shee car'd not Prin. Yea that she did, but yet for all that, and if shee did not hate him deadlie, shee would loue him dearely, the old mans daughter told vs all Clau. All, all, and moreouer, God saw him when he was hid in the garden Prin. But when shall we set the sauage Bulls hornes on the sensible Benedicks head? Clau. Yea and text vnderneath, heere dwells Benedicke the married man Ben. Fare you well, Boy, you know my minde, I will leaue you now to your gossep-like humor, you breake iests as braggards do their blades, which God be thanked hurt not: my Lord, for your manie courtesies I thank you, I must discontinue your companie, your brother the Bastard is fled from Messina: you haue among you, kill'd a sweet and innocent Ladie: for my Lord Lackebeard there, he and I shall meete, and till then peace be with him Prin. He is in earnest Clau. In most profound earnest, and Ile warrant you, for the loue of Beatrice Prin. And hath challeng'd thee Clau. Most sincerely Prin. What a prettie thing man is, when he goes in his doublet and hose, and leaues off his wit. Enter Constable, Conrade, and Borachio. Clau. He is then a Giant to an Ape, but then is an Ape a Doctor to such a man Prin. But soft you, let me be, plucke vp my heart, and be sad, did he not say my brother was fled? Const. Come you sir, if iustice cannot tame you, shee shall nere weigh more reasons in her ballance, nay, and you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be lookt to Prin. How now, two of my brothers men bound? Borachio one Clau. Harken after their offence my Lord Prin. Officers, what offence haue these men done? Const. Marrie sir, they haue committed false report, moreouer they haue spoken vntruths, secondarily they are slanders, sixt and lastly, they haue belyed a Ladie, thirdly, they haue verified vniust things, and to conclude they are lying knaues Prin. First I aske thee what they haue done, thirdlie I aske thee what's their offence, sixt and lastlie why they are committed, and to conclude, what you lay to their charge Clau. Rightlie reasoned, and in his owne diuision, and by my troth there's one meaning well suted Prin. Who haue you offended masters, that you are thus bound to your answer? this learned Constable is too cunning to be vnderstood, what's your offence? Bor. Sweete Prince, let me go no farther to mine answere: do you heare me, and let this Count kill mee: I haue deceiued euen your verie eies: what your wisedomes could not discouer, these shallow fooles haue brought to light, who in the night ouerheard me confessing to this man, how Don Iohn your brother incensed me to slander the Ladie Hero, how you were brought into the Orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Heroes garments, how you disgrac'd her when you should marrie her: my villanie they haue vpon record, which I had rather seale with my death, then repeate ouer to my shame: the Ladie is dead vpon mine and my masters false accusation: and briefelie, I desire nothing but the reward of a villaine Prin. Runs not this speech like yron through your bloud? Clau. I haue drunke poison whiles he vtter'd it Prin. But did my Brother set thee on to this? Bor. Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it Prin. He is compos'd and fram'd of treacherie, And fled he is vpon this villanie Clau. Sweet Hero, now thy image doth appeare In the rare semblance that I lou'd it first Const. Come, bring away the plaintiffes, by this time our Sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: and masters, do not forget to specifie when time & place shall serue, that I am an Asse Con.2. Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the Sexton too. Enter Leonato. Leon. Which is the villaine? let me see his eies, That when I note another man like him, I may auoide him: which of these is he? Bor. If you would know your wronger, looke on me Leon. Art thou the slaue that with thy breath hast kild mine innocent childe? Bor. Yea, euen I alone Leo. No, not so villaine, thou beliest thy selfe, Here stand a paire of honourable men, A third is fled that had a hand in it: I thanke you Princes for my daughters death, Record it with your high and worthie deedes, 'Twas brauely done, if you bethinke you of it Clau. I know not how to pray your patience, Yet I must speake, choose your reuenge your selfe, Impose me to what penance your inuention Can lay vpon my sinne, yet sinn'd I not, But in mistaking Prin. By my soule nor I, And yet to satisfie this good old man, I would bend vnder anie heauie waight, That heele enioyne me to Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter liue, That were impossible, but I praie you both, Possesse the people in Messina here, How innocent she died, and if your loue Can labour aught in sad inuention, Hang her an epitaph vpon her toomb, And sing it to her bones, sing it to night: To morrow morning come you to my house, And since you could not be my sonne in law, Be yet my Nephew: my brother hath a daughter, Almost the copie of my childe that's dead, And she alone is heire to both of vs, Giue her the right you should haue giu'n her cosin, And so dies my reuenge Clau. O noble sir! Your ouerkindnesse doth wring teares from me, I do embrace your offer, and dispose For henceforth of poore Claudio Leon. To morrow then I will expect your comming, To night I take my leaue, this naughtie man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who I beleeue was packt in all this wrong, Hired to it by your brother Bor. No, by my soule she was not, Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, But alwaies hath bin iust and vertuous, In anie thing that I do know by her Const. Moreouer sir, which indeede is not vnder white and black, this plaintiffe here, the offendour did call mee asse, I beseech you let it be remembred in his punishment, and also the watch heard them talke of one Deformed, they say he weares a key in his eare and a lock hanging by it, and borrowes monie in Gods name, the which he hath vs'd so long, and neuer paied, that now men grow hard-harted and will lend nothing for Gods sake: praie you examine him vpon that point Leon. I thanke thee for thy care and honest paines Const. Your worship speakes like a most thankefull and reuerend youth, and I praise God for you Leon. There's for thy paines Const. God saue the foundation Leon. Goe, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thanke thee Const. I leaue an arrant knaue with your worship, which I beseech your worship to correct your selfe, for the example of others: God keepe your worship, I wish your worship well, God restore you to health, I humblie giue you leaue to depart, and if a merrie meeting may be wisht, God prohibite it: come neighbour Leon. Vntill to morrow morning, Lords, farewell. Exeunt. Brot. Farewell my Lords, we looke for you to morrow Prin. We will not faile Clau. To night ile mourne with Hero Leon. Bring you these fellowes on, weel talke with Margaret, How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. Exeunt. Enter Benedicke and Margaret. Ben. Praie thee sweete Mistris Margaret, deserue well at my hands, by helping mee to the speech of Beatrice Mar. Will you then write me a Sonnet in praise of my beautie? Bene. In so high a stile Margaret, that no man liuing shall come ouer it, for in most comely truth thou deseruest it Mar. To haue no man come ouer me, why, shall I alwaies keepe below staires? Bene. Thy wit is as quicke as the grey-hounds mouth, it catches Mar. And yours, as blunt as the Fencers foiles, which hit, but hurt not Bene. A most manly wit Margaret, it will not hurt a woman: and so I pray thee call Beatrice, I giue thee the bucklers Mar. Giue vs the swords, wee haue bucklers of our owne Bene. If you vse them Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice, and they are dangerous weapons for Maides Mar. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I thinke hath legges. Exit Margarite. Ben. And therefore will come. The God of loue that sits aboue, and knowes me, and knowes me, how pittifull I deserue. I meane in singing, but in louing, Leander the good swimmer, Troilous the first imploier of pandars, and a whole booke full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose name yet runne smoothly in the euen rode of a blanke verse, why they were neuer so truely turned ouer and ouer as my poore selfe in loue: marrie I cannot shew it rime, I haue tried, I can finde out no rime to Ladie but babie, an innocent rime: for scorne, horne, a hard rime: for schoole foole, a babling rime: verie ominous endings, no, I was not borne vnder a riming Plannet, for I cannot wooe in festiuall tearmes: Enter Beatrice. sweete Beatrice would'st thou come when I cal'd thee? Beat. Yea Signior, and depart when you bid me Bene. O stay but till then Beat. Then, is spoken: fare you well now, and yet ere I goe, let me goe with that I came, which is, with knowing what hath past betweene you and Claudio Bene. Onely foule words, and thereupon I will kisse thee Beat. Foule words is but foule wind, and foule wind is but foule breath, and foule breath is noisome, therefore I will depart vnkist Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sence, so forcible is thy wit, but I must tell thee plainely, Claudio vndergoes my challenge, and either I must shortly heare from him, or I will subscribe him a coward, and I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in loue with me? Beat. For them all together, which maintain'd so politique a state of euill, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them: but for which of my good parts did you first suffer loue for me? Bene. Suffer loue! a good epithite, I do suffer loue indeede, for I loue thee against my will, Beat. In spight of your heart I think, alas poore heart, if you spight it for my sake, I will spight it for yours, for I will neuer loue that which my friend hates Bened. Thou and I are too wise to wooe peaceablie Bea. It appeares not in this confession, there's not one wise man among twentie that will praise himselfe Bene. An old, an old instance Beatrice, that liu'd in the time of good neighbours, if a man doe not erect in this age his owne tombe ere he dies, hee shall liue no longer in monuments, then the Bels ring, & the Widdow weepes Beat. And how long is that thinke you? Ben. Question, why an hower in clamour and a quarter in rhewme, therfore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don worme (his conscience) finde no impediment to the contrarie, to be the trumpet of his owne vertues, as I am to my selfe so much for praising my selfe, who I my selfe will beare witnesse is praise worthie, and now tell me, how doth your cosin? Beat. Verie ill Bene. And how doe you? Beat. Verie ill too. Enter Vrsula. Bene. Serue God, loue me, and mend, there will I leaue you too, for here comes one in haste Vrs. Madam, you must come to your Vncle, yonders old coile at home, it is prooued my Ladie Hero hath bin falselie accusde, the Prince and Claudio mightilie abusde, and Don Iohn is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presentlie? Beat. Will you go heare this newes Signior? Bene. I will liue in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eies: and moreouer, I will goe with thee to thy Vncles. Exeunt. Enter Claudio, Prince, and three or foure with Tapers. Clau. Is this the monument of Leonato? Lord. It is my Lord. Epitaph. Done to death by slanderous tongues, Was the Hero that here lies: Death in guerdon of her wrongs, Giues her fame which neuer dies: So the life that dyed with shame, Liues in death with glorious fame. Hang thou there vpon the tombe, Praising her when I am dombe Clau. Now musick sound & sing your solemn hymne Song. Pardon goddesse of the night, Those that slew thy virgin knight, For the which with songs of woe, Round about her tombe they goe: Midnight assist our mone, helpe vs to sigh and grone. Heauily, heauily. Graues yawne and yeelde your dead, Till death be vttered, Heauenly, heauenly Lo. Now vnto thy bones good night, yeerely will I do this right Prin. Good morrow masters, put your Torches out, The wolues haue preied, and looke, the gentle day Before the wheeles of Phoebus, round about Dapples the drowsie East with spots of grey: Thanks to you all, and leaue vs, fare you well Clau. Good morrow masters, each his seuerall way Prin. Come let vs hence, and put on other weedes, And then to Leonatoes we will goe Clau. And Hymen now with luckier issue speeds, Then this for whom we rendred vp this woe. Exeunt. Enter Leonato, Bene. Marg. Vrsula, old man, Frier, Hero. Frier. Did I not tell you she was innocent? Leo. So are the Prince and Claudio who accus'd her, Vpon the errour that you heard debated: But Margaret was in some fault for this, Although against her will as it appeares, In the true course of all the question Old. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it Leo. Well daughter, and you gentlewomen all, Withdraw into a chamber by your selues, And when I send for you, come hither mask'd: The Prince and Claudio promis'd by this howre To visit me, you know your office Brother, You must be father to your brothers daughter, And giue her to young Claudio. Exeunt. Ladies. Old. Which I will doe with confirm'd countenance Bene. Frier, I must intreat your paines, I thinke Frier. To doe what Signior? Bene. To binde me, or vndoe me, one of them: Signior Leonato, truth it is good Signior, Your neece regards me with an eye of fauour Leo. That eye my daughter lent her, 'tis most true Bene. And I doe with an eye of loue requite her Leo. The sight whereof I thinke you had from me, From Claudio, and the Prince, but what's your will? Bened. Your answer sir is Enigmaticall, But for my will, my will is, your good will May stand with ours, this day to be conioyn'd, In the state of honourable marriage, In which (good Frier) I shall desire your helpe Leon. My heart is with your liking Frier. And my helpe. Enter Prince and Claudio, with attendants. Prin. Good morrow to this faire assembly Leo. Good morrow Prince, good morrow Claudio: We heere attend you, are you yet determin'd, To day to marry with my brothers daughter? Claud. Ile hold my minde were she an Ethiope Leo. Call her forth brother, heres the Frier ready Prin. Good morrow Benedicke, why what's the matter? That you haue such a Februarie face, So full of frost, of storme, and clowdinesse Claud. I thinke he thinkes vpon the sauage bull: Tush, feare not man, wee'll tip thy hornes with gold, And all Europa shall reioyce at thee, As once Europa did at lusty Ioue, When he would play the noble beast in loue Ben. Bull Ioue sir, had an amiable low, And some such strange bull leapt your fathers Cow, A got a Calfe in that same noble feat, Much like to you, for you haue iust his bleat. Enter brother, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, Vrsula. Cla. For this I owe you: here comes other recknings. Which is the Lady I must seize vpon? Leo. This same is she, and I doe giue you her Cla. Why then she's mine, sweet let me see your face Leon. No that you shal not, till you take her hand, Before this Frier, and sweare to marry her Clau. Giue me your hand before this holy Frier, I am your husband if you like of me Hero. And when I liu'd I was your other wife, And when you lou'd, you were my other husband Clau. Another Hero? Hero. Nothing certainer. One Hero died, but I doe liue, And surely as I liue, I am a maid Prin. The former Hero, Hero that is dead Leon. Shee died my Lord, but whiles her slander liu'd Frier. All this amazement can I qualifie, When after that the holy rites are ended, Ile tell you largely of faire Heroes death: Meane time let wonder seeme familiar, And to the chappell let vs presently Ben. Soft and faire Frier, which is Beatrice? Beat. I answer to that name, what is your will? Bene. Doe not you loue me? Beat. Why no, no more then reason Bene. Why then your Vncle, and the Prince, & Claudio, haue beene deceiued, they swore you did Beat. Doe not you loue mee? Bene. Troth no, no more then reason Beat. Why then my Cosin Margaret and Vrsula Are much deceiu'd, for they did sweare you did Bene. They swore you were almost sicke for me Beat. They swore you were wel-nye dead for me Bene. 'Tis no matter, then you doe not loue me? Beat. No truly, but in friendly recompence Leon. Come Cosin, I am sure you loue the gentlema[n] Clau. And Ile be sworne vpon't, that he loues her, For heres a paper written in his hand, A halting sonnet of his owne pure braine, Fashioned to Beatrice Hero. And heeres another, Writ in my cosins hand, stolne from her pocket, Containing her affection vnto Benedicke Bene. A miracle, here's our owne hands against our hearts: come I will haue thee, but by this light I take thee for pittie Beat. I would not denie you, but by this good day, I yeeld vpon great perswasion, & partly to saue your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption Leon. Peace I will stop your mouth Prin. How dost thou Benedicke the married man? Bene. Ile tell thee what Prince: a Colledge of witte-crackers cannot flout mee out of my humour, dost thou think I care for a Satyre or an Epigram? no, if a man will be beaten with braines, a shall weare nothing handsome about him: in briefe, since I do purpose to marry, I will thinke nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it, and therefore neuer flout at me, for I haue said against it: for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion: for thy part Claudio, I did thinke to haue beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, liue vnbruis'd, and loue my cousin Cla. I had well hop'd y wouldst haue denied Beatrice, y I might haue cudgel'd thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer, which out of questio[n] thou wilt be, if my Cousin do not looke exceeding narrowly to thee Bene. Come, come, we are friends, let's haue a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wiues heeles Leon. Wee'll haue dancing afterward Bene. First, of my word, therfore play musick. Prince, thou art sad, get thee a wife, get thee a wife, there is no staff more reuerend then one tipt with horn. Enter. Mes. Messen. My Lord, your brother Iohn is tane in flight, And brought with armed men backe to Messina Bene. Thinke not on him till to morrow, ile deuise thee braue punishments for him: strike vp Pipers. Dance. FINIS. Much adoe about Nothing. Loues Labour's lost Actus primus. Enter Ferdinand King of Nauarre, Berowne, Longauill, and Dumane. Ferdinand. Let Fame, that all hunt after in their liues, Liue registred vpon our brazen Tombes, And then grace vs in the disgrace of death: when spight of cormorant deuouring Time, Th' endeuour of this present breath may buy: That honour which shall bate his sythes keene edge, And make vs heyres of all eternitie. Therefore braue Conquerours, for so you are, That warre against your owne affections, And the huge Armie of the worlds desires. Our late edict shall strongly stand in force, Nauar shall be the wonder of the world. Our Court shall be a little Achademe, Still and contemplatiue in liuing Art. You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longauill, Haue sworne for three yeeres terme, to liue with me: My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes That are recorded in this scedule heere. Your oathes are past, and now subscribe your names: That his owne hand may strike his honour downe, That violates the smallest branch heerein: If you are arm'd to doe, as sworne to do, Subscribe to your deepe oathes, and keepe it to Longauill. I am resolu'd, 'tis but a three yeeres fast: The minde shall banquet, though the body pine, Fat paunches haue leane pates: and dainty bits, Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits Dumane. My louing Lord, Dumane is mortified, The grosser manner of these worlds delights, He throwes vpon the grosse worlds baser slaues: To loue, to wealth, to pompe, I pine and die, With all these liuing in Philosophie Berowne. I can but say their protestation ouer, So much, deare Liege, I haue already sworne, That is, to liue and study heere three yeeres. But there are other strict obseruances: As not to see a woman in that terme, Which I hope well is not enrolled there. And one day in a weeke to touch no foode: And but one meale on euery day beside: The which I hope is not enrolled there. And then to sleepe but three houres in the night, And not be seene to winke of all the day. When I was wont to thinke no harme all night, And make a darke night too of halfe the day: Which I hope well is not enrolled there. O, these are barren taskes, too hard to keepe, Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe Ferd. Your oath is past, to passe away from these Berow. Let me say no my Liedge, and if you please, I onely swore to study with your grace, And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space Longa. You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest Berow. By yea and nay sir, than I swore in iest. What is the end of study, let me know? Fer. Why that to know which else wee should not know Ber. Things hid & bard (you meane) fro[m] co[m]mon sense Ferd. I, that is studies god-like recompence Bero. Come on then, I will sweare to studie so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus, to study where I well may dine, When I to fast expressely am forbid. Or studie where to meete some Mistresse fine, When Mistresses from common sense are hid. Or hauing sworne too hard a keeping oath, Studie to breake it, and not breake my troth. If studies gaine be thus, and this be so, Studie knowes that which yet it doth not know, Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no Ferd. These be the stops that hinder studie quite, And traine our intellects to vaine delight Ber. Why? all delights are vaine, and that most vaine Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherit paine, As painefully to poare vpon a Booke, To seeke the light of truth, while truth the while Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke: Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile: So ere you finde where light in darkenesse lies, Your light growes darke by losing of your eyes. Studie me how to please the eye indeede, By fixing it vpon a fairer eye, Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed, And giue him light that it was blinded by. Studie is like the heauens glorious Sunne, That will not be deepe search'd with sawcy lookes: Small haue continuall plodders euer wonne, Saue base authoritie from others Bookes. These earthly Godfathers of heauens lights, That giue a name to euery fixed Starre, Haue no more profit of their shining nights, Then those that walke and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame: And euery Godfather can giue a name Fer. How well hee's read, to reason against reading Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding Lon. Hee weedes the corne, and still lets grow the weeding Ber. The Spring is neare when greene geesse are a breeding Dum. How followes that? Ber. Fit in his place and time Dum. In reason nothing Ber. Something then in rime Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost, That bites the first borne infants of the Spring Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast, Before the Birds haue any cause to sing? Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth? At Christmas I no more desire a Rose, Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes: But like of each thing that in season growes. So you to studie now it is too late, That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate Fer. Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue Ber. No my good Lord, I haue sworn to stay with you. And though I haue for barbarisme spoke more, Then for that Angell knowledge you can say, Yet confident Ile keepe what I haue sworne, And bide the pennance of each three yeares day. Giue me the paper, let me reade the same, And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name Fer. How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame Ber. Item. That no woman shall come within a mile of my Court. Hath this bin proclaimed? Lon. Foure dayes agoe Ber. Let's see the penaltie. On paine of loosing her tongue. Who deuis'd this penaltie? Lon. Marry that did I Ber. Sweete Lord, and why? Lon. To fright them hence with that dread penaltie, A dangerous law against gentilitie. Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within the tearme of three yeares, hee shall indure such publique shame as the rest of the Court shall possibly deuise Ber. This Article my Liedge your selfe must breake, For well you know here comes in Embassie The French Kings daughter, with your selfe to speake: A Maide of grace and compleate maiestie, About surrender vp of Aquitaine: To her decrepit, sicke, and bed-rid Father. Therefore this Article is made in vaine, Or vainly comes th' admired Princesse hither Fer. What say you Lords? Why, this was quite forgot Ber. So Studie euermore is ouershot, While it doth study to haue what it would, It doth forget to doe the thing it should: And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, 'Tis won as townes with fire, so won, so lost Fer. We must of force dispence with this Decree, She must lye here on meere necessitie Ber. Necessity will make vs all forsworne Three thousand times within this three yeeres space: For euery man with his affects is borne, Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace. If I breake faith, this word shall breake for me, I am forsworne on meere necessitie. So to the Lawes at large I write my name, And he that breakes them in the least degree, Stands in attainder of eternall shame. Suggestions are to others as to me: But I beleeue although I seeme so loth, I am the last that will last keepe his oth. But is there no quicke recreation granted? Fer. I that there is, our Court you know is hanted With a refined trauailer of Spaine, A man in all the worlds new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his braine: One, who the musicke of his owne vaine tongue, Doth rauish like inchanting harmonie: A man of complements whom right and wrong Haue chose as vmpire of their mutinie. This childe of fancie that Armado hight, For interim to our studies shall relate, In high-borne words the worth of many a Knight: From tawnie Spaine lost in the worlds debate. How you delight my Lords, I know not I, But I protest I loue to heare him lie, And I will vse him for my Minstrelsie Bero. Armado is a most illustrious wight, A man of fire, new words, fashions owne Knight Lon. Costard the swaine and he, shall be our sport, And so to studie, three yeeres is but short. Enter a Constable with Costard with a Letter. Const. Which is the Dukes owne person Ber. This fellow, What would'st? Con. I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am his graces Tharborough: But I would see his own person in flesh and blood Ber. This is he Con. Signeor Arme, Arme commends you: Ther's villanie abroad, this letter will tell you more Clow. Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching mee Fer. A letter from the magnificent Armado Ber. How low soeuer the matter, I hope in God for high words Lon. A high hope for a low heauen, God grant vs patience Ber. To heare, or forbeare hearing Lon. To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderately, or to forbeare both Ber. Well sir, be it as the stile shall giue vs cause to clime in the merrinesse Clo. The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner Ber. In what manner? Clo. In manner and forme following sir all those three. I was seene with her in the Mannor house, sitting with her vpon the Forme, and taken following her into the Parke: which put to gether, is in manner and forme following. Now sir for the manner; It is the manner of a man to speake to a woman, for the forme in some forme Ber. For the following sir Clo. As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right Fer. Will you heare this Letter with attention? Ber. As we would heare an Oracle Clo. Such is the simplicitie of man to harken after the flesh Ferdinand. Great Deputie, the Welkins Vicegerent, and sole dominator of Nauar, my soules earths God, and bodies fostring patrone: Cost. Not a word of Costard yet Ferd. So it is Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true: but so Ferd. Peace, Clow. Be to me, and euery man that dares not fight Ferd. No words, Clow. Of other mens secrets I beseech you Ferd. So it is besieged with sable coloured melancholie, I did commend the blacke oppressing humour to the most wholesome Physicke of thy health-giuing ayre: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When beasts most grase, birds best pecke, and men sit downe to that nourishment which is called supper: So much for the time When. Now for the ground Which? which I meane I walkt vpon, it is ycliped, Thy Parke. Then for the place Where? where I meane I did encounter that obscene and most preposterous euent that draweth from my snow-white pen the ebon coloured Inke, which heere thou viewest, beholdest: suruayest, or seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east and by East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There did I see that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy myrth, Clown. Mee? Ferd. that vnletered small knowing soule, Clow Me? Ferd. that shallow vassall Clow. Still mee?) Ferd. which as I remember, hight Costard, Clow. O me) Ferd. sorted and consorted contrary to thy established proclaymed Edict and Continent, Cannon: Which with, o with, but with this I passion to say wherewith: Clo. With a Wench Ferd. With a childe of our Grandmother Eue, a female; or for thy more sweet understanding a woman: him, I (as my euer esteemed dutie prickes me on) haue sent to thee, to receiue the meed of punishment by the sweet Graces Officer Anthony Dull, a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, & estimation Anth. Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull Ferd. For Iaquenetta (so is the weaker vessell called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her as a vessell of thy Lawes furie, and shall at the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to triall. Thine in all complements of deuoted and heart-burning heat of dutie. Don Adriana de Armado Ber. This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that euer I heard Fer. I the best, for the worst. But sirra, What say you to this? Clo. Sir I confesse the Wench Fer. Did you heare the Proclamation? Clo. I doe confesse much of the hearing it, but little of the marking of it Fer. It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to bee taken with a Wench Clow. I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a Damosell Fer. Well, it was proclaimed Damosell Clo. This was no Damosell neyther sir, shee was a Virgin Fer. It is so varried to, for it was proclaimed Virgin Clo. If it were, I denie her Virginitie: I was taken with a Maide Fer. This Maid will not serue your turne sir Clo. This Maide will serue my turne sir Kin. Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall fast a Weeke with Branne and water Clo. I had rather pray a Moneth with Mutton and Porridge Kin. And Don Armado shall be your keeper. My Lord Berowne, see him deliuer'd ore, And goe we Lords to put in practice that, Which each to other hath so strongly sworne Bero. Ile lay my head to any good mans hat, These oathes and lawes will proue an idle scorne. Sirra, come on Clo. I suffer for the truth sir: for true it is, I was taken with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a true girle, and therefore welcome the sowre cup of prosperitie, affliction may one day smile againe, and vntill then sit downe sorrow. Enter. Enter Armado and Moth his Page. Arma. Boy, What signe is it when a man of great spirit growes melancholy? Boy. A great signe sir, that he will looke sad Brag. Why? sadnesse is one and the selfe-same thing deare impe Boy. No no, O Lord sir no Brag. How canst thou part sadnesse and melancholy my tender Iuuenall? Boy. By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough signeur Brag. Why tough signeur? Why tough signeur? Boy. Why tender Iuuenall? Why tender Iuuenall? Brag. I spoke it tender Iuuenall, as a congruent apathaton, appertaining to thy young daies, which we may nominate tender Boy. And I tough signeur, as an appertinent title to your olde time, which we may name tough Brag. Pretty and apt Boy. How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying prettie? Brag. Thou pretty because little Boy. Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt? Brag. And therefore apt, because quicke Boy. Speake you this in my praise Master? Brag. In thy condigne praise Boy. I will praise an Eele with the same praise Brag. What? that an Eele is ingenuous Boy. That an Eele is quicke Brag. I doe say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou heat'st my bloud Boy. I am answer'd sir Brag. I loue not to be crost Boy. He speakes the meere contrary, crosses loue not him Br. I haue promis'd to study iij. yeres with the Duke Boy. You may doe it in an houre sir Brag. Impossible Boy. How many is one thrice told? Bra. I am ill at reckning, it fits the spirit of a Tapster Boy. You are a gentleman and a gamester sir Brag. I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a compleat man Boy. Then I am sure you know how much the grosse summe of deus-ace amounts to Brag. It doth amount to one more then two Boy. Which the base vulgar call three Br. True Boy. Why sir is this such a peece of study? Now here's three studied, ere you'll thrice wink, & how easie it is to put yeres to the word three, and study three yeeres in two words, the dancing horse will tell you Brag. A most fine Figure Boy. To proue you a Cypher Brag. I will heereupon confesse I am in loue: and as it is base for a Souldier to loue; so am I in loue with a base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection, would deliuer mee from the reprobate thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and ransome him to any French Courtier for a new deuis'd curtsie. I thinke scorne to sigh, me thinkes I should out-sweare Cupid. Comfort me Boy, What great men haue beene in loue? Boy. Hercules Master Brag. Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare Boy, name more; and sweet my childe let them be men of good repute and carriage Boy. Sampson Master, he was a man of good carriage, great carriage: for hee carried the Towne-gates on his backe like a Porter: and he was in loue Brag. O well-knit Sampson, strong ioynted Sampson; I doe excell thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst mee in carrying gates. I am in loue too. Who was Sampsons loue my deare Moth? Boy. A Woman, Master Brag. Of what complexion? Boy. Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of the foure Brag. Tell me precisely of what complexion? Boy. Of the sea-water Greene sir Brag. Is that one of the foure complexions? Boy. As I haue read sir, and the best of them too Brag. Greene indeed is the colour of Louers: but to haue a Loue of that colour, methinkes Sampson had small reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit Boy. It was so sir, for she had a greene wit Brag. My Loue is most immaculate white and red Boy. Most immaculate thoughts Master, are mask'd vnder such colours Brag. Define, define, well educated infant Boy. My fathers witte, and my mothers tongue assist mee Brag. Sweet inuocation of a childe, most pretty and patheticall Boy. If shee be made of white and red, Her faults will nere be knowne: For blushin cheekes by faults are bred, And feares by pale white showne: Then if she feare, or be to blame, By this you shall not know, For still her cheekes possesse the same, Which natiue she doth owe: A dangerous rime master against the reason of white and redde Brag. Is there not a ballet Boy, of the King and the Begger? Boy. The world was very guilty of such a Ballet some three ages since, but I thinke now 'tis not to be found: or if it were, it would neither serue for the writing, nor the tune Brag. I will haue that subiect newly writ ore, that I may example my digression by some mighty president. Boy, I doe loue that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke with the rationall hinde Costard: she deserues well Boy. To bee whip'd: and yet a better loue then my Master Brag. Sing Boy, my spirit grows heauy in loue Boy. And that's great maruell, louing a light wench Brag. I say sing Boy. Forbeare till this company be past. Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench. Const. Sir, the Dukes pleasure, is that you keepe Costard safe, and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance, but hee must fast three daies a weeke: for this Damsell, I must keepe her at the Parke, shee is alowd for the Day-woman. Fare you well. Enter. Brag. I do betray my selfe with blushing: Maide Maid. Man Brag. I wil visit thee at the Lodge Maid. That's here by Brag. I know where it is situate Mai. Lord how wise you are! Brag. I will tell thee wonders Ma. With what face? Brag. I loue thee Mai. So I heard you say Brag. And so farewell Mai. Faire weather after you Clo. Come Iaquenetta, away. Exeunt. Brag. Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be pardoned Clo. Well sir, I hope when I doe it, I shall doe it on a full stomacke Brag. Thou shalt be heauily punished Clo. I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they are but lightly rewarded Clo. Take away this villaine, shut him vp Boy. Come you transgressing slaue, away Clow. Let mee not bee pent vp sir, I will fast being loose Boy. No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison Clow. Well, if euer I do see the merry dayes of desolation that I haue seene, some shall see Boy. What shall some see? Clow. Nay nothing, Master Moth, but what they looke vpon. It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore I will say nothing: I thanke God, I haue as little patience as another man, and therefore I can be quiet. Enter. Brag. I doe affect the very ground (which is base) where her shooe (which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a great argument of falshood) if I loue. And how can that be true loue, which is falsly attempted? Loue is a familiar, Loue is a Diuell. There is no euill Angell but Loue, yet Sampson was so tempted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so seduced, and hee had a very good witte. Cupids Butshaft is too hard for Hercules Clubbe, and therefore too much ods for a Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serue my turne: the Passado hee respects not, the Duello he regards not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glorie is to subdue men. Adue Valour, rust Rapier, bee still Drum, for your manager is in loue; yea hee loueth. Assist me some extemporall god of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne Sonnet. Deuise Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio. Enter. Finis Actus Primus. Actus Secunda. Enter the Princesse of France, with three attending Ladies, and three Lords Boyet. Now Madam summon vp your dearest spirits, Consider who the King your father sends: To whom he sends, and what's his Embassie. Your selfe, held precious in the worlds esteeme, To parlee with the sole inheritour Of all perfections that a man may owe, Matchlesse Nauarre, the plea of no lesse weight Then Aquitaine, a Dowrie for a Queene, Be now as prodigall of all deare grace, As Nature was in making Graces deare, When she did starue the generall world beside, And prodigally gaue them all to you Queen. Good L[ord]. Boyet, my beauty though but mean, Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye, Not vttred by base sale of chapmens tongues: I am lesse proud to heare you tell my worth, Then you much willing to be counted wise, In spending your wit in the praise of mine. But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet Prin. You are not ignorant all-telling fame Doth noyse abroad Nauar hath made a vow, Till painefull studie shall out-weare three yeares, No woman may approach his silent Court: Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course, Before we enter his forbidden gates, To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe Bold of your worthinesse, we single you, As our best mouing faire soliciter: Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, On serious businesse crauing quicke dispatch, Importunes personall conference with his grace. Haste, signifie so much while we attend, Like humble visag'd suters his high will Boy. Proud of imployment, willingly I goe. Enter. Prin. All pride is willing pride, and yours is so: Who are the Votaries my Louing Lords, that are vow-fellowes with this vertuous Duke? Lor. Longauill is one Princ. Know you the man? 1 Lady. I know him Madame at a marriage feast, Betweene L[ord]. Perigort and the beautious heire Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized. In Normandie saw I this Longauill, A man of soueraigne parts he is esteem'd: Well fitted in Arts, glorious in Armes: Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. The onely soyle of his faire vertues glosse, If vertues glosse will staine with any soile, Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a Will: Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wills, It should none spare that come within his power Prin. Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so? Lad.1. They say so most, that most his humors know Prin. such short liu'd wits do wither as they grow. Who are the rest? 2.Lad. The yong Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth, Of all that Vertue loue, for Vertue loued. Most power to doe most harme, least knowing ill: For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, And shape to win grace though she had no wit. I saw him at the Duke Alansoes once, And much too little of that good I saw, Is my report to his great worthinesse Rossa. Another of these Students at that time, Was there with him, as I haue heard a truth. Berowne they call him, but a merrier man, Within the limit of becomming mirth, I neuer spent an houres talke withall. His eye begets occasion for his wit, For euery obiect that the one doth catch, The other turnes to a mirth-mouing iest. Which his faire tongue (conceits expositor) Deliuers in such apt and gracious words, That aged eares play treuant at his tales, And yonger hearings are quite rauished. So sweet and voluble is his discourse Prin. God blesse my Ladies, are they all in loue? That euery one her owne hath garnished, With such bedecking ornaments of praise Ma. Heere comes Boyet. Enter Boyet. Prin. Now, what admittance Lord? Boyet. Nauar had notice of your faire approach; And he and his competitors in oath, Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady Before I came: Marrie thus much I haue learnt, He rather meanes to lodge you in the field, Like one that comes heere to besiege his Court, Then seeke a dispensation for his oath: To let you enter his vnpeopled house. Enter Nauar, Longauill, Dumaine, and Berowne. Heere comes Nauar Nau. Faire Princesse, welcom to the Court of Nauar Prin. Faire I giue you backe againe, and welcome I haue not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to bee yours, and welcome to the wide fields, too base to be mine Nau. You shall be welcome Madam to my Court Prin. I wil be welcome then, Conduct me thither Nau. Heare me deare Lady, I haue sworne an oath Prin. Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'll be forsworne Nau. Not for the world faire Madam, by my will Prin. Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els Nau. Your Ladiship is ignorant what it is Prin. Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise, Where now his knowledge must proue ignorance. I heare your grace hath sworne out House-keeping: 'Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord, And sinne to breake it: But pardon me, I am too sodaine bold, To teach a Teacher ill beseemeth me. Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming, And sodainly resolue me in my suite Nau. Madam, I will, if sodainly I may Prin. You will the sooner that I were away, For you'll proue periur'd if you make me stay Berow. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Rosa. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? Ber. I know you did Rosa. How needlesse was it then to ask the question? Ber. You must not be so quicke Rosa. 'Tis long of you y spur me with such questions Ber. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire Rosa. Not till it leaue the Rider in the mire Ber. What time a day? Rosa. The howre that fooles should aske Ber. Now faire befall your maske Rosa. Faire fall the face it couers Ber. And send you many louers Rosa. Amen, so you be none Ber. Nay then will I be gone Kin. Madame, your father heere doth intimate, The paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, Being but th' one halfe, of an intire summe, Disbursed by my father in his warres. But say that he, or we, as neither haue Receiu'd that summe; yet there remaines vnpaid A hundred thousand more: in surety of the which, One part of Aquitaine is bound to vs, Although not valued to the moneys worth. If then the King your father will restore But that one halfe which is vnsatisfied, We will giue vp our right in Aquitaine, And hold faire friendship with his Maiestie: But that it seemes he little purposeth, For here he doth demand to haue repaie, An hundred thousand Crownes, and not demands One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes, To haue his title liue in Aquitaine. Which we much rather had depart withall, And haue the money by our father lent, Then Aquitane, so guelded as it is. Deare Princesse, were not his requests so farre From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make A yeelding 'gainst some reason in my brest, And goe well satisfied to France againe Prin. You doe the King my Father too much wrong, And wrong the reputation of your name, In so vnseeming to confesse receyt Of that which hath so faithfully beene paid Kin. I doe protest I neuer heard of it, And if you proue it, Ile repay it backe, Or yeeld vp Aquitaine Prin. We arrest your word: Boyet, you can produce acquittances For such a summe, from speciall Officers, Of Charles his Father Kin. Satisfie me so Boyet. So please your Grace, the packet is not come Where that and other specialties are bound, To morrow you shall haue a sight of them Kin. It shall suffice me; at which enterview, All liberall reason would I yeeld vnto: Meane time, receiue such welcome at my hand, As honour, without breach of Honour may Make tender of, to thy true worthinesse. You may not come faire Princesse in my gates, But heere without you shall be so receiu'd, As you shall deeme your selfe lodg'd in my heart, Though so deni'd farther harbour in my house: Your owne good thoughts excuse me, and farewell, To morrow we shall visit you againe Prin. Sweet health & faire desires consort your grace Kin. Thy own wish wish I thee, in euery place. Enter. Boy. Lady, I will commend you to my owne heart La.Ro. Pray you doe my commendations, I would be glad to see it Boy. I would you heard it grone La.Ro. Is the soule sicke? Boy. Sicke at the heart La.Ro. Alacke, let it bloud Boy. Would that doe it good? La.Ro. My Phisicke saies I Boy. Will you prick't with your eye La.Ro. No poynt, with my knife Boy. Now God saue thy life La.Ro. And yours from long liuing Ber. I cannot stay thanks-giuing. Enter. Enter Dumane. Dum. Sir, I pray you a word: What Lady is that same? Boy. The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name Dum. A gallant Lady, Mounsier fare you well Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in the white? Boy. A woman somtimes, if you saw her in the light Long. Perchance light in the light: I desire her name Boy. Shee hath but one for her selfe, To desire that were a shame Long. Pray you sir, whose daughter? Boy. Her Mothers, I haue heard Long. Gods blessing a your beard Boy. Good sir be not offended, Shee is an heyre of Faulconbridge Long. Nay, my choller is ended: Shee is a most sweet Lady. Exit. Long. Boy. Not vnlike sir, that may be. Enter Beroune. Ber. What's her name in the cap Boy. Katherine by good hap Ber. Is she wedded, or no Boy. To her will sir, or so, Ber. You are welcome sir, adiew Boy. Fare well to me sir, and welcome to you. Enter. La.Ma. That last is Beroune, the mery mad-cap Lord. Not a word with him, but a iest Boy. And euery iest but a word Pri. It was well done of you to take him at his word Boy. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to boord La.Ma. Two hot Sheepes marie: And wherefore not Ships? Boy. No Sheepe (sweet Lamb) vnlesse we feed on your lips La. You Sheepe & I pasture: shall that finish the iest? Boy. So you grant pasture for me La. Not so gentle beast. My lips are no Common, though seuerall they be Bo. Belonging to whom? La. To my fortunes and me Prin. Good wits wil be iangling, but gentles agree. This ciuill warre of wits were much better vsed On Nauar and his bookemen, for heere 'tis abus'd Bo. If my obseruation (which very seldome lies By the hearts still rhetoricke, disclosed with eyes) Deceiue me not now, Nauar is infected Prin. With what? Bo. With that which we Louers intitle affected Prin. Your reason Bo. Why all his behauiours doe make their retire, To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire. His hart like an Agot with your print impressed, Proud with his forme, in his eie pride expressed. His tongue all impatient to speake and not see, Did stumble with haste in his eie-sight to be, All sences to that sence did make their repaire, To feele onely looking on fairest of faire: Me thought all his sences were lockt in his eye, As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to Buy. Who tendring their own worth from whence they were glast, Did point out to buy them along as you past. His faces owne margent did coate such amazes, That all eyes saw his eies inchanted with gazes. Ile giue you Aquitaine, and all that is his, And you giue him for my sake, but one louing Kisse Prin. Come to our Pauillion, Boyet is disposde Bro. But to speak that in words, which his eie hath disclos'd. I onelie haue made a mouth of his eie, By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie Lad.Ro. Thou art an old Loue-monger, and speakest skilfully Lad.Ma. He is Cupids Grandfather, and learnes news of him Lad.2. Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim Boy. Do you heare my mad wenches? La.1. No Boy. What then, do you see? Lad.2. I, our way to be gone Boy. You are too hard for me. Exeunt. omnes. Actus Tertius. Enter Braggart and Boy. Song. Bra. Warble childe, make passionate my sense of hearing Boy. Concolinel Brag. Sweete Ayer, go tendernesse of yeares: take this Key, giue enlargement to the swaine, bring him festinatly hither: I must imploy him in a letter to my Loue Boy. Will you win your loue with a French braule? Bra. How meanest thou, brauling in French? Boy. No my compleat master, but to Iigge off a tune at the tongues end, canarie to it with the feete, humour it with turning vp your eie: sigh a note and sing a note, sometime through the throate: if you swallowed loue with singing, loue sometime through: nose as if you snuft vp loue by smelling loue with your hat penthouselike ore the shop of your eies, with your armes crost on your thinbellie doublet, like a Rabbet on a spit, or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting, and keepe not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: these are complements, these are humours, these betraie nice wenches that would be betraied without these, and make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected to these? Brag. How hast thou purchased this experience? Boy. By my penne of obseruation Brag. But O, but O Boy. The Hobbie-horse is forgot Bra. Cal'st thou my loue Hobbi-horse Boy. No Master, the Hobbie-horse is but a Colt, and and your Loue perhaps, a Hacknie: but haue you forgot your Loue? Brag. Almost I had Boy. Negligent student, learne her by heart Brag. By heart, and in heart Boy Boy. And out of heart Master: all those three I will proue Brag. What wilt thou proue? Boy. A man, if I liue (and this) by, in, and without, vpon the instant: by heart you loue her, because your heart cannot come by her: in heart you loue her, because your heart is in loue with her: and out of heart you loue her, being out of heart that you cannot enioy her Brag. I am all these three Boy. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all Brag. Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carrie mee a letter Boy. A message well simpathis'd, a Horse to be embassadour for an Asse Brag. Ha, ha, What saiest thou? Boy. Marrie sir, you must send the Asse vpon the Horse for he is verie slow gated: but I goe Brag. The way is but short, away Boy. As swift as Lead sir Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a mettall heauie, dull, and slow? Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no Brag. I say Lead is slow Boy. You are too swift sir to say so. Is that Lead slow which is fir'd from a Gunne? Brag. Sweete smoke of Rhetorike, He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet that's he: I shoote thee at the Swaine Boy. Thump then, and I flee Bra. A most acute Iuuenall, voluble and free of grace, By thy fauour sweet Welkin, I must sigh in thy face. Most rude melancholie, Valour giues thee place. My Herald is return'd. Enter Page and Clowne. Pag. A wonder Master, here's a Costard broken in a shin Ar. Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenuoy begin Clo. No egma, no riddle, no lenuoy, no salue, in thee male sir. Or sir, Plantan, a plaine Plantan: no lenuoy, no lenuoy, no Salue sir, but a Plantan Ar. By vertue, thou inforcest laughter, thy sillie thought, my spleene, the heauing of my lunges prouokes me to rediculous smyling: O pardon me my stars, doth the inconsiderate take salue for lenuoy, and the word lenuoy for a salue? Pag. Doe the wise thinke them other, is not lenuoy a salue? Ar. No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine, Some obscure precedence that hath tofore bin faine. Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with my lenuoy. The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee, Were still at oddes, being but three Arm. Vntill the Goose came out of doore, Staying the oddes by adding foure Pag. A good Lenuoy, ending in the Goose: would you desire more? Clo. The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat. Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat. To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose: Let me see a fat Lenuoy, I that's a fat Goose Ar. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin? Boy. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin. Then cal'd you for the Lenuoy Clow. True, and I for a Plantan: Thus came your argument in: Then the Boyes fat Lenuoy, the Goose that you bought, And he ended the market Ar. But tell me: How was there a Costard broken in a shin? Pag. I will tell you sencibly Clow. Thou hast no feeling of it Moth, I will speake that Lenuoy. I Costard running out, that was safely within, Fell ouer the threshold, and broke my shin Arm. We will talke no more of this matter Clow. Till there be more matter in the shin Arm. Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee Clow. O, marrie me to one Francis, I smell some Lenuoy, some Goose in this Arm. By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at libertie. Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained, captiuated, bound Clow. True, true, and now you will be my purgation, and let me loose Arm. I giue thee thy libertie, set thee from durance, and in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta: there is remuneration, for the best ward of mine honours is rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow Pag. Like the sequell I. Signeur Costard adew. Enter. Clow. My sweete ounce of mans flesh, my inconie Iew: Now will I looke to his remuneration. Remuneration, O, that's the Latine word for three-farthings: Three-farthings remuneration, What's the price of this yncle? i.d. no, Ile giue you a remuneration: Why? It carries it remuneration: Why? It is a fairer name then a French-Crowne. I will neuer buy and sell out of this word. Enter Berowne. Ber. O my good knaue Costard, exceedingly well met Clow. Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? Ber. What is a remuneration? Cost. Marrie sir, halfe pennie farthing Ber. O, Why then threefarthings worth of Silke Cost. I thanke your worship, God be wy you Ber. O stay slaue, I must employ thee: As thou wilt win my fauour, good my knaue, Doe one thing for me that I shall intreate Clow. When would you haue it done sir? Ber. O this after-noone Clo. Well, I will doe it sir: Fare you well Ber. O thou knowest not what it is Clo. I shall know sir, when I haue done it Ber. Why villaine thou must know first Clo. I wil come to your worship to morrow morning Ber. It must be done this after-noone, Harke slaue, it is but this: The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke, And in her traine there is a gentle Ladie: When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, And Rosaline they call her, aske for her: And to her white hand see thou do commend This seal'd-vp counsaile. Ther's thy guerdon: goe Clo. Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration, a leuenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon. I will doe it sir in print: gardon, remuneration. Enter. Ber. O, and I forsooth in loue, I that haue beene loues whip? A verie Beadle to a humerous sigh: A Criticke, Nay, a night-watch Constable. A domineering pedant ore the Boy, Then whom no mortall so magnificent, This wimpled, whyning, purblinde waiward Boy, This signior Iunios gyant dwarfe, don Cupid, Regent of Loue-rimes, Lord of folded armes, Th' annointed soueraigne of sighes and groanes: Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents: Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces. Sole Emperator and great generall Of trotting Parrators (O my little heart.) And I to be a Corporall of his field, And weare his colours like a Tumblers hoope. What? I loue, I sue, I seeke a wife, A woman that is like a Germane Cloake, Still a repairing: euer out of frame, And neuer going a right, being a Watch: But being watcht, that it may still goe right. Nay, to be periurde, which is worst of all: And among three, to loue the worst of all, A whitly wanton, with a veluet brow. With two pitch bals stucke in her face for eyes. I, and by heauen, one that will doe the deede, Though Argus were her Eunuch and her garde. And I to sigh for her, to watch for her, To pray for her, go to: it is a plague That Cupid will impose for my neglect, Of his almighty dreadfull little might. Well, I will loue, write, sigh, pray, shue, grone, Some men must loue my Lady, and some Ione. Actus Quartus. Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lords. Qu. Was that the King that spurd his horse so hard, Against the steepe vprising of the hill? Boy. I know not, but I thinke it was not he Qu. Who ere a was, a shew'd a mounting minde: Well Lords, to day we shall haue our dispatch, On Saterday we will returne to France. Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush That we must stand and play the murtherer in? For. Hereby vpon the edge of yonder Coppice, A stand where you may make the fairest shoote Qu. I thanke my beautie, I am faire that shoote, And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoote For. Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so Qu. What, what? First praise me, & then again say no. O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe For. Yes Madam faire Qu. Nay, neuer paint me now, Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow. Here (good my glasse) take this for telling true: Faire paiment for foule words, is more then due For. Nothing but faire is that which you inherit Qu. See, see, my beautie will be sau'd by merit. O heresie in faire, fit for these dayes, A giuing hand, though foule, shall haue faire praise. But come, the Bow: Now Mercie goes to kill, And shooting well, is then accounted ill: Thus will I saue my credit in the shoote, Not wounding, pittie would not let me do't: If wounding, then it was to shew my skill, That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill. And out of question, so it is sometimes: Glory growes guiltie of detested crimes, When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part, We bend to that, the working of the hart. As I for praise alone now seeke to spill The poore Deeres blood, that my heart meanes no ill Boy. Do not curst wiues hold that selfe-soueraigntie Onely for praise sake, when they striue to be Lords ore their Lords? Qu. Onely for praise, and praise we may afford, To any Lady that subdewes a Lord. Enter Clowne. Boy. Here comes a member of the common-wealth Clo. God dig-you-den all, pray you which is the head Lady? Qu. Thou shalt know her fellow, by the rest that haue no heads Clo. Which is the greatest Lady, the highest? Qu. The thickest, and the tallest Clo. The thickest, & the tallest: it is so, truth is truth. And your waste Mistris, were as slender as my wit, One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fit. Are not you the chiefe woma[n]? You are the thickest here? Qu. What's your will sir? What's your will? Clo. I haue a Letter from Monsier Berowne, To one Lady Rosaline Qu. O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine. Stand a side good bearer. Boyet, you can carue, Breake vp this Capon Boyet. I am bound to serue. This Letter is mistooke: it importeth none here: It is writ to Iaquenetta Qu. We will read it, I sweare. Breake the necke of the Waxe, and euery one giue eare Boyet reades. By heauen, that thou art faire, is most infallible: true that thou art beauteous, truth it selfe that thou art louely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beautious, truer then truth it selfe: haue comiseration on thy heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate King Cophetua set eie vpon the pernicious and indubitate Begger Zenelophon: and he it was that might rightly say, Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and ouercame: hee came one; see, two; ouercame three: Who came? the King. Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to ouercome. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the Begger. Who ouercame he? the Begger. The conclusion is victorie: On whose side? the King: the captiue is inricht: On whose side? the Beggers. The catastrophe is a Nuptiall: on whose side? the Kings: no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the King (for so stands the comparison) thou the Begger, for so witnesseth thy lowlinesse. Shall I command thy loue? I may. Shall I enforce thy loue? I could. Shall I entreate thy loue? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for ragges, roabes: for tittles titles, for thy selfe mee. Thus expecting thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foote, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy euerie part. Thine in the dearest designe of industrie, Don Adriana de Armatho. Thus dost thou heare the Nemean Lion roare, Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray: Submissiue fall his princely feete before, And he from forrage will incline to play. But if thou striue (poore soule) what art thou then? Foode for his rage, repasture for his den Qu. What plume of feathers is hee that indited this Letter? What veine? What Wethercocke? Did you euer heare better? Boy. I am much deceiued, but I remember the stile Qu. Else your memorie is bad, going ore it erewhile Boy. This Armado is a Spaniard that keeps here in court A Phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport To the Prince and his Booke-mates Qu. Thou fellow, a word. Who gaue thee this Letter? Clow. I told you, my Lord Qu. To whom should'st thou giue it? Clo. From my Lord to my Lady Qu. From which Lord, to which Lady? Clo. From my Lord Berowne, a good master of mine, To a Lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline Qu. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away. Here sweete, put vp this, 'twill be thine another day. Exeunt. Boy. Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter? Rosa. Shall I teach you to know Boy. I my continent of beautie Rosa. Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off Boy. My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marrie, Hang me by the necke, if hornes that yeare miscarrie. Finely put on Rosa. Well then, I am the shooter Boy. And who is your Deare? Rosa. If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not neare. Finely put on indeede Maria. You still wrangle with her Boyet, and shee strikes at the brow Boyet. But she her selfe is hit lower: Haue I hit her now Rosa. Shall I come vpon thee with an old saying, that was a man when King Pippin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it Boyet. So I may answere thee with one as old that was a woman when Queene Guinouer of Brittaine was a little wench, as touching the hit it Rosa. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, Thou canst not hit it my good man Boy. I cannot, cannot, cannot: And I cannot, another can. Enter. Clo. By my troth most pleasant, how both did fit it Mar. A marke marueilous well shot, for they both did hit Boy. A mark, O marke but that marke: a marke saies my Lady. Let the mark haue a pricke in't, to meat at, if it may be Mar. Wide a'th bow hand, yfaith your hand is out Clo. Indeede a' must shoote nearer, or heele ne're hit the clout Boy. And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in Clo. Then will shee get the vpshoot by cleauing the is in Ma. Come, come, you talke greasely, your lips grow foule Clo. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir challenge her to boule Boy. I feare too much rubbing: good night my good Oule Clo. By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne. Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I haue put him downe. O my troth most sweete iests, most inconie vulgar wit, When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit. Armathor ath to the side, O a most dainty man. To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fan. To see him kisse his hand, and how most sweetly a will sweare: And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit, Ah heauens, it is most patheticall nit. Sowla, sowla. Exeunt. Shoote within. Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel. Nat. Very reuerent sport truely, and done in the testimony of a good conscience Ped. The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as a Pomwater who now hangeth like a Iewell in the eare of Celo the skie; the welken the heauen, and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of Terra, the soyle, the land, the earth Curat.Nath. Truely M[aster]. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly varied like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye, it was a Bucke of the first head Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo Dul. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket Hol. Most barbarous intimation: yet a kinde of insinuation, as it were in via, in way of explication facere: as it were replication, or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination after his vndressed, vnpolished, vneducated, vnpruned, vntrained, or rather vnlettered, or ratherest vnconfirmed fashion, to insert againe my haud credo for a Deare Dul. I said the Deare was not a haud credo, 'twas a Pricket Hol. Twice sod simplicitie, bis coctus, O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed doost thou looke Nath. Sir hee hath neuer fed of the dainties that are bred in a booke. He hath not eate paper as it were: He hath not drunke inke. His intellect is not replenished, hee is onely an animall, onely sensible in the duller parts: and such barren plants are set before vs, that we thankfull should be: which we taste and feeling, are for those parts that doe fructifie in vs more then he. For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indiscreet, or a foole; So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a Schoole. But omne bene say I, being of an old Fathers minde, Many can brooke the weather, that loue not the winde Dul. You two are book-men: Can you tell by your wit, What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not fiue weekes old as yet? Hol. Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull Dul. What is dictima? Nath. A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone Hol. The Moone was a month old when Adam was no more. And wrought not to fiue-weekes when he came to fiuescore. Th' allusion holds in the Exchange Dul. 'Tis true indeede, the Collusion holds in the Exchange Hol. God comfort thy capacity, I say th' allusion holds in the Exchange Dul. And I say the polusion holds in the Exchange: for the Moone is neuer but a month old: and I say beside that, 'twas a Pricket that the Princesse kill'd Hol. Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall Epytaph on the death of the Deare, and to humour the ignorant call'd the Deare, the Princesse kill'd a Pricket Nath. Perge, good M[aster]. Holofernes, perge, so it shall please you to abrogate scurilitie Hol. I will something affect a letter, for it argues facilitie. The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt a prettie pleasing Pricket, Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting. The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore, then Sorrell iumps from thicket: Or Pricket-sore, or else Sorell, the people fall a hooting. If Sore be sore, than ell to Sore, makes fiftie sores O sorell: Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L Nath. A rare talent Dul. If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent Nath. This is a gift that I haue simple: simple, a foolish extrauagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiects, Ideas, apprehensions, motions, reuolutions. These are begot in the ventricle of memorie, nourisht in the wombe of primater, and deliuered vpon the mellowing of occasion: but the gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankfull for it Hol. Sir, I praise the Lord for you, and so may my parishioners, for their Sonnes are well tutor'd by you, and their Daughters profit very greatly vnder you: you are a good member of the common-wealth Nath. Me hercle, If their Sonnes be ingenuous, they shall want no instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them. But Vir sapis qui pauca loquitur, a soule Feminine saluteth vs. Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne. Iaqu. God giue you good morrow M[aster]. Person Nath. Master Person, quasi Person? And if one should be perst, Which is the one? Clo. Marry M[aster]. Schoolemaster, hee that is likest to a hogshead Nath. Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit in a turph of Earth, Fire enough for a Flint, Pearle enough for a Swine: 'tis prettie, it is well Iaqu. Good Master Parson be so good as reade mee this Letter, it was giuen mee by Costard, and sent mee from Don Armatho: I beseech you read it Nath. Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub vmbra ruminat, and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speake of thee as the traueiler doth of Venice, vemchie, vencha, que non te vnde, que non te perreche. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan. Who vnderstandeth thee not, vt re sol la mi fa: Vnder pardon sir, What are the contents? or rather as Horrace sayes in his, What my soule verses Hol. I sir, and very learned Nath. Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine. If Loue make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to loue? Ah neuer faith could hold, if not to beautie vowed. Though to my selfe forsworn, to thee Ile faithfull proue. Those thoughts to mee were Okes, to thee like Osiers bowed. Studie his byas leaues, and makes his booke thine eyes. Where all those pleasures liue, that Art would comprehend. If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffice. Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee co[m]mend. All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder. Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire; Thy eye Ioues lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadfull thunder. Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fire. Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon loue this wrong, That sings heauens praise, with such an earthly tongue Ped. You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the accent. Let me superuise the cangenet Nath. Here are onely numbers ratified, but for the elegancy, facility, & golden cadence of poesie caret: Ouiddius Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy? the ierkes of inuention imitarie is nothing: So doth the Hound his master, the Ape his keeper, the tyred Horse his rider: But Damosella virgin, Was this directed to you? Iaq. I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes Lords Nath. I will ouerglance the superscript. To the snow-white hand of the most beautious Lady Rosaline. I will looke againe on the intellect of the Letter, for the nomination of the partie written to the person written vnto. Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne Ped. Sir Holofernes, this Berowne is one of the Votaries with the King, and here he hath framed a Letter to a sequent of the stranger Queens: which accidentally, or by the way of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete, deliuer this Paper into the hand of the King, it may concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgiue thy duetie, adue Maid. Good Costard go with me: Sir God saue your life Cost. Haue with thee my girle. Enter. Hol. Sir you haue done this in the feare of God very religiously: and as a certaine Father saith Ped. Sir tell not me of the Father, I do feare colourable colours. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please you sir Nathaniel? Nath. Marueilous well for the pen Peda. I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine Pupill of mine, where if (being repast) it shall please you to gratifie the table with a Grace, I will on my priuiledge I haue with the parents of the foresaid Childe or Pupill, vndertake your bien venuto, where I will proue those Verses to be very vnlearned, neither sauouring of Poetrie, Wit, nor Inuention. I beseech your Societie Nat. And thanke you to: for societie (saith the text) is the happinesse of life Peda. And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. Sir I do inuite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba. Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation. Exeunt. Enter Berowne with a Paper in his hand, alone. Bero. The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe. They haue pitcht a Toyle, I am toyling in a pytch, pitch that defiles; defile, a foule word: Well, set thee downe sorrow; for so they say the foole said, and so say I, and I the foole: Well proued wit. By the Lord this Loue is as mad as Aiax, it kils sheepe, it kils mee, I a sheepe: Well proued againe a my side. I will not loue; if I do hang me: yfaith I will not. O but her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not loue her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I doe nothing in the world but lye, and lye in my throate. By heauen I doe loue, and it hath taught mee to Rime, and to be mallicholie: and here is part of my Rime, and heere my mallicholie. Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweet Clowne, sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one with a paper, God giue him grace to grone. He stands aside. The King entreth. Kin. Ay mee! Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith secrets King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not, To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose, As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot. The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes. Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright, Through the transparent bosome of the deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light: Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe, No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee: So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the teares that swell in me, And they thy glory through my griefe will show: But doe not loue thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe. O Queene of Queenes, how farre dost thou excell, No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell. How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper. Sweete leaues shade folly. Who is he comes heere? Enter Longauile. The King steps aside. What Longauill, and reading: listen eare Ber. Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare Long. Ay me, I am forsworne Ber. Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers Long. In loue I hope, sweet fellowship in shame Ber. One drunkard loues another of the name Lon. Am I the first y haue been periur'd so? Ber. I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know, Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of societie, The shape of Loues Tiburne, that hangs vp simplicitie Lon. I feare these stubborn lines lack power to moue. O sweet Maria, Empresse of my Loue, These numbers will I teare, and write in prose Ber. O Rimes are gards on wanton Cupids hose, Disfigure not his Shop Lon. This same shall goe. He reades the Sonnet. Did not the heauenly Rhetoricke of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Perswade my heart to this false periurie? Vowes for thee broke deserue not punishment. A Woman I forswore, but I will proue, Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee. My Vow was earthly, thou a heauenly Loue. Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me. Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapour is. Then thou faire Sun, which on my earth doest shine, Exhalest this vapor-vow, in thee it is: If broken then, it is no fault of mine: If by me broke, What foole is not so wise, To loose an oath, to win a Paradise? Ber. This is the liuer veine, which makes flesh a deity. A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure Idolatry. God amend vs, God amend, we are much out o'th' way. Enter Dumaine. Lon. By whom shall I send this (company?) Stay Bero. All hid, all hid, an old infant play, Like a demie God, here sit I in the skie, And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore-eye. More Sacks to the myll. O heauens I haue my wish, Dumaine transform'd, foure Woodcocks in a dish Dum. O most diuine Kate Bero. O most prophane coxcombe Dum. By heauen the wonder of a mortall eye Bero. By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye Dum. Her Amber haires for foule hath amber coted Ber. An Amber coloured Rauen was well noted Dum. As vpright as the Cedar Ber. Stoope I say, her shoulder is with-child Dum. As faire as day Ber. I as some daies, but then no sunne must shine Dum. O that I had my wish? Lon. And I had mine Kin. And mine too good Lord Ber. Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word? Dum. I would forget her, but a Feuer she Raignes in my bloud, and will remembred be Ber. A Feuer in your bloud, why then incision Would let her out in Sawcers, sweet misprision Dum. Once more Ile read the Ode that I haue writ Ber. Once more Ile marke how Loue can varry Wit. Dumane reades his Sonnet. On a day, alack the day: Loue, whose Month is euery May, Spied a blossome passing faire, Playing in the wanton ayre: Through the Veluet, leaues the winde, All vnseene, can passage finde. That the Louer sicke to death, Wish himselfe the heauens breath. Ayre (quoth he) thy cheekes may blowe, Ayre, would I might triumph so. But alacke my hand is sworne, Nere to plucke thee from thy throne: Vow alacke for youth vnmeete, youth so apt to plucke a sweet. Doe not call it sinne in me, That I am forsworne for thee. Thou for whom Ioue would sweare, Iuno but an aethiop were, And denie himselfe for Ioue. Turning mortall for thy Loue. This will I send, and something else more plaine. That shall expresse my true-loues fasting paine. O would the King, Berowne and Longauill, Were Louers too, ill to example ill, Would from my forehead wipe a periur'd note: For none offend, where all alike doe dote Lon. Dumaine, thy Loue is farre from charitie, That in Loues griefe desir'st societie: You may looke pale, but I should blush I know, To be ore-heard, and taken napping so Kin. Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such, You chide at him, offending twice as much. You doe not loue Maria? Longauile, Did neuer Sonnet for her sake compile; Nor neuer lay his wreathed armes athwart His louing bosome, to keepe downe his heart. I haue beene closely shrowded in this bush, And markt you both, and for you both did blush. I heard your guilty Rimes, obseru'd your fashion: Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your passion. Aye me, sayes one! O Ioue, the other cries! On her haires were Gold, Christall the others eyes. You would for Paradise breake Faith and troth, And Ioue for your Loue would infringe an oath. What will Berowne say when that he shall heare Faith infringed, which such zeale did sweare. How will he scorne? how will he spend his wit? How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it? For all the wealth that euer I did see, I would not haue him know so much by me Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie. Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me. Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue These wormes for louing, that art most in loue? Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares. There is no certaine Princesse that appeares. You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing: Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting. But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot? You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see: But I a Beame doe finde in each of three. O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene. Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene: O me, with what strict patience haue I sat, To see a King transformed to a Gnat? To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge, And profound Salomon tuning a Iygge? And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes, And Critticke Tymon laugh at idle toyes. Where lies thy griefe? O tell me good Dumaine; And gentle Longauill, where lies thy paine? And where my Liedges? all about the brest: A Candle hoa! Kin. Too bitter is thy iest. Are wee betrayed thus to thy ouer-view? Ber. Not you by me, but I betrayed to you. I that am honest, I that hold it sinne To breake the vow I am ingaged in. I am betrayed by keeping company With men, like men of inconstancie. When shall you see me write a thing in rime? Or grone for Ioane? or spend a minutes time, In pruning mee, when shall you heare that I will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest, a waste, a legge, a limme Kin. Soft, Whither away so fast? A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so Ber. I post from Loue, good Louer let me go. Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne. Iaqu. God blesse the King Kin. What Present hast thou there? Clo. Some certaine treason Kin. What makes treason heere? Clo. Nay it makes nothing sir Kin. If it marre nothing neither, The treason and you goe in peace away together Iaqu. I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read, Our person mis-doubts it: it was treason he said Kin. Berowne, read it ouer. He reades the Letter. Kin. Where hadst thou it? Iaqu. Of Costard King. Where hadst thou it? Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio Kin. How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it? Ber. A toy my Liedge, a toy: your grace needes not feare it Long. It did moue him to passion, and therefore let's heare it Dum. It is Berowns writing, and heere is his name Ber. Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to doe me shame. Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse Kin. What? Ber. That you three fooles, lackt mee foole, to make vp the messe. He, he, and you: and you my Liedge, and I, Are picke-purses in Loue, and we deserue to die. O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more Dum. Now the number is euen Berow. True true, we are fowre: will these Turtles be gone? Kin. Hence sirs, away Clo. Walk aside the true folke, & let the traytors stay Ber. Sweet Lords, sweet Louers, O let vs imbrace, As true we are as flesh and bloud can be, The Sea will ebbe and flow, heauen will shew his face: Young bloud doth not obey an old decree. We cannot crosse the cause why we are borne: Therefore of all hands must we be forsworne King. What, did these rent lines shew some loue of thine? Ber. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heauenly Rosaline, That (like a rude and sauage man of Inde.) At the first opening of the gorgeous East, Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye Dares looke vpon the heauen of her brow, That is not blinded by her maiestie? Kin. What zeale, what furie, hath inspir'd thee now? My Loue (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone, Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light Ber. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. O, but for my Loue, day would turne to night, Of all complexions the cul'd soueraignty, Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke, Where seuerall Worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants, that want it selfe doth seeke. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not, To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs: She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot. A withered Hermite, fiuescore winters worne, Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne, And giues the Crutch the Cradles infancie. O 'tis the Sunne that maketh all things shine King. By heauen, thy Loue is blacke as Ebonie Berow. Is Ebonie like her? O word diuine? A wife of such wood were felicite. O who can giue an oth? Where is a booke? That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke, If that she learne not of her eye to looke: No face is faire that is not full so blacke Kin. O paradoxe, Blacke is the badge of hell, The hue of dungeons, and the Schoole of night: And beauties crest becomes the heauens well Ber. Diuels soonest tempt resembling spirits of light. O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt, It mournes, that painting vsurping haire Should rauish doters with a false aspect: And therfore is she borne to make blacke, faire. Her fauour turnes the fashion of the dayes, For natiue bloud is counted painting now: And therefore red that would auoyd dispraise, Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow Dum. To look like her are Chimny-sweepers blacke Lon. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright King. And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake Dum. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light Ber. Your mistresses dare neuer come in raine, For feare their colours should be washt away Kin. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine, Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day Ber. Ile proue her faire, or talke till dooms-day here Kin. No Diuell will fright thee then so much as shee Duma. I neuer knew man hold vile stuffe so deere Lon. Looke, heer's thy loue, my foot and her face see Ber. O if the streets were paued with thine eyes, Her feet were much too dainty for such tread Duma. O vile, then as she goes what vpward lyes? The street should see as she walk'd ouer head Kin. But what of this, are we not all in loue? Ber. O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne Kin. Then leaue this chat, & good Berown now proue Our louing lawfull, and our fayth not torne Dum. I marie there, some flattery for this euill Long. O some authority how to proceed, Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the diuell Dum. Some salue for periurie, Ber. O 'tis more then neede. Haue at you then affections men at armes, Consider what you first did sweare vnto: To fast, to study, and to see no woman: Flat treason against the Kingly state of youth. Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young: And abstinence ingenders maladies. And where that you haue vow'd to studie (Lords) In that each of you haue forsworne his Booke. Can you still dreame and pore, and thereon looke. For when would you my Lord, or you, or you, Haue found the ground of studies excellence, Without the beauty of a womans face; From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue, They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems, From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. Why, vniuersall plodding poysons vp The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long during action tyres The sinnowy vigour of the trauailer. Now for not looking on a womans face, You haue in that forsworne the vse of eyes: And studie too, the causer of your vow. For where is any Author in the world, Teaches such beauty as a womans eye: Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe, And where we are, our Learning likewise is. Then when our selues we see in Ladies eyes, With our selues. Doe we not likewise see our learning there? O we haue made a Vow to studie, Lords, And in that vow we haue forsworne our Bookes: For when would you (my Leege) or you, or you? In leaden contemplation haue found out Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes, Of beauties tutors haue inrich'd you with: Other slow Arts intirely keepe the braine: And therefore finding barraine practizers, Scarce shew a haruest of their heauy toyle. But Loue first learned in a Ladies eyes, Liues not alone emured in the braine: But with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in euery power, And giues to euery power a double power, Aboue their functions and their offices. It addes a precious seeing to the eye: A Louers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde. A Louers eare will heare the lowest sound. When the suspicious head of theft is stopt. Loues feeling is more soft and sensible, Then are the tender hornes of Cockle Snayles. Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste, For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules? Still climing trees in the Hesperides. Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall, As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire. And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods, Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie. Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write, Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes: O then his lines would rauish sauage eares, And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie. From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue. They sparcle still the right promethean fire, They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes, That shew, containe, and nourish all the world. Else none at all in ought proues excellent. Then fooles you were these women to forsweare: Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles, For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue: Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men. Or for Mens sake, the author of these Women: Or Womens sake, by whom we men are Men. Let's once loose our oathes to finde our selues, Or else we loose our selues, to keepe our oathes: It is religion to be thus forsworne. For Charity it selfe fulfills the Law: And who can seuer loue from Charity Kin. Saint Cupid then, and Souldiers to the field Ber. Aduance your standards, & vpon them Lords, Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first aduis'd, In conflict that you get the Sunne of them Long. Now to plaine dealing, Lay these glozes by, Shall we resolue to woe these girles of France? Kin. And winne them too, therefore let vs deuise, Some entertainment for them in their Tents Ber. First from the Park let vs conduct them thither, Then homeward euery man attach the hand Of his faire Mistresse, in the afternoone We will with some strange pastime solace them: Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape, For Reuels, Dances, Maskes, and merry houres, Fore-runne faire Loue, strewing her way with flowres Kin. Away, away, no time shall be omitted, That will be time, and may by vs be fitted Ber. Alone, alone sowed Cockell, reap'd no Corne, And Iustice alwaies whirles in equall measure: Light Wenches may proue plagues to men forsworne, If so, our Copper buyes no better treasure. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Enter the Pedant, Curate and Dull. Pedant. Satis quid sufficit Curat. I praise God for you sir, your reasons at dinner haue beene sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurrillity, witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresie: I did conuerse this quondam day with a companion of the Kings, who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho Ped. Noui hominum tanquam te, His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptorie: his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gate maiesticall, and his generall behauiour vaine, ridiculous, and thrasonicall. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odde, as it were, too peregrinat, as I may call it Curat. A most singular and choise Epithat, Draw out his Table-booke. Peda. He draweth out the thred of his verbositie, finer then the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanaticall phantasims, such insociable and poynt deuise companions, such rackers of ortagriphie, as to speake dout fine, when he should say doubt; det, when he shold pronounce debt; debt, not det: he clepeth a Calf, Caufe: halfe, haufe: neighbour vocatur nebour; neigh abreuiated ne: this is abhominable, which he would call abhominable it insinuateth me of infamie: ne inteligis domine, to make franticke, lunaticke? Cura. Laus deo, bene intelligo Peda. Bome boon for boon prescian, a little scratcht, 'twil serue. Enter Bragart, Boy. Curat. Vides ne quis venit? Peda. Video, & gaudio Brag. Chirra Peda. Quari Chirra, not Sirra? Brag. Men of peace well incountred Ped. Most millitarie sir salutation Boy. They haue beene at a great feast of Languages, and stolne the scraps Clow. O they haue liu'd long on the almes-basket of words. I maruell thy M[aster]. hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitu%dinitatibus: Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon Page. Peace, the peale begins Brag. Mounsier, are you not lettred? Page. Yes, yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What is Ab speld backward with the horn on his head? Peda. Ba, puericia with a horne added Pag. Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare his learning Peda. Quis quis, thou Consonant? Pag. The last of the fiue Vowels if You repeat them, or the fift if I Peda. I will repeat them: a e I Pag. The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u Brag. Now by the salt waue of the mediteranium, a sweet tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap, quick & home, it reioyceth my intellect, true wit Page. Offered by a childe to an olde man: which is wit-old Peda. What is the figure? What is the figure? Page. Hornes Peda. Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy Gigge Pag. Lend me your Horne to make one, and I will whip about your Infamie vnum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne Clow. And I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst haue it to buy Ginger bread: Hold, there is the very Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou Pidgeon-egge of discretion. O & the heauens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard; What a ioyfull father wouldst thou make mee? Goe to, thou hast it ad dungil, at the fingers ends, as they say Peda. Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for vnguem Brag. Arts-man preambulat, we will bee singled from the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charghouse on the top of the Mountaine? Peda. Or Mons the hill Brag. At your sweet pleasure, for the Mountaine Peda. I doe sans question Bra. Sir, it is the Kings most sweet pleasure and affection, to congratulate the Princesse at her Pauilion, in the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone Ped. The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable for the after-noone: the word is well culd, chose, sweet, and apt I doe assure you sir, I doe assure Brag. Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familiar, I doe assure ye very good friend: for what is inward betweene vs, let it passe. I doe beseech thee remember thy curtesie. I beseech thee apparell thy head: and among other importunate & most serious designes, and of great import indeed too: but let that passe, for I must tell thee it will please his Grace (by the world) sometime to leane vpon my poore shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dallie with my excrement, with my mustachio: but sweet heart let that passe. By the world I recount no fable, some certaine speciall honours it pleaseth his greatnesse to impart to Armado a Souldier, a man of trauell, that hath seene the world: but let that passe; the very all of all is: but sweet heart I do implore secrecie, that the King would haue mee present the Princesse (sweet chucke) with some delightfull ostentation, or show, or pageant, or anticke, or fire-worke: Now, vnderstanding that the Curate and your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sodaine breaking out of myrth (as it were) I haue acquainted you withall, to the end to craue your assistance Peda. Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. Sir Holofernes, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to bee rendred by our assistants the Kings command: and this most gallant, illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princesse: I say none so fit as to present the Nine Worthies Curat. Where will you finde men worthy enough to present them? Peda. Iosua, your selfe: my selfe, and this gallant gentleman Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great limme or ioynt) shall passe Pompey the great, the Page Hercules Brag. Pardon sir, error: He is not quantitie enough for that Worthies thumb, hee is not so big as the end of his Club Peda. Shall I haue audience: he shall present Hercules in minoritie: his enter and exit shall bee strangling a Snake; and I will haue an Apologie for that purpose Pag. An excellent deuice: so if any of the audience hisse, you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crushest the Snake; that is the way to make an offence gracious, though few haue the grace to doe it Brag. For the rest of the Worthies? Peda. I will play three my selfe Pag. Thrice worthy Gentleman Brag. Shall I tell you a thing? Peda. We attend Brag. We will haue, if this fadge not, an Antique. I beseech you follow Ped. Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this while Dull. Nor vnderstood none neither sir Ped. Alone, we will employ thee Dull. Ile make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the taber to the Worthies, & let them dance the hey Ped. Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away. Enter. Enter Ladies. Qu. Sweet hearts we shall be rich ere we depart, If fairings come thus plentifully in. A Lady wal'd about with Diamonds: Look you, what I haue from the louing King Rosa. Madam, came nothing else along with that? Qu. Nothing but this: yes as much loue in Rime, As would be cram'd vp in a sheet of paper Writ on both sides the leafe, margent and all, That he was faine to seale on Cupids name Rosa. That was the way to make his god-head wax: For he hath beene fiue thousand yeeres a Boy Kath. I, and a shrewd vnhappy gallowes too Ros. You'll nere be friends with him, a kild your sister Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heauy, and so she died: had she beene Light like you, of such a merrie nimble stirring spirit, she might a bin a Grandam ere she died. And so may you: For a light heart liues long Ros. What's your darke meaning mouse, of this light word? Kat. A light condition in a beauty darke Ros. We need more light to finde your meaning out Kat. You'll marre the light by taking it in snuffe: Therefore Ile darkely end the argument Ros. Look what you doe, you doe it stil i'th darke Kat. So do not you, for you are a light Wench Ros. Indeed I waigh not you, and therefore light Ka. You waigh me not, O that's you care not for me Ros. Great reason: for past care, is still past cure Qu. Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played. But Rosaline, you haue a Fauour too? Who sent it? and what is it? Ros. I would you knew. And if my face were but as faire as yours, My Fauour were as great, be witnesse this. Nay, I haue Verses too, I thanke Berowne, The numbers true, and were the numbring too. I were the fairest goddesse on the ground. I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. O he hath drawne my picture in his letter Qu. Any thing like? Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise Qu. Beauteous as Incke: a good conclusion Kat. Faire as a text B. in a Coppie booke Ros. Ware pensals. How? Let me not die your debtor, My red Dominicall, my golden letter. O that your face were full of Oes Qu. A Pox of that iest, and I beshrew all Shrowes: But Katherine, what was sent to you From faire Dumaine? Kat. Madame, this Gloue Qu. Did he not send you twaine? Kat. Yes Madame: and moreouer, Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Louer. A huge translation of hypocrisie, Vildly compiled, profound simplicitie Mar. This, and these Pearls, to me sent Longauile. The Letter is too long by halfe a mile Qu. I thinke no lesse: Dost thou wish in heart The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short Mar. I, or I would these hands might neuer part Quee. We are wise girles to mocke our Louers so Ros. They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so. That same Berowne ile torture ere I goe. O that I knew he were but in by th' weeke, How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke, And wait the season, and obserue the times, And spend his prodigall wits in booteles rimes, And shape his seruice wholly to my deuice, And make him proud to make me proud that iests. So pertaunt like would I o'resway his state, That he shold be my foole, and I his fate Qu. None are so surely caught, when they are catcht, As Wit turn'd foole, follie in Wisedome hatch'd: Hath wisedoms warrant, and the helpe of Schoole, And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole? Ros. The bloud of youth burns not with such excesse, As grauities reuolt to wantons be Mar. Follie in Fooles beares not so strong a note, As fool'ry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote: Since all the power thereof it doth apply, To proue by Wit, worth in simplicitie. Enter Boyet. Qu. Heere comes Boyet, and mirth in his face Boy. O I am stab'd with laughter, Wher's her Grace? Qu. Thy newes Boyet? Boy. Prepare Madame, prepare. Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are, Against your Peace, Loue doth approach, disguis'd: Armed in arguments, you'll be surpriz'd. Muster your Wits, stand in your owne defence, Or hide your heads like Cowards, and flie hence Qu. Saint Dennis to S[aint]. Cupid: What are they, That charge their breath against vs? Say scout say Boy. Vnder the coole shade of a Siccamore, I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre: When lo to interrupt my purpos'd rest, Toward that shade I might behold addrest, The King and his companions: warely I stole into a neighbour thicket by, And ouer-heard, what you shall ouer-heare: That by and by disguis'd they will be heere. Their Herald is a pretty knauish Page: That well by heart hath con'd his embassage, Action and accent did they teach him there. Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare. And euer and anon they made a doubt, Presence maiesticall would put him out: For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see: Yet feare not thou, but speake audaciously. The Boy reply'd, An Angell is not euill: I should haue fear'd her, had she beene a deuill. With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder, Making the bold wagg by their praises bolder. One rub'd his elboe thus, and fleer'd, and swore, A better speech was neuer spoke before. Another with his finger and his thumb, Cry'd via, we will doo't, come what will come. The third he caper'd and cried, All goes well. The fourth turn'd on the toe, and downe he fell: With that they all did tumble on the ground, With such a zelous laughter so profound, That in this spleene ridiculous appeares, To checke their folly passions solemne teares Que. But what, but what, come they to visit vs? Boy. They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus, Like Muscouites; or Russians, as I gesse. Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and dance, And euery one his Loue-feat will aduance, Vnto his seuerall mistresse: which they'll know By fauours seuerall, which they did bestow Queen. And will they so? the Gallants shall be taskt: For Ladies; we will euery one be maskt, And not a man of them shall haue the grace Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face. Hold Rosaline, this Fauour thou shalt weare, And then the King will court thee for his Deare: Hold, take thou this my sweet, and giue me thine, So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline. And change your Fauours too, so shall your Loues Woo contrary, deceiu'd by these remoues Rosa. Come on then, weare the fauours most in sight Kath. But in this changing, What is your intent? Queen. The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs: They doe it but in mocking merriment, And mocke for mocke is onely my intent. Their seuerall counsels they vnbosome shall, To Loues mistooke, and so be mockt withall. Vpon the next occasion that we meete, With Visages displayd to talke and greete Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire vs too't? Quee. No, to the death we will not moue a foot, Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace: But while 'tis spoke, each turne away his face Boy. Why that contempt will kill the keepers heart, And quite diuorce his memory from his part Quee. Therefore I doe it, and I make no doubt, The rest will ere come in, if he be out. Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne: To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne. So shall we stay mocking entended game, And they well mockt, depart away with shame. Sound. Boy. The Trompet sounds, be maskt, the maskers come. Enter Black moores with musicke, the Boy with a speech, and the rest of the Lords disguised. Page. All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth Ber. Beauties no richer then rich Taffata Pag. A holy parcell of the fairest dames that euer turn'd their backes to mortall viewes. The Ladies turne their backes to him. Ber. Their eyes villaine, their eyes Pag. That euer turn'd their eyes to mortall viewes. Out Boy. True, out indeed Pag. Out of your fauours heauenly spirits vouchsafe Not to beholde Ber. Once to behold, rogue Pag. Once to behold with your Sunne beamed eyes, With your Sunne beamed eyes Boy. They will not answer to that Epythite, you were best call it Daughter beamed eyes Pag. They do not marke me, and that brings me out Bero. Is this your perfectnesse? be gon you rogue Rosa. What would these strangers? Know their mindes Boyet. If they doe speake our language, 'tis our will That some plaine man recount their purposes. Know what they would? Boyet. What would you with the Princes? Ber. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation Ros. What would they, say they? Boy. Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation Rosa. Why that they haue, and bid them so be gon Boy. She saies you haue it, and you may be gon Kin. Say to her we haue measur'd many miles, To tread a Measure with you on the grasse Boy. They say that they haue measur'd many a mile, To tread a Measure with you on this grasse Rosa. It is not so. Aske them how many inches Is in one mile? If they haue measur'd manie, The measure then of one is easlie told Boy. If to come hither, you haue measur'd miles, And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell, How many inches doth fill vp one mile? Ber. Tell her we measure them by weary steps Boy. She heares her selfe Rosa. How manie wearie steps, Of many wearie miles you haue ore-gone, Are numbred in the trauell of one mile? Bero. We number nothing that we spend for you, Our dutie is so rich, so infinite, That we may doe it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face, That we (like sauages) may worship it Rosa. My face is but a Moone and clouded too Kin. Blessed are clouds, to doe as such clouds do. Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy stars to shine, (Those clouds remooued) vpon our waterie eyne Rosa. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter, Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water Kin. Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change. Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange Rosa. Play musicke then: nay you must doe it soone. Not yet no dance: thus change I like the Moone Kin. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? Rosa. You tooke the Moone at full, but now shee's changed? Kin. Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man Rosa. The musick playes, vouchsafe some motion to it: Our eares vouchsafe it Kin. But your legges should doe it Ros. Since you are strangers, & come here by chance, Wee'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance Kin. Why take you hands then? Rosa. Onelie to part friends. Curtsie sweet hearts, and so the Measure ends Kin. More measure of this measure, be not nice Rosa. We can afford no more at such a price Kin. Prise your selues: What buyes your companie? Rosa. Your absence onelie Kin. That can neuer be Rosa. Then cannot we be bought: and so adue, Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you Kin. If you denie to dance, let's hold more chat Ros. In priuate then Kin. I am best pleas'd with that Be. White handed Mistris, one sweet word with thee Qu. Hony, and Milke, and Suger: there is three Ber. Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice: There's halfe a dozen sweets Qu. Seuenth sweet adue, since you can cogg, Ile play no more with you Ber. One word in secret Qu. Let it not be sweet Ber. Thou greeu'st my gall Qu. Gall, bitter Ber. Therefore meete Du. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? Mar. Name it Dum. Faire Ladie: Mar. Say you so? Faire Lord: Take you that for your faire Lady Du. Please it you, As much in priuate, and Ile bid adieu Mar. What, was your vizard made without a tong? Long. I know the reason Ladie why you aske Mar. O for your reason, quickly sir, I long Long. You haue a double tongue within your mask, And would affoord my speechlesse vizard halfe Mar. Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not Veale a Calfe? Long. A Calfe faire Ladie? Mar. No, a faire Lord Calfe Long. Let's part the word Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe: Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe mockes. Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the Razors edge, inuisible: Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene, Aboue the sense of sence so sensible: Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings, Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things Rosa. Not one word more my maides, breake off, breake off Ber. By heauen, all drie beaten with pure scoffe King. Farewell madde Wenches, you haue simple wits. Exeunt. Qu. Twentie adieus my frozen Muscouits. Are these the breed of wits so wondred at? Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweete breathes puft out Rosa. Wel-liking wits they haue, grosse, grosse, fat, fat Qu. O pouertie in wit, Kingly poore flout. Will they not (thinke you) hang themselues to night? Or euer but in vizards shew their faces: This pert Berowne was out of count'nance quite Rosa. They were all in lamentable cases. The King was weeping ripe for a good word Qu. Berowne did sweare himselfe out of all suite Mar. Dumaine was at my seruice, and his sword: No point (quoth I:) my seruant straight was mute Ka. Lord Longauill said I came ore his hart: And trow you what he call'd me? Qu. Qualme perhaps Kat. Yes in good faith Qu. Go sicknesse as thou art Ros. Well, better wits haue worne plain statute caps, But will you heare; the King is my loue sworne Qu. And quicke Berowne hath plighted faith to me Kat. And Longauill was for my seruice borne Mar. Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree Boyet. Madam, and prettie mistresses giue eare, Immediately they will againe be heere In their owne shapes: for it can neuer be, They will digest this harsh indignitie Qu. Will they returne? Boy. They will they will, God knowes, And leape for ioy, though they are lame with blowes: Therefore change Fauours, and when they repaire, Blow like sweet Roses, in this summer aire Qu. How blow? how blow? Speake to bee vnderstood Boy. Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud: Dismaskt, their damaske sweet commixture showne, Are Angels vailing clouds, or Roses blowne Qu. Auant perplexitie: What shall we do, If they returne in their owne shapes to wo? Rosa. Good Madam, if by me you'l be aduis'd. Let's mocke them still as well knowne as disguis'd: Let vs complaine to them what fooles were heare, Disguis'd like Muscouites in shapelesse geare: And wonder what they were, and to what end Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildely pen'd: And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our Tent to vs Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand Quee. Whip to our Tents, as Roes runnes ore Land. Exeunt. Enter the King and the rest. King. Faire sir, God saue you. Wher's the Princesse? Boy. Gone to her Tent. Please it your Maiestie command me any seruice to her? King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word Boy. I will, and so will she, I know my Lord. Enter. Ber. This fellow pickes vp wit as Pigeons pease, And vtters it againe, when Ioue doth please. He is Wits Pedler, and retailes his Wares, At Wakes, and Wassels, Meetings, Markets, Faires. And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know, Haue not the grace to grace it with such show. This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeue. Had he bin Adam, he had tempted Eue. He can carue too, and lispe: Why this is he, That kist away his hand in courtesie. This is the Ape of Forme, Monsieur the nice, That when he plaies at Tables, chides the Dice In honorable tearmes: Nay he can sing A meane most meanly, and in Vshering Mend him who can: the Ladies call him sweete. The staires as he treads on them kisse his feete. This is the flower that smiles on euerie one, To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone. And consciences that wil not die in debt, Pay him the dutie of honie-tongued Boyet King. A blister on his sweet tongue with my hart, That put Armathoes Page out of his part. Enter the Ladies. Ber. See where it comes. Behauiour what wer't thou, Till this madman shew'd thee? And what art thou now? King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day Qu. Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceiue King. Construe my speeches better, if you may Qu. Then wish me better, I wil giue you leaue King. We came to visit you, and purpose now To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then Qu. This field shal hold me, and so hold your vow: Nor God, nor I, delights in periur'd men King. Rebuke me not for that which you prouoke: The vertue of your eie must breake my oth Q. You nickname vertue: vice you should haue spoke: For vertues office neuer breakes men troth. Now by my maiden honor, yet as pure As the vnsallied Lilly, I protest, A world of torments though I should endure, I would not yeeld to be your houses guest: So much I hate a breaking cause to be Of heauenly oaths, vow'd with integritie Kin. O you haue liu'd in desolation heere, Vnseene, vnuisited, much to our shame Qu. Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare, We haue had pastimes heere, and pleasant game, A messe of Russians left vs but of late Kin. How Madam? Russians? Qu. I in truth, my Lord. Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state Rosa. Madam speake true. It is not so my Lord: My Ladie (to the manner of the daies) In curtesie giues vndeseruing praise. We foure indeed confronted were with foure In Russia habit: Heere they stayed an houre, And talk'd apace: and in that houre (my Lord) They did not blesse vs with one happy word. I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke, When they are thirstie, fooles would faine haue drinke Ber. This iest is drie to me. Gentle sweete, Your wits makes wise things foolish when we greete With eies best seeing, heauens fierie eie: By light we loose light; your capacitie Is of that nature, that to your huge stoore, Wise things seeme foolish, and rich things but poore Ros. This proues you wise and rich: for in my eie Ber. I am a foole, and full of pouertie Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong, It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue Ber. O, I am yours, and all that I possesse Ros. All the foole mine Ber. I cannot giue you lesse Ros. Which of the Vizards what it that you wore? Ber. Where? when? What Vizard? Why demand you this? Ros. There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case, That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face Kin. We are discried, They'l mocke vs now downeright Du. Let vs confesse, and turne it to a iest Que. Amaz'd my Lord? Why lookes your Highnes sadde? Rosa. Helpe hold his browes, hee'l sound: why looke you pale? Sea-sicke I thinke comming from Muscouie Ber. Thus poure the stars down plagues for periury. Can any face of brasse hold longer out? Heere stand I, Ladie dart thy skill at me, Bruise me with scorne, confound me with a flout. Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance. Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit: And I will wish thee neuer more to dance, Nor neuer more in Russian habit waite. O! neuer will I trust to speeches pen'd, Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boies tongue. Nor neuer come in vizard to my friend, Nor woo in rime like a blind-harpers songue, Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise, Three-pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection; Figures pedanticall, these summer flies, Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation. I do forsweare them, and I heere protest, By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows) Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes. And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law, My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw, Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you Ber. Yet I haue a tricke Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke. Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see, Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three, They are infected, in their hearts it lies: They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes: These Lords are visited, you are not free: For the Lords tokens on you do I see Qu. No, they are free that gaue these tokens to vs Ber. Our states are forfeit, seeke not to vndo vs Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, That you stand forfeit, being those that sue Ber. Peace, for I will not haue to do with you Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend Ber. Speake for your selues, my wit is at an end King. Teach vs sweete Madame, for our rude transgression, some faire excuse Qu. The fairest is confession. Were you not heere but euen now, disguis'd? Kin. Madam, I was Qu. And were you well aduis'd? Kin. I was faire Madam Qu. When you then were heere, What did you whisper in your Ladies eare? King. That more then all the world I did respect her Qu. When shee shall challenge this, you will reiect her King. Vpon mine Honor no Qu. Peace, peace, forbeare: Your oath once broke, you force not to forsweare King. Despise me when I breake this oath of mine Qu. I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline, What did the Russian whisper in your eare? Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me deare As precious eye-sight, and did value me Aboue this World: adding thereto moreouer, That he would Wed me, or else die my Louer Qu. God giue thee ioy of him: the Noble Lord Most honorably doth vphold his word King. What meane you Madame? By my life, my troth I neuer swore this Ladie such an oth Ros. By heauen you did; and to confirme it plaine, You gaue me this: But take it sir againe King. My faith and this, the Princesse I did giue, I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeue Qu. Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare. And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare. What? Will you haue me, or your Pearle againe? Ber. Neither of either, I remit both twaine. I see the tricke on't: Heere was a consent, Knowing aforehand of our merriment, To dash it like a Christmas Comedie. Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight Zanie, Some mumble-newes, some trencher-knight, som Dick That smiles his cheeke in yeares, and knowes the trick To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd; Told our intents before: which once disclos'd, The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she. Now to our periurie, to adde more terror, We are againe forsworne in will and error. Much vpon this tis: and might not you Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue? Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier? And laugh vpon the apple of her eie? And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire, Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie? You put our Page out: go, you are alowd. Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd. You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie Wounds like a Leaden sword Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this carreere bene run Ber. Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I haue don. Enter Clowne. Welcome pure wit, thou part'st a faire fray Clo. O Lord sir, they would kno, Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no Ber. What, are there but three? Clo. No sir, but it is vara fine, For euerie one pursents three Ber. And three times thrice is nine Clo. Not so sir, vnder correction sir, I hope it is not so. You cannot beg vs sir, I can assure you sir, we know what we know: I hope sir three times thrice sir Ber. Is not nine Clo. Vnder correction sir, wee know where-vntill it doth amount Ber. By Ioue, I alwaies tooke three threes for nine Clow. O Lord sir, it were pittie you should get your liuing by reckning sir Ber. How much is it? Clo. O Lord sir, the parties themselues, the actors sir will shew where-vntill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I am (as they say, but to perfect one man in one poore man) Pompion the great sir Ber. Art thou one of the Worthies? Clo. It pleased them to thinke me worthie of Pompey the great: for mine owne part, I know not the degree of the Worthie, but I am to stand for him Ber. Go, bid them prepare. Enter. Clo. We will turne it finely off sir, we wil take some care King. Berowne, they will shame vs: Let them not approach Ber. We are shame-proofe my Lord: and 'tis some policie, to haue one shew worse then the Kings and his companie Kin. I say they shall not come Qu. Nay my good Lord, let me ore-rule you now; That sport best pleases, that doth least know how. Where Zeale striues to content, and the contents Dies in the Zeale of that which it presents: Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth, When great things labouring perish in their birth Ber. A right description of our sport my Lord. Enter Braggart. Brag. Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy royall sweet breath, as will vtter a brace of words Qu. Doth this man serue God? Ber. Why aske you? Qu. He speak's not like a man of God's making Brag. That's all one my faire sweet honie Monarch: For I protest, the Schoolmaster is exceeding fantasticall: Too too vaine, too too vaine. But we wil put it (as they say) to Fortuna delaguar, I wish you the peace of minde most royall cupplement King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies; He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey y great, the Parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant Iudas Machabeus: and if these foure Worthies in their first shew thriue, these foure will change habites, and present the other fiue Ber. There is fiue in the first shew Kin. You are deceiued, tis not so Ber. The Pedant, the Braggart, the Hedge-Priest, the Foole, and the Boy, Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe, Cannot pricke out fiue such, take each one in's vaine Kin. The ship is vnder saile, and here she coms amain. Enter Pompey. Clo. I Pompey am Ber. You lie, you are not he Clo. I Pompey am Boy. With Libbards head on knee Ber. Well said old mocker, I must needs be friends with thee Clo. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big Du. The great Clo. It is great sir: Pompey surnam'd the great: That oft in field, with Targe and Shield, did make my foe to sweat: And trauailing along this coast, I heere am come by chance, And lay my Armes before the legs of this sweet Lasse of France. If your Ladiship would say thankes Pompey, I had done La. Great thankes great Pompey Clo. Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I made a little fault in great Ber. My hat to a halfe-penie, Pompey prooues the best Worthie. Enter Curate for Alexander. Curat. When in the world I liu'd, I was the worldes Commander: By East, West, North, & South, I spred my conquering might My Scutcheon plaine declares that I am Alisander Boiet. Your nose saies no, you are not: For it stands too right Ber. Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight Qu. The Conqueror is dismaid: Proceede good Alexander Cur. When in the world I liued, I was the worldes Commander Boiet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander Ber. Pompey the great Clo. your seruant and Costard Ber. Take away the Conqueror, take away Alisander Clo. O sir, you haue ouerthrowne Alisander the conqueror: you will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this: your Lion that holds his Pollax sitting on a close stoole, will be giuen to Aiax. He will be the ninth worthie. A Conqueror, and affraid to speake? Runne away for shame Alisander. There an't shall please you: a foolish milde man, an honest man, looke you, & soon dasht. He is a maruellous good neighbour insooth, and a verie good Bowler: but for Alisander, alas you see, how 'tis a little ore-parted. But there are Worthies a comming, will speake their minde in some other sort. Exit Cu. Qu. Stand aside good Pompey. Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules. Ped. Great Hercules is presented by this Impe, Whose Club kil'd Cerberus that three-headed Canus, And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe, Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minoritie, Ergo, I come with this Apologie. Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish. Exit Boy Ped. Iudas I am Dum. A Iudas? Ped. Not Iscariot sir. Iudas I am, ycliped Machabeus Dum. Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas Ber. A kissing traitor. How art thou prou'd Iudas? Ped. Iudas I am Dum. The more shame for you Iudas Ped. What meane you sir? Boi. To make Iudas hang himselfe Ped. Begin sir, you are my elder Ber. Well follow'd, Iudas was hang'd on an Elder Ped. I will not be put out of countenance Ber. Because thou hast no face Ped. What is this? Boi. A Citterne head Dum. The head of a bodkin Ber. A deaths face in a ring Lon. The face of an old Roman coine, scarce seene Boi. The pummell of Cæsars Faulchion Dum. The caru'd-bone face on a Flaske Ber. S[aint]. Georges halfe cheeke in a brooch Dum. I, and in a brooch of Lead Ber. I, and worne in the cap of a Tooth-drawer. And now forward, for we haue put thee in countenance Ped. You haue put me out of countenance Ber. False, we haue giuen thee faces Ped. But you haue out-fac'd them all Ber. And thou wer't a Lion, we would do so Boy. Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go: And so adieu sweet Iude. Nay, why dost thou stay? Dum. For the latter end of his name Ber. For the Asse to the Iude: giue it him. Iudas away Ped. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble Boy. A light for monsieur Iudas, it growes darke, he may stumble Que. Alas poore Machabeus, how hath hee beene baited. Enter Braggart. Ber. Hide thy head Achilles, heere comes Hector in Armes Dum. Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merrie King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this Boi. But is this Hector? Kin. I thinke Hector was not so cleane timber'd Lon. His legge is too big for Hector Dum. More Calfe certaine Boi. No, he is best indued in the small Ber. This cannot be Hector Dum. He's a God or a Painter, for he makes faces Brag. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty, gaue Hector a gift Dum. A gilt Nutmegge Ber. A Lemmon Lon. Stucke with Cloues Dum. No clouen Brag. The Armipotent Mars of Launces the almighty, Gaue Hector a gift, the heire of Illion; A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight: yea From morne till night, out of his Pauillion. I am that Flower Dum. That Mint Long. That Cullambine Brag. Sweet Lord Longauill reine thy tongue Lon. I must rather giue it the reine: for it runnes against Hector Dum. I, and Hector's a Grey-hound Brag. The sweet War-man is dead and rotten, Sweet chuckes, beat not the bones of the buried: But I will forward with my deuice; Sweete Royaltie bestow on me the sence of hearing. Berowne steppes forth. Qu. Speake braue Hector, we are much delighted Brag. i do adore thy sweet Graces slipper Boy. Loues her by the foot Dum. He may not by the yard Brag. This Hector farre surmounted Hanniball. The partie is gone Clo. Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two moneths on her way Brag. What meanest thou? Clo. Faith vnlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore Wench is cast away: she's quick, the child brags in her belly alreadie: tis yours Brag. Dost thou infamonize me among Potentates? Thou shalt die Clo. Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is quicke by him, and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him Dum. Most rare Pompey Boi. Renowned Pompey Ber. Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the huge Dum. Hector trembles Ber. Pompey is moued, more Atees more Atees stirre them, or stirre them on Dum. Hector will challenge him Ber. I, if a'haue no more mans blood in's belly, then will sup a Flea Brag. By the North-pole I do challenge thee Clo. I wil not fight with a pole like a Northern man; Ile slash, Ile do it by the sword: I pray you let mee borrow my Armes againe Dum. Roome for the incensed Worthies Clo. Ile do it in my shirt Dum. Most resolute Pompey Page. Master, let me take you a button hole lower: Do you not see Pompey is vncasing for the combat: what meane you? you will lose your reputation Brag. Gentlemen and Souldiers pardon me, I will not combat in my shirt Du. You may not denie it, Pompey hath made the challenge Brag. Sweet bloods, I both may, and will Ber. What reason haue you for't? Brag. The naked truth of it is, I haue no shirt, I go woolward for penance Boy. True, and it was inioyned him in Rome for want of Linnen: since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dishclout of Iaquenettas, and that hee weares next his heart for a fauour. Enter a Messenger, Monsieur Marcade. Mar. God saue you Madame Qu. Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment Marc. I am sorrie Madam, for the newes I bring is heauie in my tongue. The King your father Qu. Dead for my life Mar. Euen so: My tale is told Ber. Worthies away, the Scene begins to cloud Brag. For mine owne part, I breath free breath: I haue seene the day of wrong, through the little hole of discretion, and I will right my selfe like a Souldier. Exeunt. Worthies Kin. How fare's your Maiestie? Qu. Boyet prepare, I will away to night Kin. Madame not so, I do beseech you stay Qu. Prepare I say. I thanke you gracious Lords For all your faire endeuours and entreats: Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe, In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide, The liberall opposition of our spirits, If ouer-boldly we haue borne our selues, In the conuerse of breath (your gentlenesse Was guiltie of it.) Farewell worthie Lord: A heauie heart beares not a humble tongue. Excuse me so, comming so short of thankes, For my great suite, so easily obtain'd Kin. The extreme parts of time, extremelie formes All causes to the purpose of his speed: And often at his verie loose decides That, which long processe could not arbitrate. And though the mourning brow of progenie Forbid the smiling curtesie of Loue: The holy suite which faine it would conuince, Yet since loues argument was first on foote, Let not the cloud of sorrow iustle it From what it purpos'd: since to waile friends lost, Is not by much so wholsome profitable, As to reioyce at friends but newly found Qu. I vnderstand you not, my greefes are double Ber. Honest plain words, best pierce the ears of griefe And by these badges vnderstand the King, For your faire sakes haue we neglected time, Plaid foule play with our oaths: your beautie Ladies Hath much deformed vs, fashioning our humors Euen to the opposed end of our intents. And what in vs hath seem'd ridiculous: As Loue is full of vnbefitting straines, All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine. Form'd by the eie, and therefore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects as the eie doth roule, To euerie varied obiect in his glance: Which partie-coated presence of loose loue Put on by vs, if in your heauenly eies, Haue misbecom'd our oathes and grauities. Those heauenlie eies that looke into these faults, Suggested vs to make: therefore Ladies Our loue being yours, the error that Loue makes Is likewise yours. We to our selues proue false, By being once false, for euer to be true To those that make vs both, faire Ladies you. And euen that falshood in it selfe a sinne, Thus purifies it selfe, and turnes to grace Qu. We haue receiu'd your Letters, full of Loue: Your Fauours, the Ambassadors of Loue. And in our maiden counsaile rated them, At courtship, pleasant iest, and curtesie, As bumbast and as lining to the time: But more deuout then these are our respects Haue we not bene, and therefore met your loues In their owne fashion, like a merriment Du. Our letters Madam, shew'd much more then iest Lon. So did our lookes Rosa. We did not coat them so Kin. Now at the latest minute of the houre, Grant vs your loues Qu. A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in: No, no my Lord, your Grace is periur'd much, Full of deare guiltinesse, and therefore this: If for my Loue (as there is no such cause) You will do ought, this shall you do for me. Your oth I will not trust: but go with speed To some forlorne and naked Hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world: There stay, vntill the twelue Celestiall Signes Haue brought about their annuall reckoning. If this austere insociable life, Change not your offer made in heate of blood: If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds Nip not the gaudie blossomes of your Loue, But that it beare this triall, and last loue: Then at the expiration of the yeare, Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, And by this Virgin palme, now kissing thine, I will be thine: and till that instant shut My wofull selfe vp in a mourning house, Raining the teares of lamentation, For the remembrance of my Fathers death. If this thou do denie, let our hands part, Neither intitled in the others hart Kin. If this, or more then this, I would denie, To flatter vp these powers of mine with rest, The sodaine hand of death close vp mine eie. Hence euer then, my heart is in thy brest Ber. And what to me my Loue? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd. You are attaint with faults and periurie: Therefore if you my fauor meane to get, A tweluemonth shall you spend, and neuer rest, But seeke the wearie beds of people sicke Du. But what to me my loue? but what to me? Kat. A wife? a beard, faire health, and honestie, With three-fold loue, I wish you all these three Du. O shall I say, I thanke you gentle wife? Kat. Not so my Lord, a tweluemonth and a day, Ile marke no words that smoothfac'd wooers say. Come when the King doth to my Ladie come: Then if I haue much loue, Ile giue you some Dum. Ile serue thee true and faithfully till then Kath. Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen Lon. What saies Maria? Mari. At the tweluemonths end, Ile change my blacke Gowne, for a faithfull friend Lon. Ile stay with patience: but the time is long Mari. The liker you, few taller are so yong Ber. Studies my Ladie? Mistresse, looke on me, Behold the window of my heart, mine eie: What humble suite attends thy answer there, Impose some seruice on me for my loue Ros. Oft haue I heard of you my Lord Berowne, Before I saw you: and the worlds large tongue Proclaimes you for a man repleate with mockes, Full of comparisons, and wounding floutes: Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercie of your wit. To weed this Wormewood from your fruitfull braine, And therewithall to win me, if you please, Without the which I am not to be won: You shall this tweluemonth terme from day to day, Visit the speechlesse sicke, and still conuerse With groaning wretches: and your taske shall be, With all the fierce endeuour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile Ber. To moue wilde laughter in the throate of death? It cannot be, it is impossible. Mirth cannot moue a soule in agonie Ros. Why that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, Which shallow laughing hearers giue to fooles: A iests prosperitie, lies in the eare Of him that heares it, neuer in the tongue Of him that makes it: then, if sickly eares, Deaft with the clamors of their owne deare grones, Will heare your idle scornes; continue then, And I will haue you, and that fault withall. But if they will not, throw away that spirit, And I shal finde you emptie of that fault, Right ioyfull of your reformation Ber. A tweluemonth? Well: befall what will befall, Ile iest a tweluemonth in an Hospitall Qu. I sweet my Lord, and so I take my leaue King. No Madam, we will bring you on your way Ber. Our woing doth not end like an old Play: Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesie Might wel haue made our sport a Comedie Kin. Come sir, it wants a tweluemonth and a day, And then 'twil end Ber. That's too long for a play. Enter Braggart. Brag. Sweet Maiesty vouchsafe me Qu. Was not that Hector? Dum. The worthie Knight of Troy Brag. I wil kisse thy royal finger, and take leaue. I am a Votarie, I haue vow'd to Iaquenetta to holde the Plough for her sweet loue three yeares. But most esteemed greatnesse, wil you heare the Dialogue that the two Learned men haue compiled, in praise of the Owle and the Cuckow? It should haue followed in the end of our shew Kin. Call them forth quickely, we will do so Brag. Holla, Approach. Enter all. This side is Hiems, Winter. This Ver, the Spring: the one maintained by the Owle, Th' other by the Cuckow. Ver, begin. The Song. When Dasies pied, and Violets blew, And Cuckow-buds of yellow hew: And Ladie-smockes all siluer white, Do paint the Medowes with delight. The Cuckow then on euerie tree, Mockes married men, for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare. When Shepheards pipe on Oaten strawes, And merrie Larkes are Ploughmens clockes: When Turtles tread, and Rookes and Dawes, And Maidens bleach their summer smockes: The Cuckow then on euerie tree Mockes married men; for thus sings he, Cuckow. Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare, Vnpleasing to a married eare Winter. When Isicles hang by the wall, And Dicke the Shepheard blowes his naile; And Tom beares Logges into the hall, And Milke comes frozen home in paile: When blood is nipt, and waies be fowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle Tuwhit towho. A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot. When all aloud the winde doth blow, And coffing drownes the Parsons saw: And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marrians nose lookes red and raw: When roasted Crabs hisse in the bowle, Then nightly sings the staring Owle, Tuwhit towho: A merrie note, While greasie Ione doth keele the pot Brag. The Words of Mercurie, Are harsh after the songs of Apollo: You that way; we this way. Exeunt. omnes. FINIS. Loues Labour's lost. A Midsommer Nights Dreame Actus primus. Enter Theseus, Hippolita, with others. Theseus. Now faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires Like to a Step-dame, or a Dowager, Long withering out a yong mans reuennew Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep the[m]selues in nights Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time: And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow, Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night Of our solemnities The. Go Philostrate, Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments, Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth, Turne melancholy forth to Funerals: The pale companion is not for our pompe, Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword, And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries: But I will wed thee in another key, With pompe, with triumph, and with reuelling. Enter Egeus and his daughter Hermia, Lysander, and Demetrius. Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned Duke The. Thanks good Egeus: what's the news with thee? Ege. Full of vexation, come I, with complaint Against my childe, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth Demetrius. My Noble Lord, This man hath my consent to marrie her. Stand forth Lysander. And my gracious Duke, This man hath bewitch'd the bosome of my childe: Thou, thou Lysander, thou hast giuen her rimes, And interchang'd loue-tokens with my childe: Thou hast by Moone-light at her window sung, With faining voice, verses of faining loue, And stolne the impression of her fantasie, With bracelets of thy haire, rings, gawdes, conceits, Knackes, trifles, Nose-gaies, sweet meats (messengers Of strong preuailment in vnhardned youth) With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughters heart, Turn'd her obedience (which is due to me) To stubborne harshnesse. And my gracious Duke, Be it so she will not heere before your Grace, Consent to marrie with Demetrius, I beg the ancient priuiledge of Athens; As she is mine, I may dispose of her; Which shall be either to this Gentleman, Or to her death, according to our Law, Immediately prouided in that case The. What say you Hermia? be aduis'd faire Maide, To you your Father should be as a God; One that compos'd your beauties; yea and one To whom you are but as a forme in waxe By him imprinted: and within his power, To leaue the figure, or disfigure it: Demetrius is a worthy Gentleman Her. So is Lysander The. In himselfe he is. But in this kinde, wanting your fathers voyce, The other must be held the worthier Her. I would my father look'd but with my eyes The. Rather your eies must with his iudgment looke Her. I do entreat your Grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold, Nor how it may concerne my modestie In such a presence heere to pleade my thoughts: But I beseech your Grace, that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius The. Either to dye the death, or to abiure For euer the society of men. Therefore faire Hermia question your desires, Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether (if you yeeld not to your fathers choice) You can endure the liuerie of a Nunne, For aye to be in shady Cloister mew'd, To liue a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymnes to the cold fruitlesse Moone, Thrice blessed they that master so their blood, To vndergo such maiden pilgrimage, But earthlier happie is the Rose distil'd, Then that which withering on the virgin thorne, Growes, liues, and dies, in single blessednesse Her. So will I grow, so liue, so die my Lord, Ere I will yeeld my virgin Patent vp Vnto his Lordship, whose vnwished yoake, My soule consents not to giue soueraignty The. Take time to pause, and by the next new Moon The sealing day betwixt my loue and me, For euerlasting bond of fellowship: Vpon that day either prepare to dye, For disobedience to your fathers will, Or else to wed Demetrius as hee would, Or on Dianaes Altar to protest For aie, austerity, and single life Dem. Relent sweet Hermia, and Lysander, yeelde Thy crazed title to my certaine right Lys. You haue her fathers loue, Demetrius: Let me haue Hermiaes: do you marry him Egeus. Scornfull Lysander, true, he hath my Loue; And what is mine, my loue shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I do estate vnto Demetrius Lys. I am my Lord, as well deriu'd as he, As well possest: my loue is more then his: My fortunes euery way as fairely ranck'd (If not with vantage) as Demetrius: And (which is more then all these boasts can be) I am belou'd of beauteous Hermia. Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, Ile auouch it to his head, Made loue to Nedars daughter, Helena, And won her soule: and she (sweet Ladie) dotes, Deuoutly dotes, dotes in Idolatry, Vpon this spotted and inconstant man The. I must confesse, that I haue heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to haue spoke thereof: But being ouer-full of selfe-affaires, My minde did lose it. But Demetrius come, And come Egeus, you shall go with me, I haue some priuate schooling for you both. For you faire Hermia, looke you arme your selfe, To fit your fancies to your Fathers will; Or else the Law of Athens yeelds you vp (Which by no meanes we may extenuate) To death, or to a vow of single life. Come my Hippolita, what cheare my loue? Demetrius and Egeus go along: I must imploy you in some businesse Against our nuptiall, and conferre with you Of something, neerely that concernes your selues Ege. With dutie and desire we follow you. Exeunt. Manet Lysander and Hermia. Lys. How now my loue? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the Roses there do fade so fast? Her. Belike for want of raine, which I could well Beteeme them, from the tempest of mine eyes Lys. For ought that euer I could reade, Could euer heare by tale or historie, The course of true loue neuer did run smooth, But either it was different in blood Her. O crosse! too high to be enthral'd to loue Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of yeares Her. O spight! too old to be ingag'd to yong Lys. Or else it stood vpon the choise of merit Her. O hell! to choose loue by anothers eie Lys. Or if there were a simpathie in choise, Warre, death, or sicknesse, did lay siege to it; Making it momentarie, as a sound: Swift as a shadow, short as any dreame, Briefe as the lightning in the collied night, That (in a spleene) vnfolds both heauen and earth; And ere a man hath power to say, behold, The iawes of darkness do deuoure it vp: So quicke bright things come to confusion Her. If then true Louers haue beene euer crost, It stands as an edict in destinie: Then let vs teach our triall patience, Because it is a customarie crosse, As due to loue, as thoughts, and dreames, and sighes, Wishes and teares; poore Fancies followers Lys. A good perswasion; therefore heare me Hermia, I haue a Widdow Aunt, a dowager, Of great reuennew, and she hath no childe, From Athens is her house remou'd seuen leagues, And she respects me, as her onely sonne: There gentle Hermia, may I marrie thee, And to that place, the sharpe Athenian Law Cannot pursue vs. If thou lou'st me, then Steale forth thy Fathers house to morrow night: And in the wood, a league without the towne, (Where I did meete thee once with Helena. To do obseruance for a morne of May) There will I stay for thee Her. My good Lysander, I sweare to thee, by Cupids strongest bow, By his best arrow with the golden head, By the simplicitie of Venus Doues, By that which knitteth soules, and prospers loue, And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage Queene, When the false Troyan vnder saile was seene, By all the vowes that euer men haue broke, (In number more then euer women spoke) In that same place thou hast appointed me, To morrow truly will I meete with thee Lys. Keepe promise loue: looke here comes Helena. Enter Helena. Her. God speede faire Helena, whither away? Hel. Cal you me faire? that faire againe vnsay, Demetrius loues you faire: O happie faire! Your eyes are loadstarres, and your tongues sweete ayre More tuneable then Larke to shepheards eare, When wheate is greene, when hauthorne buds appeare, Sicknesse is catching: O were fauor so, Your words I catch, faire Hermia ere I go, My eare should catch your voice, my eye, your eye, My tongue should catch your tongues sweete melodie, Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest Ile giue to be to you translated. O teach me how you looke, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius hart Her. I frowne vpon him, yet he loues me still Hel. O that your frownes would teach my smiles such skil Her. I giue him curses, yet he giues me loue Hel. O that my prayers could such affection mooue Her. The more I hate, the more he followes me Hel. The more I loue, the more he hateth me Her. His folly Helena is none of mine Hel. None but your beauty, wold that fault wer mine Her. Take comfort: he no more shall see my face, Lysander and my selfe will flie this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens like a Paradise to mee. O then, what graces in my Loue do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heauen into hell Lys. Helen, to you our mindes we will vnfold, To morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold Her siluer visage, in the watry glasse, Decking with liquid pearle, the bladed grasse (A time that Louers flights doth still conceale) Through Athens gates, haue we deuis'd to steale Her. And in the wood, where often you and I, Vpon faint Primrose beds, were wont to lye, Emptying our bosomes, of their counsell sweld: There my Lysander, and my selfe shall meete, And thence from Athens turne away our eyes To seeke new friends and strange companions, Farwell sweet play-fellow, pray thou for vs, And good lucke grant thee thy Demetrius. Keepe word Lysander we must starue our sight, From louers foode, till morrow deepe midnight. Exit Hermia. Lys. I will my Hermia. Helena adieu, As you on him, Demetrius dotes on you. Exit Lysander. Hele. How happy some, ore othersome can be? Through Athens I am thought as faire as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinkes not so: He will not know, what all, but he doth know, And as hee erres, doting on Hermias eyes; So I, admiring of his qualities: Things base and vilde, holding no quantity, Loue can transpose to forme and dignity, Loue lookes not with the eyes, but with the minde, And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blinde. Nor hath loues minde of any iudgement taste: Wings and no eyes, figure, vnheedy haste. And therefore is Loue said to be a childe, Because in choise he is often beguil'd, As waggish boyes in game themselues forsweare; So the boy Loue is periur'd euery where. For ere Demetrius lookt on Hermias eyne, He hail'd downe oathes that he was onely mine. And when this Haile some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolu'd, and showres of oathes did melt, I will goe tell him of faire Hermias flight: Then to the wood will he, to morrow night Pursue her; and for his intelligence, If I haue thankes, it is a deere expence: But heerein meane I to enrich my paine, To haue his sight thither, and backe againe. Enter. Enter Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Ioyner, Bottome the Weauer, Flute the bellowes-mender, Snout the Tinker, and Starueling the Taylor. Quin. Is all our company heere? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man according to the scrip Qui. Here is the scrowle of euery mans name, which is thought fit through all Athens, to play in our Enterlude before the Duke and the Dutches, on his wedding day at night Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on: then read the names of the Actors: and so grow on to a point Quin. Marry our play is the most lamentable comedy, and most cruell death of Pyramus and Thisbie Bot. A very good peece of worke I assure you, and a merry. Now good Peter Quince, call forth your Actors by the scrowle. Masters spread your selues Quince. Answere as I call you. Nick Bottome the Weauer Bottome. Ready; name what part I am for, and proceed Quince. You Nicke Bottome are set downe for Pyramus Bot. What is Pyramus, a louer, or a tyrant? Quin. A Louer that kills himselfe most gallantly for loue Bot. That will aske some teares in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience looke to their eies: I will mooue stormes; I will condole in some measure. To the rest yet, my chiefe humour is for a tyrant. I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to teare a Cat in, to make all split the raging Rocks; and shiuering shocks shall break the locks of prison gates, and Phibbus carre shall shine from farre, and make and marre the foolish Fates. This was lofty. Now name the rest of the Players. This is Ercles vaine, a tyrants vaine: a louer is more condoling Quin. Francis Flute the Bellowes-mender Flu. Heere Peter Quince Quin. You must take Thisbie on you Flut. What is Thisbie, a wandring Knight? Quin. It is the Lady that Pyramus must loue Flut. Nay faith, let not mee play a woman, I haue a beard comming Qui. That's all one, you shall play it in a Maske, and you may speake as small as you will Bot. And I may hide my face, let me play Thisbie too: Ile speake in a monstrous little voyce; Thisne, Thisne, ah Pyramus my louer deare, thy Thisbie deare, and Lady deare Quin. No no, you must play Pyramus, and Flute, you Thisby Bot. Well, proceed Qu. Robin Starueling the Taylor Star. Heere Peter Quince Quince. Robin Starueling, you must play Thisbies mother? Tom Snowt, the Tinker Snowt. Heere Peter Quince Quin. you, Pyramus father; my self, Thisbies father; Snugge the Ioyner, you the Lyons part: and I hope there is a play fitted Snug. Haue you the Lions part written? pray you if be, giue it me, for I am slow of studie Quin. You may doe it extemporie, for it is nothing but roaring Bot. Let mee play the Lyon too, I will roare that I will doe any mans heart good to heare me. I will roare, that I will make the Duke say, Let him roare againe, let him roare againe Quin. If you should do it too terribly, you would fright the Dutchesse and the Ladies, that they would shrike, and that were enough to hang us all All. That would hang vs euery mothers sonne Bottome. I graunt you friends, if that you should fright the Ladies out of their Wittes, they would haue no more discretion but to hang vs: but I will aggrauate my voyce so, that I will roare you as gently as any sucking Doue; I will roare and 'twere any Nightingale Quin. You can play no part but Piramus, for Piramus is a sweet-fac'd man, a proper man as one shall see in a summers day; a most louely Gentleman-like man, therfore you must needs play Piramus Bot. Well, I will vndertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? Quin. Why, what you will Bot. I will discharge it, in either your straw-colour beard, your orange tawnie beard, your purple in graine beard, or your French-crowne colour'd beard, your perfect yellow Quin. Some of your French Crownes haue no haire at all, and then you will play bare-fac'd. But masters here are your parts, and I am to intreat you, request you, and desire you, to con them by too morrow night: and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the Towne, by Moone-light, there we will rehearse: for if we meete in the Citie, we shalbe dog'd with company, and our deuises knowne. In the meane time, I wil draw a bil of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you faile me not Bottom. We will meete, and there we may rehearse more obscenely and couragiously. Take paines, be perfect, adieu Quin. At the Dukes oake we meete Bot. Enough, hold or cut bow-strings. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Enter a Fairie at one dore, and Robin goodfellow at another. Rob. How now spirit, whether wander you? Fai. Ouer hil, ouer dale, through bush, through briar, Ouer parke, ouer pale, through flood, through fire, I do wander euerie where, swifter then y Moons sphere; And I serue the Fairy Queene, to dew her orbs vpon the green. The Cowslips tall, her pensioners bee, In their gold coats, spots you see, Those be Rubies, Fairie fauors, In those freckles, liue their sauors, I must go seeke some dew drops heere, And hang a pearle in euery cowslips eare. Farewell thou Lob of spirits, Ile be gon, Our Queene and all her Elues come heere anon Rob. The King doth keepe his Reuels here to night, Take heed the Queene come not within his sight, For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she, as her attendant, hath A louely boy stolne from an Indian King, She neuer had so sweet a changeling, And iealous Oberon would haue the childe Knight of his traine, to trace the Forrests wilde. But she (perforce) with-holds the loued boy, Crownes him with flowers, and makes him all her ioy. And now they neuer meete in groue, or greene, By fountaine cleere, or spangled star-light sheene, But they do square, that all their Elues for feare Creepe into Acorne cups and hide them there Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrew'd and knauish spirit Cal'd Robin Good-fellow. Are you not hee, That frights the maidens of the Villagree, Skim milke, and sometimes labour in the querne, And bootlesse make the breathlesse huswife cherne, And sometime make the drinke to beare no barme, Misleade night-wanderers, laughing at their harme, Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Pucke, You do their worke, and they shall haue good lucke. Are not you he? Rob. Thou speak'st aright; I am that merrie wanderer of the night: I iest to Oberon, and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likenesse of a silly foale, And sometime lurke I in a Gossips bole, In very likenesse of a roasted crab: And when she drinkes, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dewlop poure the Ale. The wisest Aunt telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stoole, mistaketh me, Then slip I from her bum, downe topples she, And tailour cries, and fals into a coffe. And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe, And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and sweare, A merrier houre was neuer wasted there. But roome Fairy, heere comes Oberon Fair. And heere my Mistris: Would that he were gone. Enter the King of Fairies at one doore with his traine, and the Queene at another with hers. Ob. Ill met by Moone-light. Proud Tytania Qu. What, iealous Oberon? Fairy skip hence. I haue forsworne his bed and companie Ob. Tarrie rash Wanton; am not I thy Lord? Qu. Then I must be thy Lady: but I know When thou wast stolne away from Fairy Land, And in the shape of Corin, sate all day, Playing on pipes of Corne, and versing loue To amorous Phillida. Why art thou heere Come from the farthest steepe of India? But that forsooth the bouncing Amazon Your buskin'd Mistresse, and your Warrior loue, To Theseus must be Wedded; and you come, To giue their bed ioy and prosperitie Ob. How canst thou thus for shame Tytania. Glance at my credite, with Hippolita? Knowing I know thy loue to Theseus? Didst thou not leade him through the glimmering night From Peregenia, whom he rauished? And make him with faire Eagles breake his faith With Ariadne, and Antiopa? Que. These are the forgeries of iealousie, And neuer since the middle Summers spring Met we on hil, in dale, forrest, or mead, By paued fountaine, or by rushie brooke, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling Winde, But with thy braules thou hast disturb'd our sport. Therefore the Windes, piping to vs in vaine, As in reuenge, haue suck'd vp from the sea Contagious fogges: Which falling in the Land, Hath euerie petty Riuer made so proud, That they haue ouer-borne their Continents. The Oxe hath therefore stretch'd his yoake in vaine, The Ploughman lost his sweat, and the greene Corne Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard: The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And Crowes are fatted with the murrion flocke, The nine mens Morris is fild vp with mud, And the queint Mazes in the wanton greene, For lacke of tread are vndistinguishable. The humane mortals want their winter heere, No night is now with hymne or caroll blest; Therefore the Moone (the gouernesse of floods) Pale in her anger, washes all the aire; That Rheumaticke diseases doe abound. And through this distemperature, we see The seasons alter; hoared headed Frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson Rose, And on old Hyems chinne and Icie crowne, An odorous Chaplet of sweet Sommer buds Is as in mockry set. The Spring, the Sommer, The childing Autumne, angry Winter change Their wonted Liueries, and the mazed world, By their increase, now knowes not which is which; And this same progeny of euills, Comes from our debate, from our dissention, We are their parents and originall Ober. Do you amend it then, it lies in you, Why should Titania crosse her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy, To be my Henchman Qu. Set your heart at rest, The Fairy land buyes not the childe of me, His mother was a Votresse of my Order, And in the spiced Indian aire, by night Full often hath she gossipt by my side, And sat with me on Neptunes yellow sands, Marking th' embarked traders on the flood, When we haue laught to see the sailes conceiue, And grow big bellied with the wanton winde: Which she with pretty and with swimming gate, Following (her wombe then rich with my yong squire) Would imitate, and saile vpon the Land, To fetch me trifles, and returne againe, As from a voyage, rich with merchandize. But she being mortall, of that boy did die, And for her sake I doe reare vp her boy, And for her sake I will not part with him Ob. How long within this wood intend you stay? Qu. Perchance till after Theseus wedding day. If you will patiently dance in our Round, And see our Moone-light reuels, goe with vs; If not, shun me and I will spare your haunts Ob. Giue me that boy, and I will goe with thee Qu. Not for thy Fairy Kingdome. Fairies away: We shall chide downe right, if I longer stay. Exeunt Ob. Wel, go thy way: thou shalt not from this groue, Till I torment thee for this iniury. My gentle Pucke come hither; thou remembrest Since once I sat vpon a promontory, And heard a Meare-maide on a Dolphins backe, Vttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew ciuill at her song, And certaine starres shot madly from their Spheares, To heare the Sea-maids musicke Puc. I remember Ob. That very time I say (but thou couldst not) Flying betweene the cold Moone and the earth, Cupid all arm'd; a certaine aime he tooke At a faire Vestall, throned by the West, And loos'd his loue-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts, But I might see young Cupids fiery shaft Quencht in the chaste beames of the watry Moone; And the imperiall Votresse passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy free. Yet markt I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell vpon a little westerne flower; Before, milke-white: now purple with loues wound, And maidens call it, Loue in idlenesse. Fetch me that flower; the hearb I shew'd thee once, The iuyce of it, on sleeping eye-lids laid, Will make or man or woman madly dote Vpon the next liue creature that it sees. Fetch me this hearbe, and be thou heere againe, Ere the Leuiathan can swim a league Pucke. Ile put a girdle about the earth, in forty minutes Ober. Hauing once this iuyce, Ile watch Titania, when she is asleepe, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: The next thing when she waking lookes vpon, (Be it on Lyon, Beare, or Wolfe, or Bull, On medling Monkey, or on busie Ape) Shee shall pursue it, with the soule of loue. And ere I take this charme off from her sight, (As I can take it with another hearbe) Ile make her render vp her Page to me. But who comes heere? I am inuisible, And I will ouer-heare their conference. Enter Demetrius, Helena following him. Deme. I loue thee not, therefore pursue me not, Where is Lysander, and faire Hermia? The one Ile stay, the other stayeth me. Thou toldst me they were stolne into this wood; And heere am I, and wood within this wood, Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more Hel. You draw me, you hard-hearted Adamant, But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart Is true as steele. Leaue you your power to draw, And I shall haue no power to follow you Deme. Do I entice you? do I speake you faire? Or rather doe I not in plainest truth, Tell you I doe not, nor I cannot loue you? Hel. And euen for that doe I loue thee the more; I am your spaniell, and Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawne on you. Vse me but as your spaniell; spurne me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; onely giue me leaue (Vnworthy as I am) to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your loue, (And yet a place of high respect with me) Then to be vsed as you doe your dogge Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit, For I am sicke when I do looke on thee Hel. And I am sicke when I looke not on you Dem. You doe impeach your modesty too much, To leaue the Citty, and commit your selfe Into the hands of one that loues you not, To trust the opportunity of night. And the ill counsell of a desert place, With the rich worth of your virginity Hel. Your vertue is my priuiledge: for that It is not night when I doe see your face. Therefore I thinke I am not in the night, Nor doth this wood lacke worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world. Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is heere to looke on me? Dem. Ile run from thee, and hide me in the brakes, And leaue thee to the mercy of wilde beasts Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you; Runne when you will, the story shall be chang'd: Apollo flies and Daphne holds the chase; The Doue pursues the Griffin, the milde Hinde Makes speed to catch the Tyger. Bootlesse speede, When cowardise pursues, and valour flies Demet. I will not stay thy questions, let me go; Or if thou follow me, doe not beleeue, But I shall doe thee mischiefe in the wood Hel. I, in the Temple, in the Towne, and Field You doe me mischiefe. Fye Demetrius, Your wrongs doe set a scandall on my sexe: We cannot fight for loue, as men may doe; We should be woo'd, and were not made to wooe. I follow thee, and make a heauen of hell, To die vpon the hand I loue so well. Enter. Ob. Fare thee well Nymph, ere he do leaue this groue, Thou shalt flie him, and he shall seeke thy loue. Hast thou the flower there? Welcome wanderer. Enter Pucke. Puck. I there it is Ob. I pray thee giue it me. I know a banke where the wilde time blowes, Where Oxslips and the nodding Violet growes, Quite ouer-cannoped with luscious woodbine, With sweet muske roses, and with Eglantine; There sleepes Tytania, sometime of the night, Lul'd in these flowers, with dances and delight: And there the snake throwes her enammel'd skinne, Weed wide enough to rap a Fairy in. And with the iuyce of this Ile streake her eyes, And make her full of hatefull fantasies. Take thou some of it, and seek through this groue; A sweet Athenian Lady is in loue With a disdainefull youth: annoint his eyes, But doe it when the next thing he espies, May be the Lady. Thou shalt know the man, By the Athenian garments he hath on. Effect it with some care, that he may proue More fond on her, then she vpon her loue; And looke thou meet me ere the first Cocke crow Pu. Feare not my Lord, your seruant shall do so. Enter. Enter Queene of Fairies, with her traine. Queen. Come, now a Roundell, and a Fairy song; Then for the third part of a minute hence, Some to kill Cankers in the muske rose buds, Some warre with Reremise, for their leathern wings. To make my small Elues coates, and some keepe backe The clamorous Owle that nightly hoots and wonders At our queint spirits: Sing me now asleepe, Then to your offices, and let me rest Fairies Sing. You spotted Snakes with double tongue, Thorny Hedgehogges be not seene, Newts and blinde wormes do no wrong, Come not neere our Fairy Queene. Philomele with melodie, Sing in your sweet Lullaby. Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby, Neuer harme, nor spell, nor charme, Come our louely Lady nye, So good night with Lullaby 2.Fairy. Weauing Spiders come not heere, Hence you long leg'd Spinners, hence: Beetles blacke approach not neere; Worme nor Snayle doe no offence. Philomele with melody, &c 1.Fairy. Hence away, now all is well; One aloofe, stand Centinell. Shee sleepes. Enter Oberon. Ober. What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true Loue take: Loue and languish for his sake. Be it Ounce, or Catte, or Beare, Pard, or Boare with bristled haire, In thy eye that shall appeare, When thou wak'st, it is thy deare, Wake when some vile thing is neere. Enter Lisander and Hermia. Lis. Faire loue, you faint with wandring in y woods, And to speake troth I haue forgot our way: Wee'll rest vs Hermia, If you thinke it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day Her. Be it so Lysander; finde you out a bed, For I vpon this banke will rest my head Lys. One turfe shall serue as pillow for vs both, One heart, one bed, two bosomes, and one troth Her. Nay good Lysander, for my sake my deere Lie further off yet, doe not lie so neere Lys. O take the sence sweet, of my innocence, Loue takes the meaning, in loues conference, I meane that my heart vnto yours is knit, So that but one heart can you make of it. Two bosomes interchanged with an oath, So then two bosomes, and a single troth. Then by your side, no bed-roome me deny, For lying so, Hermia, I doe not lye Her. Lysander riddles very prettily; Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied. But gentle friend, for loue and courtesie Lie further off, in humane modesty, Such separation, as may well be said, Becomes a vertuous batchelour, and a maide, So farre be distant, and good night sweet friend; Thy loue nere alter, till thy sweet life end Lys. Amen, amen, to that faire prayer, say I, And then end life, when I end loyalty: Heere is my bed, sleepe giue thee all his rest Her. With halfe that wish, the wishers eyes be prest. Enter Pucke. They sleepe. Puck. Through the Forest haue I gone, But Athenian finde I none, One whose eyes I might approue This flowers force in stirring loue. Nigh and silence: who is heere? Weedes of Athens he doth weare: This is he (my master said) Despised the Athenian maide: And heere the maiden sleeping sound, On the danke and durty ground. Pretty soule, she durst not lye Neere this lacke-loue, this kill-curtesie. Churle, vpon thy eyes I throw All the power this charme doth owe: When thou wak'st, let loue forbid Sleepe his seate on thy eye-lid. So awake when I am gone: For I must now to Oberon. Enter. Enter Demetrius and Helena running. Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweete Demetrius De. I charge thee hence, and do not haunt me thus Hel. O wilt thou darkling leaue me? do not so De. Stay on thy perill, I alone will goe. Exit Demetrius. Hel. O I am out of breath, in this fond chace, The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace, Happy is Hermia, wheresoere she lies; For she hath blessed and attractiue eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt teares. If so, my eyes are oftner washt then hers. No, no, I am as vgly as a Beare; For beasts that meete me, runne away for feare, Therefore no maruaile, though Demetrius Doe as a monster, flie my presence thus. What wicked and dissembling glasse of mine, Made me compare with Hermias sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander on the ground; Deade or asleepe? I see no bloud, no wound, Lysander, if you liue, good sir awake Lys. And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena, nature her shewes art, That through thy bosome makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? oh how fit a word Is that vile name, to perish on my sword! Hel. Do not say so Lysander, say not so: What though he loue your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loues you; then be content Lys. Content with Hermia? no, I do repent The tedious minutes I with her haue spent. Not Hermia, but Helena now I loue; Who will not change a Rauen for a Doue? The will of man is by his reason sway'd: And reason saies you are the worthier Maide. Things growing are not ripe vntill their season; So I being yong, till now ripe not to reason, And touching now the point of humane skill, Reason becomes the Marshall to my will. And leades me to your eyes, where I orelooke Loues stories, written in Loues richest booke Hel. Wherefore was I to this keene mockery borne? When at your hands did I deserue this scorne? Ist not enough, ist not enough, yong man, That I did neuer, no nor neuer can, Deserue a sweete looke from Demetrius eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth you do me wrong (good-sooth you do) In such disdainfull manner, me to wooe. But fare you well; perforce I must confesse, I thought you Lord of more true gentlenesse. Oh, that a Lady of one man refus'd, Should of another therefore be abus'd. Enter Lys. She sees not Hermia: Hermia sleepe thou there, And neuer maist thou come Lysander neere; For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomacke brings: Or as the heresies that men do leaue, Are hated most of those that did deceiue: So thou, my surfeit, and my heresie, Of all be hated; but the most of me; And all my powers addresse your loue and might, To honour Helen, and to be her Knight. Enter. Her. Helpe me Lysander, helpe me; do thy best To plucke this crawling serpent from my brest. Aye me, for pitty; what a dreame was here? Lysander looke, how I do quake with feare: Me-thought a serpent eate my heart away, And yet sat smiling at his cruell prey. Lysander, What remoou'd? Lysander, Lord, What, out of hearing, gone? No sound, no word? Alacke where are you? speake and if you heare: Speake of all loues; I sound almost with feare. No, then I well perceiue you are not nye, Either death or you Ile finde immediately. Enter. Actus Tertius. Enter the Clownes. Bot. Are we all met? Quin. Pat, pat, and here's a maruailous conuenient place for our rehearsall. This greene plot shall be our stage, this hauthorne brake our tyring house, and we will do it in action, as we will do it before the Duke Bot. Peter Quince? Peter. What saist thou, bully Bottome? Bot. There are things in this Comedy of Piramus and Thisby, that will neuer please. First, Piramus must draw a sword to kill himselfe; which the Ladies cannot abide. How answere you that? Snout. Berlaken, a parlous feare Star. I beleeue we must leaue the killing out, when all is done Bot. Not a whit, I haue a deuice to make all well. Write me a Prologue, and let the Prologue seeme to say, we will do no harme with our swords, and that Pyramus is not kill'd indeede: and for the more better assurance, tell them, that I Piramus am not Piramus, but Bottome the Weauer; this will put them out of feare Quin. Well, we will haue such a Prologue, and it shall be written in eight and sixe Bot. No, make it two more, let it be written in eight and eight Snout. Will not the Ladies be afear'd of the Lyon? Star. I feare it, I promise you Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your selues, to bring in (God shield vs) a Lyon among Ladies, is a most dreadfull thing. For there is not a more fearefull wilde foule then your Lyon liuing: and wee ought to looke to it Snout. Therefore another Prologue must tell he is not a Lyon Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and halfe his face must be seene through the Lyons necke, and he himselfe must speake through, saying thus, or to the same defect; Ladies, or faire Ladies, I would wish you, or I would request you, or I would entreat you, not to feare, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you thinke I come hither as a Lyon, it were pitty of my life. No, I am no such thing, I am a man as other men are; and there indeed let him name his name, and tell him plainly hee is Snug the ioyner Quin. Well, it shall be so; but there is two hard things, that is, to bring the Moone-light into a chamber: for you know Piramus and Thisby meete by Moonelight Sn. Doth the Moone shine that night wee play our play? Bot. A Calender, a Calender, looke in the Almanack, finde out Moone-shine, finde out Moone-shine. Enter Pucke. Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night Bot. Why then may you leaue a casement of the great chamber window (where we play) open, and the Moone may shine in at the casement Quin. I, or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorne, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present the person of Moone-shine. Then there is another thing, we must haue a wall in the great Chamber; for Piramus and Thisby (saies the story) did talke through the chinke of a wall Sn. You can neuer bring in a wall. What say you Bottome? Bot. Some man or other must present wall, and let him haue some Plaster, or some Lome, or some rough cast about him, to signifie wall; or let him hold his fingers thus; and through that cranny shall Piramus and Thisby whisper Quin. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit downe euery mothers sonne, and rehearse your parts. Piramus, you begin; when you haue spoken your speech, enter into that Brake, and so euery one according to his cue. Enter Robin. Rob. What hempen home-spuns haue we swaggering here, So neere the Cradle of the Faierie Queene? What, a Play toward? Ile be an auditor, An Actor too perhaps, if I see cause Quin. Speake Piramus: Thisby stand forth Pir. Thisby, the flowers of odious sauors sweete Quin. Odours, odours Pir. Odours sauors sweete, So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby deare. But harke, a voyce: stay thou but here a while, And by and by I will to thee appeare. Exit. Pir. Puck. A stranger Piramus, then ere plaid here This. Must I speake now? Pet. I marry must you. For you must vnderstand he goes but to see a noyse that he heard, and is to come againe Thys. Most radiant Piramus, most Lilly white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant bryer, Most brisky Iuuenall, and eke most louely Iew, As true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre, Ile meete thee Piramus, at Ninnies toombe Pet. Ninus toombe man: why, you must not speake that yet; that you answere to Piramus: you speake all your part at once, cues and all. Piramus enter, your cue is past; it is neuer tyre Thys. O, as true as truest horse, that yet would neuer tyre: Pir. If I were faire, Thisby I were onely thine Pet. O monstrous. O strange. We are hanted; pray masters, flye masters, helpe. The Clownes all Exit. Puk. Ile follow you, Ile leade you about a Round, Through bogge, through bush, through brake, through bryer, Sometime a horse Ile be, sometime a hound: A hogge, a headlesse beare, sometime a fire, And neigh, and barke, and grunt, and rore, and burne, Like horse, hound, hog, beare, fire, at euery turne. Enter. Enter Piramus with the Asse head. Bot. Why do they run away? This is a knauery of them to make me afeard. Enter Snowt Sn. O Bottom, thou art chang'd; What doe I see on thee? Bot. What do you see? You see an Asse-head of your owne, do you? Enter Peter Quince. Pet. Blesse thee Bottome, blesse thee; thou art translated. Enter. Bot. I see their knauery; this is to make an asse of me, to fright me if they could; but I will not stirre from this place, do what they can. I will walke vp and downe here, and I will sing that they shall heare I am not afraid. The Woosell cocke, so blacke of hew, With Orenge-tawny bill. The Throstle, with his note so true, The Wren and little quill Tyta. What Angell wakes me from my flowry bed? Bot. The Finch, the Sparrow, and the Larke, The plainsong Cuckow gray; Whose note full many a man doth marke, And dares not answere, nay. For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow, neuer so? Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe, Mine eare is much enamored of thy note; On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee. So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape. And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me Bot. Me-thinkes mistresse, you should haue little reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and loue keepe little company together, nowadayes. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occasion Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull Bot. Not so neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I haue enough to serue mine owne turne Tyta. Out of this wood, do not desire to goe, Thou shalt remaine here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate: The Summer still doth tend vpon my state, And I doe loue thee; therefore goe with me, Ile giue thee Fairies to attend on thee; And they shall fetch thee Iewels from the deepe, And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost sleepe: And I will purge thy mortall grossenesse so, That thou shalt like an airie spirit go. Enter Pease-blossome, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseede, and foure Fairies. Fai. Ready; and I, and I, and I, Where shall we go? Tita. Be kinde and curteous to this Gentleman, Hop in his walkes, and gambole in his eies, Feede him with Apricocks, and Dewberries, With purple Grapes, greene Figs, and Mulberries, The honie-bags steale from the humble Bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighes, And light them at the fierie-Glow-wormes eyes, To haue my loue to bed, and to arise: And plucke the wings from painted Butterflies, To fan the Moone-beames from his sleeping eies. Nod to him Elues, and doe him curtesies 1.Fai. Haile mortall, haile 2.Fai. Haile 3.Fai. Haile Bot. I cry your worships mercy hartily; I beseech your worships name Cob. Cobweb Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name honest Gentleman? Pease. Pease Blossome Bot. I pray you commend me to mistresse Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod your father. Good master Pease-blossome, I shal desire of you more acquaintance to. Your name I beseech you sir? Mus. Mustard-seede Peas. Pease-blossome Bot. Good master Mustard seede, I know your patience well: that same cowardly gyant-like Oxe beefe hath deuoured many a gentleman of your house. I promise you, your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seede Tita. Come waite vpon him, lead him to my bower. The Moone me-thinks, lookes with a watrie eie, And when she weepes, weepe euerie little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastitie. Tye vp my louers tongue, bring him silently. Enter. Enter King of Pharies, solus. Ob. I wonder if Titania be awak't; Then what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on, in extremitie. Enter Pucke. Here comes my messenger: how now mad spirit, What night-rule now about this haunted groue? Puck. My Mistris with a monster is in loue, Neere to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hower, A crew of patches, rude Mechanicals, That worke for bread vpon Athenian stals, Were met together to rehearse a Play, Intended for great Theseus nuptiall day: The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Piramus presented, in their sport, Forsooke his Scene, and entred in a brake, When I did him at this aduantage take, An Asses nole I fixed on his head. Anon his Thisbie must be answered, And forth my Mimmick comes: when they him spie, As Wilde-geese, that the creeping Fowler eye, Or russed-pated choughes, many in sort (Rising and cawing at the guns report) Seuer themselues, and madly sweepe the skye: So at his sight, away his fellowes flye, And at our stampe, here ore and ore one fals; He murther cries, and helpe from Athens cals. Their sense thus weake, lost with their feares thus strong, Made senslesse things begin to do them wrong. For briars and thornes at their apparell snatch, Some sleeues, some hats, from yeelders all things catch, I led them on in this distracted feare, And left sweete Piramus translated there: When in that moment (so it came to passe) Tytania waked, and straightway lou'd an Asse Ob. This fals out better then I could deuise: But hast thou yet lacht the Athenians eyes, With the loue iuyce, as I bid thee doe? Rob. I tooke him sleeping (that is finisht to) And the Athenian woman by his side, That when he wak't, of force she must be eyde. Enter Demetrius and Hermia. Ob. Stand close, this is the same Athenian Rob. This is the woman, but not this the man Dem. O why rebuke you him that loues you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe Her. Now I but chide, but I should vse thee worse. For thou (I feare) hast giuen me cause to curse, If thou hast slaine Lysander in his sleepe, Being oreshooes in bloud, plunge in the deepe, and kill me too: The Sunne was not so true vnto the day, As he to me. Would he haue stollen away, From sleeping Hermia? Ile beleeue as soone This whole earth may be bord, and that the Moone May through the Center creepe, and so displease Her brothers noonetide, with th'Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murdred him, So should a murtherer looke, so dead, so grim Dem. So should the murderer looke, and so should I, Pierst through the heart with your stearne cruelty: Yet you the murderer lookes as bright as cleare, As yonder Venus in her glimmering spheare Her. What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah good Demetrius, wilt thou giue him me? Dem. I'de rather giue his carkasse to my hounds Her. Out dog, out cur, thou driu'st me past the bounds Of maidens patience. Hast thou slaine him then? Henceforth be neuer numbred among men. Oh, once tell true, euen for my sake, Durst thou a lookt vpon him, being awake? And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O braue tutch: Could not a worme, an Adder do so much? An Adder did it: for with doubler tongue Then thine (thou serpent) neuer Adder stung Dem. You spend your passion on a mispris'd mood, I am not guiltie of Lysanders blood: Nor is he dead for ought that I can tell Her. I pray thee tell me then that he is well Dem. And if I could, what should I get therefore? Her. A priuiledge, neuer to see me more; And from thy hated presence part I: see me no more Whether he be dead or no. Enter. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vaine, Here therefore for a while I will remaine. So sorrowes heauinesse doth heauier grow: For debt that bankrout slip doth sorrow owe, Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. Lie downe. Ob. What hast thou done? Thou hast mistaken quite And laid the loue iuyce on some true loues sight: Of thy misprision, must perforce ensue Some true loue turn'd, and not a false turn'd true Rob. Then fate ore-rules, that one man holding troth, A million faile, confounding oath on oath Ob. About the wood, goe swifter then the winde, And Helena of Athens looke thou finde. All fancy sicke she is, and pale of cheere, With sighes of loue, that costs the fresh bloud deare. By some illusion see thou bring her heere, Ile charme his eyes against she doth appeare Robin. I go, I go, looke how I goe, Swifter then arrow from the Tartars bowe. Enter. Ob. Flower of this purple die, Hit with Cupids archery, Sinke in apple of his eye, When his loue he doth espie, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wak'st if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. Enter Pucke. Puck. Captaine of our Fairy band, Helena is heere at hand, And the youth, mistooke by me, Pleading for a Louers fee. Shall we their fond Pageant see? Lord, what fooles these mortals be! Ob. Stand aside: the noyse they make, Will cause Demetrius to awake Puck. Then will two at once wooe one, That must needs be sport alone: And those things doe best please me, That befall preposterously. Enter Lysander and Helena. Lys. Why should you think y I should wooe in scorn? Scorne and derision neuer comes in teares: Looke when I vow I weepe; and vowes so borne, In their natiuity all truth appeares. How can these things in me, seeme scorne to you? Bearing the badge of faith to proue them true Hel. You doe aduance your cunning more & more, When truth kils truth, O diuelish holy fray! These vowes are Hermias. Will you giue her ore? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh. Your vowes to her, and me, (put in two scales) Will euen weigh, and both as light as tales Lys. I had no iudgement, when to her I swore Hel. Nor none in my minde, now you giue her ore Lys. Demetrius loues her, and he loues not you. Awa. Dem. O Helen, goddesse, nimph, perfect, diuine, To what, my loue, shall I compare thine eyne! Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show, Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow, When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent To set against me, for your merriment: If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie, You would not doe me thus much iniury. Can you not hate me, as I know you doe, But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to? If you are men, as men you are in show, You would not vse a gentle Lady so; To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia; And now both Riuals to mocke Helena. A trim exploit, a manly enterprize, To coniure teares vp in a poore maids eyes, With your derision; none of noble sort, Would so offend a Virgin, and extort A poore soules patience, all to make you sport, Lysa. You are vnkind Demetrius; be not so, For you loue Hermia; this you know I know; And here with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermias loue I yeeld you vp my part; And yours of Helena, To me bequeath, Whom I do loue, and will do to my death Hel. Neuer did mockers wast more idle breth Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia, I will none: If ere I lou'd her, all that loue is gone. My heart to her, but as guest-wise soiourn'd, And now to Helen it is home return'd, There to remaine Lys. It is not so De. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest to thy perill thou abide it deare. Looke where thy Loue comes, yonder is thy deare. Enter Hermia. Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The eare more quicke of apprehension makes, Wherein it doth impaire the seeing sense, It paies the hearing double recompence. Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander found, Mine eare (I thanke it) brought me to that sound. But why vnkindly didst thou leaue me so? Lysan. Why should hee stay whom Loue doth presse to go? Her. What loue could presse Lysander from my side? Lys. Lysanders loue (that would not let him bide) Faire Helena; who more engilds the night, Then all yon fierie oes, and eies of light. Why seek'st thou me? Could not this make thee know, The hate I bare thee, made me leaue thee so? Her. You speake not as you thinke; it cannot be Hel. Loe, she is one of this confederacy, Now I perceiue they haue conioyn'd all three, To fashion this false sport in spight of me. Iniurous Hermia, most vngratefull maid, Haue you conspir'd, haue you with these contriu'd To baite me, with this foule derision? Is all the counsell that we two haue shar'd, The sisters vowes, the houres that we haue spent, When wee haue chid the hasty footed time, For parting vs; O, is all forgot? All schooledaies friendship, child-hood innocence? We Hermia, like two Artificiall gods, Haue with our needles, created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key: As if our hands, our sides, voices, and mindes Had beene incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet a vnion in partition, Two louely berries molded on one stem, So with two seeming bodies, but one heart, Two of the first life coats in Heraldry, Due but to one and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient loue asunder, To ioyne with men in scorning your poore friend? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly. Our sexe as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone doe feele the iniurie Her. I am amazed at your passionate words, I scorne you not; It seemes that you scorne me Hel. Haue you not set Lysander, as in scorne To follow me, and praise my eies and face? And made your other loue, Demetrius (Who euen but now did spurne me with his foote) To call me goddesse, nimph, diuine, and rare, Precious, celestiall? Wherefore speakes he this To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Denie your loue (so rich within his soule) And tender me (forsooth) affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung vpon with loue, so fortunate? (But miserable most, to loue vnlou'd) This you should pittie, rather then despise Her. I vnderstand not what you meane by this Hel. I, doe, perseuer, counterfeit sad lookes, Make mouthes vpon me when I turne my backe, Winke each at other, hold the sweete iest vp: This sport well carried, shall be chronicled. If you haue any pittie, grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument: But fare ye well, 'tis partly mine owne fault, Which death or absence soone shall remedie Lys. Stay gentle Helena, heare my excuse, My loue, my life, my soule, faire Helena Hel. O excellent! Her. Sweete, do not scorne her so Dem. If she cannot entreate, I can compell Lys. Thou canst compell, no more then she entreate. Thy threats haue no more strength then her weak praise. Helen, I loue thee, by my life I doe; I sweare by that which I will lose for thee, To proue him false, that saies I loue thee not Dem. I say, I loue thee more then he can do Lys. If thou say so, withdraw and proue it too Dem. Quick, come Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this? Lys. Away, you Ethiope Dem. No, no, Sir, seeme to breake loose; Take on as you would follow, But yet come not: you are a tame man, go Lys. Hang off thou cat, thou bur; vile thing let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent Her. Why are you growne so rude? What change is this sweete Loue? Lys. Thy loue? out tawny Tartar, out; Out loathed medicine; O hated poison hence Her. Do you not iest? Hel. Yes sooth, and so do you Lys. Demetrius: I will keepe my word with thee Dem. I would I had your bond: for I perceiue A weake bond holds you; Ile not trust your word Lys. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, Ile not harme her so Her. What, can you do me greater harme then hate? Hate me, wherefore? O me, what newes my Loue? Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? I am as faire now, as I was ere while. Since night you lou'd me: yet since night you left me. Why then you left me (O the gods forbid) In earnest, shall I say? Lys. I, by my life; And neuer did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest, That I do hate thee, and loue Helena Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome, You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night, And stolne my loues heart from him? Hel. Fine yfaith: Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game. Now I perceiue that she hath made compare Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height, And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height (forsooth) she hath preuail'd with him. And are you growne so high in his esteeme, Because I am so dwarfish, and so low? How low am I, thou painted May-pole? Speake, How low am I? I am not yet so low, But that my nailes can reach vnto thine eyes Hel. I pray you though you mocke me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me; I was neuer curst: I haue no gift at all in shrewishnesse; I am a right maide for my cowardize; Let her not strike me: you perhaps may thinke, Because she is something lower then my selfe, That I can match her Her. Lower? harke againe Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me, I euermore did loue you Hermia, Did euer keepe your counsels, neuer wronged you, Saue that in loue vnto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth vnto this wood. He followed you, for loue I followed him, But he hath chid me hence, and threatned me To strike me, spurne me, nay to kill me too; And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I beare my folly backe, And follow you no further. Let me go. You see how simple, and how fond I am Her. Why get you gone: who ist that hinders you? Hel. A foolish heart, that I leaue here behinde Her. What, with Lysander? Her. With Demetrius Lys. Be not afraid, she shall not harme thee Helena Dem. No sir, she shall not, though you take her part Hel. O when she's angry, she is keene and shrewd, She was a vixen when she went to schoole, And though she be but little, she is fierce Her. Little againe? Nothing but low and little? Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her Lys. Get you gone you dwarfe, You minimus, of hindring knot-grasse made, You bead, you acorne Dem. You are too officious, In her behalfe that scornes your seruices. Let her alone, speake not of Helena, Take not her part. For if thou dost intend Neuer so little shew of loue to her, Thou shalt abide it Lys. Now she holds me not, Now follow if thou dar'st, to try whose right, Of thine or mine is most in Helena Dem. Follow? Nay, Ile goe with thee cheeke by iowle. Exit Lysander and Demetrius. Her. You Mistris, all this coyle is long of you. Nay, goe not backe Hel. I will not trust you I, Nor longer stay in your curst companie. Your hands then mine, are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though to runne away. Enter Oberon and Pucke. Ob. This is thy negligence, still thou mistak'st, Or else committ'st thy knaueries willingly Puck. Beleeue me, King of shadowes, I mistooke, Did not you tell me, I should know the man, By the Athenian garments he hath on? And so farre blamelesse proues my enterprize, That I haue nointed an Athenians eies, And so farre am I glad, it so did sort, As this their iangling I esteeme a sport Ob. Thou seest these Louers seeke a place to fight, Hie therefore Robin, ouercast the night, The starrie Welkin couer thou anon, With drooping fogge as blacke as Acheron, And lead these testie Riuals so astray, As one come not within anothers way. Like to Lysander, sometime frame thy tongue, Then stirre Demetrius vp with bitter wrong; And sometime raile thou like Demetrius; And from each other looke thou leade them thus, Till ore their browes, death-counterfeiting, sleepe With leaden legs, and Battie-wings doth creepe: Then crush this hearbe into Lysanders eie, Whose liquor hath this vertuous propertie, To take from thence all error, with his might, and make his eie-bals role with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seeme a dreame, and fruitless vision, And backe to Athens shall the Louers wend With league, whose date till death shall neuer end. Whiles I in this affaire do thee imploy, Ile to my Queene, and beg her Indian Boy; And then I will her charmed eie release From monsters view, and all things shall be peace Puck. My Fairie Lord, this must be done with haste, For night-swift Dragons cut the Clouds full fast, And yonder shines Auroras harbinger; At whose approach Ghosts wandring here and there, Troope home to Church-yards; damned spirits all, That in crosse-waies and flouds haue buriall, Alreadie to their wormie beds are gone; For feare least day should looke their shames vpon, They wilfully themselues exile from light, And must for aye consort with blacke browd night Ob. But we are spirits of another sort: I, with the mornings loue haue oft made sport, And like a Forrester, the groues may tread, Euen till the Easterne gate all fierie red, Opening on Neptune, With faire blessed beames, Turnes into yellow gold, his salt greene streames. But not withstanding haste, make no delay: We may effect this businesse, yet ere day Puck. Vp and downe, vp and downe, I will leade them vp and downe: I am fear'd in field and towne. Goblin, lead them vp and downe: here comes one. Enter Lysander. Lys. Where art thou, proud Demetrius? Speake thou now Rob. Here villaine, drawne & readie. Where art thou? Lys. I will be with thee straight Rob. Follow me then to plainer ground. Enter Demetrius. Dem. Lysander, speake againe; Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speake in some bush: Where dost thou hide thy head? Rob. Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come recreant, come thou childe, Ile whip thee with a rod. He is defil'd That drawes a sword on thee Dem. Yea, art thou there? Ro. Follow my voice, we'l try no manhood here. Enter. Lys. He goes before me, and still dares me on, When I come where he cals, then he's gone. The Villaine is much lighter heel'd then I: I followed fast, but faster he did flye; shifting places. That fallen am I in darke vneuen way, And here wil rest me. Come thou gentle day: lye down. For if but once thou shew me thy gray light, Ile finde Demetrius, and reuenge this spight. Enter Robin and Demetrius. Rob. Ho, ho, ho; coward, why com'st thou not? Dem. Abide me, if thou dar'st. For well I wot, Thou runst before me, shifting euery place, And dar'st not stand, nor looke me in the face. Where art thou? Rob. Come hither, I am here Dem. Nay then thou mock'st me; thou shalt buy this deere, If euer I thy face by day-light see. Now goe thy way: faintnesse constraineth me, To measure out my length on this cold bed, By daies approach looke to be visited. Enter Helena. Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy houres, shine comforts from the East, That I may backe to Athens by day-light, From these that my poore companie detest; And sleepe that sometime shuts vp sorrowes eie, Steale me a while from mine owne companie. Sleepe. Rob. Yet but three? Come one more, Two of both kindes makes vp foure. Here she comes, curst and sad, Cupid is a knauish lad, Enter Hermia. Thus to make poore females mad Her. Neuer so wearie, neuer so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew, and torne with briars, I can no further crawle, no further goe; My legs can keepe no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the breake of day, Heauens shield Lysander, if they meane a fray Rob. On the ground sleepe sound, Ile apply your eie gentle louer, remedy. When thou wak'st, thou tak'st True delight in the sight of thy former Ladies eye, And the Country Prouerb knowne, That euery man should take his owne, In your waking shall be showne. Iacke shall haue Iill, nought shall goe ill. The man shall haue his Mare againe, and all shall bee well. They sleepe all the Act. Actus Quartus. Enter Queene of Fairies, and Clowne, and Fairies, and the King behinde them. Tita. Come, sit thee downe vpon this flowry bed, While I thy amiable cheekes doe coy, And sticke muske roses in thy sleeke smoothe head, And kisse thy faire large eares, my gentle ioy Clow. Where's Peaseblossome? Peas. Ready Clow. Scratch my head, Pease-blossome. Wher's Mounsieuer Cobweb Cob. Ready Clowne. Mounsieur Cobweb, good Mounsier get your weapons in your hand, & kill me a red hipt humble-Bee, on the top of a thistle; and good Mounsieur bring mee the hony bag. Doe not fret your selfe too much in the action, Mounsieur; and good mounsieur haue a care the hony bag breake not, I would be loth to haue you ouerflowne with a hony-bag signiour. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? Mus. Ready Clo. Giue me your neafe, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you leaue your courtesie good Mounsieur Mus. What's your will? Clo. Nothing good Mounsieur, but to help Caualery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the Barbers Mounsieur, for me-thinkes I am maruellous hairy about the face. And I am such a tender asse, if my haire do but tickle me, I must scratch Tita. What, wilt thou heare some musicke, my sweet loue Clow. I haue a reasonable good eare in musicke. Let vs haue the tongs and the bones. Musicke Tongs, Rurall Musicke. Tita. Or say sweete Loue, what thou desirest to eat Clowne. Truly a pecke of Prouender; I could munch your good dry Oates. Me-thinkes I haue a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweete hay hath no fellow Tita. I haue a venturous Fairy, That shall seeke the Squirrels hoard, And fetch thee new Nuts Clown. I had rather haue a handfull or two of dried pease. But I pray you let none of your people stirre me, I haue an exposition of sleepe come vpon me Tyta. Sleepe thou, and I will winde thee in my arms, Fairies be gone, and be alwaies away. So doth the woodbine, the sweet Honisuckle, Gently entwist; the female Iuy so Enrings the barky fingers of the Elme. O how I loue thee! how I dote on thee! Enter Robin goodfellow and Oberon. Ob. Welcome good Robin: Seest thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I doe begin to pitty. For meeting her of late behinde the wood, Seeking sweet sauours for this hatefull foole, I did vpbraid her, and fall out with her. For she his hairy temples then had rounded, With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers. And that same dew which somtime on the buds, Was wont to swell like round and orient pearles; Stood now within the pretty flouriets eyes, Like teares that did their owne disgrace bewaile. When I had at my pleasure taunted her, And she in milde termes beg'd my patience, I then did aske of her, her changeling childe, Which straight she gaue me, and her fairy sent To beare him to my Bower in Fairy Land. And now I haue the Boy, I will vndoe This hatefull imperfection of her eyes. And gentle Pucke, take this transformed scalpe, From off the head of this Athenian swaine; That he awaking when the other doe, May all to Athens backe againe repaire, And thinke no more of this nights accidents, But as the fierce vexation of dreame. But first I will release the Fairy Queene. Be thou as thou wast wont to be; See as thou wast wont to see. Dians bud, or Cupids flower, Hath such force and blessed power. Now my Titania wake you my sweet Queene Tita. My Oberon, what visions haue I seene! Me-thought I was enamoured of an asse Ob. There lies your loue Tita. How came these things to passe? Oh, how mine eyes doth loath this visage now! Ob. Silence a while. Robin take off his head: Titania, musick call, and strike more dead Then common sleepe; of all these, fine the sense Tita. Musicke, ho musicke, such as charmeth sleepe. Musick still. Rob. When thou wak'st, with thine owne fooles eies peepe Ob. Sound musick; come my Queen, take hands with me And rocke the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I new in amity, And will to morrow midnight, solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus house triumphantly, And blesse it to all faire posterity. There shall the paires of faithfull Louers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in iollity Rob. Faire King attend, and marke, I doe heare the morning Larke, Ob. Then my Queene in silence sad, Trip we after the nights shade; We the Globe can compasse soone, Swifter then the wandering Moone Tita. Come my Lord, and in our flight, Tell me how it came this night, That I sleeping heere was found, Sleepers Lye still. With these mortals on the ground. Exeunt. Winde Hornes. Enter Theseus, Egeus, Hippolita and all his traine. Thes. Goe one of you, finde out the Forrester, For now our obseruation is perform'd; And since we haue the vaward of the day, My Loue shall heare the musicke of my hounds. Vncouple in the Westerne valley, let them goe; Dispatch I say, and finde the Forrester. We will faire Queene, vp to the Mountains top, And marke the musicall confusion Of hounds and eccho in coniunction Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. When in a wood of Creete they bayed the Beare With hounds of Sparta; neuer did I heare Such gallant chiding. For besides the groues, The skies, the fountaines, euery region neere, Seeme all one mutuall cry. I neuer heard So musicall a discord, such sweet thunder Thes. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kinde, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With eares that sweepe away the morning dew, Crooke kneed, and dew-lapt, like Thessalian Buls, Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bels, Each vnder each. A cry more tuneable Was neuer hallowed to, nor cheer'd with horne, In Creete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly; Iudge when you heare. But soft, what nimphs are these? Egeus. My Lord, this is my daughter heere asleepe, And this Lysander, this Demetrius is, This Helena, olde Nedars Helena, I wonder of this being heere together The. No doubt they rose vp early, to obserue The right of May; and hearing our intent, Came heere in grace of our solemnity. But speake Egeus, is not this the day That Hermia should giue answer of her choice? Egeus. It is, my Lord Thes. Goe bid the hunts-men wake them with their hornes. Hornes and they wake. Shout within, they all start vp. Thes. Good morrow friends: Saint Valentine is past, Begin these wood birds but to couple now? Lys. Pardon my Lord Thes. I pray you all stand vp. I know you two are Riuall enemies. How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so farre from iealousie, To sleepe by hate, and feare no enmity Lys. My Lord, I shall reply amazedly, Halfe sleepe, halfe waking. but as yet, I sweare, I cannot truly say how I came heere. But as I thinke (for truly would I speake) And now I doe bethinke me, so it is; I came with Hermia hither. Our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might be Without the perill of the Athenian Law Ege. Enough, enough, my Lord: you haue enough; I beg the Law, the Law, vpon his head: They would have stolne away, they would Demetrius, Thereby to haue defeated you and me: You of your wife, and me of my consent; Of my consent, that she should be your wife Dem. My Lord, faire Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither, to this wood, And I in furie hither followed them; Faire Helena, in fancy followed me. But my good Lord, I wot not by what not by what power, (But by some power it is) my loue To Hermia (melted as the snow) Seems to me now as the remembrance of an idle gaude, Which in my childehood I did doat vpon: And all the faith, the vertue of my heart, The obiect and the pleasure of mine eye, Is onely Helena. To her, my Lord, Was I betroth'd, ere I see Hermia, But like a sickenesse did I loath this food, But as in health, come to my naturall taste, Now doe I wish it, loue it, long for it, And will for euermore be true to it Thes. Faire Louers, you are fortunately met; Of this discourse we shall heare more anon. Egeus, I will ouer-beare your will; For in the Temple, by and by with vs, These couples shall eternally be knit. And for the morning now is something worne, Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside. Away, with vs to Athens; three and three, Wee'll hold a feast in great solemnitie. Come Hippolita. Exit Duke and Lords. Dem. These things seeme small & vndistinguishable, Like farre off mountaines turned into Clouds Her. Me-thinks I see these things with parted eye, When euery thing seemes double Hel. So me-thinkes: And I haue found Demetrius, like a iewell, Mine owne, and not mine owne Dem. It seemes to mee, That yet we sleepe, we dreame. Do not you thinke, The Duke was heere, and bid vs follow him? Her. Yea, and my Father Hel. And Hippolita Lys. And he bid vs follow to the Temple Dem. Why then we are awake; lets follow him, and by the way let vs recount our dreames. Bottome wakes. Exit Louers. Clo. When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer. My next is, most faire Piramus. Hey ho. Peter Quince? Flute the bellowes-mender? Snout the tinker? Starueling? Gods my life! Stolne hence, and left me asleepe: I haue had a most rare vision. I had a dreame, past the wit of man, to say, what dreame it was. Man is but an Asse, if he goe about to expound this dreame. Me-thought I was, there is no man can tell what. Me-thought I was, and me-thought I had. But man is but a patch'd foole, if he will offer to say, what me-thought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the eare of man hath not seen, mans hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceiue, nor his heart to report, what my dreame was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballet of this dreame, it shall be called Bottomes Dreame, because it hath no bottome; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the Duke. Peraduenture, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. Enter. Enter Quince, Flute, Thisbie, Snout, and Starueling. Quin. Haue you sent to Bottomes house? Is he come home yet? Staru. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt hee is transported This. If he come not, then the play is mar'd. It goes not forward, doth it? Quin. It is not possible: you haue not a man in all Athens, able to discharge Piramus but he This. No, hee hath simply the best wit of any handycraft man in Athens Quin. Yea, and the best person too, and hee is a very Paramour, for a sweet voyce This. You must say, Paragon. A Paramour is (God blesse vs) a thing of nought. Enter Snug the Ioyner. Snug. Masters, the Duke is comming from the Temple, and there is two or three Lords & Ladies more married. If our sport had gone forward, we had all bin made men This. O sweet bully Bottome: thus hath he lost sixepence a day, during his life; he could not haue scaped sixpence a day. And the Duke had not giuen him sixpence a day for playing Piramus, Ile be hang'd. He would haue deserued it. Sixpence a day in Piramus, or nothing. Enter Bottome. Bot. Where are these Lads? Where are these hearts? Quin. Bottome, o most couragious day! O most happie houre! Bot. Masters, I am to discourse wonders; but ask me not what. For if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you euery thing as it fell out Qu. Let vs heare, sweet Bottome Bot. Not a word of me: all that I will tell you, is, that the Duke hath dined. Get your apparell together, good strings to your beards, new ribbands to your pumps, meete presently at the Palace, euery man looke ore his part: for the short and the long is, our play is preferred: In any case let Thisby haue cleane linnen: and let not him that playes the Lion, paire his nailes, for they shall hang out for the Lions clawes. And most deare Actors, eate no Onions, nor Garlicke; for wee are to vtter sweete breath, and I doe not doubt but to heare them say, it is a sweet Comedy. No more words: away, go away. Exeunt. Actus Quintus. Enter Theseus, Hippolita, Egeus and his Lords. Hip. 'Tis strange my Theseus, y these louers speake of The. More strange then true. I neuer may beleeue These anticke fables, nor these Fairy toyes, Louers and mad men haue such seething braines, Such shaping phantasies, that apprehend more Then coole reason euer comprehends. The Lunaticke, the Louer, and the Poet, Are of imagination all compact. One sees more diuels then vaste hell can hold; That is the mad man. The Louer, all as franticke, Sees Helens beauty in a brow of Egipt. The Poets eye in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance From heauen to earth, from earth to heauen. And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things Vnknowne; the Poets pen turnes them to shapes, And giues to aire nothing, a locall habitation, And a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some ioy, It comprehends some bringer of that ioy. Or in the night, imagining some feare, Howe easie is a bush suppos'd a Beare? Hip. But all the storie of the night told ouer, And all their minds transfigur'd so together, More witnesseth than fancies images, And growes to something of great constancie; But howsoeuer, strange, and admirable. Enter louers, Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia, and Helena. The. Heere come the louers, full of ioy and mirth: Ioy, gentle friends, ioy and fresh dayes Of loue accompany your hearts Lys. More then to vs, waite in your royall walkes, your boord, your bed The. Come now, what maskes, what dances shall we haue, To weare away this long age of three houres, Between our after supper, and bed-time? Where is our vsuall manager of mirth? What Reuels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing houre? Call Egeus Ege. Heere mighty Theseus The. Say, what abridgement haue you for this euening? What maske? What musicke? How shall we beguile The lazie time, if not with some delight? Ege. There is a breefe how many sports are rife: Make choise of which your Highnesse will see first Lis. The battell with the Centaurs to be sung By an Athenian Eunuch, to the Harpe The. Wee'l none of that. That haue I told my Loue In glory of my kinsman Hercules Lis. The riot of the tipsie Bachanals, Tearing the Thracian singer, in their rage? The. That is an old deuice, and it was plaid When I from Thebes came last a Conqueror Lis. The thrice three Muses, mourning for the death of learning, late deceast in beggerie The. That is some Satire keene and criticall, Not sorting with a nuptiall ceremonie Lis. A tedious breefe Scene of yong Piramus, And his loue Thisby; very tragicall mirth The. Merry and tragicall? Tedious, and briefe? That is, hot ice, and wondrous strange snow. How shall wee finde the concord of this discord? Ege. A play there is, my Lord, some ten words long, Which is as breefe, as I haue knowne a play; But by ten words, my Lord, it is too long; Which makes it tedious. For in all the play, There is not one word apt, one Player fitted. And tragicall my noble Lord it is: for Piramus Therein doth kill himselfe. Which when I saw Rehearst, I must confesse, made mine eyes water: But more merrie teares, the passion of loud laughter Neuer shed Thes. What are they that do play it? Ege. Hard handed men, that worke in Athens heere, Which neuer labour'd in their mindes till now; And now haue toyled their vnbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptiall The. And we will heare it Hip. No my noble Lord, it is not for you. I haue heard It ouer, and it is nothing, nothing in the world; Vnless you can finde sport in their intents, Extreamely stretched, and cond with cruell paine, To doe you seruice Thes. I will heare that play. For neuer any thing Can be amisse, when simplenesse and duty tender it. Goe bring them in, and take your places, Ladies Hip. I loue not to see wretchednesse orecharged; And duty in his seruice perishing Thes. Why gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing Hip. He saies, they can doe nothing in this kinde Thes. The kinder we, to giue them thanks for nothing Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake; And what poore duty cannot doe, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. Where I haue come, great Clearkes haue purposed To greete me with premeditated welcomes; Where I haue seene them shiuer and looke pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practiz'd accent in their feares, And in conclusion, dumbly haue broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me sweete, Out of this silence yet, I pickt a welcome: And in the modesty of fearefull duty, I read as much, as from the ratling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Loue therefore, and tongue-tide simplicity, In least, speake most, to my capacity Egeus. So please your Grace, the Prologue is addrest Duke. Let him approach. Flor. Trum. Enter the Prologue. Quince. Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should thinke, we come not to offend, But with good will. To shew our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then, we come but in despight. We do not come, as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight, We are not heere. That you should here repent you, The Actors are at hand; and by their show, You shall know all, that you are like to know Thes. This fellow doth not stand vpon points Lys. He hath rid his Prologue, like a rough Colt: he knowes not the stop. A good morall my lord. it is not enough to speake, but to speake true Hip. Indeed hee hath plaid on his Prologue, like a childe on a Recorder, a sound, but not in gouernment Thes. His speech was like a tangled chaine: nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Tawyer with a Trumpet before them. Enter Pyramus and Thisby, Wall, Moone-shine, and Lyon. Prol. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show, But wonder on, till truth make all things plaine. This man is Piramus, if you would know; This beauteous Lady, Thisby is certaine. This man, with lyme and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile wall, which did these louers sunder: And through walls chink (poor soules) they are content To whisper. At the which, let no man wonder. This man, with Lanthorne, dog, and bush of thorne, Presenteth moone-shine. For if you will know, By moone-shine did these Louers thinke no scorne To meet at Ninus toombe, there, there to wooe: This grizly beast (which Lyon hight by name) The trusty Thisby, comming first by night, Did scarre away, or rather did affright: And as she fled, her mantle she did fall; Which Lyon vile with bloody mouth did staine. Anon comes Piramus, sweet youth and tall, And findes his Thisbies Mantle slaine; Whereat, with blade, with bloody blamefull blade, He brauely broacht his boiling bloudy breast, And Thisby, tarrying in Mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lyon, Moone-shine, Wall, and Louers twaine, At large discourse, while here they doe remaine. Exit all but Wall. Thes. I wonder if the Lion be to speake Deme. No wonder, my Lord: one Lion may, when many Asses doe. Exit Lyon, Thisbie, and Mooneshine. Wall. In this same Interlude, it doth befall, That I, one Snowt (by name) present a wall: And such a wall, as I would haue you thinke, That had in it a crannied hole or chinke: Through which the Louers, Piramus and Thisbie Did whisper often, very secretly. This loame, this rough-cast, and this stone doth shew, That I am that same Wall; the truth is so. And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearfull Louers are to whisper Thes. Would you desire Lime and Haire to speake better? Deme. It is the wittiest partition, that euer I heard discourse, my Lord Thes. Pyramus drawes neere the Wall, silence. Enter Pyramus. Pir. O grim lookt night, o night with hue so blacke, O night, which euer art, when day is not: O night, o night, alacke, alacke, alacke, I feare my Thisbies promise is forgot. And thou o wall, thou sweet and louely wall, That stands between her fathers ground and mine, Thou wall, o Wall, o sweet and louely wall, Shew me thy chinke, to blinke through with mine eine. Thankes courteous wall. Ioue shield thee well for this. But what see I? No Thisbie doe I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no blisse, Curst be thy stones for thus deceiuing mee Thes. The wall me-thinkes being sensible, should curse againe Pir. No in truth sir, he should not. Deceiuing me, Is Thisbies cue; she is to enter, and I am to spy Her through the wall. You shall see it will fall. Enter Thisbie. Pat as I told you; yonder she comes This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my mones, For parting my faire Piramus, and me My cherry lips haue often kist thy stones; Thy stones with Lime and Haire knit vp in thee Pyra. I see a voyce; now will I to the chinke, To spy and I can heare my Thisbies face. Thisbie? This. My Loue thou art, my Loue I thinke Pir. Thinke what thou wilt, I am thy Louers grace, And like Limander am I trusty still This. And like Helen till the Fates me kill Pir. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you Pir. O kisse me through the hole of this vile wall This. I kisse the wals hole, not your lips at all Pir. Wilt thou at Ninnies tombe meete me straight way? This. Tide life, tide death, I come without delay Wall. Thus haue I Wall, my part discharged so; And being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit Clow. Du. Now is the morall downe between the two Neighbours Dem. No remedie my Lord, when Wals are so wilfull, to heare without warning Dut. This is the silliest stuffe that ere I heard Du. The best in this kind are but shadowes, and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them Dut. It must be your imagination then, & not theirs Duk. If wee imagine no worse of them then they of themselues, they may passe for excellent men. Here com two noble beasts, in a man and a Lion. Enter Lyon and Moone-shine Lyon. You Ladies, you (whose gentle harts do feare The smallest monstrous mouse that creepes on floore) May now perchance, both quake and tremble heere, When Lion rough in wildest rage doth roare. Then know that I, one Snug the Ioyner am A Lion fell, nor else no Lions dam: For if I should as Lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pittie of my life Du. A verie gentle beast, and of good conscience Dem. The verie best at a beast, my Lord, y ere I saw Lis. This Lion is a verie Fox for his valor Du. True, and a Goose for his discretion Dem. Not so my Lord: for his valor cannot carrie his discretion, and the fox carries the Goose Du. His discretion I am sure cannot carrie his valor: for the Goose carries not the Fox. It is well; leaue it to his discretion, and let vs hearken to the Moone Moone. This Lanthorne doth the horned Moone present De. He should haue worne the hornes on his head Du. Hee is no crescent, and his hornes are inuisible, within the circumference Moon. This lanthorne doth the horned Moone present: My selfe, the man i'th Moone doth seeme to be Du. This is the greatest error of all the rest; the man Should be put into the Lanthorne. How is it els the man i'th Moone? Dem. He dares not come there for the candle. For you see, it is already in snuffe Dut. I am wearie of this Moone; would he would change Du. It appeares by his smal light of discretion, that he is in the wane: but yet in courtesie, in all reason, we must stay the time Lys. Proceed Moone Moon. All that I haue to say, is to tell you, that the Lanthorne is the Moone; I, the man in the Moone; this thorne bush; my thorne bush; and this dog, my dog Dem. Why all these should be in the Lanthorne: for they are in the Moone. But silence, heere comes Thisby. Enter Thisby. This. This is old Ninnies tombe: where is my loue? Lyon. Oh. The Lion roares, Thisby runs off. Dem. Well roar'd Lion Du. Well run Thisby Dut. Well shone Moone. Truly the Moone shines with a good grace Du. Wel mouz'd Lion Dem. And then came Piramus Lys. And so the Lion vanisht. Enter Piramus. Pyr. Sweet Moone, I thank thee for thy sunny beames, I thanke thee Moone, for shining now so bright: For by thy gracious, golden, glittering beames, I trust to taste of truest Thisbies sight. But stay: O spight! but marke, poore Knight, What dreadful dole is heere? Eyes do you see! How can it be! O dainty Ducke: O Deere! Thy mantle good; what staind with blood! Approch you furies fell: O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum, Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend, Would go neere to make a man looke sad Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame? Since lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere: Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame That liu'd, that lou'd, that like'd, that look'd with cheere. Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound The pap of Piramus: I, that left pap, where heart doth hop; Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky, Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight, Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is nothing Du. With the helpe of a Surgeon, he might yet recouer, and proue an Asse Dut. How chance Moone-shine is gone before? Thisby comes backe, and findes her Louer. Enter Thisby. Duke. She wil finde him by starre-light. Heere she comes, and her passion ends the play Dut. Me thinkes shee should not vse a long one for such a Piramus: I hope she will be breefe Dem. A Moth wil turne the ballance, which Piramus which Thisby is the better Lys. She hath spyed him already, with those sweete eyes Dem. And thus she meanes, videlicit This. Asleepe my Loue? What, dead my Doue? O Piramus arise: Speake, speake. Quite dumbe? Dead, dead? A tombe Must couer thy sweet eyes. These Lilly Lips, this cherry nose, These yellow Cowslip cheekes Are gone, are gone: Louers make mone: His eyes were greene as Leekes. O Sisters three, come, come to mee, With hands as pale as Milke, Lay them in gore, since you haue shore with sheeres, his thred of silke. Tongue not a word: Come trusty sword: Come blade, my brest imbrue: And farwell friends, thus Thisbie ends; Adieu, adieu, adieu Duk. Moone-shine & Lion are left to burie the dead Deme. I, and Wall too Bot. No, I assure you, the wall is downe, that parted their Fathers. Will it please you to see the Epilogue, or to heare a Bergomask dance, betweene two of our company? Duk. No Epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Neuer excuse; for when the plaiers are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if hee that writ it had plaid Piramus, and hung himselfe in Thisbies garter, it would haue beene a fine Tragedy: and so it is truely, and very notably discharg'd. but come, your Burgomaske; let your Epilogue alone. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelue. Louers to bed, 'tis almost Fairy time. I feare we shall out-sleepe the comming morne, As much as we this night haue ouer-watcht. This palpable grosse play hath well beguil'd The heauy gate of night. Sweet friends to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity. In nightly Reuels; and new iollitie. Exeunt. Enter Pucke. Puck. Now the hungry Lyons rores, And the Wolfe beholds the Moone: Whilest the heauy ploughman snores, All with weary taske fore-done. Now the wasted brands doe glow, Whil'st the scritch-owle, scritching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shrowd. Now it is the time of night, That the graues, all gaping wide, Euery one lets forth his spright, In the Church-way paths to glide, And we Fairies, that do runne, By the triple Hecates teame, From the presence of the Sunne, Following darkenesse like a dreame, Now are frollicke; not a Mouse Shall disturbe this hallowed house. I am sent with broome before, To sweep the dust behinde the doore. Enter King and Queene of Fairies, with their traine. Ob. Through the house giue glimmering light, By the dead and drowsie fier, Euerie Elfe and Fairie spright, Hop as light as bird from brier, And this Ditty after me, sing and dance it trippinglie, Tita. First rehearse this song by roate, To each word a warbling note. Hand in hand, with Fairie grace, Will we sing and blesse this place. The Song. Now vntill the breake of day, Through this house each Fairy stray. To the best Bride-bed will we, Which by vs shall blessed be: And the issue there create, Euer shall be fortunate: So shall all the couples three, Euer true in louing be: And the blots of Natures hand, Shall not in their issue stand. Neuer mole, harelip, nor scarre, nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in Natiuitie, Shall vpon their children be. With this field dew consecrate, Euery Fairy take his gate, And each seuerall chamber blesse, Through this Pallace with sweet peace, Euer shall in safety rest. And the owner of it blest. Trip away, make no stay; Meet me all by breake of day Robin. If we shadowes haue offended, Thinke but this (and all is mended) That you haue but slumbred heere, While these Visions did appeare. And this weake and idle theame, No more yeelding but a dreame, Gentles, doe not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. And as I am an honest Pucke, If we haue vnearned lucke, Now to scape the Serpents tongue, We will make amends ere long: Else the Pucke a lyar call. So good night vnto you all. Giue me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. FINIS. A MIDSOMMER Nights Dreame. The Merchant of Venice Actus primus. Enter Anthonio, Salarino, and Salanio. Anthonio. In sooth I know not why I am so sad, It wearies me: you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuffe 'tis made of, whereof it is borne, I am to learne: and such a Want-wit sadnesse makes of mee, That I haue much ado to know my selfe Sal. Your minde is tossing on the Ocean, There where your Argosies with portly saile Like Signiors and rich Burgers on the flood, Or as it were the Pageants of the sea, Do ouer-peere the pettie Traffiquers That curtsie to them, do them reuerence As they flye by them with their wouen wings Salar. Beleeue me sir, had I such venture forth, The better part of my affections, would Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still Plucking the grasse to know where sits the winde, Peering in Maps for ports, and peers, and rodes: And euery obiect that might make me feare Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt Would make me sad Sal. My winde cooling my broth, Would blow me to an Ague, when I thought What harme a winde too great might doe at sea. I should not see the sandie houre-glasse runne, But I should thinke of shallows, and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew docks in sand, Vailing her high top lower then her ribs To kisse her buriall; should I goe to Church And see the holy edifice of stone, And not bethinke me straight of dangerous rocks, Which touching but my gentle Vessels side Would scatter all her spices on the streame, Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes, And in a word, but euen now worth this, And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad? But tell me, I know Anthonio Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it, My ventures are not in one bottome trusted, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Vpon the fortune of this present yeere: Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad Sola. Why then you are in loue Anth. Fie, fie Sola. Not in loue neither: then let vs say you are sad Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easie For you to laugh and leape, and say you are merry Because you are not sad. Now by two-headed Ianus, Nature hath fram'd strange fellowes in her time: Some that will euermore peepe through their eyes, And laugh like Parrats at a bag-piper. And other of such vineger aspect, That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor sweare the iest be laughable. Enter Bassanio, Lorenso, and Gratiano. Sola. Heere comes Bassanio, Your most noble Kinsman, Gratiano, and Lorenso. Faryewell, We leaue you now with better company Sala. I would haue staid till I had made you merry, If worthier friends had not preuented me Ant. Your worth is very deere in my regard. I take it your owne busines calls on you, And you embrace th' occasion to depart Sal. Good morrow my good Lords Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when? You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? Sal. Wee'll make our leysures to attend on yours. Exeunt. Salarino, and Solanio. Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you haue found Anthonio We two will leaue you, but at dinner time I pray you haue in minde where we must meete Bass. I will not faile you Grat. You looke not well signior Anthonio, You haue too much respect vpon the world: They loose it that doe buy it with much care, Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano, A stage, where euery man must play a part, And mine a sad one Grati. Let me play the foole, With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come, And let my Liuer rather heate with wine, Then my heart coole with mortifying grones. Why should a man whose bloud is warme within, Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster? Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio, I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes: There are a sort of men, whose visages Do creame and mantle like a standing pond, And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine, With purpose to be drest in an opinion Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit, As who should say, I am sir an Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke. O my Anthonio, I do know of these That therefore onely are reputed wise, For saying nothing; when I am verie sure If they should speake, would almost dam those eares Which hearing them would call their brothers fooles: Ile tell thee more of this another time. But fish not with this melancholly baite For this foole Gudgin, this opinion: Come good Lorenzo, faryewell a while, Ile end my exhortation after dinner Lor. Well, we will leaue you then till dinner time. I must be one of these same dumbe wise men. For Gratiano neuer let's me speake Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo, Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible. Enter. Ant. It is that any thing now Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing, more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them they are not worth the search An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage That you to day promis'd to tel me of? Bas. Tis not vnknowne to you Anthonio How much I haue disabled mine estate, By something shewing a more swelling port Then my faint meanes would grant continuance: Nor do I now make mone to be abridg'd From such a noble rate, but my cheefe care Is to come fairely off from the great debts Wherein my time something too prodigall Hath left me gag'd: to you Anthonio I owe the most in money, and in loue, And from your loue I haue a warrantie To vnburthen all my plots and purposes, How to get cleere of all the debts I owe An. I pray you good Bassanio let me know it, And if it stand as you your selfe still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur'd My purse, my person, my extreamest meanes Lye all vnlock'd to your occasions Bass. In my schoole dayes, when I had lost one shaft I shot his fellow of the selfesame flight The selfesame way, with more aduised watch To finde the other forth, and by aduenturing both, I oft found both. I vrge this child-hoode proofe, Because what followes is pure innocence. I owe you much, and like a wilfull youth, That which I owe is lost: but if you please To shoote another arrow that selfe way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the ayme: Or to finde both, Or bring your latter hazard backe againe, And thankfully rest debter for the first An. You know me well, and herein spend but time To winde about my loue with circumstance, And out of doubt you doe more wrong In making question of my vttermost Then if you had made waste of all I haue: Then doe but say to me what I should doe That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest vnto it: therefore speake Bass. In Belmont is a Lady richly left, And she is faire, and fairer then that word, Of wondrous vertues, sometimes from her eyes I did receiue faire speechlesse messages: Her name is Portia, nothing vndervallewd To Cato's daughter, Brutus Portia, Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, For the four windes blow in from euery coast Renowned sutors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Cholchos strond, And many Iasons come in quest of her. O my Anthonio, had I but the meanes To hold a riuall place with one of them, I haue a minde presages me such thrift, That I should questionlesse be fortunate Anth. Thou knowst that all my fortunes are at sea, Neither haue I money, nor commodity To raise a present summe, therefore goe forth Try what my credit can in Venice doe, That shall be rackt euen to the vttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont to faire Portia. Goe presently enquire, and so will I Where money is, and I no question make To haue it of my trust, or for my sake. Exeunt. Enter Portia with her waiting woman Nerissa. Portia. By my troth Nerrissa, my little body is a wearie of this great world Ner. You would be sweet Madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and yet for ought I see, they are as sicke that surfet with too much, as they that starue with nothing; it is no smal happinesse therefore to bee seated in the meane, superfluitie comes sooner by white haires, but competencie liues longer Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd Ner. They would be better if well followed Portia. If to doe were as easie as to know what were good to doe, Chappels had beene Churches, and poore mens cottages Princes Pallaces: it is a good Diuine that followes his owne instructions; I can easier teach twentie what were good to be done, then be one of the twentie to follow mine owne teaching: the braine may deuise lawes for the blood, but a hot temper leapes ore a colde decree, such a hare is madnesse the youth, to skip ore the meshes of good counsaile the cripple; but this reason is not in fashion to choose me a husband: O mee, the word choose, I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike, so is the wil of a liuing daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father: it is not hard Nerrissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none Ner. Your father was euer vertuous, and holy men at their death haue good inspirations, therefore the lotterie that hee hath deuised in these three chests of gold, siluer, and leade, whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you, wil no doubt neuer be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly loue: but what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these Princely suters that are already come? Por. I pray thee ouer-name them, and as thou namest them, I will describe them, and according to my description leuell at my affection Ner. First there is the Neopolitane Prince Por. I that's a colt indeede, for he doth nothing but talke of his horse, and hee makes it a great appropriation to his owne good parts that he can shoo him himselfe: I am much afraid my Ladie his mother plaid false with a Smyth Ner. Than is there the Countie Palentine Por. He doth nothing but frowne (as who should say, and you will not haue me, choose: he heares merrie tales and smiles not, I feare hee will proue the weeping Phylosopher when he growes old, being so full of vnmannerly sadnesse in his youth.) I had rather to be married to a deaths head with a bone in his mouth, then to either of these: God defend me from these two Ner. How say you by the French Lord, Mounsier Le Boune? Por. God made him, and therefore let him passe for a man, in truth I know it is a sinne to be a mocker, but he, why he hath a horse better then the Neopolitans, a better bad habite of frowning then the Count Palentine, he is euery man in no man, if a Trassell sing, he fals straight a capring, he will fence with his owne shadow. If I should marry him, I should marry twentie husbands: if hee would despise me, I would forgiue him, for if he loue me to madnesse, I should neuer requite him Ner. What say you then to Fauconbridge, the yong Baron of England? Por. You know I say nothing to him, for hee vnderstands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latine, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the Court & sweare that I haue a poore pennie-worth in the English: hee is a proper mans picture, but alas who can conuerse with a dumbe show? how odly he is suited, I thinke he bought his doublet in Italie, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germanie, and his behauiour euery where Ner. What thinke you of the other Lord his neighbour? Por. That he hath a neighbourly charitie in him, for he borrowed a boxe of the eare of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him againe when hee was able: I thinke the Frenchman became his suretie, and seald vnder for another Ner. How like you the yong Germaine, the Duke of Saxonies Nephew? Por. Very vildely in the morning when hee is sober, and most vildely in the afternoone when hee is drunke: when he is best, he is a little worse then a man, and when he is worst, he is little better then a beast: and the worst fall that euer fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right Casket, you should refuse to performe your Fathers will, if you should refuse to accept him Por. Therefore for feare of the worst, I pray thee set a deepe glasse of Reinish-wine on the contrary Casket, for if the diuell be within, and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will doe any thing Nerrissa ere I will be married to a spunge Ner. You neede not feare Lady the hauing any of these Lords, they haue acquainted me with their determinations, which is indeede to returne to their home, and to trouble you with no more suite, vnlesse you may be won by some other sort then your Fathers imposition, depending on the Caskets Por. If I liue to be as olde as Sibilla, I will dye as chaste as Diana: vnlesse I be obtained by the manner of my Fathers will: I am glad this parcell of wooers are so reasonable, for there is not one among them but I doate on his verie absence: and I wish them a faire departure Ner. Doe you not remember Ladie in your Fathers time, a Venecian, a Scholler and a Souldior that came hither in companie of the Marquesse of Mountferrat? Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I thinke, so was hee call'd Ner. True Madam, hee of all the men that euer my foolish eyes look'd vpon, was the best deseruing a faire Lady Por. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of thy praise. Enter a Seruingman. Ser. The four Strangers seeke you Madam to take their leaue: and there is a fore-runner come from a fift, the Prince of Moroco, who brings word the Prince his Maister will be here to night Por. If I could bid the fift welcome with so good heart as I can bid the other foure farewell, I should be glad of his approach: if he haue the condition of a Saint, and the complexion of a diuell, I had rather hee should shriue me then wiue me. Come Nerrissa, sirra go before; whiles wee shut the gate vpon one wooer, another knocks at the doore. Exeunt. Enter Bassanio with Shylocke the Iew. Shy. Three thousand ducates, well Bass. I sir, for three months Shy. For three months, well Bass. For the which, as I told you, Anthonio shall be bound Shy. Anthonio shall become bound, well Bass. May you sted me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answere Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and Anthonio bound Bass. Your answere to that Shy. Anthonio is a good man Bass. Haue you heard any imputation to the contrary Shy. Ho no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a good man, is to haue you vnderstand me that he is sufficient, yet his meanes are in supposition: he hath an Argosie bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies, I vnderstand moreouer vpon the Ryalta, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures hee hath squandred abroad, but ships are but boords, Saylers but men, there be land rats, and water rats, water theeues, and land theeues, I meane Pyrats, and then there is the perrill of waters, windes, and rocks: the man is not withstanding sufficient, three thousand ducats, I thinke I may take his bond Bas. Be assured you may Iew. I will be assured I may: and that I may be assured, I will bethinke mee, may I speake with Anthonio? Bass. If it please you to dine with vs Iew. Yes, to smell porke, to eate of the habitation which your Prophet the Nazarite coniured the diuell into: I will buy with you, sell with you, talke with you, walke with you, and so following: but I will not eate with you, drinke with you, nor pray with you. What newes on the Ryalta, who is he comes here? Enter Anthonio. Bass. This is signior Anthonio Iew. How like a fawning publican he lookes. I hate him for he is a Christian: But more, for that in low simplicitie He lends out money gratis, and brings downe The rate of vsance here with vs in Venice. If I can catch him once vpon the hip, I will feede fat the ancient grudge I beare him. He hates our sacred Nation, and he railes Euen there where Merchants most doe congregate On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift, Which he cals interrest: Cursed by my Trybe If I forgiue him Bass. Shylock, doe you heare Shy. I am debating of my present store, And by the neere gesse of my memorie I cannot instantly raise vp the grosse Of full three thousand ducats: what of that? Tuball a wealthy Hebrew of my Tribe Will furnish me: but soft, how many months Doe you desire? Rest you faire good signior, Your worship was the last man in our mouthes Ant. Shylocke, albeit I neither lend nor borrow By taking, nor by giuing of excesse, Yet to supply the ripe wants of my friend, Ile breake a custome: is he yet possest How much he would? Shy. I, I, three thousand ducats Ant. And for three months Shy. I had forgot, three months, you told me so. Well then, your bond: and let me see, but heare you, Me thoughts you said, you neither lend nor borrow Vpon aduantage Ant. I doe neuer vse it Shy. When Iacob graz'd his vncle Labans sheepe, This Iacob from our holy Abram was (As his wise mother wrought in his behalfe) The third possesser; I, he was the third Ant. And what of him, did he take interrest? Shy. No, not take interest, not as you would say Directly interest, marke what Iacob did, When Laban and himselfe were compremyz'd That all the eanelings which were streakt and pied Should fall as Iacobs hier, the Ewes being rancke, In end of Autumne turned to the Rammes, And when the worke of generation was Betweene these woolly breeders in the act, The skilfull shepheard pil'd me certaine wands, And in the dooing of the deede of kinde, He stucke them vp before the fulsome Ewes, Who then conceauing, did in eaning time Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were Iacobs. This was a way to thriue, and he was blest: And thrift is blessing if men steale it not Ant. This was a venture sir that Iacob seru'd for, A thing not in his power to bring to passe, But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heauen. Was this inserted to make interrest good? Or is your gold and siluer Ewes and Rams? Shy. I cannot tell, I make it breede as fast, But note me signior Ant. Marke you this Bassanio, The diuell can cite Scripture for his purpose, An euill soule producing holy witnesse, Is like a villaine with a smiling cheeke, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O what a goodly outside falsehood hath Shy. Three thousand ducats, 'tis a good round sum. Three months from twelue, then let me see the rate Ant. Well Shylocke, shall we be beholding to you? Shy. Signior Anthonio, many a time and oft In the Ryalto you haue rated me About my monies and my vsances: Still haue I borne it with a patient shrug, (For suffrance is the badge of all our Tribe.) You call me misbeleeuer, cut-throate dog, And spet vpon my Iewish gaberdine, And all for vse of that which is mine owne. Well then, it now appeares you neede my helpe: Goe to then, you come to me, and you say, Shylocke, we would haue moneyes, you say so: You that did voide your rume vpon my beard, And foote me as you spurne a stranger curre Ouer your threshold, moneyes is your suite. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Hath a dog money? Is it possible A curre should lend three thousand ducats? or Shall I bend low, and in a bond-mans key With bated breath, and whispring humblenesse, Say this: Faire sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last; You spurn'd me such a day; another time You cald me dog: and for these curtesies Ile lend you thus much moneyes Ant. I am as like to call thee so againe, To spet on thee againe, to spurne thee too. If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends, for when did friendship take A breede of barraine mettall of his friend? But lend it rather to thine enemie, Who if he breake, thou maist with better face Exact the penalties Shy. Why looke you how you storme, I would be friends with you, and haue your loue, Forget the shames that you haue staind me with, Supplie your present wants, and take no doite Of vsance for my moneyes, and youle not heare me, This is kinde I offer Bass. This were kindnesse Shy. This kindnesse will I showe, Goe with me to a Notarie, seale me there Your single bond, and in a merrie sport If you repaie me not on such a day, In such a place, such sum or sums as are Exprest in the condition, let the forfeite Be nominated for an equall pound Of your faire flesh, to be cut off and taken In what part of your bodie it pleaseth me Ant. Content infaith, Ile seale to such a bond, And say there is much kindnesse in the Iew Bass. You shall not seale to such a bond for me, Ile rather dwell in my necessitie Ant. Why feare not man, I will not forfaite it, Within these two months, that's a month before This bond expires, I doe expect returne Of thrice three times the valew of this bond Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose owne hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others: Praie you tell me this, If he should breake his daie, what should I gaine By the exaction of the forfeiture? A pound of mans flesh taken from a man, Is not so estimable, profitable neither As flesh of Muttons, Beefes, or Goates, I say To buy his fauour, I extend this friendship, If he will take it, so: if not adiew, And for my loue I praie you wrong me not Ant. Yes Shylocke, I will seale vnto this bond Shy. Then meete me forthwith at the Notaries, Giue him direction for this merrie bond, And I will goe and purse the ducats straite. See to my house left in the fearefull gard Of an vnthriftie knaue: and presentlie Ile be with you. Enter. Ant. Hie thee gentle Iew. This Hebrew will turne Christian, he growes kinde Bass. I like not faire tearmes, and a villaines minde Ant. Come on, in this there can be no dismaie, My Shippes come home a month before the daie. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Enter Morochus a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers accordingly, with Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets. Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed liuerie of the burnisht sunne, To whom I am a neighbour, and neere bred. Bring me the fairest creature North-ward borne, Where Phoebus fire scarce thawes the ysicles, And let vs make incision for your loue, To proue whose blood is reddest, his or mine. I tell thee Ladie this aspect of mine Hath feard the valiant, (by my loue I sweare) The best regarded Virgins of our Clyme Haue lou'd it to: I would not change this hue, Except to steale your thoughts my gentle Queene Por. In tearmes of choise I am not solie led By nice direction of a maidens eies: Besides, the lottrie of my destenie Bars me the right of voluntarie choosing: But if my Father had not scanted me, And hedg'd me by his wit to yeelde my selfe His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you, Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire As any commer I haue look'd on yet For my affection Mor. Euen for that I thanke you, Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets To trie my fortune: By this Symitare That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, I would ore-stare the sternest eies that looke: Out-braue the heart most daring on the earth: Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare, Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray To win the Ladie. But alas, the while If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice Which is the better man, the greater throw May turne by fortune from the weaker hand: So is Alcides beaten by his rage, And so may I, blinde fortune leading me Misse that which one vnworthier may attaine, And die with grieuing Port. You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all, Or sweare before you choose, if you choose wrong Neuer to speake to Ladie afterward In way of marriage, therefore be aduis'd Mor. Nor will not, come bring me vnto my chance Por. First forward to the temple, after dinner Your hazard shall be made Mor. Good fortune then, Cornets. To make me blest or cursed'st among men. Exeunt. Enter the Clowne alone. Clo. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to run from this Iew my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Iobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe, or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legs, take the start, run awaie: my conscience saies no; take heede honest Launcelet, take heed honest Iobbe, or as afore-said honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most coragious fiend bids me packe, fia saies the fiend, away saies the fiend, for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde saies the fiend, and run; well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, saies verie wisely to me: my honest friend Launcelet, being an honest mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my Father did something smack, something grow too; he had a kinde of taste; wel, my conscience saies Lancelet bouge not, bouge saies the fiend, bouge not saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay with the Iew my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell; and to run away from the Iew I should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the diuell himselfe: certainely the Iew is the verie diuell incarnation, and in my conscience, my conscience is a kinde of hard conscience, to offer to counsaile me to stay with the Iew; the fiend giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles are at your commandement, I will runne. Enter old Gobbe with a Basket. Gob. Maister yong-man, you I praie you, which is the waie to Maister Iewes? Lan. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who being more then sand-blinde, high grauel blinde, knows me not, I will trie confusions with him Gob. Maister yong Gentleman, I praie you which is the waie to Maister Iewes Laun. Turne vpon your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left; marrie at the verie next turning, turne of no hand, but turn down indirectlie to the Iewes house Gob. Be Gods sonties 'twill be a hard waie to hit, can you tell me whether one Launcelet that dwels with him dwell with him or no Laun. Talke you of yong Master Launcelet, marke me now, now will I raise the waters; talke you of yong Maister Launcelet? Gob. No Maister sir, but a poore mans sonne, his Father though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God be thanked well to liue Lan. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of yong Maister Launcelet Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet Laun. But I praie you ergo old man, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong Maister Launcelet Gob. Of Launcelet, ant please your maistership Lan. Ergo Maister Lancelet, talke not of maister Lancelet Father, for the yong gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odde sayings, the sisters three, & such branches of learning, is indeede deceased, or as you would say in plaine tearmes, gone to heauen Gob. Marrie God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe of my age, my verie prop Lau. Do I look like a cudgell or a houell-post, a staffe or a prop: doe you know me Father Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I praie you tell me, is my boy God rest his soule aliue or dead Lan. Doe you not know me Father Gob. Alacke sir I am sand blinde, I know you not Lan. Nay, indeede if you had your eies you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne childe. Well, old man, I will tell you newes of your son, giue me your blessing, truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long, a mans sonne may, but in the end truth will out Gob. Praie you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not Lancelet my boy Lan. Praie you let's haue no more fooling about it, but giue mee your blessing: I am Lancelet your boy that was, your sonne that is, your childe that shall be Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne Lan. I know not what I shall thinke of that: but I am Lancelet the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife is my mother Gob. Her name is Margerie indeede, Ile be sworne if thou be Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire on thy chin, then Dobbin my philhorse has on his taile Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backeward. I am sure he had more haire of his taile then I haue of my face when I last saw him Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doost thou and thy Master agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now? Lan. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my rest to run awaie, so I will not rest till I haue run some ground; my Maister's a verie Iew, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euerie finger I haue with my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Maister Bassanio, who indeede giues rare new Liuories, if I serue not him, I will run as far as God has anie ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iew if I serue the Iew anie longer. Enter Bassanio with a follower or two. Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be readie at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, put the Liueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anone to my lodging Lan. To him Father Gob. God blesse your worship Bass. Gramercie, would'st thou ought with me Gob. Here's my sonne sir, a poore boy Lan. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that would sir as my Father shall specifie Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue Lan. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the Iew, and haue a desire as my Father shall specifie Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are scarce catercosins Lan. To be briefe, the verie truth is, that the Iew hauing done me wrong, doth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man shall frutifie vnto you Gob. I haue here a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship, and my suite is Lan. In verie briefe, the suite is impertinent to my selfe, as your worship shall know by this honest old man, and though I say it, though old man, yet poore man my Father Bass. One speake for both, what would you? Lan. Serue you sir Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter sir Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suite, Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this daie, And hath prefer'd thee, if it be preferment To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become The follower of so poore a Gentleman Clo. The old prouerbe is verie well parted betweene my Maister Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and he hath enough Bass. Thou speak'st well; go Father with thy Son, Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire My lodging out, giue him a Liuerie More garded then his fellowes: see it done Clo. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tongue in my head, well: if anie man in Italie haue a fairer table which doth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune; goe too, here's a simple line of life, here's a small trifle of wiues, alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maides is a simple comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of a featherbed, here are simple scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gere: Father come, Ile take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling. Exit Clowne. Bass. I praie thee good Leonardo thinke on this, These things being bought and orderly bestowed Returne in haste, for I doe feast to night My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe Leon. my best endeuors shall be done herein. Exit Le. Enter Gratiano. Gra. Where's your Maister Leon. Yonder sir he walkes Gra. Signior Bassanio Bas. Gratiano Gra. I haue a sute to you Bass. You haue obtain'd it Gra. You must not denie me, I must goe with you to Belmont Bass. Why then you must: but heare thee Gratiano, Thou art to wilde, to rude, and bold of voyce, Parts that become thee happily enough, And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults; But where they are not knowne, why there they show Something too liberall, pray thee take paine To allay with some cold drops of modestie Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wilde behauiour I be misconsterd in the place I goe to, And loose my hopes Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me, If I doe not put on a sober habite, Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than, Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely, Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes Thus with my hat, and sigh and say Amen: Vse all the obseruance of ciuillitie Like one well studied in a sad ostent To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me By what we doe to night Bas. No that were pittie, I would intreate you rather to put on Your boldest suite of mirth, for we haue friends That purpose merriment: but far you well, I haue some businesse Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest, But we will visite you at supper time. Exeunt. Enter Iessica and the Clowne. Ies. I am sorry thou wilt leaue my Father so, Our house is hell, and thou a merrie diuell Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousnesse; But far thee well, there is a ducat for thee, And Lancelet, soone at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new Maisters guest, Giue him this Letter, doe it secretly, And so farewell: I would not haue my Father see me talke with thee Clo. Adue, teares exhibit my tongue, most beautifull Pagan, most sweete Iew, if a Christian doe not play the knaue and get thee, I am much deceiued; but adue, these foolish drops doe somewhat drowne my manly spirit: adue. Enter. Ies. Farewell good Lancelet. Alacke, what hainous sinne is it in me To be ashamed to be my Fathers childe, But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo, If thou keepe promise I shall end this strife, Become a Christian, and thy louing wife. Enter. Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. Lor. Nay, we will slinke away in supper time, Disguise vs at my lodging, and returne all in an houre Gra. We haue not made good preparation Sal. We haue not spoke vs yet of Torch-bearers Sol. 'Tis vile vnlesse it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my minde not vndertooke Lor. 'Tis now but foure of clock, we haue two houres To furnish vs; friend Lancelet what's the newes. Enter Lancelet with a Letter. Lan. And it shall please you to breake vp this, shall it seeme to signifie Lor. I know the hand, in faith 'tis a faire hand And whiter then the paper it writ on, Is the faire hand that writ Gra. Loue newes in faith Lan. By your leaue sir Lor. Whither goest thou? Lan. Marry sir to bid my old Master the Iew to sup to night with my new Master the Christian Lor. Hold here, take this, tell gentle Iessica I will not faile her, speake it priuately: Go Gentlemen, will you prepare you for this Maske to night, I am prouided of a Torch-bearer. Exit. Clowne Sal. I marry, ile be gone about it strait Sol. And so will I Lor. Meete me and Gratiano at Gratianos lodging Some houre hence Sal. 'Tis good we do so. Enter. Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica? Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed How I shall take her from her Fathers house, What gold and iewels she is furnisht with, What Pages suite she hath in readinesse: If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen, It will be for his gentle daughters sake; And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote, Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse, That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew: Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest, Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer. Enter. Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne. Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge, The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio; What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize As thou hast done with me: what Iessica? And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out. Why Iessica I say Clo. Why Iessica Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me I could doe nothing without bidding. Enter Iessica. Ies. Call you? what is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica, There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go? I am not bid for loue, they flatter me, But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle, Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe, There is some ill a bruing towards my rest, For I did dreame of money bags to night Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master Doth expect your reproach Shy. So doe I his Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica, Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife, Clamber not you vp to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the publique streete To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces: But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements, Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare, I haue no minde of feasting forth to night: But I will goe: goe you before me sirra, Say I will come Clo. I will goe before sir, Mistris looke out at window for all this; There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Iewes eye Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring? ha Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder: Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would haue him helpe to waste His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in, Perhaps I will returne immediately; Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast finde, A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Enter. Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost, I haue a Father, you a daughter lost. Enter. Enter the Maskers, Gratiano and Salino. Gra. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo Desired vs to make a stand Sal. His houre is almost past Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwels his houre, For louers euer run before the clocke Sal. O ten times faster Venus Pidgions flye To steale loues bonds new made, then they are wont To keepe obliged faith vnforfaited Gra. That euer holds, who riseth from a feast With that keene appetite that he sits downe? Where is the horse that doth vntread againe His tedious measures with the vnbated fire, That he did pace them first: all things that are, Are with more spirit chased then enioy'd. How like a yonger or a prodigall The skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay, Hudg'd and embraced by the strumpet winde: How like a prodigall doth she returne With ouer-wither'd ribs and ragged sailes, Leane, rent, and begger'd by the strumpet winde? Enter Lorenzo. Salino. Heere comes Lorenzo, more of this hereafter Lor. Sweete friends, your patience for my long abode, Not I, but my affaires haue made you wait; When you shall please to play the theeues for wiues Ile watch as long for you then: approach Here dwels my father Iew. Hoa, who's within? Iessica aboue. Iess. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Albeit Ile sweare that I do know your tongue Lor. Lorenzo, and thy Loue Ies. Lorenzo certaine, and my loue indeed, For who loue I so much? and now who knowes But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours? Lor. Heauen and thy thoughts are witness that thou art Ies. Heere, catch this casket, it is worth the paines, I am glad 'tis night, you do not looke on me, For I am much asham'd of my exchange: But loue is blinde, and louers cannot see The pretty follies that themselues commit, For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer Ies. What, must I hold a Candle to my shames? They in themselues goodsooth are too too light. Why, 'tis an office of discouery Loue, And I should be obscur'd Lor. So you are sweet, Euen in the louely garnish of a boy: but come at once, For the close night doth play the run-away, And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast Ies. I will make fast the doores and guild my selfe With some more ducats, and be with you straight Gra. Now by my hood, a gentle, and no Iew Lor. Beshrew me but I loue her heartily. For she is wise, if I can iudge of her. And faire she is, if that mine eyes be true, And true she is, as she hath prou'd her selfe: And therefore like her selfe, wise, faire, and true, Shall she be placed in my constant soule. Enter Iessica. What, art thou come? on gentlemen, away, Our masking mates by this time for vs stay. Enter. Enter Anthonio. Ant. Who's there? Gra. Signior Anthonio? Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest? 'Tis nine a clocke, our friends all stay for you, No maske to night, the winde is come about, Bassanio presently will goe aboord, I haue sent twenty out to seeke for you Gra. I am glad on't, I desire no more delight Then to be vnder saile, and gone to night. Exeunt. Enter Portia with Morrocho, and both their traines. Por. Goe, draw aside the curtaines, and discouer The seuerall Caskets to this noble Prince: Now make your choyse Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares, Who chooseth me, shall gaine what men desire. The second siluer, which this promise carries, Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. How shall I know if I doe choose the right? How shall I know if I doe choose the right Por. The one of them containes my picture Prince, If you choose that, then I am yours withall Mor. Some God direct my iudgement, let me see, I will suruay the inscriptions, backe againe: What saies this leaden casket? Who chooseth me, must giue and hazard all he hath. Must giue, for what? for lead, hazard for lead? This casket threatens men that hazard all Doe it in hope of faire aduantages: A golden minde stoopes not to showes of drosse, Ile then nor giue nor hazard ought for lead. What saies the Siluer with her virgin hue? Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues. As much as he deserues; pause there Morocho, And weigh thy value with an euen hand, If thou beest rated by thy estimation Thou doost deserue enough, and yet enough May not extend so farre as to the Ladie: And yet to be afeard of my deseruing, Were but a weake disabling of my selfe. As much as I deserue, why that's the Lady. I doe in birth deserue her, and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding: But more then these, in loue I doe deserue. What if I strai'd no farther, but chose here? Let's see once more this saying grau'd in gold. Who chooseth me shall gaine what many men desire: Why that's the Lady, all the world desires her: From the foure corners of the earth they come To kisse this shrine, this mortall breathing Saint. The Hircanion deserts, and the vaste wildes Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now For Princes to come view faire Portia. The waterie Kingdome, whose ambitious head Spets in the face of heauen, is no barre To stop the forraine spirits, but they come As ore a brooke to see faire Portia. One of these three containes her heauenly picture. Is't like that Lead containes her? 'twere damnation To thinke so base a thought, it were too grose To rib her searecloath in the obscure graue: Or shall I thinke in Siluer she's immur'd Being ten times vndervalued to tride gold; O sinfull thought, neuer so rich a Iem Was set in worse then gold! They haue in England A coyne that beares the figure of an Angell Stampt in gold, but that's insculpt vpon: But here an Angell in a golden bed Lies all within. Deliuer me the key: Here doe I choose, and thriue I as I may Por. There take it Prince, and if my forme lye there Then I am yours Mor. O hell! what haue we here, a carrion death, Within whose emptie eye there is a written scroule; Ile reade the writing. All that glisters is not gold, Often haue you heard that told; Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold; Guilded timber doe wormes infold: Had you beene as wise as bold, Yong in limbs, in iudgement old, Your answere had not beene inscrold, Fareyouwell, your suite is cold, Mor. Cold indeede, and labour lost, Then farewell heate, and welcome frost: Portia adew, I haue too grieu'd a heart To take a tedious leaue: thus loosers part. Enter. Por. A gentle riddance: draw the curtaines, go: Let all of his complexion choose me so. Exeunt. Enter Salarino and Solanio. Flo. Cornets Sal. Why man I saw Bassanio vnder sayle; With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not Sol. The villaine Iew with outcries raisd the Duke. Who went with him to search Bassanios ship Sal. He comes too late, the ship was vndersaile; But there the Duke was giuen to vnderstand That in a Gondilo were seene together Lorenzo and his amorous Iessica. Besides, Anthonio certified the Duke They were not with Bassanio in his ship Sol. I neuer heard a passion so confusd, So strange, outragious, and so variable, As the dogge Iew did vtter in the streets; My daughter, O my ducats, O my daughter, Fled with a Christian, O my Christian ducats! Iustice, the law, my ducats, and my daughter; A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, Of double ducats, stolne from me by my daughter, And iewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, Stolne by my daughter: iustice, finde the girle, She hath the stones vpon her, and the ducats Sal. Why all the boyes in Venice follow him, Crying his stones, his daughter, and his ducats Sol. Let good Anthonio looke he keepe his day Or he shall pay for this Sal. Marry well remembred, I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, Who told me, in the narrow seas that part The French and English, there miscaried A vessell of our countrey richly fraught: I thought vpon Anthonio when he told me, And wisht in silence that it were not his Sol. You were best to tell Anthonio what you heare. Yet doe not suddainely, for it may grieue him Sal. A kinder Gentleman treads not the earth, I saw Bassanio and Anthonio part, Bassanio told him he would make some speede Of his returne: he answered, doe not so, Slubber not businesse for my sake Bassanio, But stay the very riping of the time, And for the Iewes bond which he hath of me, Let it not enter in your minde of loue: Be merry, and imploy your chiefest thoughts To courtship, and such faire ostents of loue As shall conueniently become you there; And euen there his eye being big with teares, Turning his face, he put his hand behinde him, And with affection wondrous sencible He wrung Bassanios hand, and so they parted Sol. I thinke he onely loues the world for him, I pray thee let vs goe and finde him out And quicken his embraced heauinesse With some delight or other Sal. Doe we so. Exeunt. Enter Nerrissa and a Seruiture. Ner. Quick, quick I pray thee, draw the curtain strait, The Prince of Arragon hath tane his oath, And comes to his election presently. Enter Arragon, his traine, and Portia. Flor. Cornets. Por. Behold, there stand the caskets noble Prince, If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, Straight shall our nuptiall rights be solemniz'd: But if thou faile, without more speech my Lord, You must be gone from hence immediately Ar. I am enioynd by oath to obserue three things; First, neuer to vnfold to any one Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I faile Of the right casket, neuer in my life To wooe a maide in way of marriage: Lastly, if I doe faile in fortune of my choyse, Immediately to leaue you, and be gone Por. To these iniunctions euery one doth sweare That comes to hazard for my worthlesse selfe Ar. And so haue I addrest me, fortune now To my hearts hope: gold, siluer, and base lead. Who chooseth me must giue and hazard all he hath. You shall looke fairer ere I giue or hazard. What saies the golden chest, ha, let me see. Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men desire: What many men desire, that many may be meant By the foole multitude that choose by show, Not learning more then the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the Martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Euen in the force and rode of casualtie. I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not iumpe with common spirits, And ranke me with the barbarous multitudes. Why then to thee thou Siluer treasure house, Tell me once more, what title thou doost beare; Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues: And well said too; for who shall goe about To cosen Fortune, and be honourable Without the stampe of merrit, let none presume To weare an vndeserued dignitie: O that estates, degrees, and offices, Were not deriu'd corruptly, and that cleare honour Were purchast by the merrit of the wearer; How many then should couer that stand bare? How many be commanded that command? How much low pleasantry would then be gleaned From the true seede of honor? And how much honor Pickt from the chaffe and ruine of the times, To be new varnisht: Well, but to my choise. Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserues. I will assume desert; giue me a key for this, And instantly vnlocke my fortunes here Por. Too long a pause for that which you finde there Ar. What's here, the portrait of a blinking idiot Presenting me a scedule, I will reade it: How much vnlike art thou to Portia? How much vnlike my hopes and my deseruings? Who chooseth me, shall haue as much as he deserues. Did I deserue no more then a fooles head, Is that my prize, are my deserts no better? Por. To offend and iudge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures Ar. What is here? The fier seauen times tried this, Seauen times tried that iudgement is, That did neuer choose amis, Some there be that shadowes kisse, Such haue but a shadowes blisse: There be fooles aliue Iwis Siluer'd o're, and so was this: Take what wife you will to bed, I will euer be your head: So be gone, you are sped Ar. Still more foole I shall appeare By the time I linger here, With one fooles head I came to woo, But I goe away with two. Sweet adue, Ile keepe my oath, Patiently to beare my wroath Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moath: O these deliberate fooles when they doe choose, They haue the wisdome by their wit to loose Ner. The ancient saying is no heresie, Hanging and wiuing goes by destinie Por. Come draw the curtaine Nerrissa. Enter Messenger. Mes. Where is my Lady? Por. Here, what would my Lord? Mes. Madam, there is a-lighted at your gate A yong Venetian, one that comes before To signifie th' approaching of his Lord, From whom he bringeth sensible regreets; To wit (besides commends and curteous breath) Gifts of rich value; yet I haue not seene So likely an Embassador of loue. A day in Aprill neuer came so sweete To show how costly Sommer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his Lord Por. No more I pray thee, I am halfe a-feard Thou wilt say anone he is some kin to thee, Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him: Come, come Nerryssa, for I long to see Quicke Cupids Post, that comes so mannerly Ner. Bassanio Lord, loue if thy will it be. Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Enter Solanio and Salarino. Sol. Now, what newes on the Ryalto? Sal. Why yet it liues there vncheckt, that Anthonio hath a ship of rich lading wrackt on the narrow Seas; the Goodwins I thinke they call the place, a very dangerous flat, and fatall, where the carcasses of many a tall ship, lye buried, as they say, if my gossips report be an honest woman of her word Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as euer knapt Ginger, or made her neighbours beleeue she wept for the death of a third husband: but it is true, without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plaine high-way of talke, that the good Anthonio, the honest Anthonio; o that I had a title good enough to keepe his name company! Sal. Come, the full stop Sol. Ha, what sayest thou, why the end is, he hath lost a ship Sal. I would it might proue the end of his losses Sol. Let me say Amen betimes, least the diuell crosse my praier, for here he comes in the likenes of a Iew. How now Shylocke, what newes among the Merchants? Enter Shylocke. Shy. You knew none so well, none so well as you, of my daughters flight Sal. That's certaine, I for my part knew the Tailor that made the wings she flew withall Sol. And Shylocke for his owne part knew the bird was fledg'd, and then it is the complexion of them al to leaue the dam Shy. She is damn'd for it Sal. That's certaine, if the diuell may be her Iudge Shy. My owne flesh and blood to rebell Sol. Out vpon it old carrion, rebels it at these yeeres Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and bloud Sal. There is more difference betweene thy flesh and hers, then betweene Iet and Iuorie, more betweene your bloods, then there is betweene red wine and rennish: but tell vs, doe you heare whether Anthonio haue had anie losse at sea or no? Shy. There I haue another bad match, a bankrout, a prodigall, who dare scarce shew his head on the Ryalto, a begger that was vsd to come so smug vpon the Mart: let him look to his bond, he was wont to call me Vsurer, let him looke to his bond, he was wont to lend money for a Christian curtsie, let him looke to his bond Sal. Why I am sure if he forfaite, thou wilt not take his flesh, what's that good for? Shy. To baite fish withall, if it will feede nothing else, it will feede my reuenge; he hath disgrac'd me, and hindred me halfe a million, laught at my losses, mockt at my gaines, scorned my Nation, thwarted my bargaines, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies, and what's the reason? I am a Iewe: Hath not a Iew eyes? hath not a Iew hands, organs, dementions, sences, affections, passions, fed with the same foode, hurt with the same weapons, subiect to the same diseases, healed by the same meanes, warmed and cooled by the same Winter and Sommer as a Christian is: if you pricke vs doe we not bleede? if you tickle vs, doe we not laugh? if you poison vs doe we not die? and if you wrong vs shall we not reuenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Iew wrong a Christian, what is his humility, reuenge? If a Christian wrong a Iew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example, why reuenge? The villanie you teach me I will execute, and it shall goe hard but I will better the instruction. Enter a man from Anthonio. Gentlemen, my maister Anthonio is at his house, and desires to speake with you both Sal. We haue beene vp and downe to seeke him. Enter Tuball. Sol. Here comes another of the Tribe, a third cannot be matcht, vnlesse the diuell himselfe turne Iew. Exeunt. Gentlemen Shy. How now Tuball, what newes from Genowa? hast thou found my daughter? Tub. I often came where I did heare of her, but cannot finde her Shy. Why there, there, there, there, a diamond gone cost me two thousand ducats in Franckford, the curse neuer fell vpon our Nation till now, I neuer felt it till now, two thousand ducats in that, and other precious, precious iewels: I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the iewels in her eare: would she were hearst at my foote, and the duckets in her coffin: no newes of them, why so? and I know not how much is spent in the search: why thou losse vpon losse, the theefe gone with so much, and so much to finde the theefe, and no satisfaction, no reuenge, nor no ill luck stirring but what lights a my shoulders, no sighes but a my breathing, no teares but a my shedding Tub. Yes, other men haue ill lucke too, Anthonio as I heard in Genowa? Shy. What, what, what, ill lucke, ill lucke Tub. Hath an Argosie cast away comming from Tripolis Shy. I thanke God, I thanke God, is it true, is it true? Tub. I spoke with some of the Saylers that escaped the wracke Shy. I thanke thee good Tuball, good newes, good newes: ha, ha, here in Genowa Tub. Your daughter spent in Genowa, as I heard, one night fourescore ducats Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me, I shall neuer see my gold againe, fourescore ducats at a sitting, fourescore ducats Tub. There came diuers of Anthonios creditors in my company to Venice, that sweare hee cannot choose but breake Shy. I am very glad of it, ile plague him, ile torture him, I am glad of it, Tub. One of them shewed me a ring that hee had of your daughter for a Monkie Shy. Out vpon her, thou torturest me Tuball, it was my Turkies, I had it of Leah when I was a Batcheler: I would not haue giuen it for a wildernesse of Monkies Tub. But Anthonio is certainely vndone Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true, goe Tuball, see me an Officer, bespeake him a fortnight before, I will haue the heart of him if he forfeit, for were he out of Venice, I can make what merchandize I will: goe Tuball, and meete me at our Sinagogue, goe good Tuball, at our Sinagogue Tuball. Exeunt. Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, and all their traine. Por. I pray you tarrie, pause a day or two Before you hazard, for in choosing wrong I loose your companie; therefore forbeare a while, There's something tels me (but it is not loue) I would not loose you, and you know your selfe, Hate counsailes not in such a quallitie; But least you should not vnderstand me well, And yet a maiden hath no tongue, but thought, I would detaine you here some month or two Before you venture for me. I could teach you How to choose right, but then I am forsworne, So will I neuer be, so may you misse me, But if you doe, youle make me wish a sinne, That I had beene forsworne: Beshrow your eyes, They haue ore-lookt me and deuided me, One halfe of me is yours, the other halfe yours, Mine owne I would say: but of mine then yours, And so all yours; O these naughtie times Puts bars betweene the owners and their rights. And so though yours, not yours (proue it so) Let Fortune goe to hell for it, not I. I speake too long, but 'tis to peize the time, To ich it, and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election Bass. Let me choose, For as I am, I liue vpon the racke Por. Vpon the racke Bassanio, then confesse What treason there is mingled with your loue Bass. None but that vglie treason of mistrust. Which makes me feare the enioying of my loue: There may as well be amitie and life, 'Tweene snow and fire, as treason and my loue Por. I, but I feare you speake vpon the racke, Where men enforced doth speake any thing Bass. Promise me life, and ile confesse the truth Por. Well then, confesse and liue Bass. Confesse and loue Had beene the verie sum of my confession: O happie torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliuerance: But let me to my fortune and the caskets Por. Away then, I am lockt in one of them, If you doe loue me, you will finde me out. Nerryssa and the rest, stand all aloofe, Let musicke sound while he doth make his choise, Then if he loose he makes a Swan-like end, Fading in musique. That the comparison May stand more proper, my eye shall be the streame And watrie death-bed for him: he may win, And what is musique than? Than musique is Euen as the flourish, when true subiects bowe To a new crowned Monarch: Such it is, As are those dulcet sounds in breake of day, That creepe into the dreaming bride-groomes eare, And summon him to marriage. Now he goes With no lesse presence, but with much more loue Then yong Alcides, when he did redeeme The virgine tribute, paied by howling Troy To the Sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice, The rest aloofe are the Dardanian wiues: With bleared visages come forth to view The issue of th' exploit: Goe Hercules, Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray. Here Musicke. A Song the whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himselfe. Tell me where is fancie bred, Or in the heart, or in the head: How begot, how nourished. Replie, replie. It is engendred in the eyes, With gazing fed, and Fancie dies, In the cradle where it lies: Let vs all ring Fancies knell. Ile begin it. Ding, dong, bell All. Ding, dong, bell Bass. So may the outward showes be least themselues The world is still deceiu'd with ornament. In Law, what Plea so tainted and corrupt, But being season'd with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of euill? In Religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will blesse it, and approue it with a text, Hiding the grosenesse with faire ornament: There is no voice so simple, but assumes Some marke of vertue on his outward parts; How manie cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stayers of sand, weare yet vpon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, Who inward searcht, haue lyuers white as milke, And these assume but valors excrement, To render them redoubted. Looke on beautie, And you shall see 'tis purchast by the weight, Which therein workes a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that weare most of it: So are those crisped snakie golden locks Which makes such wanton gambols with the winde Vpon supposed fairenesse, often knowne To be the dowrie of a second head, The scull that bred them in the Sepulcher. Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea: the beautious scarfe Vailing an Indian beautie; In a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on To intrap the wisest. Therefore then thou gaudie gold, Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee, Nor none of thee thou pale and common drudge 'Tweene man and man: but thou, thou meager lead Which rather threatnest then dost promise ought, Thy palenesse moues me more then eloquence, And here choose I, ioy be the consequence Por. How all the other passions fleet to ayre, As doubtfull thoughts, and rash imbrac'd despaire: And shuddring feare, and greene-eyed iealousie. O loue be moderate, allay thy extasie, In measure raine thy ioy, scant this excesse, I feele too much thy blessing, make it lesse, For feare I surfeit Bas. What finde I here? Faire Portias counterfeit. What demie God Hath come so neere creation? moue these eies? Or whether riding on the bals of mine Seeme they in motion? Here are seuer'd lips Parted with suger breath, so sweet a barre Should sunder such sweet friends: here in her haires The Painter plaies the Spider, and hath wouen A golden mesh t' intrap the hearts of men Faster then gnats in cobwebs: but her eies, How could he see to doe them? hauing made one, Me thinkes it should haue power to steale both his And leaue it selfe vnfurnisht: Yet looke how farre The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In vnderprising it, so farre this shadow Doth limpe behinde the substance. Here's the scroule, The continent, and summarie of my fortune. You that choose not by the view Chance as faire, and choose as true: Since this fortune fals to you, Be content, and seeke no new. If you be well pleasd with this, And hold your fortune for your blisse, Turne you where your Lady is, And claime her with a louing kisse Bass. A gentle scroule: Faire Lady, by your leaue, I come by note to giue, and to receiue, Like one of two contending in a prize That thinks he hath done well in peoples eies: Hearing applause and vniuersall shout, Giddie in spirit, still gazing in a doubt Whether those peales of praise be his or no. So thrice faire Lady stand I euen so, As doubtfull whether what I see be true, Vntill confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you Por. You see my Lord Bassiano where I stand, Such as I am; though for my selfe alone I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish my selfe much better, yet for you, I would be trebled twenty times my selfe, A thousand times more faire, ten thousand times More rich, that onely to stand high in your account, I might in vertues, beauties, liuings, friends, Exceed account: but the full summe of me Is sum of nothing: which to terme in grosse, Is an vnlessoned girle, vnschool'd, vnpractiz'd, Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learne: happier then this, Shee is not bred so dull but she can learne; Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit Commits it selfe to yours to be directed, As from her Lord, her Gouernour, her King. My selfe, and what is mine, to you and yours Is now conuerted. But now I was the Lord Of this faire mansion, master of my seruants, Queene ore my selfe: and euen now, but now, This house, these seruants, and this same my selfe Are yours, my Lord, I giue them with this ring, Which when you part from, loose, or giue away, Let it presage the ruine of your loue, And be my vantage to exclaime on you Bass. Maddam, you haue bereft me of all words, Onely my bloud speakes to you in my vaines, And there is such confusion in my powers, As after some oration fairely spoke By a beloued Prince, there doth appeare Among the buzzing pleased multitude, Where euery something being blent together, Turnes to a wilde of nothing, saue of ioy Exprest, and not exprest: but when this ring Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence, O then be bold to say Bassanio's dead Ner. My Lord and Lady, it is now our time That haue stood by and seene our wishes prosper, To cry good ioy, good ioy my Lord and Lady Gra. My Lord Bassanio, and my gentle Lady, I wish you all the ioy that you can wish: For I am sure you can wish none from me: And when your Honours meane to solemnize The bargaine of your faith: I doe beseech you Euen at that time I may be married too Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife Gra. I thanke your Lordship, you haue got me one. My eyes my Lord can looke as swift as yours: You saw the mistres, I beheld the maid: You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission, No more pertaines to me my Lord then you; Your fortune stood vpon the caskets there, And so did mine too, as the matter falls: For wooing heere vntill I swet againe, And swearing till my very rough was dry With oathes of loue, at last, if promise last, I got a promise of this faire one heere To haue her loue: prouided that your fortune Atchieu'd her mistresse Por. Is this true Nerrissa? Ner. Madam it is so, so you stand pleas'd withall Bass. And doe you Gratiano meane good faith? Gra. Yes faith my Lord Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your marriage Gra. Weele play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats Ner. What and stake downe? Gra. No, we shal nere win at that sport, and stake downe. But who comes heere? Lorenzo and his Infidell? What and my old Venetian friend Salerio? Enter Lorenzo, Iessica, and Salerio. Bas. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hether, If that the youth of my new interest heere Haue power to bid you welcome: by your leaue I bid my verie friends and Countrimen Sweet Portia welcome Por. So do I my Lord, they are intirely welcome Lor. I thanke your honor; for my part my Lord, My purpose was not to haue seene you heere, But meeting with Salerio by the way, He did intreate mee past all saying nay To come with him along Sal. I did my Lord, And I haue reason for it, Signior Anthonio Commends him to you Bass. Ere I ope his Letter I pray you tell me how my good friend doth Sal. Not sicke my Lord, vnlesse it be in minde, Nor wel, vnlesse in minde: his Letter there Wil shew you his estate. Opens the Letter. Gra. Nerrissa, cheere yond stranger, bid her welcom. Your hand Salerio, what's the newes from Venice? How doth that royal Merchant good Anthonio; I know he will be glad of our successe, We are the Iasons, we haue won the fleece Sal. I would you had won the fleece that hee hath lost Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same Paper, That steales the colour from Bassianos cheeke, Some deere friend dead, else nothing in the world Could turne so much the constitution Of any constant man. What, worse and worse? With leaue Bassanio I am halfe your selfe, And I must freely haue the halfe of any thing That this same paper brings you Bass. O sweet Portia, Heere are a few of the vnpleasant'st words That euer blotted paper. Gentle Ladie When I did first impart my loue to you, I freely told you all the wealth I had Ran in my vaines: I was a Gentleman, And then I told you true: and yet deere Ladie, Rating my selfe at nothing, you shall see How much I was a Braggart, when I told you My state was nothing, I should then haue told you That I was worse then nothing: for indeede I haue ingag'd my selfe to a deere friend, Ingag'd my friend to his meere enemie To feede my meanes. Heere is a Letter Ladie, The paper as the bodie of my friend, And euerie word in it a gaping wound Issuing life blood. But is it true Salerio, Hath all his ventures faild, what not one hit, From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, From Lisbon, Barbary, and India, And not one vessell scape the dreadfull touch Of Merchant-marring rocks? Sal. Not one my Lord. Besides, it should appeare, that if he had The present money to discharge the Iew, He would not take it: neuer did I know A creature that did beare the shape of man So keene and greedy to confound a man. He plyes the Duke at morning and at night, And doth impeach the freedome of the state If they deny him iustice. Twenty Merchants, The Duke himselfe, and the Magnificoes Of greatest port haue all perswaded with him, But none can driue him from the enuious plea Of forfeiture, of iustice, and his bond Iessi. When I was with him, I haue heard him sweare To Tuball and to Chus, his Countri-men, That he would rather haue Anthonio's flesh, Then twenty times the value of the summe That he did owe him: and I know my Lord, If law, authoritie, and power denie not, It will goe hard with poore Anthonio Por. Is it your deere friend that is thus in trouble? Bass. The deerest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition'd, and vnwearied spirit In doing curtesies: and one in whom The ancient Romane honour more appeares Then any that drawes breath in Italie Por. What summe owes he the Iew? Bass. For me three thousand ducats Por. What, no more? Pay him sixe thousand, and deface the bond: Double sixe thousand, and then treble that, Before a friend of this description Shall lose a haire through Bassanio's fault. First goe with me to Church, and call me wife, And then away to Venice to your friend: For neuer shall you lie by Portias side With an vnquiet soule. You shall haue gold To pay the petty debt twenty times ouer. When it is payd, bring your true friend along, My maid Nerrissa, and my selfe meane time Will liue as maids and widdowes; come away, For you shall hence vpon your wedding day: Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheere, Since you are deere bought, I will loue you deere. But let me heare the letter of your friend. Sweet Bassanio, my ships haue all miscarried, my Creditors grow cruell, my estate is very low, my bond to the Iew is forfeit, and since in paying it, it is impossible I should liue, all debts are cleerd between you and I, if I might see you at my death: notwithstanding, vse your pleasure, if your loue doe not perswade you to come, let not my letter Por. O loue! dispach all busines and be gone Bass. Since I haue your good leaue to goe away, I will make hast; but till I come againe, No bed shall ere be guilty of my stay, Nor rest be interposer twixt vs twaine. Exeunt. Enter the Iew, and Solanio, and Anthonio, and the Iaylor. Iew. Iaylor, looke to him, tell not me of mercy, This is the foole that lends out money gratis. Iaylor, looke to him Ant. Heare me yet good Shylok Iew. Ile haue my bond, speake not against my bond, I haue sworne an oath that I will haue my bond: Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my phangs, The Duke shall grant me iustice, I do wonder Thou naughty Iaylor, that thou art so fond To come abroad with him at his request Ant. I pray thee heare me speake Iew. Ile haue my bond, I will not heare thee speake, Ile haue my bond, and therefore speake no more, Ile not be made a soft and dull ey'd foole, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yeeld To Christian intercessors: follow not, Ile haue no speaking, I will haue my bond. Exit Iew. Sol. It is the most impenetrable curre That euer kept with men Ant. Let him alone, Ile follow him no more with bootlesse prayers: He seekes my life, his reason well I know; I oft deliuer'd from his forfeitures Many that haue at times made mone to me, Therefore he hates me Sol. I am sure the Duke will neuer grant this forfeiture to hold An. The Duke cannot deny the course of law: For the commoditie that strangers haue With vs in Venice, if it be denied, Will much impeach the iustice of the State, Since that the trade and profit of the citty Consisteth of all Nations. Therefore goe, These greefes and losses haue so bated mee, That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh To morrow, to my bloudy Creditor. Well Iaylor, on, pray God Bassanio come To see me pay his debt, and then I care not. Exeunt. Enter Portia, Nerrissa, Lorenzo, Iessica, and a man of Portias. Lor. Madam, although I speake it in your presence, You haue a noble and a true conceit Of god-like amity, which appeares most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your Lord. But if you knew to whom you shew this honour, How true a Gentleman you send releefe, How deere a louer of my Lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the worke Then customary bounty can enforce you Por. I neuer did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now: for in companions That do conuerse and waste the time together, Whose soules doe beare an egal yoke of loue. There must be needs a like proportion Of lyniaments, of manners, and of spirit; Which makes me thinke that this Anthonio Being the bosome louer of my Lord, Must needs be like my Lord. If it be so, How little is the cost I haue bestowed In purchasing the semblance of my soule; From out the state of hellish cruelty, This comes too neere the praising of my selfe, Therefore no more of it: heere other things Lorenso I commit into your hands, The husbandry and mannage of my house, Vntill my Lords returne; for mine owne part I haue toward heauen breath'd a secret vow, To liue in prayer and contemplation, Onely attended by Nerrissa heere, Vntill her husband and my Lords returne: There is a monastery too miles off, And there we will abide. I doe desire you Not to denie this imposition, The which my loue and some necessity Now layes vpon you Lorens. Madame, with all my heart, I shall obey you in all faire commands Por. My people doe already know my minde, And will acknowledge you and Iessica In place of Lord Bassanio and my selfe. So far you well till we shall meete againe Lor. Faire thoughts & happy houres attend on you Iessi. I wish your Ladiship all hearts content Por. I thanke you for your wish, and am well pleas'd To wish it backe on you: faryouwell Iessica. Exeunt. Now Balthaser, as I haue euer found thee honest true, So let me finde thee still: take this same letter, And vse thou all the indeauor of a man, In speed to Mantua, see thou render this Into my cosins hand, Doctor Belario, And looke what notes and garments he doth giue thee, Bring them I pray thee with imagin'd speed Vnto the Tranect, to the common Ferrie Which trades to Venice; waste no time in words, But get thee gone, I shall be there before thee Balth. Madam, I goe with all conuenient speed Por. Come on Nerissa, I haue worke in hand That you yet know not of; wee'll see our husbands Before they thinke of vs? Nerrissa. Shall they see vs? Portia. They shall Nerrissa: but in such a habit, That they shall thinke we are accomplished With that we lacke; Ile hold thee any wager When we are both accoutered like yong men, Ile proue the prettier fellow of the two, And weare my dagger with the brauer grace, And speake betweene the change of man and boy, With a reede voyce, and turne two minsing steps Into a manly stride; and speake of frayes Like a fine bragging youth: and tell quaint lyes How honourable Ladies sought my loue, Which I denying, they fell sicke and died. I could not doe withall: then Ile repent, And wish for all that, that I had not kil'd them; And twentie of these punie lies Ile tell, That men shall sweare I haue discontinued schoole Aboue a twelue moneth: I haue within my minde A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Iacks, Which I will practise Nerris. Why, shall wee turne to men? Portia. Fie, what a questions that? If thou wert nere a lewd interpreter: But come, Ile tell thee all my whole deuice When I am in my coach, which stayes for vs At the Parke gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twentie miles to day. Exeunt. Enter Clowne and Iessica. Clown. Yes truly; for looke you, the sinnes of the Father are to be laid vpon the children, therefore I promise you, I feare you, I was alwaies plaine with you, and so now I speake my agitation of the matter: therfore be of good cheere, for truly I thinke you are damn'd, there is but one hope in it that can doe you anie good, and that is but a kinde of bastard hope neither Iessica. And what hope is that I pray thee? Clow. Marrie you may partlie hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Iewes daughter Ies. That were a kinde of bastard hope indeed, so the sins of my mother should be visited vpon me Clow. Truly then I feare you are damned both by father and mother: thus when I shun Scilla your father, I fall into Charibdis your mother; well, you are gone both waies Ies. I shall be sau'd by my husband, he hath made me a Christian Clow. Truly the more to blame he, we were Christians enow before, e'ne as many as could wel liue one by another: this making of Christians will raise the price of Hogs, if wee grow all to be porke-eaters, wee shall not shortlie haue a rasher on the coales for money. Enter Lorenzo. Ies. Ile tell my husband Lancelet what you say, heere he comes Loren. I shall grow iealous of you shortly Lancelet, if you thus get my wife into corners? Ies. Nay, you need not feare vs Lorenzo, Launcelet and I are out, he tells me flatly there is no mercy for mee in heauen, because I am a Iewes daughter: and hee saies you are no good member of the common wealth, for in conuerting Iewes to Christians, you raise the price of Porke Loren. I shall answere that better to the Commonwealth, than you can the getting vp of the Negroes bellie: the Moore is with childe by you Launcelet? Clow. It is much that the Moore should be more then reason: but if she be lesse then an honest woman, shee is indeed more then I tooke her for Loren. How euerie foole can play vpon the word, I thinke the best grace of witte will shortly turne into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none onely but Parrats: goe in sirra, bid them prepare for dinner? Clow. That is done sir, they haue all stomacks? Loren. Goodly Lord, what a witte-snapper are you, then bid them prepare dinner Clow. That is done to sir, onely couer is the word Loren. Will you couer than sir? Clow. Not so sir neither, I know my dutie Loren. Yet more quarreling with occasion, wilt thou shew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant; I pray thee vnderstand a plaine man in his plaine meaning: goe to thy fellowes, bid them couer the table, serue in the meat, and we will come in to dinner Clow. For the table sir, it shall be seru'd in, for the meat sir, it shall bee couered, for your comming in to dinner sir, why let it be as humors and conceits shall gouerne. Exit Clowne. Lor. O deare discretion, how his words are suted, The foole hath planted in his memory An Armie of good words, and I doe know A many fooles that stand in better place, Garnisht like him, that for a tricksie word Defie the matter: how cheer'st thou Iessica, And now good sweet say thy opinion, How dost thou like the Lord Bassiano's wife? Iessi. Past all expressing, it is very meete The Lord Bassanio liue an vpright life For hauing such a blessing in his Lady, He findes the ioyes of heauen heere on earth, And if on earth he doe not meane it, it Is reason he should neuer come to heauen? Why, if two gods should play some heauenly match, And on the wager lay two earthly women, And Portia one: there must be something else Paund with the other, for the poore rude world Hath not her fellow Loren. Euen such a husband Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife Ies. Nay, but aske my opinion to of that? Lor. I will anone, first let vs goe to dinner? Ies. Nay, let me praise you while I haue a stomacke? Lor. No pray thee, let it serue for table talke, Then how som ere thou speakst 'mong other things, I shall digest it? Iessi. Well, Ile set you forth. Exeunt. Actus Quartus. Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Anthonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano Duke. What, is Anthonio heere? Ant. Ready, so please your grace? Duke. I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answere A stonie aduersary, an inhumane wretch, Vncapable of pitty, voyd, and empty From any dram of mercie Ant. I haue heard Your Grace hath tane great paines to qualifie His rigorous course: but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful meanes can carrie me Out of his enuies reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer with a quietnesse of spirit, The very tiranny and rage of his Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord. Enter Shylocke. Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face. Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to That thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange, Than is thy strange apparant cruelty; And where thou now exact'st the penalty, Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh, Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture, But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue: Forgiue a moytie of the principall, Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses That haue of late so hudled on his backe, Enow to presse a royall Merchant downe; And plucke commiseration of his state From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts of flints, From stubborne Turkes and Tarters neuer traind To offices of tender curtesie, We all expect a gentle answer Iew? Iew. I haue possest your grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Sabbath haue I sworne To haue the due and forfeit of my bond. If you denie it, let the danger light Vpon your Charter, and your Cities freedome. You'l aske me why I rather choose to haue A weight of carrion flesh, then to receiue Three thousand Ducats? Ile not answer that: But say it is my humor; Is it answered? What if my house be troubled with a Rat, And I be pleas'd to giue ten thousand Ducates To haue it bain'd? What, are you answer'd yet? Some men there are loue not a gaping Pigge: Some that are mad, if they behold a Cat: And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'th nose, Cannot containe their Vrine for affection. Masters of passion swayes it to the moode Of what it likes or loaths, now for your answer: As there is no firme reason to be rendred Why he cannot abide a gaping Pigge? Why he a harmlesse necessarie Cat? Why he a woollen bag-pipe: but of force Must yeeld to such ineuitable shame, As to offend himselfe being offended: So can I giue no reason, nor I will not, More then a lodg'd hate, and a certaine loathing I beare Anthonio, that I follow thus A loosing suite against him? Are you answered? Bass. This is no answer thou vnfeeling man, To excuse the currant of thy cruelty Iew. I am not bound to please thee with my answer Bass. Do all men kil the things they do not loue? Iew. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bass. Euerie offence is not a hate at first Iew. What wouldst thou haue a Serpent sting thee twice? Ant. I pray you thinke you question with the Iew: You may as well go stand vpon the beach, And bid the maine flood baite his vsuall height, Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe, The Ewe bleate for the Lambe: You may as well forbid the Mountaine Pines To wagge their high tops, and to make no noise When they are fretted with the gusts of heauen: You may as well do any thing most hard, As seeke to soften that, then which what harder? His Iewish heart. Therefore I do beseech you Make no more offers, vse no farther meanes, But with all briefe and plaine conueniencie Let me haue iudgement, and the Iew his will Bas. For thy three thousand Ducates heere is six Iew. If euerie Ducat in sixe thousand Ducates Were in sixe parts, and euery part a Ducate, I would not draw them, I would haue my bond? Du. How shalt thou hope for mercie, rendring none? Iew. What iudgement shall I dread doing no wrong? You haue among you many a purchast slaue, Which like your Asses, and your Dogs and Mules, You vse in abiect and in slauish parts, Because you bought them. Shall I say to you, Let them be free, marrie them to your heires? Why sweate they vnder burthens? Let their beds Be made as soft as yours: and let their pallats Be season'd with such Viands: you will answer The slaues are ours. So do I answer you. The pound of flesh which I demand of him Is deerely bought, 'tis mine, and I will haue it. If you deny me; fie vpon your Law, There is no force in the decrees of Venice; I stand for iudgement, answer, Shall I haue it? Du. Vpon my power I may dismisse this Court, Vnlesse Bellario a learned Doctor, Whom I haue sent for to determine this, Come heere to day Sal. My Lord, heere stayes without A Messenger with Letters from the Doctor, New come from Padua Du. Bring vs the Letters, Call the Messengers Bass. Good cheere Anthonio. What man, corage yet: The Iew shall haue my flesh, blood, bones, and all, Ere thou shalt loose for me one drop of blood Ant. I am a tainted Weather of the flocke, Meetest for death, the weakest kinde of fruite Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me; You cannot better be employ'd Bassanio, Then to liue still, and write mine Epitaph. Enter Nerrissa. Du. Came you from Padua from Bellario? Ner. From both. My Lord Bellario greets your Grace Bas. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? Iew. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there Gra. Not on thy soale: but on thy soule harsh Iew Thou mak'st thy knife keene: but no mettall can, No, not the hangmans Axe beare halfe the keennesse Of thy sharpe enuy. Can no prayers pierce thee? Iew. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make Gra. O be thou damn'd, inexecrable dogge, And for thy life let iustice be accus'd: Thou almost mak'st me wauer in my faith; To hold opinion with Pythagoras, That soules of Animals infuse themselues Into the trunkes of men. Thy currish spirit Gouern'd a Wolfe, who hang'd for humane slaughter, Euen from the gallowes did his fell soule fleet; And whil'st thou layest in thy vnhallowed dam, Infus'd it selfe in thee: For thy desires Are Woluish, bloody, steru'd, and rauenous Iew. Till thou canst raile the seale from off my bond Thou but offend'st thy Lungs to speake so loud: Repaire thy wit good youth, or it will fall To endlesse ruine. I stand heere for Law Du. This Letter from Bellario doth commend A yong and Learned Doctor in our Court; Where is he? Ner. He attendeth heere hard by To know your answer, whether you'l admit him Du. With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go giue him curteous conduct to this place, Meane time the Court shall heare Bellarioes Letter. Your Grace shall vnderstand, that at the receite of your Letter I am very sicke: but in the instant that your messenger came, in louing visitation, was with me a yong Doctor of Rome, his name is Balthasar: I acquainted him with the cause in Controuersie, betweene the Iew and Anthonio the Merchant: We turn'd ore many Bookes together: hee is furnished with my opinion, which bettred with his owne learning, the greatnesse whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him at my importunity, to fill vp your Graces request in my sted. I beseech you, let his lacke of years be no impediment to let him lacke a reuerend estimation: for I neuer knewe so yong a body, with so old a head. I leaue him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation. Enter Portia for Balthazar. Duke. You heare the learn'd Bellario what he writes, And heere (I take it) is the Doctor come. Giue me your hand: Came you from old Bellario? Por. I did my Lord Du. You are welcome: take your place; Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the Court Por. I am enformed throughly of the cause. Which is the Merchant heere? and which the Iew? Du. Anthonio and old Shylocke, both stand forth Por. Is your name Shylocke? Iew. Shylocke is my name Por. Of a strange nature is the sute you follow, Yet in such rule, that the Venetian Law Cannot impugne you as you do proceed. You stand within his danger, do you not? Ant. I, so he sayes Por. Do you confesse the bond? Ant. I do Por. Then must the Iew be mercifull Iew. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle raine from heauen Vpon the place beneath. It is twice blest, It blesseth him that giues, and him that takes, 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes The throned Monarch better then his Crowne. His Scepter shewes the force of temporall power, The attribute to awe and Maiestie, Wherein doth sit the dread and feare of Kings: But mercy is aboue this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of Kings, It is an attribute to God himselfe; And earthly power doth then shew likest Gods When mercie seasons Iustice. Therefore Iew, Though Iustice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of Iustice, none of vs Should see saluation: we do pray for mercie, And that same prayer, doth teach vs all to render The deeds of mercie. I haue spoke thus much To mittigate the iustice of thy plea: Which if thou follow, this strict course of Venice Must needes giue sentence 'gainst the Merchant there Shy. My deeds vpon my head, I craue the Law, The penaltie and forfeite of my bond Por. Is he not able to discharge the money? Bas. Yes, heere I tender it for him in the Court, Yea, twice the summe, if that will not suffice, I will be bound to pay it ten times ore, On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: If this will not suffice, it must appeare That malice beares downe truth. And I beseech you Wrest once the Law to your authority. To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curbe this cruell diuell of his will Por. It must not be, there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established: 'Twill be recorded for a President, And many an error by the same example, Will rush into the state: It cannot be Iew. A Daniel come to iudgement, yea a Daniel. O wise young Iudge, how do I honour thee Por. I pray you let me looke vpon the bond Iew. Heere 'tis most reuerend Doctor, heere it is Por. Shylocke, there's thrice thy monie offered thee Shy. An oath, an oath, I haue an oath in heauen: Shall I lay periurie vpon my soule? No not for Venice Por. Why this bond is forfeit, And lawfully by this the Iew may claime A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Neerest the Merchants heart; be mercifull, Take thrice thy money, bid me teare the bond Iew. When it is paid according to the tenure. It doth appeare you are a worthy Iudge: You know the Law, your exposition Hath beene most sound. I charge you by the Law, Whereof you are a well-deseruing pillar, Proceede to iudgement: By my soule I sweare, There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me: I stay heere on my bond An. Most heartily I do beseech the Court To giue the iudgement Por. Why then thus it is: You must prepare your bosome for his knife Iew. O noble Iudge, O excellent yong man Por. For the intent and purpose of the Law Hath full relation to the penaltie, Which heere appeareth due vpon the bond Iew. 'Tis verie true: O wise and vpright Iudge, How much more elder art thou then thy lookes? Por. Therefore lay bare your bosome Iew. I, his brest, So sayes the bond, doth it not noble Iudge? Neerest his heart, those are the very words Por. It is so: Are there ballance heere to weigh the flesh? Iew. I haue them ready Por. Haue by some Surgeon Shylock on your charge To stop his wounds, least he should bleede to death Iew. It is not nominated in the bond? Por. It is not so exprest: but what of that? 'Twere good you do so much for charitie Iew. I cannot finde it, 'tis not in the bond Por. Come Merchant, haue you any thing to say? Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd. Giue me your hand Bassanio, fare you well. Greeue not that I am falne to this for you: For heerein fortune shewes her selfe more kinde Then is her custome. It is still her vse To let the wretched man out-liue his wealth, To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow An age of pouerty. From which lingring penance Of such miserie, doth she cut me off: Commend me to your honourable Wife, Tell her the processe of Anthonio's end: Say how I lou'd you; speake me faire in death: And when the tale is told, bid her be iudge, Whether Bassanio had not once a Loue: Repent not you that you shall loose your friend, And he repents not that he payes your debt. For if the Iew do cut but deepe enough, Ile pay it instantly, with all my heart Bas. Anthonio, I am married to a wife, Which is as deere to me as life it selfe, But life it selfe, my wife, and all the world, Are not with me esteem'd aboue thy life. I would loose all, I sacrifice them all Heere to this deuill, to deliuer you Por. Your wife would giue you little thanks for that If she were by to heare you make the offer Gra. I haue a wife whom I protest I loue, I would she were in heauen, so she could Intreat some power to change this currish Iew Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behinde her backe, The wish would make else an vnquiet house Iew. These be the Christian husbands: I haue a daughter Would any of the stocke of Barrabas Had beene her husband, rather then a Christian. We trifle time, I pray thee pursue sentence Por. A pound of that same marchants flesh is thine, The Court awards it, and the law doth giue it Iew. Most rightfull Iudge Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast, The Law allowes it, and the Court awards it Iew. Most learned Iudge, a sentence, come prepare Por. Tarry a little, there is something else, This bond doth giue thee heere no iot of bloud, The words expresly are a pound of flesh: Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh, But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian bloud, thy lands and goods Are by the Lawes of Venice confiscate Vnto the state of Venice Gra. O vpright Iudge, Marke Iew, o learned Iudge Shy. Is that the law? Por. Thy selfe shalt see the Act: For as thou vrgest iustice, be assur'd Thou shalt haue iustice more then thou desirest Gra. O learned Iudge, mark Iew, a learned Iudge Iew. I take this offer then, pay the bond thrice, And let the Christian goe Bass. Heere is the money Por. Soft, the Iew shall haue all iustice, soft, no haste, He shall haue nothing but the penalty Gra. O Iew, an vpright Iudge, a learned Iudge Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh, Shed thou no bloud, nor cut thou lesse nor more But iust a pound of flesh: if thou tak'st more Or lesse then a iust pound, be it so much As makes it light or heauy in the substance, Or the deuision of the twentieth part Of one poore scruple, nay if the scale doe turne But in the estimation of a hayre, Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel Iew, Now infidell I haue thee on the hip Por. Why doth the Iew pause, take thy forfeiture Shy. Giue me my principall, and let me goe Bass. I haue it ready for thee, heere it is Por. He hath refus'd it in the open Court, He shall haue meerly iustice and his bond Gra. A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel, I thanke thee Iew for teaching me that word Shy. Shall I not haue barely my principall? Por. Thou shalt haue nothing but the forfeiture, To be taken so at thy perill Iew Shy. Why then the Deuill giue him good of it: Ile stay no longer question Por. Tarry Iew, The Law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted in the Lawes of Venice, If it be proued against an Alien, That by direct, or indirect attempts He seeke the life of any Citizen, The party gainst the which he doth contriue, Shall seaze one halfe his goods, the other halfe Comes to the priuie coffer of the State, And the offenders life lies in the mercy Of the Duke onely, gainst all other voice. In which predicament I say thou standst: For it appeares by manifest proceeding, That indirectly, and directly to, Thou hast contriu'd against the very life Of the defendant: and thou hast incur'd The danger formerly by me rehearst. Downe therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke Gra. Beg that thou maist haue leaue to hang thy selfe, And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the state, Thou hast not left the value of a cord, Therefore thou must be hang'd at the states charge Duk. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life before thou aske it: For halfe thy wealth, it is Anthonio's The other halfe comes to the generall state, Which humblenesse may driue vnto a fine Por. I for the state, not for Anthonio Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that, You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustaine my house: you take my life When you doe take the meanes whereby I liue Por. What mercy can you render him Anthonio? Gra. A halter gratis, nothing else for Gods sake Ant. So please my Lord the Duke, and all the Court To quit the fine for one halfe of his goods, I am content: so he will let me haue The other halfe in vse, to render it Vpon his death, vnto the Gentleman That lately stole his daughter. Two things prouided more, that for this fauour He presently become a Christian: The other, that he doe record a gift Heere in the Court of all he dies possest Vnto his sonne Lorenzo, and his daughter Duk. He shall doe this, or else I doe recant The pardon that I late pronounced heere Por. Art thou contented Iew? what dost thou say? Shy. I am content Por. Clarke, draw a deed of gift Shy. I pray you giue me leaue to goe from hence, I am not well, send the deed after me, And I will signe it Duke. Get thee gone, but doe it Gra. In christning thou shalt haue two godfathers, Had I been iudge, thou shouldst haue had ten more, To bring thee to the gallowes, not to the font. Enter. Du. Sir I intreat you with me home to dinner Por. I humbly doe desire your Grace of pardon, I must away this night toward Padua, And it is meete I presently set forth Duk. I am sorry that your leysure serues you not: Anthonio, gratifie this gentleman, For in my minde you are much bound to him. Exit Duke and his traine. Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Haue by your wisedome beene this day acquitted Of greeuous penalties, in lieu whereof, Three thousand Ducats due vnto the Iew We freely cope your curteous paines withall An. And stand indebted ouer and aboue In loue and seruice to you euermore Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied, And I deliuering you, am satisfied, And therein doe account my selfe well paid, My minde was neuer yet more mercinarie. I pray you know me when we meete againe, I wish you well, and so I take my leaue Bass. Deare sir, of force I must attempt you further, Take some remembrance of vs as a tribute, Not as fee: grant me two things, I pray you Not to denie me, and to pardon me Por. You presse mee farre, and therefore I will yeeld, Giue me your gloues, Ile weare them for your sake, And for your loue Ile take this ring from you, Doe not draw backe your hand, ile take no more, And you in loue shall not deny me this? Bass. This ring good sir, alas it is a trifle, I will not shame my selfe to giue you this Por. I wil haue nothing else but onely this, And now methinkes I haue a minde to it Bas. There's more depends on this then on the valew, The dearest ring in Venice will I giue you, And finde it out by proclamation, Onely for this I pray you pardon me Por. I see sir you are liberall in offers, You taught me first to beg, and now me thinkes You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd Bas. Good sir, this ring was giuen me by my wife, And when she put it on, she made me vow That I should neither sell, nor giue, nor lose it Por. That scuse serues many men to saue their gifts, And if your wife be not a mad woman, And know how well I haue deseru'd this ring, Shee would not hold out enemy for euer For giuing it to me: well, peace be with you. Exeunt. Ant. My L[ord]. Bassanio, let him haue the ring, Let his deseruings and my loue withall Be valued against your wiues commandement Bass. Goe Gratiano, run and ouer-take him, Giue him the ring, and bring him if thou canst Vnto Anthonios house, away, make haste. Exit Grati. Come, you and I will thither presently, And in the morning early will we both Flie toward Belmont, come Anthonio. Exeunt. Enter Portia and Nerrissa. Por. Enquire the Iewes house out, giue him this deed, And let him signe it, wee'll away to night, And be a day before our husbands home: This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. Enter Gratiano. Gra. Faire sir, you are well ore-tane: My L[ord]. Bassanio vpon more aduice, Hath sent you heere this ring, and doth intreat Your company at dinner Por. That cannot be; His ring I doe accept most thankfully, And so I pray you tell him: furthermore, I pray you shew my youth old Shylockes house Gra. That will I doe Ner. Sir, I would speake with you: Ile see if I can get my husbands ring Which I did make him sweare to keepe for euer Por. Thou maist I warrant, we shal haue old swearing That they did giue the rings away to men; But weele out-face them, and out-sweare them to: Away, make haste, thou know'st where I will tarry Ner. Come good sir, will you shew me to this house. Exeunt. Actus Quintus. Enter Lorenzo and Iessica. Lor. The moone shines bright. In such a night as this, When the sweet winde did gently kisse the trees, And they did make no noyse, in such a night Troylus me thinkes mounted the Troian walls, And sigh'd his soule toward the Grecian tents Where Cressed lay that night Ies. In such a night Did Thisbie fearefully ore-trip the dewe, And saw the Lyons shadow ere himselfe, And ranne dismayed away Loren. In such a night Stood Dido with a Willow in her hand Vpon the wilde sea bankes, and waft her Loue To come againe to Carthage Ies. In such a night Medea gathered the inchanted hearbs That did renew old Eson Loren. In such a night Did Iessica steale from the wealthy Iewe, And with an Vnthrift Loue did runne from Venice, As farre as Belmont Ies. In such a night Did young Lorenzo sweare he lou'd her well, Stealing her soule with many vowes of faith, And nere a true one Loren. In such a night Did pretty Iessica (like a little shrow) Slander her Loue, and he forgaue it her Iessi. I would out-night you did no body come: But harke, I heare the footing of a man. Enter Messenger. Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? Mes. A friend Loren. A friend, what friend? your name I pray you friend? Mes. Stephano is my name, and I bring word My Mistresse will before the breake of day Be heere at Belmont, she doth stray about By holy crosses where she kneeles and prayes For happy wedlocke houres Loren. Who comes with her? Mes. None but a holy Hermit and her maid: I pray you is my Master yet return'd? Loren. He is not, nor we haue not heard from him, But goe we in I pray thee Iessica, And ceremoniously let vs prepare Some welcome for the Mistresse of the house, Enter Clowne. Clo. Sola, sola: wo ha ho, sola, sola Loren. Who calls? Clo. Sola, did you see M[aster]. Lorenzo, & M[aster]. Lorenzo, sola, Lor. Leaue hollowing man, heere Clo. Sola, where, where? Lor. Heere? Clo. Tel him ther's a Post come from my Master, with his horne full of good newes, my Master will be here ere morning sweete soule Loren. Let's in, and there expect their comming. And yet no matter: why should we goe in? My friend Stephen, signifie pray you Within the house, your Mistresse is at hand, And bring your musique foorth into the ayre. How sweet the moone-light sleepes vpon this banke, Heere will we sit, and let the sounds of musicke Creepe in our eares soft stilnes, and the night Become the tutches of sweet harmonie: Sit Iessica, looke how the floore of heauen Is thicke inlayed with pattens of bright gold, There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst But in his motion like an Angell sings, Still quiring to the young eyed Cherubins; Such harmonie is in immortall soules, But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it: Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne, With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare, And draw her home with musicke Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique. Play musicke. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue: For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their bloud, If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound, Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares, You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand, Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods. Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But musicke for time doth change his nature, The man that hath no musicke in himselfe, Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles, The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections darke as Erobus, Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke. Enter Portia and Nerrissa. Por. That light we see is burning in my hall: How farre that little candell throwes his beames, So shines a good deed in a naughty world Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle? Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lesse, A substitute shines brightly as a King Vntill a King be by, and then his state Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke Into the maine of waters: musique, harke. Musicke. Ner. It is your musicke Madame of the house Por. Nothing is good I see without respect, Methinkes it sounds much sweeter then by day? Ner. Silence bestowes that vertue on it Madam Por. The Crow doth sing as sweetly as the Larke When neither is attended: and I thinke The Nightingale if she should sing by day When euery Goose is cackling, would be thought No better a Musitian then the Wren? How many things by season, season'd are To their right praise, and true perfection: Peace, how the Moone sleepes with Endimion, And would not be awak'd. Musicke ceases. Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiu'd of Portia Por. He knowes me as the blinde man knowes the Cuckow by the bad voice? Lor. Deere Lady welcome home? Por. We haue bene praying for our husbands welfare Which speed we hope the better for our words, Are they return'd? Lor. Madam, they are not yet: But there is come a Messenger before To signifie their comming Por. Go in Nerrissa, Giue order to my seruants, that they take No note at all of our being absent hence, Nor you Lorenzo, Iessica nor you. A Tucket sounds. Lor. Your husband is at hand, I heare his Trumpet, We are no tell-tales Madam, feare you not Por. This night methinkes is but the daylight sicke, It lookes a little paler, 'tis a day, Such as the day is, when the Sun is hid. Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers. Bas. We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walke in absence of the sunne Por. Let me giue light, but let me not be light, For a light wife doth make a heauie husband, And neuer be Bassanio so for me, But God sort all: you are welcome home my Lord Bass. I thanke you Madam, giue welcom to my friend This is the man, this is Anthonio, To whom I am so infinitely bound Por. You should in all sence be much bound to him, For as I heare he was much bound for you Anth. No more then I am wel acquitted of Por. Sir, you are verie welcome to our house: It must appeare in other waies then words, Therefore I scant this breathing curtesie Gra. By yonder Moone I sweare you do me wrong, Infaith I gaue it to the Iudges Clearke, Would he were gelt that had it for my part, Since you do take it Loue so much at hart Por. A quarrel hoe alreadie, what's the matter? Gra. About a hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring That she did giue me, whose Poesie was For all the world like Cutlers Poetry Vpon a knife; Loue mee, and leaue mee not Ner. What talke you of the Poesie or the valew: You swore to me when I did giue it you, That you would weare it til the houre of death, And that it should lye with you in your graue, Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should haue beene respectiue and haue kept it. Gaue it a Iudges Clearke: but wel I know The Clearke wil nere weare haire on's face that had it Gra. He wil, and if he liue to be a man Nerrissa. I, if a Woman liue to be a man Gra. Now by this hand I gaue it to a youth, A kinde of boy, a little scrubbed boy, No higher then thy selfe, the Iudges Clearke, A prating boy that begg'd it as a Fee, I could not for my heart deny it him Por. You were too blame, I must be plaine with you, To part so slightly with your wiues first gift, A thing stucke on with oathes vpon your finger, And so riueted with faith vnto your flesh. I gaue my Loue a Ring, and made him sweare Neuer to part with it, and heere he stands: I dare be sworne for him, he would not leaue it, Nor plucke it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now in faith Gratiano, You giue your wife too vnkinde a cause of greefe, And 'twere to me I should be mad at it Bass. Why I were best to cut my left hand off, And sweare I lost the Ring defending it Gra. My Lord Bassanio gaue his Ring away Vnto the Iudge that beg'd it, and indeede Deseru'd it too: and then the Boy his Clearke That tooke some paines in writing, he begg'd mine, And neyther man nor master would take ought But the two Rings Por. What Ring gaue you my Lord? Not that I hope which you receiu'd of me Bass. If I could adde a lie vnto a fault, I would deny it: but you see my finger Hath not the Ring vpon it, it is gone Por. Euen so voide is your false heart of truth. By heauen I wil nere come in your bed Vntil I see the Ring Ner. Nor I in yours, til I againe see mine Bass. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gaue the Ring, If you did know for whom I gaue the Ring, And would conceiue for what I gaue the Ring, And how vnwillingly I left the Ring, When nought would be accepted but the Ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure? Por. If you had knowne the vertue of the Ring, Or halfe her worthinesse that gaue the Ring, Or your owne honour to containe the Ring, You would not then haue parted with the Ring: What man is there so much vnreasonable, If you had pleas'd to haue defended it With any termes of Zeale: wanted the modestie To vrge the thing held as a ceremonie: Nerrissa teaches me what to beleeue, Ile die for't, but some Woman had the Ring? Bass. No by mine honor Madam, by my soule No Woman had it, but a ciuill Doctor, Which did refuse three thousand Ducates of me, And beg'd the Ring; the which I did denie him, And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away: Euen he that had held vp the verie life Of my deere friend. What should I say sweete Lady? I was inforc'd to send it after him, I was beset with shame and curtesie, My honor would not let ingratitude So much besmeare it. Pardon me good Lady, And by these blessed Candles of the night, Had you bene there, I thinke you would haue beg'd The Ring of me, to giue the worthie Doctor? Por. Let not that Doctor ere come neere my house, Since he hath got the iewell that I loued, And that which you did sweare to keepe for me, I will become as liberall as you, Ile not deny him any thing I haue, No, not my body, nor my husbands bed: Know him I shall, I am well sure of it. Lie not a night from home. Watch me like Argos, If you doe not, if I be left alone, Now by mine honour which is yet mine owne, Ile haue the Doctor for my bedfellow Nerrissa. And I his Clarke: therefore be well aduis'd How you doe leaue me to mine owne protection Gra. Well, doe you so: let not me take him then, For if I doe, ile mar the yong Clarks pen Ant. I am th' vnhappy subiect of these quarrels Por. Sir, grieue not you, You are welcome notwithstanding Bas. Portia, forgiue me this enforced wrong, And in the hearing of these manie friends I sweare to thee, euen by thine owne faire eyes Wherein I see my selfe Por. Marke you but that? In both my eyes he doubly sees himselfe: In each eye one, sweare by your double selfe, And there's an oath of credit Bas. Nay, but heare me. Pardon this fault, and by my soule I sweare I neuer more will breake an oath with thee Anth. I once did lend my bodie for thy wealth, Which but for him that had your husbands ring Had quite miscarried. I dare be bound againe, My soule vpon the forfeit, that your Lord Will neuer more breake faith aduisedlie Por. Then you shall be his suretie: giue him this, And bid him keepe it better then the other Ant. Heere Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this ring Bass. By heauen it is the same I gaue the Doctor Por. I had it of him: pardon Bassanio, For by this ring the Doctor lay with me Ner. And pardon me my gentle Gratiano, For that same scrubbed boy the Doctors Clarke In liew of this, last night did lye with me Gra. Why this is like the mending of high waies In Sommer, where the waies are faire enough: What, are we Cuckolds ere we haue deseru'd it Por. Speake not so grossely, you are all amaz'd; Heere is a letter, reade it at your leysure, It comes from Padua from Bellario, There you shall finde that Portia was the Doctor, Nerrissa there her Clarke. Lorenzo heere Shall witnesse I set forth as soone as you, And but eu'n now return'd: I haue not yet Entred my house. Anthonio you are welcome, And I haue better newes in store for you Then you expect: vnseale this letter soone, There you shall finde three of your Argosies Are richly come to harbour sodainlie. You shall not know by what strange accident I chanced on this letter Antho. I am dumbe Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not? Gra. Were you the Clark that is to make me cuckold Ner. I, but the Clark that neuer meanes to doe it, Vnlesse he liue vntill he be a man Bass. (Sweet Doctor) you shall be my bedfellow, When I am absent, then lie with my wife An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing; For heere I reade for certaine that my ships Are safelie come to Rode Por. How now Lorenzo? My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee. There doe I giue to you and Iessica From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift After his death, of all he dies possess'd of Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way Of starued people Por. It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in, And charge vs there vpon intergatories, And we will answer all things faithfully Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day, But were the day come, I should wish it darke, Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke. Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring. Exeunt. FINIS. The Merchant of Venice. As you Like it Actus primus. Scoena Prima. Enter Orlando and Adam. Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother on his blessing to breed mee well: and there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding, they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder him but growth, for the which his Animals on his dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing that he so plentifully giues me, the something that nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam that grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to auoid it. Enter Oliuer. Adam. Yonder comes my Master, your brother Orlan. Goe a-part Adam, and thou shalt heare how he will shake me vp Oli. Now Sir, what make you heere? Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing Oli. What mar you then sir? Orl. Marry sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poore vnworthy brother of yours with idlenesse Oliuer. Marry sir be better employed, and be naught a while Orlan. Shall I keepe your hogs, and eat huskes with them? what prodigall portion haue I spent, that I should come to such penury? Oli. Know you where you are sir? Orl. O sir, very well: heere in your Orchard Oli. Know you before whom sir? Orl. I, better then him I am before knowes mee: I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of bloud you should so know me: the courtesie of nations allowes you my better, in that you are the first borne, but the same tradition takes not away my bloud, were there twenty brothers betwixt vs: I haue as much of my father in mee, as you, albeit I confesse your comming before me is neerer to his reuerence Oli. What Boy Orl. Come, come elder brother, you are too yong in this Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me villaine? Orl. I am no villaine: I am the yongest sonne of Sir Rowland de Boys, he was my father, and he is thrice a villaine that saies such a father begot villaines: wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat, till this other had puld out thy tongue for saying so, thou hast raild on thy selfe Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers remembrance, be at accord Oli. Let me goe I say Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education: you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my fortunes Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent? Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you leaue me Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee for my good Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master, he would not haue spoke such a word. Ex. Orl. Ad. Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand crownes neyther: holla Dennis. Enter Dennis. Den. Calls your worship? Oli. Was not Charles the Dukes Wrastler heere to speake with me? Den. So please you, he is heere at the doore, and importunes accesse to you Oli. Call him in: 'twill be a good way: and to morrow the wrastling is. Enter Charles. Cha. Good morrow to your worship Oli. Good Mounsier Charles: what's the new newes at the new Court? Charles. There's no newes at the Court Sir, but the olde newes: that is, the old Duke is banished by his yonger brother the new Duke, and three or foure louing Lords haue put themselues into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and reuenues enrich the new Duke, therefore he giues them good leaue to wander Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind the Dukes daughter bee banished with her Father? Cha. O no; for the Dukes daughter her Cosen so loues her, being euer from their Cradles bred together, that hee would haue followed her exile, or haue died to stay behind her; she is at the Court, and no lesse beloued of her Vncle, then his owne daughter, and neuer two Ladies loued as they doe Oli. Where will the old Duke liue? Cha. They say hee is already in the Forrest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they liue like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many yong Gentlemen flocke to him euery day, and fleet the time carelesly as they did in the golden world Oli. What, you wrastle to morrow before the new Duke Cha. Marry doe I sir: and I came to acquaint you with a matter: I am giuen sir secretly to vnderstand, that your yonger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguis'd against mee to try a fall: to morrow sir I wrastle for my credit, and hee that escapes me without some broken limbe, shall acquit him well: your brother is but young and tender, and for your loue I would bee loth to foyle him, as I must for my owne honour if hee come in: therefore out of my loue to you, I came hither to acquaint you withall, that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brooke such disgrace well as he shall runne into, in that it is a thing of his owne search, and altogether against my will Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it; but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him, but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and wonder Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and so God keepe your worship. Enter. Farewell good Charles. Now will I stirre this Gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soule (yet I know not why) hates nothing more then he: yet hee's gentle, neuer school'd, and yet learned, full of noble deuise, of all sorts enchantingly beloued, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my owne people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long, this wrastler shall cleare all: nothing remaines, but that I kindle the boy thither, which now Ile goe about. Enter. Scoena Secunda. Enter Rosalind, and Cellia. Cel. I pray thee Rosalind, sweet my Coz, be merry Ros. Deere Cellia; I show more mirth then I am mistresse of, and would you yet were merrier: vnlesse you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learne mee how to remember any extraordinary pleasure Cel. Heerein I see thou lou'st mee not with the full waight that I loue thee; if my Vncle thy banished father had banished thy Vncle the Duke my Father, so thou hadst beene still with mee, I could haue taught my loue to take thy father for mine; so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy loue to me were so righteously temper'd, as mine is to thee Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to reioyce in yours Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose, be merry Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports: let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue? Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther, then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor come off againe Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee bestowed equally Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very illfauouredly Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures: Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. Enter Clowne. Cel. No; when Nature hath made a faire creature, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? though nature hath giuen vs wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this foole to cut off the argument? Ros. Indeed there is fortune too hard for nature, when fortune makes natures naturall, the cutter off of natures witte Cel. Peraduenture this is not Fortunes work neither, but Natures, who perceiueth our naturall wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, hath sent this Naturall for our whetstone: for alwaies the dulnesse of the foole, is the whetstone of the wits. How now Witte, whether wander you? Clow. Mistresse, you must come away to your father Cel. Were you made the messenger? Clo. No by mine honor, but I was bid to come for you Ros. Where learned you that oath foole? Clo. Of a certaine Knight, that swore by his Honour they were good Pan-cakes, and swore by his Honor the Mustard was naught: Now Ile stand to it, the Pancakes were naught, and the Mustard was good, and yet was not the Knight forsworne Cel. How proue you that in the great heape of your knowledge? Ros. I marry, now vnmuzzle your wisedome Clo. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chinnes, and sweare by your beards that I am a knaue Cel. By our beards (if we had them) thou art Clo. By my knauerie (if I had it) then I were: but if you sweare by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight swearing by his Honor, for he neuer had anie; or if he had, he had sworne it away, before euer he saw those Pancakes, or that Mustard Cel. Prethee, who is't that thou means't? Clo. One that old Fredericke your Father loues Ros. My Fathers loue is enough to honor him enough; speake no more of him, you'l be whipt for taxation one of these daies Clo. The more pittie that fooles may not speak wisely, what Wisemen do foolishly Cel. By my troth thou saiest true: For, since the little wit that fooles haue was silenced, the little foolerie that wise men haue makes a great shew; Heere comes Monsieur the Beu. Enter le Beau. Ros. With his mouth full of newes Cel. Which he will put on vs, as Pigeons feed their young Ros. Then shal we be newes-cram'd Cel. All the better: we shalbe the more Marketable. Boon-iour Monsieur le Beu, what's the newes? Le Beu. Faire Princesse, you haue lost much good sport Cel. Sport: of what colour? Le Beu. What colour Madame? How shall I aunswer you? Ros. As wit and fortune will Clo. Or as the destinies decrees Cel. Well said, that was laid on with a trowell Clo. Nay, if I keepe not my ranke Ros. Thou loosest thy old smell Le Beu. You amaze me Ladies: I would haue told you of good wrastling, which you haue lost the sight of Ros. Yet tell vs the manner of the Wrastling Le Beu. I wil tell you the beginning: and if it please your Ladiships, you may see the end, for the best is yet to doe, and heere where you are, they are comming to performe it Cel. Well, the beginning that is dead and buried Le Beu. There comes an old man, and his three sons Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale Le Beu. Three proper yong men, of excellent growth and presence Ros. With bils on their neckes: Be it knowne vnto all men by these presents Le Beu. The eldest of the three, wrastled with Charles the Dukes Wrastler, which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribbes, that there is little hope of life in him: So he seru'd the second, and so the third: yonder they lie, the poore old man their Father, making such pittiful dole ouer them, that all the beholders take his part with weeping Ros. Alas Clo. But what is the sport Monsieur, that the Ladies haue lost? Le Beu. Why this that I speake of Clo. Thus men may grow wiser euery day. It is the first time that euer I heard breaking of ribbes was sport for Ladies Cel. Or I, I promise thee Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken Musicke in his sides? Is there yet another doates vpon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrastling Cosin? Le Beu. You must if you stay heere, for heere is the place appointed for the wrastling, and they are ready to performe it Cel. Yonder sure they are comming. Let vs now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duke, Lords, Orlando, Charles, and Attendants. Duke. Come on, since the youth will not be intreated His owne perill on his forwardnesse Ros. Is yonder the man? Le Beu. Euen he, Madam Cel. Alas, he is too yong: yet he looks successefully Du. How now daughter, and Cousin: Are you crept hither to see the wrastling? Ros. I my Liege, so please you giue vs leaue Du. You wil take little delight in it, I can tell you there is such oddes in the man: In pitie of the challengers youth, I would faine disswade him, but he will not bee entreated. Speake to him Ladies, see if you can mooue him Cel. Call him hether good Monsieuer Le Beu Duke. Do so: Ile not be by Le Beu. Monsieur the Challenger, the Princesse cals for you Orl. I attend them with all respect and dutie Ros. Young man, haue you challeng'd Charles the Wrastler? Orl. No faire Princesse: he is the generall challenger, I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth Cel. Yong Gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your yeares: you haue seene cruell proofe of this mans strength, if you saw your selfe with your eies, or knew your selfe with your iudgment, the feare of your aduenture would counsel you to a more equall enterprise. We pray you for your owne sake to embrace your own safetie, and giue ouer this attempt Ros. Do yong Sir, your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we wil make it our suite to the Duke, that the wrastling might not go forward Orl. I beseech you, punish mee not with your harde thoughts, wherein I confesse me much guiltie to denie so faire and excellent Ladies anie thing. But let your faire eies, and gentle wishes go with mee to my triall; wherein if I bee foil'd, there is but one sham'd that was neuer gracious: if kil'd, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I haue none to lament me: the world no iniurie, for in it I haue nothing: onely in the world I fil vp a place, which may bee better supplied, when I haue made it emptie Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were with you Cel. And mine to eeke out hers Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you Cel. Your hearts desires be with you Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest working Duk. You shall trie but one fall Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him from a first Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not haue mockt me before: but come your waies Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow by the legge. Wrastle. Ros. Oh excellent yong man Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who should downe. Shout. Duk. No more, no more Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breath'd Duk. How do'st thou Charles? Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord Duk. Beare him awaie: What is thy name yong man? Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland de Boys Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else, The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did finde him still mine enemie: Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede, Hadst thou descended from another house: But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth, I would thou had'st told me of another Father. Exit Duke. Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this? Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne, His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling To be adopted heire to Fredricke Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule, And all the world was of my Fathers minde, Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne, I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties, Ere he should thus haue ventur'd Cel. Gentle Cosen, Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him: My Fathers rough and enuious disposition Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd, If you doe keepe your promises in loue; But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise, Your Mistris shall be happie Ros. Gentleman, Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes. Shall we goe Coze? Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes, Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir? Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne More then your enemies Cel. Will you goe Coze? Ros. Haue with you: fare you well. Enter. Orl. What passion hangs these waights vpo[n] my toong? I cannot speake to her, yet she vrg'd conference. Enter Le Beu. O poore Orlando! thou art ouerthrowne Or Charles, or something weaker masters thee Le Beu. Good Sir, I do in friendship counsaile you To leaue this place; Albeit you haue deseru'd High commendation, true applause, and loue; Yet such is now the Dukes condition, That he misconsters all that you haue done: The Duke is humorous, what he is indeede More suites you to conceiue, then I to speake of Orl. I thanke you Sir; and pray you tell me this, Which of the two was daughter of the Duke, That here was at the Wrastling? Le Beu. Neither his daughter, if we iudge by manners, But yet indeede the taller is his daughter, The other is daughter to the banish'd Duke, And here detain'd by her vsurping Vncle To keepe his daughter companie, whose loues Are deerer then the naturall bond of Sisters: But I can tell you, that of late this Duke Hath tane displeasure 'gainst his gentle Neece, Grounded vpon no other argument, But that the people praise her for her vertues, And pittie her, for her good Fathers sake; And on my life his malice 'gainst the Lady Will sodainly breake forth: Sir, fare you well, Hereafter in a better world then this, I shall desire more loue and knowledge of you Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. Thus must I from the smoake into the smother, From tyrant Duke, vnto a tyrant Brother. But heauenly Rosaline. Exit Scena Tertius. Enter Celia and Rosaline. Cel. Why Cosen, why Rosaline: Cupid haue mercie, Not a word? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away vpon curs, throw some of them at me; come lame mee with reasons Ros. Then there were two Cosens laid vp, when the one should be lam'd with reasons, and the other mad without any Cel. But is all this for your Father? Ros. No, some of it is for my childes Father: Oh how full of briers is this working day world Cel. They are but burs, Cosen, throwne vpon thee in holiday foolerie, if we walke not in the trodden paths our very petty-coates will catch them Ros. I could shake them off my coate, these burs are in my heart Cel. Hem them away Ros. I would try if I could cry hem, and haue him Cel. Come, come, wrastle with thy affections Ros. O they take the part of a better wrastler then my selfe Cel. O, a good wish vpon you: you will trie in time in dispight of a fall: but turning these iests out of seruice, let vs talke in good earnest: Is it possible on such a sodaine, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Roulands yongest sonne? Ros. The Duke my Father lou'd his Father deerelie Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should loue his Sonne deerelie? By this kinde of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father deerely; yet I hate not Orlando Ros. No faith, hate him not for my sake Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserue well? Enter Duke with Lords. Ros. Let me loue him for that, and do you loue him Because I doe. Looke, here comes the Duke Cel. With his eies full of anger Duk. Mistris, dispatch you with your safest haste, And get you from our Court Ros. Me Vncle Duk. You Cosen, Within these ten daies if that thou beest found So neere our publike Court as twentie miles, Thou diest for it Ros. I doe beseech your Grace Let me the knowledge of my fault beare with me: If with my selfe I hold intelligence, Or haue acquaintance with mine owne desires, If that I doe not dreame, or be not franticke, (As I doe trust I am not) then deere Vncle, Neuer so much as in a thought vnborne, Did I offend your highnesse Duk. Thus doe all Traitors, If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace it selfe; Let is suffice thee that I trust thee not Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a Traitor; Tell me whereon the likelihoods depends? Duk. Thou art thy Fathers daughter, there's enough Ros. So was I when your highnes took his Dukdome, So was I when your highnesse banisht him; Treason is not inherited my Lord, Or if we did deriue it from our friends, What's that to me, my Father was no Traitor, Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much, To thinke my pouertie is treacherous Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake, Else had she with her Father rang'd along Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay, It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse, I was too yong that time to value her, But now I know her: if she be a Traitor, Why so am I: we still haue slept together, Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together, And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans, Still we went coupled and inseperable Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes; Her verie silence, and her patience, Speake to the people, and they pittie her: Thou art a foole, she robs thee of thy name, And thou wilt show more bright, & seem more vertuous When she is gone: then open not thy lips Firme, and irreuocable is my doombe, Which I haue past vpon her, she is banish'd Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me my Leige, I cannot liue out of her companie Duk. You are a foole: you Neice prouide your selfe, If you out-stay the time, vpon mine honor, And in the greatnesse of my word you die. Exit Duke, &c. Cel. O my poore Rosaline, whether wilt thou goe? Wilt thou change Fathers? I will giue thee mine: I charge thee be not thou more grieu'd then I am Ros. I haue more cause Cel. Thou hast not Cosen, Prethee be cheerefull; know'st thou not the Duke Hath banish'd me his daughter? Ros. That he hath not Cel. No, hath not? Rosaline lacks then the loue Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one, Shall we be sundred? shall we part sweete girle? No, let my Father seeke another heire: Therefore deuise with me how we may flie Whether to goe, and what to beare with vs, And doe not seeke to take your change vpon you, To beare your griefes your selfe, and leaue me out: For by this heauen, now at our sorrowes pale; Say what thou canst, Ile goe along with thee Ros. Why, whether shall we goe? Cel. To seeke my Vncle in the Forrest of Arden Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to vs, (Maides as we are) to trauell forth so farre? Beautie prouoketh theeues sooner then gold Cel. Ile put my selfe in poore and meane attire, And with a kinde of vmber smirch my face, The like doe you, so shall we passe along, And neuer stir assailants Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more then common tall, That I did suite me all points like a man, A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh, A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart Lye there what hidden womans feare there will, Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside, As manie other mannish cowards haue, That doe outface it with their semblances Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page, And therefore looke you call me Ganimed. But what will you be call'd? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court: Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile? Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me, Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away And get our Iewels and our wealth together, Deuise the fittest time, and safest way To hide vs from pursuite that will be made After my flight: now goe in we content To libertie, and not to banishment. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima. Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like Forresters. Duk.Sen. Now my Coe-mates, and brothers in exile: Hath not old custome made this life more sweete Then that of painted pompe? Are not these woods More free from perill then the enuious Court? Heere feele we not the penaltie of Adam, The seasons difference, as the Icie phange And churlish chiding of the winters winde, Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly perswade me what I am: Sweet are the vses of aduersitie Which like the toad, ougly and venemous, Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head: And this our life exempt from publike haunt, Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes, Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a stile Du.Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison? And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles Being natiue Burgers of this desert City, Should in their owne confines with forked heads Haue their round hanches goard 1.Lord. Indeed my Lord The melancholy Iaques grieues at that, And in that kinde sweares you doe more vsurpe Then doth your brother that hath banish'd you: To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe, Did steale behinde him as he lay along Vnder an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out Vpon the brooke that brawles along this wood, To the which place a poore sequestred Stag That from the Hunters aime had tane a hurt, Did come to languish; and indeed my Lord The wretched annimall heau'd forth such groanes That their discharge did stretch his leatherne coat Almost to bursting, and the big round teares Cours'd one another downe his innocent nose In pitteous chase: and thus the hairie foole, Much marked of the melancholie Iaques, Stood on th' extremest verge of the swift brooke, Augmenting it with teares Du.Sen. But what said Iaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle? 1.Lord. O yes, into a thousand similies. First, for his weeping into the needlesse streame; Poore Deere quoth he, thou mak'st a testament As worldlings doe, giuing thy sum of more To that which had too much: then being there alone, Left and abandoned of his veluet friend; 'Tis right quoth he, thus miserie doth part The Fluxe of companie: anon a carelesse Heard Full of the pasture, iumps along by him And neuer staies to greet him: I quoth Iaques, Sweepe on you fat and greazie Citizens, 'Tis iust the fashion; wherefore doe you looke Vpon that poore and broken bankrupt there? Thus most inuectiuely he pierceth through The body of Countrie, Citie, Court, Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we Are meere vsurpers, tyrants, and whats worse To fright the Annimals, and to kill them vp In their assign'd and natiue dwelling place D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation? 2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting Vpon the sobbing Deere Du.Sen. Show me the place, I loue to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter 1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Duke, with Lords. Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be, some villaines of my Court Are of consent and sufferance in this 1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her, The Ladies her attendants of her chamber Saw her a bed, and in the morning early, They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris 2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft, Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing, Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman Confesses that she secretly ore-heard Your daughter and her Cosen much commend The parts and graces of the Wrastler That did but lately foile the synowie Charles, And she beleeues where euer they are gone That youth is surely in their companie Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither, If he be absent, bring his Brother to me, Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly; And let not search and inquisition quaile, To bring againe these foolish runawaies. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Orlando and Adam. Orl. Who's there? Ad. What my yong Master, oh my gentle master, Oh my sweet master, O you memorie Of old Sir Rowland; why, what make you here? Why are you vertuous? Why do people loue you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? Why would you be so fond to ouercome The bonnie priser of the humorous Duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. Know you not Master, to seeme kinde of men, Their graces serue them but as enemies, No more doe yours: your vertues gentle Master Are sanctified and holy traitors to you: Oh what a world is this, when what is comely Enuenoms him that beares it? Why, what's the matter? Ad. O vnhappie youth, Come not within these doores: within this roofe The enemie of all your graces liues Your brother, no, no brother, yet the sonne (Yet not the son, I will not call him son) Of him I was about to call his Father, Hath heard your praises, and this night he meanes, To burne the lodging where you vse to lye, And you within it: if he faile of that He will haue other meanes to cut you off; I ouerheard him: and his practises: This is no place, this house is but a butcherie; Abhorre it, feare it, doe not enter it Ad. Why whether Adam would'st thou haue me go? Ad. No matter whether, so you come not here Orl. What, would'st thou haue me go & beg my food, Or with a base and boistrous Sword enforce A theeuish liuing on the common rode? This I must do, or know not what to do: Yet this I will not do, do how I can, I rather will subiect me to the malice Of a diuerted blood, and bloudie brother Ad. But do not so: I haue fiue hundred Crownes, The thriftie hire I saued vnder your Father, Which I did store to be my foster Nurse, When seruice should in my old limbs lie lame, And vnregarded age in corners throwne, Take that, and he that doth the Rauens feede, Yea prouidently caters for the Sparrow, Be comfort to my age: here is the gold, All this I giue you, let me be your seruant, Though I looke old, yet I am strong and lustie; For in my youth I neuer did apply Hot, and rebellious liquors in my bloud, Nor did not with vnbashfull forehead woe, The meanes of weaknesse and debilitie, Therefore my age is as a lustie winter, Frostie, but kindely; let me goe with you, Ile doe the seruice of a yonger man In all your businesse and necessities Orl. Oh good old man, how well in thee appeares The constant seruice of the antique world, When seruice sweate for dutie, not for meede: Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweate, but for promotion, And hauing that do choake their seruice vp, Euen with the hauing, it is not so with thee: But poore old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossome yeelde, In lieu of all thy paines and husbandrie, But come thy waies, weele goe along together, And ere we haue thy youthfull wages spent, Weele light vpon some setled low content Ad. Master goe on, and I will follow thee To the last gaspe with truth and loyaltie, From seauentie yeeres, till now almost fourescore Here liued I, but now liue here no more At seauenteene yeeres, many their fortunes seeke But at fourescore, it is too late a weeke, Yet fortune cannot recompence me better Then to die well, and not my Masters debter. Exeunt. Scena Quarta. Enter Rosaline for Ganimed, Celia for Aliena, and Clowne, alias Touchstone. Ros. O Iupiter, how merry are my spirits? Clo. I care not for my spirits, if my legges were not wearie Ros. I could finde in my heart to disgrace my mans apparell, and to cry like a woman: but I must comfort the weaker vessell, as doublet and hose ought to show it selfe coragious to petty-coate; therefore courage, good Aliena Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then beare you: yet I should beare no crosse if I did beare you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purse Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers must be content. Enter Corin and Siluius. Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes here, a yong man and an old in solemne talke Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a louer As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow: But if thy loue were euer like to mine, As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so: How many actions most ridiculous, Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie? Cor. Into a thousand that I haue forgotten Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily, If thou remembrest not the slightest folly, That euer loue did make thee run into, Thou hast not lou'd. Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now, Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise, Thou hast not lou'd. Or if thou hast not broke from companie, Abruptly as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not lou'd. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe. Enter. Ros. Alas poore Shepheard searching of they would, I haue by hard aduenture found mine owne Clo. And I mine: I remember when I was in loue, I broke my sword vpon a stone, and bid him take that for comming a night to Iane Smile, and I remember the kissing of her batler, and the Cowes dugs that her prettie chopt hands had milk'd; and I remember the wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I tooke two cods, and giuing her them againe, said with weeping teares, weare these for my sake: wee that are true Louers, runne into strange capers; but as all is mortall in nature, so is all nature in loue, mortall in folly Ros. Thou speak'st wiser then thou art ware of Clo. Nay, I shall nere be ware of mine owne wit, till I breake my shins against it Ros. Ioue, Ioue, this Shepherds passion, Is much vpon my fashion Clo. And mine, but it growes something stale with mee Cel. I pray you, one of you question yon'd man, If he for gold will giue vs any foode, I faint almost to death Clo. Holla; you Clowne Ros. Peace foole, he's not thy kinsman Cor. Who cals? Clo. Your betters Sir Cor. Else are they very wretched Ros. Peace I say; good euen to your friend Cor. And to you gentle Sir, and to you all Ros. I prethee Shepheard, if that loue or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment, Bring vs where we may rest our selues, and feed: Here's a yong maid with trauaile much oppressed, And faints for succour Cor. Faire Sir, I pittie her, And wish for her sake more then for mine owne, My fortunes were more able to releeue her: But I am shepheard to another man, And do not sheere the Fleeces that I graze: My master is of churlish disposition, And little wreakes to finde the way to heauen By doing deeds of hospitalitie. Besides his Coate, his Flockes, and bounds of feede Are now on sale, and at our sheep-coat now By reason of his absence there is nothing That you will feed on: but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be Ros. What is he that shall buy his flocke and pasture? Cor. That yong Swaine that you saw heere but erewhile, That little cares for buying any thing Ros. I pray thee, if it stand with honestie, Buy thou the Cottage, pasture, and the flocke, And thou shalt haue to pay for it of vs Cel. And we will mend thy wages: I like this place, and willingly could Waste my time in it Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold: Go with me, if you like vpon report, The soile, the profit, and this kinde of life, I will your very faithfull Feeder be, And buy it with your Gold right sodainly. Exeunt. Scena Quinta. Enter, Amyens, Iaques, & others. Song. Vnder the greene wood tree, who loues to lye with mee, And turne his merrie Note, vnto the sweet Birds throte: Come hither, come hither, come hither: Heere shall he see no enemie, But Winter and rough Weather Iaq. More, more, I pre'thee more Amy. It will make you melancholly Monsieur Iaques Iaq. I thanke it: More, I prethee more, I can sucke melancholly out of a song, As a Weazel suckes egges: More, I pre'thee more Amy. My voice is ragged, I know I cannot please you Iaq. I do not desire you to please me, I do desire you to sing: Come, more, another stanzo: Cal you 'em stanzo's? Amy. What you wil Monsieur Iaques Iaq. Nay, I care not for their names, they owe mee nothing. Wil you sing? Amy. More at your request, then to please my selfe Iaq. Well then, if euer I thanke any man, Ile thanke you: but that they cal complement is like th' encounter of two dog-Apes. And when a man thankes me hartily, me thinkes I haue giuen him a penie, and he renders me the beggerly thankes. Come sing; and you that wil not hold your tongues Amy. Wel, Ile end the song. Sirs, couer the while, the Duke wil drinke vnder this tree; he hath bin all this day to looke you Iaq. And I haue bin all this day to auoid him: He is too disputeable for my companie: I thinke of as many matters as he, but I giue Heauen thankes, and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. Song. Altogether heere. Who doth ambition shunne, and loues to liue i'th Sunne: Seeking the food he eates, and pleas'd with what he gets: Come hither, come hither, come hither, Heere shall he see. &c Iaq. Ile giue you a verse to this note, That I made yesterday in despight of my Inuention Amy. And Ile sing it Amy. Thus it goes. If it do come to passe, that any man turne Asse: Leauing his wealth and ease, A stubborne will to please, Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: Heere shall he see, grosse fooles as he, And if he will come to me Amy. What's that Ducdame? Iaq. 'Tis a Greeke inuocation, to call fools into a circle. Ile go sleepe if I can: if I cannot, Ile raile against all the first borne of Egypt Amy. And Ile go seeke the Duke, His banket is prepar'd. Exeunt. Scena Sexta. Enter Orlando, & Adam Adam. Deere Master, I can go no further: O I die for food. Heere lie I downe, And measure out my graue. Farwel kinde master Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee: Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little. If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage, I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee: Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers. For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently, And if I bring thee not something to eate, I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor. Wel said, thou look'st cheerely, And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee To some shelter, and thou shalt not die For lacke of a dinner, If there liue any thing in this Desert. Cheerely good Adam. Exeunt. Scena Septima. Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes. Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast, For I can no where finde him, like a man 1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence, Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall, We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares: Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him. Enter Iaques. 1.Lord. He saues my labor by his owne approach Du.Sen. Why how now Monsieur, what a life is this That your poore friends must woe your companie, What, you looke merrily Iaq. A Foole, a foole: I met a foole i'th Forrest, A motley Foole (a miserable world:) As I do liue by foode, I met a foole, Who laid him downe, and bask'd him in the Sun, And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good termes, In good set termes, and yet a motley foole. Good morrow foole (quoth I:) no Sir, quoth he, Call me not foole, till heauen hath sent me fortune, And then he drew a diall from his poake, And looking on it, with lacke-lustre eye, Sayes, very wisely, it is ten a clocke: Thus we may see (quoth he) how the world wagges: 'Tis but an houre agoe, since it was nine, And after one houre more, 'twill be eleuen, And so from houre to houre, we ripe, and ripe, And then from houre to houre, we rot, and rot, And thereby hangs a tale. When I did heare The motley Foole, thus morall on the time, My Lungs began to crow like Chanticleere, That Fooles should be so deepe contemplatiue: And I did laugh, sans intermission An houre by his diall. Oh noble foole, A worthy foole: Motley's the onely weare Du.Sen. What foole is this? Iaq. O worthie Foole: One that hath bin a Courtier And sayes, if Ladies be but yong, and faire, They haue the gift to know it: and in his braine, Which is as drie as the remainder bisket After a voyage: He hath strange places cram'd With obseruation, the which he vents In mangled formes. O that I were a foole, I am ambitious for a motley coat Du.Sen. Thou shalt haue one Iaq. It is my onely suite, Prouided that you weed your better iudgements Of all opinion that growes ranke in them, That I am wise. I must haue liberty Withall, as large a Charter as the winde, To blow on whom I please, for so fooles haue: And they that are most gauled with my folly, They most must laugh: And why sir must they so? The why is plaine, as way to Parish Church: Hee, that a Foole doth very wisely hit, Doth very foolishly, although he smart Seeme senselesse of the bob. If not, The Wise-mans folly is anathomiz'd Euen by the squandring glances of the foole. Inuest me in my motley: Giue me leaue To speake my minde, and I will through and through Cleanse the foule bodie of th' infected world, If they will patiently receiue my medicine Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good? Du.Sen. Most mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin: For thou thy selfe hast bene a Libertine, As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe, And all th' imbossed sores, and headed euils, That thou with license of free foot hast caught, Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world Iaq. Why who cries out on pride, That can therein taxe any priuate party: Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea, Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe. What woman in the Citie do I name, When that I say the City woman beares The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders? Who can come in, and say that I meane her, When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor? Or what is he of basest function, That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost, Thinking that I meane him, but therein suites His folly to the mettle of my speech, There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies Vnclaim'd of any man. But who come here? Enter Orlando. Orl. Forbeare, and eate no more Iaq. Why I haue eate none yet Orl. Nor shalt not, till necessity be seru'd Iaq. Of what kinde should this Cocke come of? Du.Sen. Art thou thus bolden'd man by thy distres? Or else a rude despiser of good manners, That in ciuility thou seem'st so emptie? Orl. You touch'd my veine at first, the thorny point Of bare distresse, hath tane from me the shew Of smooth ciuility: yet am I in-land bred, And know some nourture: But forbeare, I say, He dies that touches any of this fruite, Till I, and my affaires are answered Iaq. And you will not be answer'd with reason, I must dye Du.Sen. What would you haue? Your gentlenesse shall force, more then your force Moue vs to gentlenesse Orl. I almost die for food, and let me haue it Du.Sen. Sit downe and feed, & welcom to our table Orl. Speake you so gently? Pardon me I pray you, I thought that all things had bin sauage heere, And therefore put I on the countenance Of sterne command'ment. But what ere you are That in this desert inaccessible, Vnder the shade of melancholly boughes, Loose, and neglect the creeping houres of time: If euer you haue look'd on better dayes: If euer beene where bels haue knoll'd to Church: If euer sate at any good mans feast: If euer from your eye-lids wip'd a teare, And know what 'tis to pittie, and be pittied: Let gentlenesse my strong enforcement be, In the which hope, I blush, and hide my Sword Du.Sen. True is it, that we haue seene better dayes, And haue with holy bell bin knowld to Church, And sat at good mens feasts, and wip'd our eies Of drops, that sacred pity hath engendred: And therefore sit you downe in gentlenesse, And take vpon command, what helpe we haue That to your wanting may be ministred Orl. Then but forbeare your food a little while: Whiles (like a Doe) I go to finde my Fawne, And giue it food. There is an old poore man, Who after me, hath many a weary steppe Limpt in pure loue: till he be first suffic'd, Opprest with two weake euils, age, and hunger, I will not touch a bit Duke Sen. Go finde him out, And we will nothing waste till you returne Orl. I thanke ye, and be blest for your good comfort Du.Sen. Thou seest, we are not all alone vnhappie: This wide and vniuersall Theater Presents more wofull Pageants then the Sceane Wherein we play in Ia. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women, meerely Players; They haue their Exits and their Entrances, And one man in his time playes many parts, His Acts being seuen ages. At first the Infant, Mewling, and puking in the Nurses armes: Then, the whining Schoole-boy with his Satchell And shining morning face, creeping like snaile Vnwillingly to schoole. And then the Louer, Sighing like Furnace, with a wofull ballad Made to his Mistresse eye-brow. Then, a Soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard, Ielous in honor, sodaine, and quicke in quarrell, Seeking the bubble Reputation Euen in the Canons mouth: And then, the Iustice In faire round belly, with good Capon lin'd, With eyes seuere, and beard of formall cut, Full of wise sawes, and moderne instances, And so he playes his part. The sixt age shifts Into the leane and slipper'd Pantaloone, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side, His youthfull hose well sau'd, a world too wide, For his shrunke shanke, and his bigge manly voice, Turning againe toward childish trebble pipes, And whistles in his sound. Last Scene of all, That ends this strange euentfull historie, Is second childishnesse, and meere obliuion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans euery thing. Enter Orlando with Adam. Du.Sen. Welcome: set downe your venerable burthen, and let him feede Orl. I thanke you most for him Ad. So had you neede, I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you, As yet to question you about your fortunes: Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing. Song. Blow, blow, thou winter winde, Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitude Thy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not seene, although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly, Most frendship, is fayning; most Louing, meere folly: The heigh ho, the holly, This Life is most iolly. Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nigh as benefitts forgot: Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe, as freind remembred not. Heigh ho, sing, &c Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son, As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witnesse, Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face, Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke That lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune, Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man, Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is: Support him by the arme: giue me your hand, And let me all your fortunes vnderstand. Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer. Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercie, I should not seeke an absent argument Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it, Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is, Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more To seeke a liuing in our Territorie. Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine, Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth, Of what we thinke against thee Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this: I neuer lou'd my brother in my life Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent vpon his house and Lands: Do this expediently, and turne him going. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Orlando. Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue, And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes, And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter, That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes, Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where. Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree, The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee. Exit Enter Corin & Clowne. Co. And how like you this shepherds life Mr Touchstone? Clow. Truely Shepheard, in respect of it selfe, it is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepheards life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it verie well: but in respect that it is priuate, it is a very vild life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth mee well: but in respect it is not in the Court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life (looke you) it fits my humor well: but as there is no more plentie in it, it goes much against my stomacke. Has't any Philosophie in thee shepheard? Cor. No more, but that I know the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is: and that hee that wants money, meanes, and content, is without three good frends. That the propertie of raine is to wet, and fire to burne: That good pasture makes fat sheepe: and that a great cause of the night, is lacke of the Sunne: That hee that hath learned no wit by Nature, nor Art, may complaine of good breeding, or comes of a very dull kindred Clo. Such a one is a naturall Philosopher: Was't euer in Court, Shepheard? Cor. No truly Clo. Then thou art damn'd Cor. Nay, I hope Clo. Truly thou art damn'd, like an ill roasted Egge, all on one side Cor. For not being at Court? your reason Clo. Why, if thou neuer was't at Court, thou neuer saw'st good manners: if thou neuer saw'st good maners, then thy manners must be wicked, and wickednes is sin, and sinne is damnation: Thou art in a parlous state shepheard Cor. Not a whit Touchstone, those that are good maners at the Court, are as ridiculous in the Countrey, as the behauiour of the Countrie is most mockeable at the Court. You told me, you salute not at the Court, but you kisse your hands; that courtesie would be vncleanlie if Courtiers were shepheards Clo. Instance, briefly: come, instance Cor. Why we are still handling our Ewes, and their Fels you know are greasie Clo. Why do not your Courtiers hands sweate? and is not the grease of a Mutton, as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shallow: A better instance I say: Come Cor. Besides, our hands are hard Clo. Your lips wil feele them the sooner. Shallow agen: a more sounder instance, come Cor. And they are often tarr'd ouer, with the surgery of our sheepe: and would you haue vs kisse Tarre? The Courtiers hands are perfum'd with Ciuet Clo. Most shallow man: T