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 Cornell University Library 
 PR 2759.B43 
 v.1-3 
 The reader's Shakespeare:hls dramatic wo 
 
 3 1924 013 135 391 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013135391 
 
THE 
 
 READER'S SHAKESPEARE: 
 
 HIS DEAMATIC WORKS 
 
 CONDENSED, CONNECTED, AND EMPHASIZED 
 
 FOB 
 
 SCHOOL, COLLEGE, PARLOUR, AND PLATFORM. 
 In Three Volumes. 
 
 BY 
 
 DAVID CHAELES BELL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE THEORT OF ELOCUTION," " THE CLASS-BOOK OF POETRY,' 
 
 " THE MODERN READER AND SPEAKER," " THE STANDARD ELOCUTIONIST," 
 
 &C.^ AC. 
 
 Vol. L 
 
 HISTORICAL F»LAYS, 
 
 ENGLISH AND EOMAN. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 FUNK AND WAGNALLS COMPANY, 
 1895. (, ^, 
 
P\ (pfi "J yf 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1895, by 
 
 David Charles Bell, 
 in the office of ttie Librarian of Congress, at Washington 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Preface, . . 4 
 
 Notation of Expression, 
 
 General Notes and Suggestions, 
 
 Meres' List, 
 
 Chronological Order of Historical Plays, 
 
 ENGLISH HISTOKICAL PLAYS. 
 
 King John, . ....... 9 
 
 King Richard the Second, ... . 48 
 
 King Henry the Fourth, Part I, . . . . .86 
 
 King Henry the Fourth, Part II, . . 134 
 
 King Henry the Fifth, ..... 182 
 
 King Henry the Sixth, Parts I, II, and III, . 226 
 
 ReprmtH from, the Quartos of 1694 and 159ii. . 0'7'7 
 
 King Richard the Third, . . . . 279 
 
 King Henry the Eighth, . 321 
 
 ROMAN HISTORICAL PLAYS. 
 
 Coriolanus, . . . 370 
 
 Julius C^sar, ' ... 409 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra, . . . 451 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 There are many editions of Shakespeare's Works which appeal to 
 the eye and to the mind : these Abridgments are chiefly intended for 
 the voice and ear — to facilitate the much-prized but still neglected art 
 of Reading Aloud. For this purpose, all Shakespeare's Dramas will 
 be, for the first time, condensed, connected, emphasized, and anno- 
 tated, on a uniform pl&n. 
 
 This first Volume consists exclusively of all the Historical Plays, 
 English and Roman : the second Volume will contain all the Tragedies 
 and Komantic Plays ; and the third Volume all the Comedies. 
 
 Each Play is preceded by a brief Narrative, historical and literary : 
 the principal Scenes, Incidents and Characters, not only of the main, 
 but of the secondary plots, are connected by elucidatory remarks : 
 the Text has been carefully condensed, collated, and preserved — 
 making allowance for the prime necessities of expurgation and com- 
 pression. 
 
 Important and emphatic words are specially marked by a small dia- 
 critic line placed before the word, to facilitate, with the aid of im- 
 proved punctuation,' an easy comprehension and expressive delivery 
 oi the text. Explanatory notes are frequently inserted. 
 
 Each play is so condensed that it may be read aloud in about an 
 hour, or an hour and a half. 
 
 The various readings of the early quartos and the first folio have 
 not been overlooked. In important verbal changes, the folio of 1623 
 is frequently referred to — in the notes marked O. E. (Original Kead- 
 ing)- 
 
 These Condensations are intended for use in Ladies' and Gentle- 
 men's higher Schools and Colleges — for Private and Family Beading — 
 and for Public or Platform delivery. By the omission of the con- 
 necting narratives, they can be readily adapted for brief amateur 
 dramatic representation ; while, as a compact collection of Scenes, 
 Speeches, and Dialogues, they form a Vade-mecum for oratorical prac- 
 tice. 
 
 For the Family Reading of Shakespeare's Plays, the necessities of 
 expurgation, condensation, and compression are generally acknowl- 
 edged. Ben Jonson, the contemporary and rival of the great Poet 
 and Dramatist, has thus written, in his " Explorata or Discoveries " : 
 
 ' ' I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to 
 Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never 
 blotted out a line. My answer hath been, Would he had blotted a 
 thousand. Which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told 
 posterity this, but for their ignorance, who choose that circumstance 
 to commend their friend by, wherein he most faulted ; and to justify 
 mine own candour : for I loved the man, and do honour his memory, 
 on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was, (indeed,) honest, and 
 of an open and free nature ; had an excellent phantsie, brave notions, 
 and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that some- 
 times it was necessary he should be stopped. * * His wit was 
 in his own power ; would the rule of it had been so too. * * But 
 he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him 
 to be praised than to be pardoned." 
 
 The little unobtrusive mark which is placed before the important 
 word or point of the sentence, does not demand 'absolute attention : 
 
every collocation of words may be read in a variety of ways : it is 
 only where there is doubt as to the special meaning that its introduc- 
 tion should be appealed to. Emphatic words require especial care, 
 because they call attention to directly antithetic thoughts, or to 
 oblique, indirect, or inferential meanings : but such words do not 
 admit of a balanced application of stress • because one is in all cases 
 superior, being absolute or positive ; while the other is merely nega- 
 tive or relative. There is plenty of scope for difference of opinion 
 and variety of judgment : the " Sir Oracles " of diiferent "readings " 
 are not difficult either to be found or confuted. The Editor's profes- 
 sional experience of more than fifty years may entitle many of these 
 markings to some consideration. 
 
 This Book will be found useful not to young Readers only, but to 
 all who wish to travel with comfort a long journey in a short time : 
 it appeals in the first place to intellectuality and judgment, and will, 
 in its practice, effectually destroy monotony and mannerism in deliv- 
 ery ; but it leaves undirected the higher powers of 
 
 '* Action, and utterance, and the power of speech 
 " To stir men's blood." 
 
 In the School-room, it will tend to check the meaningless mumbling, 
 the shrill discord, or the unintelligent gabble of the ordinary reading 
 lesson ; it will attract by its variety, harmony and beauty, and store 
 the memory with its lessons of wit and wisdom : in the Family Circle, 
 it will enable age and experience to become directors of an untried 
 source of instruction and amusement: to the Student of either sex, 
 wearied of Greek and Latin prosody, it will emphasize the great 
 " educational " fact that the manner of speech is as worthy of study 
 as the waiicr.' itwill impart vigour, variety, and grace to the sleep-com- 
 pelling monotony of the Clerical Reader : to the Platform Elocutionist 
 it presents condensed forms of dramatic action and expression ; while 
 to the Teacher — especially if he is enabled to drill in Simultaneous or 
 Single Reading, — it may be used as a theme for every form of vocal 
 scholastic exercise and instruction. — If these advantages can be real- 
 ized to the young, what may not be expected in riper years when 
 Tiabit becomes a second nature ? 
 
 " Men are but children of a larger growth." 
 
 " There were two books," says Archbishop Sharp, " that made me 
 an Archbishop, — the Bible, and Shakespeare." To this clerical, may 
 be added a ' judicial record of the late Lord Coleridge ; " Leaving out, 
 for obvious reasons, all Greek and Latin writers, before and above 
 every one (including them) I should myself place Shakespeare, an 
 inexhaustible store-house of wisdom, instruction, and exquisite dic- 
 tion ; indispensable to any one who has anything to do with speaking 
 or writing I knew well ... a great Advocate ... of whom it used 
 to be said, that perhaps he did not know much law, but he did know 
 a great deal of Shakespeare. And a great Judge who knew both law 
 and Shakespeare, when this was repeated to him said, that although, 
 in a lawyer, a little law was desirable, yet, if that could not be had, 
 the next best thing to have was a knowledge of Shakespeare." 
 
 So, ion voyage to the " Reader's Shakespeare." 
 
 1517, THIETT-riPIH STBEET, 
 
 West Washington, D. C. 
 
NOTATION OF EXPRESSION. 
 
 The objects of the Dramatic Reader are three-fold : 1. To be 
 heard : 2. To be understood : 3. To be felt. To assist in the attain- 
 ment of these objects, the following Table is presented : 
 
 Rhetoeical Punctuation. — Pauses may be marked by the ordinary 
 musical rests, quaver, •/, (shortest) ; crotchet, ^.(middle); minim, 
 ■■, (long), and semi-breve, |, (longest). 
 
 In addition to the ordinary marks of Punctuation, a mark for Ex- 
 pressive or Emotional pause ( . . . )is frequently introduced. 
 -r^„^„^^_^ /Rising slides'' Rising circumflex ^ ^ '^ 
 INFLEXION -j^ Palling slides --^ Falling circumflex ^ ^ 
 
 Clauses or sentences that are incomplete, progressive or appealing, 
 require rising tones. Clauses or sentences that are complete, definite, 
 or assertive, require falling tones. Contrasted meanings are best 
 expressed by circumflexed tones. Subdued inflexions, (Monotones,) 
 may be noted by horizontal lines placed above the words. Rising 
 tones look forward, falling tones look backward ; monotones are re- 
 flective. Every sentence, whatever its rhetorical or grammatical form, 
 is either Appellative, Assertive, or Imperative. 
 
 f 5 highest tone, passionate. 
 
 I 4 higher, important, declamatory. 
 
 Modulation. ■{ 3 middle or conversational. 
 
 I 2 slightly lower : subordinate. 
 
 [_ 1 lowest tone : solemn, (monotone.) 
 
 Slight modulative changes : to higher, r, — to lower, l. 
 
 FoEOE (5 degrees). V — vehement ; e — energetic ; t — temperate ; 
 f— feeble ; p — piano. 
 
 Time (5 degrees). R — rapid ; q — quick ; m — moderate ; s — slow ; 
 ■a (adagio) — very slow. 
 
 Staccato, the diacritic mark repeated ii, — Diminuendo (gradual fall) 
 >, — Ckescendo (gradual' rise) <, — Swell and Fall, < >, — Teemoe, 
 ^~~ (emotional). 
 
 GENERAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS. 
 
 The importance of the diacritic mark in determining the " point " 
 of a sentence may be illustrated by the possible changes in a common 
 •colloquial statement: " Idonotintend walking toRichmond this day." 
 
 In addition to the general meaning implied by the unaccented de- 
 livery of these simple words, the expression becomes definite and 
 antithetic when any one word is made prominent. 
 
 If the student analyses the mode of producing any of the distinctive 
 meanings, he will find that he must not only accent the ' ' point " word, 
 but lessen the vocal force of all the other words. — All sentences ad- 
 mit of similar differences of meaning : to be developed, not by stress 
 alone, but by remission of stress on the contextual surroundings. 
 
 The Prominent ' ' point " or Emphatic indicator, is placed ' before the 
 word, although it is generally developed on the accented syllable of 
 the word. Thus 'impeach, 'approve, 'authority, 'contradict, 'over- 
 powered, &c., might have been printed im'peach, ap'prove, au'thority, 
 contra'diet, over'powered, &c. Athough the inflected wave or em- 
 phatic stress is always greater on the accented syllable, yet the 
 whole word is slightly affected, especially when other forms of giving 
 verbal prominence are employed. For Prominence or Emphasis may 
 be produced by 
 
 1. Time — or prolongation of the whole word. 
 
 2. Tune— inflected tones, simple or circumflexed. 
 
 3. Stress — elevating or lowering the voice on the accented syllable. 
 
GENEKAL NOTES AND SUGGESTIONS. I 
 
 4. Pitch — suddenly changing the note. 
 
 5. Aspiration— either increasing or reducing the quality of breath. 
 
 6. Monotone — by increased and level fullness of voice. 
 
 7. Pause — by slight suspension before or after, or before and after, 
 the word. 
 
 The Reader should endeavour to employ, at various times, all these 
 various modes. 
 
 A change of voice and manner (however slight,) should significantly 
 mark the various characters, as well as their varying emotions and 
 sentiments. To secure " character " uniformity, the figures of the 
 above scale may be marked on the margin of the page : thus, 3 (the 
 natural or middle tone ; ''3 (a little higher) and l3 (a little lower.) 
 In this way fifteen varieties of Pitch-tones may be noted. 
 
 The names of the characters — (printed in large italics that they 
 may be quickly discriminated by the eye)—Ao not require to be re- 
 peated in reading. The minor directions [printe-l \q small CPearl) type and encloaea 
 
 in brackets] are not intended for the auditor. 
 
 It is desirable to locate the position of the leading characters, as 
 they maybe mentallypioturedarouudthe Header, and to maintain this 
 uniformity throughout the Scene ; changing it, however, as occasion 
 may require. Thus — if Brutus addresses Cassius to the right, Cassius 
 will reply to the left : other characters will address their utterances 
 either to the centre— to the right of centre — or to the left of centre. 
 
 If the Header is to undertake the continuous delivery of an entire 
 play, the book should be held in the left hand ; leaving the right hand 
 free to turn the page, or to give enforcement to the words by attitude 
 or action. The use of a reading-stand is preferable, as both hands 
 are then left free for discriminating and expressive action. 
 
 The Reader should, if possible, make himself so familiar with the dia- 
 logue as not to require to keep his eye constantly on the page : he 
 should look, as It were, at the imaginary person addressed. The nar- 
 ratives should be spoken to the auditors. 
 
 Blend all your theories (as the great artist said of his mode of mix- 
 ing colours) with brains : read aloud, standing if possible ; raise the 
 chest, and keep it raised : give the lungs free scope to expand in every 
 direction : separate logical utterances by free inspirations, — through 
 the mouth for short pauses, through the nostrils for longer, — co- 
 piously, evenly, silently : allow no strain on the organs of voice or 
 speech : give full sonorous value to the Vowels : articulate the Conso- 
 nants sharply and distinctly, especially giving expressive sound to 
 the voice-articulations : open the mouth freely, but without distor- 
 tion, before and after all clauses and groups of oratorical words : let 
 the voice stream outward, uninterrupted in its channel by the teeth, 
 the tongue, or the lips : allow each distinct portion of meaning to 
 float, as it were (or to rush, if necessary) to your most distant audi- 
 tor : read from idea to idea, uttering each clause separately, and care- 
 fully subordinating inferior words to the "point" of the sentence: 
 pay no undeviating attention to any set of rules : read with the mind, 
 and deliver freely, naturally, and earnestly the sentiments that have 
 thus passed the ordeal of reason and judgment. Then, as Charles 
 Kingsley powerfully says—" Think that there is nothing to be 
 ashamed of — but doing wrong; and no being to be feared — but 
 Almighty God ; and so go on, making the best of the body and soul 
 which God has given you." Continue to be a Student : 
 " Trust not yourself — try your defects to know — 
 Make use of every friend— and every foe." 
 
MERES' LIST, 
 
 In " Palladis Tamia, or Wits Treasury," printed in 1598, Francis 
 Meres thus writes : 
 
 " As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the best for Comedy and 
 Tragedy among the Latines ; so Shakespere among y" English is the 
 most excellent in both kinds for the stage : for Comedy, witnes his 
 Getleme of Verona, his Errors, his Love labors lost, his Love labors 
 wonne," his Midsummer night dreame, and his Merchant of Venice ; 
 for Tragedy his Kicbard the 2, Richard the 3, Henry the 4, King 
 John, Titus Andronicus, and his Romeo and Juliet." 
 
 The Historical Plays are necessarily arranged in Historical order : 
 "but the follovping Table, shows, as correctly as can now be ascer- 
 tained, their 
 
 CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. 
 
 1. 
 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
 9. 
 10. 
 
 English Histokioal Plays. 
 
 King Henby VI— Part I 1589 
 
 King Henet VI— Part II 1591 
 
 King Henky VI— Part IIP 1591 
 
 KingRichaed II ! 1593 
 
 King RicHAKD III 1593 
 
 King John 1595 
 
 King Heney IV— Part 1 1597 
 
 When 
 performed 
 
 When 
 printed. 
 
 King Heney IV— Part II , 
 
 King Heney V 
 
 King Henby VIII 
 
 Roman Histobical Plays. 
 
 1. Julius Cesae 
 
 2. Antony and Cleopatea.. 
 
 3. cokiolanus 
 
 1599 
 1599 
 1613 
 
 1607 
 1608 
 1610 
 
 1623 
 1594 
 1595 
 1597 
 1597 
 1623 
 1598 
 1600 
 1600 
 1623 
 
 1623 
 1623 
 1623 
 
 From the above Tabulated Form, it appears that of these Thirteen 
 Historical Plays, Six were not printed till in the first folio of 1623. 
 There is little doubt that many of the early quarto editions were 
 printed without the knowledge of the author : they are described by 
 the first Editors — John Heminge and Henrie Condell — as " stolne 
 and surreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by the fraudes and 
 stealthes of injurious impostors." — It is proper to mention that while 
 these quarto copies have not been overlooked, the folio of 1623 has 
 been generally followed. Deviations are marked in the notes by the 
 letters O. R. signifying Original Reading. 
 
 a Now named " All's Well that Ends Well." 6 These Three Parts are condensed 
 into One Beading. 
 
Kl^a JOHN. 
 
 The Historical Tragedy of King John must have been written by 
 Shakespeare in 1594 or 1595 ; at least, before 1598 ; as it is, in that 
 year, included in the list given by Francis Meres, in his " Palladis 
 Tamia, or Wits Treasury."^ 
 
 In the composition of the series of English Historical Plays, 
 Shakespeare usually referred, for the events he depicted, to the 
 " Chronicles " of Raphael Holinshed, published in 1577 ; but, with 
 regard to the Tragedy of King John, he appears to have referred to 
 two old Plays ; the first — (standing, as it were, midway between the 
 Moralities and the Historical Drama), written in the reign of Edward 
 the Sixth, by John Bale, Bishop of Ossory (1495-1563) under the 
 title of " Kynge Johan " ; and the second — a very popular anony- 
 mous play (printed in 1591) named " The Troublesome Raigne of 
 King John." Shakespeare's play, though frequently performed, was 
 not printed till in the folio edition of 1623. 
 
 The story of this drama is, in some important respects, at vari- 
 ance with recognized history ; in fact, the events of John's confused, 
 weak, and wicked reign are not well calculated for dramatic repre- 
 sentation. If the reader is not previously acquainted with the facts, 
 he will in vain seek for a knowledge of them from the progress of 
 the scene alone. The main-spring of all the " trouble " is nowhere 
 clearly shown ; — whether the Barons topk up arms against the 
 King, in defence of their own feudal authority ? or — whether, as the 
 tools of Philip of France, and the partisans of his son Lewis the 
 Dauphin, they supported the claims of the Pope .' Besides, through- 
 out the play (in which Shakespeare closely follows " The Trouble- 
 some Raigne ") the great historical events of the armed meeting at 
 Runnymede, and the signature of Magna Charta, are wholly omitted. 
 
 King Henry the Second, who died in 1189, had four sons: (i) 
 Henry, who was accidentally drowned ; (2) Geffrey, who, — either by 
 the secret order, or by the connivance of his father, — was trampled 
 to death, soon after his marriage to the Lady Constance, Duchess 
 of Brittany — having a son. Prince Arthur, whose fate is involved in 
 the Tragedy before us ; (3) Richard, who, for his personal bravery 
 during the Holy Wars in Palestine, was surnamed Coeur-de-lion ; — 
 and (4) John, known as Sans Terre, or Lackland — a King who de- 
 graded England to the lowest depth of historical infamy. 
 
 Richard Coeur-de-lion died childless in 1199: and his younger 
 brother John — who had been to him a traitor and a rebel — succeeded 
 to the throne of England : notwithstanding the superior claims of 
 Prince Arthur, the son of his elder brother. This boy's title was 
 supported by Philip King of France, by many of the French no- 
 bility, and (naturally) by his mother Lady Constance, Duchess- 
 regnant of Brittany. 
 
 In this play Shakespeare chronicles and connects events, in 
 defiance of the dramatic unities of Time, Place, and Action ; but 
 
 = See page 8. 
 
10 
 
 THE READER S SHAXESPEARE. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 in defence of the poet, we may be allowed to quote the apologetic 
 simile of Coleridge : — " The histories of our ancient Kings — the 
 events of their reigns, I mean — are like stars in the sky : — whatever 
 the real inter-spaces may be, and however great, they seem close to 
 each other. The stars — the events — strike us, and remain in our 
 eye, little modified by the difference of dates," — or of distance. Thus, 
 our great dramatic poet often connects and unifies distant or dis- 
 similar events : 
 
 " JumpiDg o'er times, 
 
 Turning the accomplisliment of many years 
 
 Into an hour-glass." 
 
 The Characters retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 John, King of England. 
 Pkince Henkt, Ma Son. 
 Akthue, Duke of Bretagne, 
 
 Nephew of King John. 
 William Mabeshall, Earl of 
 
 Pembroke. 
 Geffkey Fitz-Petek, Ea/rl of 
 
 Essex. 
 William Longswoed, Earl of 
 
 . KoBEKT Bigot, Earl of Norfolk. 
 Hubert de Bijegh, Chamberlain 
 
 to the King. 
 EoEEET Fauloonbeidge, Son of 
 
 Sir Hobert Faulconbridge. 
 Philip Fauloonbeidgb, his half 
 
 brother. 
 
 Philip, King of France. 
 Lewis, the Dauphin. 
 
 AeOHDUKE of AtJSTEIA. 
 
 Caeeinal Pandxjlph, the Pope's 
 
 Chatillon, Ambassador fr o m 
 France. 
 
 Queen Elinoe, Widow of King 
 Henry II, mother of King 
 John, and grandmother of 
 Prince Arthur. 
 
 Constance, Mother of Prince 
 Arthur. 
 
 Blanch, Daughter to AVphonso, 
 King of Castile, and niece of 
 King John. 
 
 Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Her- 
 alds, Officers, and Messengers. 
 
 The Scene is sometimes in England, and sometimes in France. 
 The Time extends from the beginning of the reign of King John 
 in iigg, till his death in 1216. 
 
 'VJe are to suppose before us, in the palace of Northampton, 
 King John and his mother Queen Elinor, and Court-attendants ; 
 with Chatillon, ambassador from the French King, Philip the 
 Second (or, as some historians prefer to call him, Philip Augustus, 
 because he was bom in the month of August). King John speaks : 
 
 E^. John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with 'us ? 
 
 Chat. Thus, — after greeting, — speaks the King of France, 
 In my behaviour, to the majesty, — 
 The 'borrowed majesty, — of England here! 
 
 Q. El. A strange beginning! — "'Borrowed majesty?" 
 
 K. John. Silence, good mother ; hear the embassy. 
 
 Chat. Philip of France, — in right and true behalf 
 Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, 
 Arthur Plantagenet, — lays most lawful claim 
 To this fair island, and the territories ; 
 
Scene i.] KING JOHN. 11 
 
 To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine ; 
 
 Desiring thee, to lay 'aside the sword, 
 
 Which sways, usurpingiy, these several titles ; 
 
 And put the same into young 'Arthur's hand — 
 
 Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. 
 K. John. What follows if 'we 'dis-aUow of thisi 
 Ghat. The proud contro? of fierce and bloody war, 
 
 To 'enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. 
 JK^. John. Here have we war 'for war, and blood for blood, 
 
 Oontrolment ' for controlment : so 'answer France. 
 Ghat. Then take my King's 'defiance from my mouth — 
 
 The farthest limit of my embassy. 
 K. John. Bear mine to 'him, and so 'depart in peace. 
 
 Be thou as ' lightning in the eyes of Prance ; 
 
 For, ere thou canst report I 'will be there, 
 
 The thunder of my 'cannon shall be heard. 
 
 So, hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our 'wrath, 
 
 And sullen presage of your own 'decay. — 
 
 An honourable 'conduct" let him have ; 
 
 Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. [ex. chat. s pem. 
 
 The Queen Mother turns to the King : 
 Q. El. What now, my son ? Have I not ever said 
 
 How that ambitious Constance would not 'cease, 
 
 Till she had kindled ' France, and all the 'world. 
 
 Upon the right and party of her 'son ? 
 
 This might have been prevented, and made whole. 
 
 With very easy arguments of ' love ; 
 
 Which now, the manage' of two kingdoms must, 
 
 With fearful bloody issue, arbitrate. 
 IK. John. Our strong possession and our right for 'us. 
 Q. El. Your strong 'possession much more than your 'right ; 
 
 Or else it must go 'wrong with you and me. 
 
 The Sheriff of Northampton has been in conversation with Lord 
 Essex, who now addresses the King : 
 
 Ess. My liege, here is the strangest controversy, 
 Come from the country to be judged by you. 
 That e'er I heard : Shall I 'produce the men ? 
 
 K.John. ' Let them approach. — riixit sherit 
 
 Our abbeys, and our priories, shall 'pay 
 This expedition's charge. 
 
 The Sheriff returns, followed by two young men, sons of the 
 deceased Sir Robert Faulconbridge ; the one robust and noble in 
 appearance, the other mean and contemptible. The King inquires : 
 
 2 Compulsion. ^ Escort, guard. *Armed power. 
 
-12 THE EEADEK's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 IK. John. What men are 'you ? 
 
 Faul. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman, — 
 Born in Northamptonshire ; and 'eldest son, 
 (As I suppose,) to Robert Faulconbridge, 
 A 'soldier ; by the honour-giving hand 
 Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the 'field. 
 
 K. John. What art ' thou ? [to Bouert. 
 
 Rob. The son and 'heir to that same Faulco^bridge. 
 
 K. John. Is that the 'elder? and art 'thou the 'heir? 
 You came not of one 'mother then, it seems. 
 
 Faul. Most certain of one 'mother, mighty King ; 
 That is well known ; and, as I think, one 'father : 
 But that I 'doubt, — as all 'men's children may. 
 
 Q. El. Out on thee, rude man ! thou dost 'shame thy mother. 
 And wound her honour with this dif&dence. 
 
 Faul. I, madam % no, I have no 'reason for it : 
 
 That is my ' brother's plea, and none of mine ; 
 The which if he can 'prove, a'' pops me out 
 At least from fair five hundred pound a year : 
 Heaven guard my mother's honour — and 'my ' land ! 
 
 K. John. A good blunt fellow. — Why, ' being younger born. 
 Doth he lay claim to 'thine inheritance"? 
 
 Faul. I know not why, — except to get the land. 
 But once he jeered me as King 'Richard's son ; 
 And that I am as 'nobly born as he. 
 Compare our faces and be judge yourself. 
 If old Sir Robert's sons were needs like 'him, . . . 
 O, old Sir Robert, father, on my knee 
 I give heaven thanks ' I was not like to thee ! 
 
 F. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here ! 
 
 Q,. El. He ' hath a trick" of Ooeur-de-lion's face. — 
 Do 'you not read some tokens of 'my son 
 In the large composition of this man % 
 
 K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts. 
 
 And finds them 'perfect 'Richard. — Sirrah, speak: \_^^ 
 What doth move 'you to claim your ' brother's land % 
 
 JRob. My gracious liege, when that my father lived. 
 Your brother did employ my father much : 
 Upon his death-bed, he, by will bequeathed 
 His lands to 'me ; and took it, on his death. 
 That this — my 'mother's son— was none of ' his ; 
 Then, good my liege, let me ' have what is 'mine, — 
 My father's 'land, as was my father's 'will. 
 
 F. John. Sirrah, your brother is 'legitimate ; 
 
 Your father's ' heir must have your father's land. 
 
 ^ Colloquial form of he. ^ Peculiar expression. 
 
Scene i.] KING JOHN. 13 
 
 Mob. Shall then my father's 'will be of no force 
 To 'dispossess that child which is not his ? 
 Queen Elinor's grandmotherly shrewdness anticipates the royal 
 decision : She addresses the robust claimant : 
 
 Q. El. Whether hadst thou rather be a ' Faulconbridge, 
 And like thy brother to enjoy thy 'land ? 
 Or the 'reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, 
 Lord of thy presence,^ and 'no land beside ? 
 
 Faul. Madam, ... an if my brother had 'my shape, 
 And I had 'hife (Sir Eobert's his, like 'him ;) 
 And if my ' legs were two such riding-rods. 
 My 'arms such eel-skins stuffed, my 'face so thin. 
 And, to his 'shape, were heir to all this 'land, — 
 Would I might never stir from off this place, 
 I'd give it every foot to have ' this face ; 
 'I would not be " 'Sir Nob " in any case ! 
 
 Q. EL I like thee well. Wilt thou ' forsake thy fortune. 
 Bequeath thy laud to ' him, and follow 'me % 
 'I am a 'soldier, and now bound to ' France. 
 
 Faul. Brother, take you my 'land, I'll take my 'chance. 
 Your face hath got five hundred 'pound a year, 
 Yet sell your face for five 'pence, and 'tis dear ! — 
 Madam, I'll follow 'you unto the 'death ! 
 
 Q. El. Nay, I would have you go ' before me thither. 
 
 Paul. Our country manners give our 'betters way. 
 The amused King inquires : 
 
 K. John. What is thy name ? 
 
 Faul. Philip, my liege ; so is my name ' begun ; 
 
 Philip . . . good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son. 
 
 K. John. From henceforth bear his 'name whose 'form 
 thou bear'st : 
 Kneel thou down 'Philip, but 'arise more great ; — 
 Arise ' Sir ' Richard, — and Plantagenet. 
 
 Faul. Brother by the mother's side, give me your hand : 
 ' My father gave me ' honour, yours gave ' land. 
 
 K. John. Go, Faulconbridge : now hast thou thy 'desire : 
 A landless Knight makes 'thee a landed Squire, [to Koben 
 Come, madam ; and come, Richard ; we must 'speed 
 For France ; for ' France ! for it is 'more than need. [E.eunt 
 
 We must now imagine ourselves in France, before the gates of 
 Anglers,^ the capital of the province of Anjou. Outside the gates 
 stand — the Arch-duke of Austria (wearing the lion's skin, which 
 he had taken as a spoil from King Richard Coeur-de-lion, now the 
 
 - Of thy own person only. ^ Modern name, Angers (in Maine and Loire). 
 
14 THE READEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2, 
 
 acknowledged father of Faulconbridge :) Philip King of France, 
 and forces : Lewis the Dauphin : the Lady Constance ; and her 
 son Prince Arthur. The Dauphin speaks : 
 
 Lew. Before Anglers' well met, brave Austria. 
 Arthur, — that great forerunner of thy blood, 
 Richard, (that robbed the lion of his heart. 
 And fought the Holy Wars in Palestine,) 
 By this brave Duke came early to his grave : 
 And, for 'amends to his posterity, 
 At our importance" hither is he come, 
 To spread his colours, boy, in 'thy behalf. 
 Embrace him, love him, give him 'welcome hither. 
 
 Arth. Heaven shall forgive you CoBur-de-lion's 'death, 
 The rather that you give his offspring ' life : 
 I 'give you welcome with a powerless ' hand. 
 But with a 'heart full of unstained love : 
 Welcome before the gates of Anglers, Duke. 
 
 Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss. 
 As 'seal to this indenture of my love, — 
 That to my home I will no more return, 
 Till Anglers, and the right thou hast In France, 
 Together with that pale, that white-faced' shore, 
 Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides ; 
 Even tiU that ' England, hedged-in with the main. 
 Salute ' thee for her King : 'till then, fair boy, 
 Will I not ' think of home, but follow 'arms. 
 
 L. Von. O, take his mother's ' thanks, — a 'widow's thanks, — 
 Till your strong hand shall help to give ' him strength. 
 To make a 'more requital to your love ! 
 But stay an answer to your embassy ; 
 My Lord Chatillon may from England bring 
 That right In 'peace, which here we urge in war. cEuter ohau 
 
 K. Phi. A wonder, lady ! lo, upon' thy 'wish. 
 Our messenger Chatillon is arrived ! — 
 What England says, say ' briefly, gentle lord. 
 
 Cha. Then turn your forces from this 'paltry siege 
 And stir them up against a mightier task. 
 England, impatient of your just demands. 
 Hath put himself in 'arms: The adverse winds 
 (Whose leisure I have stayed) have given him time 
 To 'land his legions, all as soon as I ; 
 With him along is come the Mother-Queen, 
 An Ate,* stirring him to blood and strife ; 
 With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain ; 
 
 * Importunity. ^ Chalky. * The goddess of all evil. 
 
Scene i,] KING JOHN. 15 
 
 With them a kinsman of the King deceased ; 
 
 And 'all the unsettled humour s'' of the land : 
 
 In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits 
 
 Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
 
 To do offence and scath in Christendom. . . . [Drums heard. 
 
 The interruption of their churlish drums 
 
 Cuts off 'more circumstance : they are at hand. 
 
 To parley, or to 'fight ; therefore prepare ! 
 
 The English forces have landed, headed by King John, who is 
 accompanied by his mother Queen Elinor, his niece the Lady 
 Blanch of Castile, and by Faulconbridge, now appointed Commander 
 of the English army. We may imagine the indignant contempt of 
 Faulconbridge, as he scowls on the Archduke of Austria, wearing 
 the lion's skin ; — the slayer, wrapped in the spoil of his royal father. 
 King John opens the conference : 
 
 K. John. Peace be to France, — if France 'in peace permit 
 Our just and lineal entrance to our own : 
 If not, bleed France ; and peace ascend to heaven ! 
 
 K. Phi. Peace be to ' England, — if that war 'return 
 
 From France to England, ' there to live in peace. — 
 Look here — upon thy brother ' Geffrey's face ; 
 These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of ' his : 
 That Geffrey was thy 'elder brother born. 
 And this his 'son ; England was ' Geffrey's right. 
 And ' this is Geffrey's : In the name of heaven. 
 How comes it then that ' thou art called a King ? — 
 When living blood doth in these temples beat. 
 Which own the crown that thou o'ermasterest % 
 
 K. John. From whom hast thou this great commission, 
 France, 
 To draw my 'answer to thy articles ? 
 
 K. Phi. From that Supernal Judge that stirs good thoughts 
 In 'any breast of strong authority, 
 To look into the blots and stains of 'right : 
 ' That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy : 
 TJiider whose warrant I 'impeach thy wrong. 
 
 K. John. Alack ! thou dost 'usurp authority. 
 
 K. Phi. Excuse ; it is to beat usurping 'down. 
 
 Queen Elinor, and the Lady Constance, aroused by this royal 
 disputation, instantly advance : 
 
 Q. El. Who is it thou dost call 'usurper, France ? 
 L. Con. Let 'me make answer : — Thy usurping son. 
 
 2 Men of imfixed diepOBition. 
 
16 THE EEADEB's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Q. JEl. Out, insolent ! thy stripling shall be King, 
 
 That thou mayst be a 'Queen, and check the world ! 
 'There 's a good mother, boy, that blots thy ' father. 
 
 L. Con. There 's a good 'grandam, boy, that would blot ' thee. 
 
 The Archduke of Austria interposes ; but he is at once checked 
 
 by Faulconbridge : 
 
 Aust. Lady Constance, peace ! 
 
 Paul. Hear the crier ! 
 
 Aust. What the devil art thou ? 
 
 Faul. One that will 'play the devil, sir, with 'you, 
 -kn a' may catch your hide^ and you alone : 
 You are the 'hare, of whom the proverb goes — 
 "Whose valour plucks 'dead lions by the beard : 
 I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right ; 
 Sirrah, look to 't ! i' faith, I wiU, i' faith ! 
 
 The Dauphin advances : 
 Lew. Women, and fools ! break-off your conference. 
 
 King John, this is the very sum of all ; — 
 
 England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, 
 
 In right of Arthur, do I 'claim of thee : 
 
 Wilt thou 'resign them, and lay down thy arms ? 
 K. John. My 'life as soon ! I do 'defy thee, France. — 
 
 Arthur of Bretagne,' yield thee to 'my hand ; 
 
 And, out of my dear ' love, I'll 'give thee more 
 
 Than e'er the coward hand of Prance can 'win : 
 
 Submit thee, boy ! 
 Q. El. Come to thy 'grandam, child ! 
 
 L. Con. Do, child ! go to it' grandam, child ; 
 
 Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will 
 
 Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig : 
 
 There's a 'good grandam ! 
 
 Prince Arthur interposes : 
 Arth. Good my mother, peace ! 
 
 I would that I were low laid in my 'grave : 
 I am not 'worth this coil that's made for me. 
 
 Queen Elinor bitterly says : 
 Q. El. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. 
 
 Lady Constance replies : 
 L. Con. His grandam's 'wrongs, and not his mother's shames, 
 Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, 
 Which ' Heaven shall take in nature of a 'fee. 
 To do ' him justice, and revenge on 'you. 
 
 =* The lion's skin. ^ Brittany, a large province in the N.W. of France. 
 
Scene i.] KING JOHN. 17 
 
 Q. JEl. Thou monstrous 'slanderer of heaven and earth ! 
 
 -£. Con. Thou monstrous 'injurer of heaven and earth ! 
 Call not me 'slanderer ; thou and thine usurp 
 The dominations, royalties, and rights 
 Of this oppressed boy : A plague upon thee ! 
 
 Q. JEl. Thou unadvised scold ! I can produce 
 A 'will, — that ' bars the title of thy son. 
 
 X. Con. A.J ! who doubts that ? A will ? a 'wicked will ; 
 A 'woman's will ; a canker'd 'grandam's will ! 
 King Philip advances : 
 
 £^. I'M. Peace, lady ! Pause, or be more temperate. — 
 Some trumpet summon hither to the walls 
 These men of Anglers : let us hear 'them speak 
 Whose title they admit, — Arthur's or John's. 
 
 The trumpet sounds a parley. Several Citizens appear on the 
 ramparts. 
 
 Git. Who is it that hath warned us to the walls ? 
 
 K. Phi. 'Tis 'France, for England. 
 
 K. John. England for 'itself. 
 
 You men of Anglers, and my loving subjects. 
 These flags of ' Prance, that are advanced here, 
 Have hither marched to your 'endamagement : 
 But, on the sight of 'us your lawful King, 
 Behold, the French, amazed, vouchsafe a 'paile ; 
 And now, instead of ' bullets wrapped in 'fire, 
 They shoot but calm 'words, folded up in 'smoke ; 
 Which trust accordingly, kind citizens. 
 And let 'us in, your King, — whose laboured spirits 
 Crave harbourage within your city walls. 
 
 K. Phi. WTien I have said, make answer to us both. 
 On this right hand stands young Plantagenet, 
 Son to the elder brother of this man, 
 And 'King o'er him and all that he enjoys. 
 For this down-trodden 'equity, 'we tread. 
 In warlike march, these greens'* before your town. 
 Then tell us, shall your city call 'us lord. 
 In that behalf which we have challenged it ? 
 Or shall we give the signal to otir rage. 
 And stalk in ' blood to our possession ? 
 
 The Spokesman for the Citizens replies : 
 
 Git. In brief, we are the King of 'England's subjects : 
 For ' him, and in ' his right, we hold this town. 
 
 .£". John. 'Acknowledge then the King, and let 'me in. 
 
 2 Fields. 
 
18 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Cit. That can we 'not ; but he that 'proves the King, 
 To him will we prove loyal : ' Till that time, 
 We, for the 'worthiest, hold the right from 'both. 
 
 K. John. Then Heaven forgive the sin of all those souls 
 That, to their everlasting residence, 
 Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet. 
 In dreadful trial of our kingdom's King ! 
 
 JS^. Phi. Amen, amen ! Mount, chevaliers ! to arms ! [Exeunt. 
 
 A brief but decisive engagement is fought ; after which the 
 Kings hold another parley. 
 
 K. John. France, hast thou yet 'more blood to cast away ? 
 Say, shall the current of our right run on ? 
 
 K. Phi. England, thou hast not saved one 'drop of blood, 
 In this hot trial, more than we of France ; 
 Rather, ' lost more. And by this hand I swear, 
 Before we will lay 'down our just-borne arms. 
 We'll put ' thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, 
 Or add a 'royal number to the dead ! 
 Faulconbridge exclaims : 
 
 Faul. Ha, majesty ! how high thy glory towers, 
 When the rich blood of 'Kings is set on fire ! — 
 Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ? 
 Cry " Havoc," Kings ! 'Back to the stained field ! 
 Then, let confusion of 'one part, confirm 
 The other's 'peace ; 'till then, blows, blood and death ! 
 
 K. John. ' Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ? 
 
 Cit. The King of 'England, when we ' know the King. 
 
 K. Phi. Know him in 'us, that here hold up his right. 
 
 K. John. In 'us, that are our 'own great deputy ! 
 
 Cit. A greater power than we, 'denies all this ; 
 And till it be undoubted, we do look 
 Our former scruple in our strong-barred gates. 
 
 Faul. By heaven, these scroyles' of Anglers flout' you, Kings ! 
 And stand securely on their battlements, 
 As in a ' theatre, — whence they gape and point 
 At your industrious scenes and acts of death. 
 Your royal presences be ruled by me : 
 Be ' friends awhile, and both conjointly bend 
 Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town : 
 By east and west, let France and England mount 
 Their battering cannon charged to the mouths ; 
 Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawled down 
 The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city. 
 
 2 Mean wretches. '^ Insult by mockery. 
 
Scene ii.] KING JOHN. 1& 
 
 That 'done, 'dis-sever your united strengths ; 
 
 Turn face to face, and bloody point to point ; 
 
 Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth 
 
 Out of 'one side her happy minion. 
 
 And kiss him with a glorious victory. — 
 
 How 'Kke you this wild counsel, mighty States'? 
 Jf. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, 
 
 I like it 'well. France, 'shall we knit our powers, 
 
 And lay this Anglers even with the ground % 
 
 Then, 'after, fight who shall be King of it 1 
 K. Phi. Let it be so. Say, where will 'you assault % 
 K. John. We from the 'west wUl send destruction 
 
 Into this city's bosom. 
 
 Austria adds : 
 Aust. I from the 'north. 
 K. Phi. ' Our thunder from the 'south 
 
 Shall rain a 'drift of bullets on this town. 
 
 Justly dreading this combination, the Citizens hasten to pro- 
 pose a 'friendly arrangement : 
 
 Git. Hear us, great Kings : Vouchsafe awhile to 'stay, 
 And 'I shall show you 'peace, and fair-faced league ; 
 Win you this city 'without stroke or wound ; 
 Rescue those breathing lives to die in ' beds, 
 That here come 'sacrifices for the 'field. 
 
 K. John. Speak-on with 'favour ; we are bent to hear. 
 
 Git. That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, 
 Is niece to England. Look upon the years 
 Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid : 
 If manly'' love should go in quest of ' beauty. 
 Where should he find it 'fairer than in 'Blanch % 
 If 'zealous love should go in search of 'virtue. 
 Where should he find it 'purer than in Blanch % 
 If love 'ambitious sought a match of ' birth, 
 'Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch ? 
 Such as 'she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, 
 Is the young ' Dauphin every way complete. 
 'He is the ' half -part of a blessed man ; 
 And 'she a fair divided excellence, 
 Whose fulness of perfection lies in ' him. 
 O, two such silver currents, when they 'join. 
 Do glorify the ' banks that bound them in ; 
 Two such controlling bounds shall 'you be. Kings, 
 To these two Princes, if you marry them. 
 
 2 O. R. Insty. 
 
20 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 This 'union shall Jo more than 'battery can 
 To our fast-closed gates ; 'without this match, 
 The sea enraged is not half so deaf, 
 Lions more confident, mountains and rocks 
 More free from motion ; no, not Death 'himself 
 In mortal fury 'half so peremptory. 
 As 'we, to 'keep this city. 
 
 Faulconbridge, in astonishment at this wily proposal, which so 
 ■effectually mars his own intentions, ejaculates : 
 
 JFaul. Here's a stay'' 
 
 That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death 
 
 Out of his rags ! Here's a large 'mouth, indeed, 
 
 That spits forth Death and mountains, rocks and seas,-^ 
 
 Talks as familiarly of roaring " lions," 
 
 As maids of thirteen do of 'puppy-dogs ! 
 
 Why, I was never so bethumped with words. 
 
 Since I first called my ' brother's father " dad." 
 
 Queen Elinor whispers to King John : 
 
 ■Q. El. Son, ' list to this conjunction ; 'make this match : 
 Give with our niece a dowry large enough : 
 For ' by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 
 Thy now 'un-sured assurance to the crown, 
 That yon green' boy shall have no sun, to 'ripe 
 The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. 
 
 ■C«<. Why 'answer not the double majesties 
 
 This ' friendly treaty of our threatened town ? 
 
 JK. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first 
 To speak unto this city : What say 'you ? 
 
 K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, 
 Can in this book of beauty read, " I love," 
 Her dowry shall weigh equal with a 'Queen. 
 
 H^. Phi. What say'st ' thou, boy ? look in the lady's face. 
 
 Xew. I do, my lord ; and find a wondrous miracle, — 
 The shadow of 'myself, — 
 Drawn in. the flattering table* of her 'eye. 
 
 The thwarted leader makes his jeering commentary, while the 
 JSauphin is addressing the lady : 
 
 JFaul. 'Drawn, in the flattering table of her 'eye? 
 ' Hanged, in the frowning wrinkle of her brow ! 
 And 'quartered in her heart ! Ah ! this is pity now, 
 That, — hanged, and drawn, and quartered, — there 
 
 should be 
 In such a ' love, so vile a ' lout as he ! 
 
 =* stop, obstruction. ^ Immature, inexperienced. * Tablet, retina. 
 
Scene ii.] KING JOHN. 21 
 
 K. John. What say these 'young ones ? "What say 'you, my 
 
 niece ? 
 L. Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to 'do, 
 
 What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to 'say. 
 K. Jo. Speak then, prince Dauphin ; can you 'love this lady f 
 Levi. Nay, ask me if I can 'refrain from love ; 
 
 For I 'do love her, most unfeignedly ! 
 K. John. Philip of France, if 'thou be pteased vcithal. 
 
 Command thy son, and daughter, to join hands. 
 K. Phi. It likes us well : Young princes, close your hands. 
 
 Austria merrily adds : 
 A list. And your ' lips too ; for I am well assured 
 
 That 'I did so, when I was first betrothed. - 
 A". Phi. 'Now, citizens of Anglers, ope your gates. 
 
 Let-in that amity which you have made. — 
 
 Is not the Lady 'Constance in this troop V 
 
 I ' know she is not ; for this match made-up. 
 
 Her presence would have interrupted much. 
 
 Brother of England, how may we 'content 
 
 This widow-lady? 
 AT. John. We will heal-up 'all ; 
 
 For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne 
 ' And Earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town 
 
 We make him lord of. — 'Call the Lady Constance ; 
 
 Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
 
 To our solemnity. I trust we shall. 
 
 If not fill-up the measure of her 'will. 
 
 Yet, in. 'some measure, satisfy her so, 
 
 That we shall 'stop her exclamation. [Exeam. 
 
 Lord Salisbury at once proceeds to Lady Constance on the man- 
 date of the King.— The gates of the town are joyously thrown open ; 
 and the reconciled monarchs, with the youthful bride and bride- 
 groom, at once proceed to solemnize the rites of marriage. — Faul- 
 conbridge remains, in ludicrous perplexity, gazing at the fraterniz- 
 ing French and English ; then, when alone, he bursts out in bitter 
 exclamation : 
 
 Faul. ' Mad world ! mad ' kings ! mad 'composition ! * 
 John, to stop Arthur's title in the 'whole, 
 Hath willingly departed with a 'part ; 
 And France, — whose armour "conscience" buckled on. 
 Whom "zeal" and "charity" brought to the field 
 As Heaven's own soldier, — rounded* in the ear 
 By that same purpose-changer, (that sly devil, 
 
 2 O. R. asBured. = Assembly. ■* Agreement. <> Whispered pleasingly. 
 
22 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith ; 
 
 That daily break-vow ; he that wins of all, 
 
 Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids ;) 
 
 That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity, 
 
 Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, — 
 
 From a resolved and honourable 'war, 
 
 To a most base and vile-concluded 'peace ! 
 
 And why rail ' I on this Commodity ? 
 
 But for because he hath not wooed 'me yet : 
 
 Well, whiles I am a ' beggar, I will 'rail. 
 
 And say. There is no 'sin but to be 'rich; 
 
 And 'being rich, my virtue 'then shall be 
 
 To say. There is no 'vice, but 'beggary. 
 
 Since Kings break faith upon " commodity," 
 
 Gain, be 'my lord — for I will worship 'thee ! 
 
 We now proceed to the pavilion of the French King : where 
 Lord Salisbury has just informed the Lady Constance and her 
 son Prince Arthur, of the sudden cessation of hostilities conse- 
 quent on the union of the Dauphin and the Lady Blanch. 
 
 Xi. Con. Gone to be 'married? gone to swear a 'peace? 
 
 False blood to false blood j oined ! . . . Gone to be 'friends % 
 
 Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those provinces? 
 
 It is 'not so ; thou hast mis-spoke, mis-heard ; 
 
 I have a King's 'oath to the contrary. 
 
 Thou shalt be 'punish'd for thus frighting me ; 
 
 For I am 'sick, and capable of ' fears ; 
 
 Oppressed with 'wrongs, and therefore 'full of fears : 
 
 A 'widow, ' husbandless, 'subject to fears ; 
 
 A 'woman, naturally ' born to fears ! . . . 
 
 What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ? 
 
 Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ? 
 
 Be these sad signs 'confirmers of thy words ? 
 
 Then speak 'again ; not all thy 'former tale. 
 
 But this 'one word, — whether thy tale be ' true. 
 Sal. As true as, I believe, you think 'them false 
 
 That give you cause to 'prove my saying true. 
 X. Con. O, if thou teach me to ' believe this sorrow, 
 
 Teach thou this sorrow how to make me 'die. 
 
 Lewis marry Blanch ! O boy, then where art 'thou ? 
 
 France friend with England ! what becomes of 'me ? . . . 
 
 Fellow, be gone ! I cannot ' brook thy sight ! 
 
Scene i.] KING JOHN. 23 
 
 Prince Arthur supplicates : 
 
 A.rth. I do ' beseech you, madam, be content. 
 
 i. Con. If thou, that bidd'st me be content, wert 'grim, 
 Patched with foul moles and eye-offending marks, 
 I would not care ; I then would 'be content : 
 But thou art 'fair ; and at thy birth, dear boy, 
 Nature and Fortune joined to make thee 'great : 
 Of 'Nature's gifts thou mayst with ' lilies boast. 
 And with the half -blown rose. But ' Fortune, . . . O, 
 She is corrupted, changed, and won from ' thee ; 
 And with her golden hand hath plucked-on France 
 To tread-down fair respect of sovereignty. 
 Tell me, thou ' fellow ! is not France ' forsworn 1 
 'Envenom him with words, or get thee gone. 
 And leave those woes 'alone — which 'I alone 
 Am bound to under-bear ! 
 
 Sal. Pardon me, madam, 
 
 I may not go 'without you to the Bangs. 
 
 i. Con. 'Thou mayst, — thou 'shalt ; T 'wUl not go with thee ! 
 I wiU instruct my sorrows to be 'proud ; 
 For grief 'is proud, and makes his owner stout.'^ 
 To 'me, and to the state of my great grief. 
 Let Kings 'assemble ; for my grief's 'so great 
 That no supporter, but the huge firm Earth, 
 Can hold it up : here I and Sorrow sit ; 
 Here is 'my throne, — bid Kings come ' bow to it. 
 
 As Constance thus throws herself on the ground, the two Kings, 
 John and Philip, enter, with the newly-married Dauphin and 
 Princess, and the Archduke of Austria — closely followed by Faul- 
 conbridge, still watchful to insult him. The King of France thus 
 replies to the anxious inquiring look of the Lady Constance : 
 
 JS^. I'M. 'Tis 'true, fair daughter ; and this blessed day 
 
 ' Ever in France shall be kept festival : 
 
 The yearly course that brings this day about. 
 
 Shall never see it but a 'holiday. 
 i. Con. A 'wicked day, and not a holy day ! 
 
 "What hath this day 'deserved ? what hath it 'done. 
 
 That 'it in golden letters should be set 
 
 . Among the high tides' in the calendar ? 
 
 Nay, rather turn this day 'out of the week, — 
 
 This day of shame, oppression, perjury! 
 
 This day, all things ' begun come to 'ill end, 
 
 Tea, faith itself to hollow 'falsehood change ! 
 
 ^ O. E. stoop. =* Solemn festivals. 
 
24 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have 'no cause 
 To 'curse the fair proceedings of this day : 
 Have I not pawned to you my 'majesty'? 
 
 L. Con. You have beguiled me vrith a counterfeit 
 
 'Resembling majesty, which, being touched* and tried^ 
 Proves valueless : You are forsworn, forsworn ! 
 You 'came in arms to 'spill mine enemies' blood. 
 But 'now in arms you 'strengthen it with yours ; 
 And 'our oppression hath made up this league. 
 Arm, arm, you Heavens, against these perjured Kings ! 
 A 'widow cries ; be husband to me, Heaven ! 
 Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
 Wear-out the day in 'peace ; but, ere sunset. 
 Set armed 'discord 'twixt these perjured Kings ! 
 Hear me, O, hear me ! 
 The two Kings, amazed at the widow's plaint that bursts from 
 
 her wounded soul, are silent ; but the heartless braggart Austria. 
 
 heedlessly interposes : 
 
 Aust. Lady Constance, peace ! 
 
 L. Con. War ! war ! 'no peace ! peace is to 'me a war. . . . 
 O Lymoges ! Austria ! thou dost 'shame 
 That bloody spoil ! — Thou slave ! thou wretch ! thou. 
 
 coward ! 
 Thou little valiant, great in 'villainy ! 
 Thou ever strong upon the 'stronger side ! 
 Thou 'Fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
 But when her humorous ladyship is by 
 To teach thee 'safety ! Thou cold-blooded slave ! 
 Hast thou not spoke like thunder on 'my side % 
 Been sworn 'my soldier ? bidding me depend 
 Upon thy stars,^ thy fortune, and thy strength ? 
 And dost thou now fall-over to my 'foes ? 
 ' Thou wear a ' lion's hide ? doff it for shame, 
 And hang a 'calf's-skin on those recreant limbs ! 
 
 Aust. O, that a 'man should speak those words to me ! 
 Faulconbridge instantly advances : 
 
 Faul. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. 
 
 Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life ! 
 
 Faul. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. 
 
 King John interposes ; saying to Faulconbridge — 
 
 K. John. We like not this ; thou dost forget thyself. 
 
 As the angry Sir Richard retires. Cardinal Pandulph ap- 
 proaches to deliver his message from Rome. 
 
 = Tested by the touchstone. ^ Astronomical aspect of the heavenly bodies. 
 
Scene i.] KING JOHN. 'Zb 
 
 JPand. Hail, you anointed deputies of Heaven ! — 
 To thee, King John, my holy errand is. 
 I, Pandulph, of fair Milan Cardinal, 
 And, from Pope Innocent, the Legate here. 
 Do, in his name, religiously demand 
 Why thou against the Church, our holy Mother, 
 So wilf uUy dost spurn ? and, force perforce. 
 Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop 
 Of Canterbury, ' from that holy see % 
 This, (in our 'foresaid holy Father's name. 
 Pope Innocent,) I do 'demand of thee. 
 
 K. John. What 'earthly name to interrogatories 
 Can task the free breath of a sacred 'King ? 
 Thou canst not. Cardinal, 'devise a name 
 So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous. 
 To charge 'me to an answer, as the 'Pope. 
 Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England 
 'Add thus much more, — That 'no Italian priest 
 Shall tithe or toll in 'our dominions ; 
 But as we (under Heaven) are supreme head. 
 So, under Him, — that Great Supremacy, — 
 Where we do 'reign, we wiU alone 'uphold, 
 'Without the assistance of a 'mortal hand : 
 So 'tell the Pope'; all reverence set 'apart, 
 To him and his 'usurped authority. 
 
 King Philip, "the eldest son of the Church," in amazement 
 exclaims : 
 
 -E". Phi. Brother of England, you ' blaspheme in this ! 
 
 K. John. Though you, and 'all the kings of Christendom, 
 Are led so grossly by this meddling Priest, 
 ' Dreading the curse that money may ' buy out ; 
 And, by the merit of vUe gold, — dross, dust, — 
 ' Purchase corrupted pardon of a 'man. 
 Who in that sale 'sells pardon 'from himself ; — 
 Though you, and all the rest so grossly led, 
 This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish. 
 Yet 'I alone, 'alone do me oppose 
 Against the Pope, — and count 'his friends my 'foes. 
 
 Fand. Then, by the lawful power that I have, 
 
 Thou shalt stand 'curs'd, and excommunicate : 
 And 'meritorious shall that hand be called, 
 That takes away, by 'any secret course. 
 Thy hateful ' life. 
 
26 THE EEAPEe's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 3. 
 
 Lady Constance interposes : 
 
 L. Oon. O, lawful let it be 
 
 That ' I have room, with Borne, to curse awhile ! 
 Good Father Cardinal, cry thou "Amen" 
 To 'my keen curses ; for, 'without my wrong, 
 There is no tongue hath power to curse him 'right. 
 
 Pand. Philip of Prance, on 'peril of a curse, 
 Let-'go the hand of that arch-heretic! 
 The ever-forward ill-judging Austria (instantly confronted by 
 
 Faulconbridge) again proffers his advice : 
 
 Aust. King Philip, listen to the Cardinal. 
 
 Paul. And hang a calf's-skin on 'his recreant limbs. 
 
 Aust. Well, ruffian ! . . . I must pocket up these wrongs, 
 Because — 
 
 Faul. Tour pockets^ best may carry them. . . . 
 
 K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the Cardinal ? 
 
 J£. Phi. Good reverend Father, make 'my person 'yours. 
 And tell me how 'you would bestow yourself. 
 This royal hand and mine are newly knit. 
 Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose 
 Some 'gentle order ; and 'then we shaU be blest 
 To do your pleasure, and 'continue friends. 
 
 Pand. All form is formless, order orderless. 
 Save what is 'opposite to England's love. 
 Therefore to arms ! be 'champion of our Church, 
 Or let the Church, our Mother, breathe her curse, — 
 A 'mother's curse ! — on her revolting son. 
 France, thou mayst hold a 'serpent by the tongue, 
 A fasting 'tiger safer by the tooth, 
 Than 'keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. 
 
 S. Phi. I may disjoin my 'hand, but not my 'faith. 
 
 Pand. So mak'st thou faith an 'enemy. O, let thy vow 
 'First made to heaven, first be to heaven 'performed, 
 To be the champion of our Church ! If not, then know — 
 The perils of our curses light on thee 
 So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them 'off. 
 But, in despair, 'die under their black weight. 
 Austria again intrudes : 
 
 Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion ! 
 
 Faul. Will'tnotbe? 
 
 Will not a 'calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine? 
 The Dauphin — restrained for a time by the Lady Blanch and 
 
 the Lady Constance — observing his father's continued hesitation, 
 
 at last impatiently exclaims : 
 
 == O. E. breeches. 
 
Scenes i and lii.] KING JOHN. 27 
 
 Lew. Father, to arms ! 
 
 X. Blaiich. Upon thy wedding-day ? 
 
 'Against the blood that thou hast 'married ? 
 
 O ' husband, hear me ! Even for that name — 
 
 Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, — 
 
 Upon my knee I ' beg, go 'not to arms 
 
 Against mine uncle ! 
 
 Lady Constance prefers 'her petition : 
 Jj. Con. O, upon 'my knee. 
 
 Made hard with kneeling, 'I do pray to thee. 
 
 Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom 
 
 Forethought by 'Heaven ! 
 Jj. Blanch. Now shall I 'see thy love : What motive may 
 
 Be stronger with thee than the name of 'wife ? 
 L. Con. That which upholdeth ' him that 'thee upholds, — 
 
 His ' honour : O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour ! 
 Jjew. I muse your majesty doth seem so cold. 
 
 When such 'profound respects do pull you on. 
 Pand. I 'wUl denounce a curse upon his head. 
 JC.Fhi. . . . Thou shalt not need. England, I 'fall from thee! 
 JK. Jo. Prance ! thou shalt rue this hour 'within this hour ! . . . 
 
 Cousin, go draw our puissance together. . . . [EiitF«»i 
 
 France, I am burned up with inflaming wrath, 
 
 That nothing can allay; nothing but 'blood ! 
 
 The blood, and dearest-' valued blood, of France ! 
 JK^. Fhi. Look to 'thyself, thou art in jeopardy. 
 K. John. No more than he that threats. To arms let's hie ! 
 
 In the battle that ensues, Faulconbridge slays his antagonist, 
 the Archduke of Austria ; and Prince Arthur is taken prisoner. 
 The government of the English possessions in France is now en- 
 trusted to Queen Elinor : and Faulconbridge is directed to pro- 
 ceed to England, and prepare for King John's return by levying, 
 from the clergy, large supplies of money for the impoverished royal 
 exchequer. The King 'urges this exaction on Faulconbridge. 
 
 -K". John. Cousin, 'away for England ! ' haste before : 
 And, ere 'our coming, see thou shake the bags" 
 Of hoarding Abbots ; imprisoned angels' 
 Set at liberty : the fat ribs of peace 
 Must by the hungry now be fed upon : 
 Use our commission in its 'utmost force. 
 
 Faul. Bell, book, and candle* shall not drive me ' back, 
 When gold and silver beck me to come- 'on. 
 I leave your highness. 
 
 ■^ Money pouches. ^ Old Englisli gold coins, worth about ten shillings ($2 60) each. 
 ^ Used in excommunication. 
 
28 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 J5r. John. Farewell, gentle cousin. . . . [ExuFaui. 
 
 Come hither, Hubert. — O my gentle Hubert, . . . 
 We owe thee much ! Within this wall of flesh 
 There is a soul counts thee her 'creditor. 
 And, with advantage, means to 'pay thy love : 
 And, my good friend, thy 'voluntary oath 
 Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. . . . 
 Give me thy hand ... I had a thing to say, . . . 
 But I will fit it with some better 'time. 
 By heaven, Hubert, I am almost 'ashamed 
 To say what 'good respect I have of thee. 
 
 Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. 
 
 K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so 'yet, 
 But thou 'shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow, 
 Yet it shall come for me to do thee 'good. 
 I ' had a thing to say, . . but let it go : 
 The 'sun is in the heaven ; and the proud Day, 
 Attended with the Pleasures of the world. 
 Is all too wanton and too full of gawds^ 
 To give 'me audience. If the midnight bell 
 Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 
 Sound " One ! '" into the drowsy ear* of Night ; 
 If this same were a 'churchyard where we stand, 
 And 'thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ; 
 Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, 
 Had baked thy blood and made it heavy, thick, — 
 Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins, 
 Making that idiot laughter keep men's eyes 
 And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
 (A passion hatef al to my purposes ;) — 
 Or, if that thou couldst see me 'without eyes. 
 Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
 Without a tongue, — using 'conceit* alone, — 
 Without eyes, ears and harmful sound of words ; — - 
 Then, in despite of broad-eyed" watchful Day, 
 I 'would into thy bosom pour my thoughts : 
 But, ah, I will not ! — yet I love thee 'well ; 
 And, by my troth, I think thou lovest 'me well ? 
 
 Hub. ' So well, that what 'you bid me undertake. 
 Though that my death were adjunct to my act, 
 By heaven, I would do it ! 
 
 K. John. Do not I 'know thou wouldst? . . 
 
 Good Hubert ! . . . Hubert, — Hubert, throw thine eye 
 On yon young boy ! I'll tell thee what, my friend, 
 
 * Worthless displays, ^ O. R. on. "* O. R. race. "^ Thought, unspoken conception. 
 "O. R. brooded. 
 
Scene iT.] KING JOHN. 29 
 
 He is a very 'serpent in my way ; 
 
 And wheresoe'er this foot of mine dotli tread, 
 
 He lies before me : Dost thou understand me 1 . . . 
 
 Thou art his 'keeper. 
 Miih. And I'll keep him 'so, 
 
 That he shall 'not oflfend your majesty. 
 JT. John. Death ! 
 
 flub. My lord? 
 II. John. A grave. 
 
 Huh. He shall not ' live. 
 
 K. John. Enough. 
 
 I could be 'merry 'nov7. Hubert, I ' love thee ; . . . 
 
 WeU, I'U not 'say vrhat I intend for thee : 
 
 Remember ! — For England, cousin Arthur : 
 
 Hubert shall attend with all true duty.. 
 
 On toward Calais, ho ! [emuhi. 
 
 Before we follow Hubert and his prisoner Prince to England, 
 we shall return to the tent of the French King ; where we see 
 Philip Augustus, Lewis the Dauphin, and Cardinal Pandulph. 
 The Lady Constance, distracted by intelligence of her son's cap- 
 tivity and removal to England, is at hand. Unexpected disasters 
 at sea have been recently reported. King Philip speaks : 
 
 K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, 
 A whole armado^ of convicted" sail 
 Is scattered and disjoined from fellowship. 
 
 Fand. Courage and comfort ! all shall 'yet go well. 
 
 K. Phi. "What 'can go well, when we have run so 'ill ? 
 Are we not beaten ? Is not Anglers lost 1 
 Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear fiiends slain ? 
 And bloody England into England gone, 
 O'erbearing interruption, ' 'spite of France ? . . . 
 Look, who comes here ! A grave unto a soul ; 
 Holding the eternal spirit, against her wiU, 
 In the vUe* prison of afflicted breath. 
 
 Constance dejectedly approaches. 
 I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me. 
 
 L. Con. Lo, now ! ' Now see the ' issue of your peace ! 
 
 K. Phi. Patience, good lady ! comfort, gentle Constance ! 
 
 X,. Con. No ! I 'defy aU counsel, all redress. 
 
 But that which 'ends aU. counsel, .'true redress, — 
 Death, Death ! O amiable, lovely Death ! 
 Come, 'grin on me ; and I. will think thou 'smil'st, 
 And buss* thee as thy 'wife. Misery's love, 
 O, come to 'me ! 
 
 ^ ThiB loss of the Freneh fleet occurred id 1213.— The destruction of the (Spanish) 
 ** Invincible Armada " took place in 1588. shortly before Shakespeare wrote this play. 
 = Defeated. " O. K. vilde. » Kiss. 
 
30 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace ! 
 
 L. Con. No, no ! I will not, having breath to 'cry. 
 
 O, that my tongue were in the ' thunder's mouth ! 
 Then with a passion would I shake the world, 
 And rouse from sleep that fell Anatomy,'' 
 Which cannot hear a ' lady's feeble voice. 
 And scorns a 'modern' invocation. 
 
 Fand. Lady, you utter 'madness, and not sorrow. 
 
 L. Con. Thou art not holy to ' belie me so ; 
 I am 'not mad : this hair I tear is mine ; 
 My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ; 
 Young Arthur is my son, and he is 'lost : 
 I am not 'mad : I would to heaven I 'were ! 
 For then, 'tis like I should 'forget myself : . . . 
 O, if I could, what 'grief should I forget ! 
 Preach some philosophy to 'make me mad, 
 And, Cardinal, thou shalt be 'canonized ! 
 O, Father Cardinal, I have heard you say 
 That we shall 'see and 'know our friends, in Heaven : 
 If that be 'true, I shall see my boy 'again ; 
 For, since the birth of Cain, (the 'first male child,) 
 There was not such a gracious creature bom. 
 But 'now, will canker-'sorrow. eat my bud. 
 And chase the native beauty from his cheek ; 
 And he will look as hollow as a 'ghost, 
 As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ; 
 And 'so he'll 'die ; and, 'rising so again, 
 When I shall meet him in the Court of Heaven 
 I shall not 'know him : — therefore 'never, never 
 Must I behold my 'pretty Arthur more ! 
 
 Pand. You hold too heinous* a respect' of grief. 
 
 L. Con. ' He talks to me that never had a son. 
 
 K. Phi. You are as fond of 'grief as of your child. 
 
 L. Con. Grief fiUs the room up of my absent child ; 
 Lies in his bed ; walks up and down with me ; 
 Puts on his pretty looks ; repeats his words ; 
 Remembers me of 'all his gracious parts ; 
 S tuffs-out his vacant garments with his form : 
 Then, have I 'reason to be fond of grief. — 
 Fare you well : had 'you such loss as I, 
 ' I could give 'better comfort than 'you do. . . . 
 I will not keep this form upon my head. 
 When here is such 'disorder in my wit. . . . [ '"'""rJfef'""' 
 
 2 « dire skeleton. ^ Not In accordance with the old rites. * = Wicked regard for. 
 
Act 4, Scene i.] KING JOHN. 31 
 
 O Lord ! — My boy, my Arthur ! my fair son ! 
 My life, my joy, my food, my all the 'world ! 
 My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure ! [Exeunt. 
 
 The sedulous Cardinal Pandulph now takes every opportunity to 
 arouse the Dauphin's ambition by reminding him that, in the event 
 of Arthur's death, he himself may — on behalf of his wife Lady 
 Blanch, niece of King John — claim the throne of England. 
 
 Meantime, Hubert and Prince Arthur have arrived at the Castle 
 of Northampton. The King's warrant has been issued, that the 
 young Prince's eyes should be burnt out ; in accordance with an 
 old law that such a physical blemish was a bar to royal succession. 
 
 We overhear Hubert, in the gloomy obscurity of the prison cham- 
 ber, giving directions to Two Ruflfians — whom he is making his 
 agents in crime. 
 
 Huh. Heat me these irons 'hot ; and look thou stand 
 'Within the arras ■} when I strike my foot 
 Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, 
 And bind the boy whom you shall find with me 
 Past to the chair : be heedful. Hence, and watch, [ei. am. 
 Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. 
 Arthur enters : 
 
 Arth. Good morrow, Hubert ! 
 
 Hub. Good morrow, little Prince. 
 
 Arth. As 'little prince, — having so great a title 
 
 To be 'more prince, — as may be. You are sad ? 
 
 Hub. Indeed, I have been 'merrier. 
 
 Arth. Mercy on me ! 
 
 Methinks nobody should be sad but ' I : 
 Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
 Young gentlemen would be as sad as 'night, 
 Only for 'wantonness. By my Christendom, 
 So I were 'out of prison and kept 'sheep, 
 I should be 'merry as the day is long ; 
 And so I would be 'here, but that I doubt 
 My uncle practises 'more harm to me : 
 He is afraid of 'me, and I of ' him : 
 Is it my 'fault that I was Geffrey's son ? 
 No, indeed, is 't not ; and I would to heaven 
 I were 'your son, — so you would 'love me, Hubert. . . . 
 Are you sick, Hubert ? you look 'pale to-day : 
 
 ^ Tapestry hangings first manufactured at Arras, in France, 
 
32 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 In sooth, I would you were a ' little sick — 
 That I might sit all night and watch with you : 
 I warrant, I love 'you more than you do 'me. 
 
 Hub. \_Aside] His words do take possession of my bosom. 
 Bead here young Arthur. [Showing hi> warr.»t. 
 
 [Aaidej How now, foolish rheum V 
 Turning dis-piteous torture out-of-door ! 
 I must be 'brief ; lest resolution drop 
 Out at mine eyes in tender 'womanish 'tears. — 
 Can you not read it ? is it not 'fair writ ? 
 
 Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul 'effect : 
 
 'Must you, with hot irons, burn out both mine eyes? 
 
 Hub. Young boy, I 'mast. 
 
 Arth. And 'will you 1 
 
 Jlub. And I will. 
 
 A.rth. Have you the ' heart ? When 'your head did but 'ache, 
 I knit my handkerchief about your brows ; 
 And, with my hand, at midnigiat held your head ; 
 And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, . 
 Still and anon cheered up the heavy time, 
 Saying, What lack you ? and Where lies your grief ? 
 Many a 'poor man's son would have lain still. 
 And ne'er have spoke a loving 'word to you ; 
 But you, at your sick service, had a 'Prince : 
 Nay, you may think my love was 'crafty love. 
 And call it 'cunning : do, an if you will : . . . 
 If ' Heaven be pleased that you must use me ill. 
 Why then you 'must. . . . 'WUl you put out mine eyes ? 
 These eyes that never 'did, nor never 'shall. 
 So much as 'frown on 'you ! 
 
 JSub. I have 'sworn to do it ! 
 
 Arth. O, if an 'Angel should have come to me. 
 
 And told me 'Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
 
 I would not have believed, — no tongue but Hubert's ! 
 
 Bub. Come forth ! [sumps. 
 
 Hubert gives the signal, and the Attendants re-enter with cords 
 and irons. 
 
 Do as I bid you ! 
 Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! My eyes are 'out. 
 
 Even with the fierce ' looks of these bloody men. 
 Hub. Give 'me the iron, I say ; and bind him 'here. 
 Arth. Alas ! what need you be so boisterous rough ? 
 
 I wUl not 'struggle, I will stand stone-'still. 
 
 ^ A. sharp moisture in tlie eyes. 
 
Scene i.] KING JOHN. 33 
 
 For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me 'not be bound ! 
 
 Nay, hear me, Hubert ! Drive these men away. 
 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
 
 I wUl not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word ; 
 
 Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive 'you, 
 
 'Whatever torment you do put me to. 
 Mub. . . . Go, stand within ; let me alone with him. [ex Aueudu. 
 
 Come, boy : prepare yourself ! 
 Arth. Is there no 'remedy 1 
 
 Hub. None, — but to lose your eyes. 
 
 A rth. O heaven ! — that there were but a 'mote in yours, 
 
 A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering ' hair, 
 
 'Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
 
 Then, feeling what 'small things are ' boisterous there, 
 
 Your vile intent must needs seem 'horrible! 
 JTub. Is this your 'promise ? go to, hold your tongue ! 
 Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a ' brace of tongues 
 
 Must needs want pleading for a pair of 'eyes : 
 
 Let me 'not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert ; 
 
 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut-out my tongue, 
 
 So I may ' keep mine eyes : O, 'spare mine eyes. 
 
 Though to no use but still to look on 'you ! . . . 
 
 Lo, by my troth, the instrument is 'cold. 
 
 And 'would not harm me. 
 JTub. I can ' heat it, boy. 
 
 Arth. No, in good sooth ; the 'fire is dead, with grief ; 
 
 The breath of Heaven hath blown his spirit 'out. 
 
 And strewed repentant 'ashes on his head. 
 jETub. But with my breath I can 'revive it, boy. 
 Arth. An if you do, you will but make it 'blush ! 
 
 'All things that you should 'use to do me wrong, 
 
 ' Deny their office : only 'you do lack 
 
 That mercy which fierce fire and iron extend, — • 
 
 Creatures of note for mercy-' lacking uses. 
 ITab. . . . Well, see to ' live ! I will not 'touch thine eyes, 
 
 For all the treasure that thine uncle owes ! 
 Arth. O, 'now you look 'like Hubert ! all this while 
 
 Tou were 'disguised. 
 JTub. Peace ; no more. Adieu. 
 
 Tour uncle must not know but you are 'dead ; 
 
 I'll fill these dogged spies with ' false reports : 
 
 And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure. 
 
 That Hubert, for the wealth of all the 'world. 
 
 Will 'not offend thee. 
 
34 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Arth. O Heaven ! — I thank you, Hubert. 
 
 Huh. Silence ! No more : go closely'' in with me : 
 
 Much danger do I undergo, for 'thee. [Eieom. 
 
 King John, satisfied that Hubert would execute his cruel warrant, 
 is now before us on his throne of state in the Palace. The Earls 
 of Pembroke and Salisbury— scarcely concealing, by any courtly 
 hypocrisy, their discontent — are the chief expostulators with the 
 King. 
 
 K. John. Here once 'again we sit; once again 'crowned:'' 
 And looked upon, I hope, with 'cheerful eyes ? 
 Pembroke replies : 
 
 I'em. This "once again," but that your highness pleased. 
 
 Was once 'superfluous : you were crowned ' before. 
 
 Salisbury adds : 
 
 Sal. Therefore, to be possessed with 'double pomp, — 
 
 To 'guard* a title that was rich 'before ; 
 
 To 'gild refined gold ; to 'paint the lily ; 
 
 To throw a 'perfume on the violet ; 
 
 To" 'smooth the ice ; or add 'another hue 
 
 Unto the rainbow ; or, with 'taper-light. 
 
 To seek the beauteous eye* of heaven to 'garnish, — 
 
 Is wasteful and ridiculous 'excess. 
 K. John. . . . Some 'reasons of this double coronation 
 
 I have possessed you with : Meantime, but ask 
 
 What you would have 'reformed that is not well ; 
 
 And well shall you perceive how willingly 
 
 I will both 'hear and 'grant you your requests. 
 I^em. Then I, that am the tongue'* of these, request 
 
 The 'enfranchisement of 'Arthur : let it be our suit 
 
 That you have 'bid us ask his liberty. 
 jBT. John. Let it be so : I do commit his youth 
 
 To 'your direction. »»«" Hubert, what news with you ? 
 
 Hubert whispers his reply ; while Pembroke, narrowly watching 
 the crafty King and his wicked instrument, says to Salisbury : 
 
 I'em. This is the man should 'do the bloody deed : 
 He showed his 'warrant to a friend of mine ; 
 And I do fearfully believe 'tis 'done ! 
 Sal. The colour of the King doth come and go, 
 Between his 'purpose and his 'conscience. 
 John, with a sigh of relief, turns from Hubert to address the no- 
 bles : 
 
 ^ Secretly. ^ This second coronation was at Canterbury in 1201, "^To decorate 
 
 as with lace or fringe. " Ttie sun. " Spokesman. 
 
Scene ii.] KING JOHN. 35- 
 
 K. John. We cannot 'hold^ Mortality's strong hand: . . . 
 Good lords, althougli my 'will to give is living, 
 The suit which you demand is gone — and 'dead : . . . 
 He tells us, Arthur is 'deceased, 'to-night. 
 
 Sal. Indeed? v?e feared his sickness was past 'cure. 
 
 fern. Indeed, we heard how 'near his death he was, 
 Before the child himself felt he was 'sick : 
 This must be 'answered ! — either here, or hence ! 
 
 K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on 'me ? 
 Think you 'I bear the shears of Destiny % 
 Have 'I commandment on the pulse of 'life ? 
 
 Hat. It is 'apparent foul-play ; and 'tis shame 
 That greatness should so 'grossly offer it : 
 So thrive it in your game ! And so, farewell ! [ei. Lord..- 
 
 K. John . They ' burn in indignation. ... I 'repent ! 
 There is no 'sure foundation set on 'blood ; 
 No 'certain life achieved by others' 'death. 
 One of the royal Messengers enters. 
 A 'fearful eye thou hast : where is that blood 
 That I have 'seen inhabit in those cheeks 1 
 So 'foul a sky clears not without a 'storm : 
 'Pour down thy weather. How goes all in Prance ? 
 
 Mess. Prom Prance to 'England. Never such a power 
 Was levied in the body of a land. 
 The copy of 'your speed is learned by 'them ; 
 Por, when you should be told they do 'prepare. 
 The tidings come that they are all 'arrived. 
 
 IC. John. O, where hath our intelligence' been 'drunk 1 
 Where hath it 'slept 1 Where is my 'mother's care, 
 That such an army 'could be drawn* in Prance, 
 And 'she not hear of it 1 
 
 Mess. My liege, her ear 
 
 Is stopped, with 'dust ; the first of April 'died 
 Your noble mother : and, as I hear, my lord. 
 The Lady Constance, in a frenzy, died 
 Three days before. 
 
 IT. John. 'Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion ! 
 O, make a 'league with me, till I have pleased 
 My discontented peers ! . . . What ! mother 'dead ! 
 How wildly then walks my estate in Prance ! — 
 Under whose 'conduct came those powers of Prance t 
 
 Mess. Under the Dauphin. 
 
 ^. John. . . . Thou hast made me giddy 
 
 With these ill tidings. 
 
 2 BeBtrain. ^ Information from spies. * Collected. 
 
56 THE reader's SHAKESPEABE. [Act*. 
 
 Faulconbridge hastily enters. 
 
 Ah, cousin ! Now what says the world 
 
 To 'your proceedings 1 Do not seek to stuff 
 
 My head with more ' ill news, for it is 'full. 
 JFaul. But if you be afeard to hear the 'worst, 
 
 Then let the worst, 'un-heard, fall on your head. 
 M. John. Bear with me, cousin ; for I was amazed 
 
 Under the tide : but now I breathe again 
 
 'Aloft the flood ; and can give audience 
 
 To 'any tongue, speak it of what it will. 
 Faul. 'How I have sped among the Clergymen, 
 
 The sums I have collected shall express. 
 
 But, as I travelled hither through the land, 
 
 I find the 'people strangely fantasied ; 
 
 Possessed with rumours, full of idle dreams. 
 
 Not knowing 'what they fear, but 'full of fear. 
 JSl. John. O, my gentle cousin ! . . . 
 
 Hear'st thou the news 'abroad, who are arrived '? 
 JPaul. The French, my lord ; men's mouths are full of it : 
 
 Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, 
 
 With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire ; 
 
 And others 'more, going to seek the grave 
 
 Of Arthur, — who, they say, is 'killed to-night, 
 
 On 'your 'suggestion. 
 ^. John. . . . Gentle kinsman, go, 
 
 And thrust thyself into their companies : 
 
 I have a way to win their loves again ; 
 
 Bring them before me ! 
 JFaul. I will seek them out. 
 
 -ff". John. Nay, but make 'haste ; the 'better foot before. 
 
 Be Mercury ! set feathers to 'thy heels. 
 
 And fly like 'thought from them to me again ! 
 JFaul. The spirit of the time shall 'teach me speed. iexu 
 
 JS^. John. My mother dead ! 
 
 Hubert, who has been watching for this opportunity, now returns. 
 Mub. My lord, they say 'five moons were seen to-night ; 
 
 Four fixed ; and the fifth did whirl about 
 
 The other four, in wondrous motion. 
 JK. John. 'Five moons ! 
 Hub. Old men, and beldams,'^ in the streets 
 
 Do prophesy upon it dangerously : 
 
 Young Arthur's 'death is 'common in their mouths : 
 
 And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, 
 
 ^ Old women, hags. 
 
Scene li.] KING JOHN. 37 
 
 And whisper one another in the ear : 
 
 And he that 'speaks doth grip the hearer's wrist ; 
 
 Whilst he that 'hears makes fearful action, 
 
 With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 
 
 I saw a 'smith stand with his hammer thus, 
 
 (The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,) 
 
 With open mouth swallowing a 'tailor's news ; 
 
 Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 
 
 Told of a many 'thousand warlike French 
 
 That were embattailed^ and ranked in Kent ; 
 
 Another lean unwashed artificer 
 
 Cuts off 'his tale, and talks of 'Arthur's 'death. 
 
 JT. John. Why seek'st thou to possess 'me with these fears T 
 Why urgest thou so 'oft young Arthur's death ? 
 ' Thy hand hath murdered him : 'I had mighty cause 
 To 'wish him dead, but thou hadat none to kill him. 
 
 Hub. Had none, my lord '? why, did you not 'provoke ' me t 
 
 K. John. It is the 'curse of kings to be attended 
 
 By slaves — that take their 'humours for a 'warrant. 
 
 To break within the bloody house of life ; 
 
 And, on the 'winking of authority, 
 
 To 'understand a law ; to know the 'meaning 
 
 Of dangerous majesty, — when, perchance, it frowns 
 
 More upon 'humour* than advised respect!* 
 
 Hub. Here is your hand, and 'seal, for what I did. [ItJraS^ 
 
 K. John. . . . O, when the last account 'twixt Heaven and 
 Earth 
 Is to be made, 'then shall this hand and seal 
 Witness 'against us — to 'damnation ! — 
 How oft the sight of 'means to 'do ill deeds, 
 Makes ill deeds 'done ! Hadst not 'thou been ' by, — 
 A fellow, by the hand of ' Nature, 'marked, 
 'Quoted," and 'signed, to 'do a deed of shame, 
 This murder 'had not come into my mind : 
 But, taking note of thy abhorred aspect, 
 Finding thee 'fit for bloody villainy, 
 I, faintly, broke with thee of Arthur's death ; 
 And thou, to be endeared to a King, 
 Mad'st it no conscience to 'destroy a 'Prince. 
 
 Hub. My lord,— 
 
 K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, — or made a 'pause- 
 When I spake 'darkly what I purposed, — 
 Or turned an eye of 'doubt upon my face, — 
 Or bid me tell my tale in express 'words, — 
 
 2 Arrayed for battle. ^ijjQite^ '•Whim, caprice, 
 
 ^ — Counselled consideration. <* Distinguished by marks. 
 
38 THE KEADEE's SHAKESPEABE. [Act 4. 
 
 Deep shame had struck me 'dumb, made me break-off, 
 
 And those 'thy fears might have wrought fears in 'me : 
 
 But thou didst understand me by my signs. 
 
 And didst, in signs again, 'parley with sin ; 
 
 Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart 'consent. 
 
 And consequently thy rude hand to 'act 
 
 The deed, which ' both our tongues held vile to 'name ! — 
 
 Out of my sight, and never see me more ! . . . 
 
 My nobles leave me ; and my state is braved. 
 
 Even at my gates, with ranks of 'foreign powers : 
 
 Nay, in the body of this 'fleshly land. 
 
 Hostility and civil tumult reign 
 
 Between my 'conscience . . . and my cousin's 'death ! 
 
 Jluh. Arm you against your 'other enemies, 
 
 I'll make a peace between your 'soul and you. 
 
 Young Arthur is 'alive ! this hand of mine 
 
 Is yet a maiden and an 'innocent hand, 
 
 'Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
 
 And you have 'slandered Nature in 'my form ; 
 
 Which, howsoever rude 'exteriorly. 
 
 Is yet the cover of a fairer 'mind. 
 
 Than to be ' butcher of an innocent 'child ! 
 
 JE. John. Doth Arthur live ? O, haste thee to the peers ! 
 Throw 'this report on their incensed rage, 
 And make them 'tame to their obedience ! 
 'Forgive the comment that my passion made 
 Upon thy feature ; for my rage was 'blind. 
 O, answer not ; but to my closet bring 
 The angry lords with all expedient haste. 
 But 'slowly I conjure^ thee ; 'run more fast. tEieunt. 
 
 In the meantime, Prince Arthur, wearied with captivity, resolves 
 to escape from Northampton Castle ; and, disguising himself as a 
 sea-boy, makes his daring attempt. 
 
 jLrth. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down : 
 Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not ! 
 I am afraid ; . . . and yet I'll venture it ! 
 As good to die and 'go, as die and stay. . . . [Le.psdowo. 
 O me ! my 'uncle's spirit is in these stones : 
 Heaven take my 'soul, and England keep my 'bones ! 
 
 [Dies. 
 
 The mangled body is found by the Lords Bigot and Salisbury, 
 just as Sir Richard Faulconbridge has delivered his message from 
 the King. Lord Pembroke exclaims : 
 
 ' Entreat. 
 
Scene 111.] KING JOHN. 39 
 
 Pern. O Death, made proud with pure and. princely 
 beauty ! 
 
 The earth had not a hole to 'hide this deed. 
 Sal. Sir Richard, what think 'you ? have you beheld % 
 
 Or have you read, or heard ? or could you 'think ? 
 
 Or do you 'almost think, although you 'see. 
 
 That you do see ? This is the bloodiest shame, 
 
 That ever wall-eyed'' wrath, or staring rage, 
 
 Presented to the tears of soft remorse. 
 Faul. It 'is a wicked and a bloody work ; 
 
 The graceless action of a heavy hand — 
 
 If that it be the work of 'any hand. 
 Sal. 'If that it be the work of any hand ! 
 
 It is the shameful work of 'Hubert's hand. 
 
 The practice and the purpose of the 'King ! 
 
 At this instant Hubert enters. 
 
 B-uh. Lords, I am ' hot with haste in seeking you : 
 
 Arthur doth ' live ! — The King hath sent for you. 
 Sal. Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone ! 
 Hub. I am 'no villain. 
 
 Sal. Must I rob the law % [Drawing hla sword. 
 
 Hub. stand back. Lord Salisbury ! stand back, I say ; 
 By heaven, I think 'my sword 's as sharp as yours : 
 I would not have you, lord, 'forget yourself. 
 Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ; 
 Lest I, by marking of your 'rage, forget 
 Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. 
 
 Sig. Out, dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a 'nobleman % 
 
 Hub. Not for my 'life : but yet I dare 'defend 
 My innocent life against an 'emperor ! 
 
 Sal. Thou art a 'murderer ! 
 
 Hub. . . . Do not 'prove me so ; 
 
 'Yet I am none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks 'false, 
 Not 'truly speaks ; who speaks not truly, ' lies ! 
 
 Pern. Cut him to pieces ! 
 
 All draw their swords . and advance upon Hubert ; but the Eng- 
 lish Commander-in-Chief authoritatively interposes : 
 
 Foul. Keep the 'peace, I say ! 
 
 Sill. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Fauloonbridge ! 
 
 Faul. Thou wert better gall the 'Devil, Salisbury ! 
 If thou but 'frown on me, or stir thy foot. 
 Or teach thy hasty spleen to do 'me shame, 
 I'U strike thee 'dead ! Put up thy sword betime ; 
 
 ^ DlseasecL as by glaucoma. 
 
40 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act i. 
 
 Or . . . I '11 so maul 'you and your toasting-iron/ 
 That you shall think the Devil is come from hell. 
 Jiiff. What wilt thou do, renowned Paulconbridge ? 
 Second a villain, and a murderer ? 
 Hubert interrupts : 
 
 Sub. Lord Bigot, I am none. 
 
 Mff. Who killed this Prince "? 
 
 Sub. . . . 'Tis not an hoiir since I left him 'well ! 
 I honoured him, I loved him ; and will weep 
 'My date of life out, for ' his sweet life's loss. 
 
 /Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes. 
 For villainy is not 'without such rheum. ^ 
 Away with 'me, — all you whose souls abhor 
 The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house ; 
 For I am 'stifled with this smell of sin. 
 
 JSiff. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there ! 
 
 Pern. 'There, tell the King he may inquire us out. lExeuntLora.. 
 
 The gallant Faulconbridge and the guilt-stained Hubert are alone, 
 beside the mangled body of young Arthur. 
 
 Faul. Here's a good world ! . . . ' Knew you of this fair 
 work? 
 
 'Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
 
 Of Mercy, if 'thou didst this deed of death. 
 
 Art thou 'damned, Hubert. 
 Hub. Do but hear me, sir. Upon my soul — 
 
 Faul. If thou didst but 'consent 
 
 To this most cruel act, do but 'despair ! 
 
 And if thou want'st a 'cord, the smallest 'thread 
 
 Will serve to 'strangle thee ; a 'rush will be a 'beam 
 
 To 'hang thee on ; or wouldst thou 'drown thyself. 
 
 Put but a little water in a 'spoon, 
 
 And it shall be as all the 'ocean, — ■ 
 
 Enough to stifle such a villain up ! 
 
 I do 'suspect thee, very 'grievously. 
 Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of 'thought. 
 
 Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath. 
 
 Let ' hell want pains enough to 'torture me ! 
 
 I 'left him 'well. 
 Faul. Go, bear him in thine arms * . . . 
 
 I am amazed, methinks, and lose my way 
 
 Among the thorns and dangers of this world. . . . 
 
 How easy dost thou take all England up ! 
 
 = Sword, ' Tears. 
 
 * Testing the old superstition that a corpse will bleed if touched by its murderer. 
 
Scene iii.] KING JOHN. 41 
 
 Pray, follow me with 'speed : . . . I'll to the King : 
 
 A 'thousand businesses are brief in hand, 
 
 And Heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Emuli. 
 
 We are not to conclude that Prince Arthur died as the dramatist 
 has shown. Another historical tradition is, that, in 1203, the young 
 Prince was, in the castle of Rouen, either stabbed by King John 
 himself, or thrown over its battlements. The obscurity of the crime 
 allowed Shakespeare to deal with it as he pleased. The King was 
 generally considered as the murderer : therefore this treacherous 
 deed was prominently mentioned among the many causes of disaf- 
 fection that spread through the Barons, and led, in 1215, to the 
 forced grant of the Magna Charta. 
 
 Queen Elinor, John's mother, died so early as 1204; John did 
 homage for his Kingdom to the Pope in 1213. The invasion of 
 England by the Dauphin was in 1216. In the play, however, these 
 distant occurrences become almost contemporaneous. 
 
 King John, in a State Chamber of the Palace, is again before us, 
 in the act of doing homage to Cardinal Pandulph, the Pope's repre - 
 
 sentative. 
 
 K. John. Thus have I yielded up, into 'your hand, [°'„;;,°4'.''° 
 The circle of my glory. 
 
 Pand. ■ Take again 
 
 From this my hand, — as 'holding of the 'Pope, — 
 Your sovereign greatness and authority. 
 
 K. John. Now 'keep your holy word: go meet the French, . . . 
 And from his Holiness use all your power 
 To stop their marches 'fore we are inflamed. 
 
 Pand. It was 'my breath that blew this tempest up, 
 Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope ; 
 But since you are a gentle 'convertite,' 
 My tongue shall 'hush-again this storm of war 
 And make 'fair weather in your blustering land. [eih. 
 Faulconbridge advances dejectedly : for, since the death of Prince 
 
 Arthur, his gayety of heart has quite deserted him. 
 
 Faul. All Kent hath 'yielded ; nothing 'there holds-out 
 But Dover Castle : 'London hath received, 
 Like a kind ' host, the Dauphin and his powers : 
 Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
 To offer service to your 'enemy ; 
 And wild amazement hurries, up and down. 
 The little number of your 'doubtful 'friends. 
 
 K. John. Would not my lords 'return to me again, 
 After they heard young Arthur was 'alive ? 
 
 Faul. They found him 'dead, and cast into the streets. 
 
 ^ Convert, penitent. 
 
42 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 K. John. That villain Hubert told me he did 'live. 
 
 Faul. So, on my soul, he 'did, for aught he knew. — 
 But wherefore do you droop % Why look you sad ? 
 Be great in 'act, as you have been in ' thought : 
 Let not the world 'see fear and sad distrust 
 Govern the motion of a ' kingly eye : 
 Be stirring as the 'time ; be fire 'with fire ; 
 ' Threaten the threatener ; and outface the brow 
 Of bragging horror : so shall ' inferior eyes 
 Grow great by your 'example, and put on 
 The dauntless spirit of resolution. 
 Away, and glister like the god of war,^ 
 When he intendeth to ' become^ the field : 
 Show boldness and aspiring 'confidence. 
 What ! shall they seek the lion in his 'den. 
 And ' fright him there ? and make him tremble ' there ? 
 O, let it not be said : 'Forage,* and run 
 To 'meet Displeasure farther from the doors, 
 And 'grapple with him ere he come so nigh. 
 
 K. John. The Legate of the Pope hath been with me, 
 And I have made a happy 'peace with him ; 
 And he hath promised to 'disrniss the powers 
 Led by the Dauphin. 
 
 Faul. O inglorious league ! 
 
 Shall we, upon the footing* of our land. 
 Send fair-play orders ? and make compromise, 
 Insinuation, parley, and base truce 
 To foes invasive ? Let us, my liege, to 'arms ! 
 Perchance the Cardinal 'cannot make your peace ; 
 Or if he do, let it at least be said 
 They saw we had a ' purpose of defence. 
 
 K^. John. Have ' thou the ordering of this present time. 
 
 Faul. Away, then, with good courage ! yet, I know. 
 
 Our party may well meet a 'prouder foe. [Eieum. 
 
 ■When the King of France was informed that, as England must 
 now (in consequence of John's formal abdication) be considered a 
 part of " St. Peter's Patrimony," and that the meditated invasion 
 by France could not, without flagrant breach of agreement, be at- 
 tempted ; he angrily sent off the Dauphin to effect the landing of 
 the French troops ; and, so bitter was the antipathy to John, 
 that the invaders were at once joined by many of the discontented 
 English nobles. 
 
 ^ Adorn, put on glittering armour for. * Search around. 
 
Scene 1.] KING JOHN. 43 
 
 While Prince Lewis is encamped near St. Edmund's-Bury — fol- 
 lowed by the Lords Salisbury, Pembroke, and others — Cardinal 
 Pandulph approaches. The Dauphin says : 
 
 Xiew. Look, where the holy Legate comes 'apace, 
 To give us warrant from the hand of 'Heaven. 
 Cardinal Pandulph enters : 
 
 JPan. Hail, noble prince of Prance ! 
 
 King John hath 'reconciled himself to Rome ; 
 Therefore, thy threatening colours now wind up, 
 And 'tame the savage spirit of wild war. 
 
 JLew. . . . Tour grace shall pardon me, — I 'will not ' back : 
 I am too high-born to be 'propertied,^ 
 To be a 'secondary at control. 
 Or useful 'serving-man and instrument, 
 To any sovereign state throughout the 'world. 
 'Your breath first kindled the dead coal of 'wars. 
 Yea, 'thrust this enterprise into my heart ; 
 And come ye 'now to tell me — John hath made 
 His peace with 'Home ? What is that peace to 'me ? 
 I, by the honour of my marriage-bond, 
 (After young Arthur,) claim this land for 'mine ; 
 And, now it is 'half-conquered, must I 'back? 
 Am 'I Rome's 'slave ? What 'penny hath 'Rome borne ? 
 What men provided ? What munition sent. 
 To underprop this action 1 Is 't not 'I 
 That undergo this charge ? Who else 'but I, 
 Sweat in this business, and 'maintain this war ? 
 Have I not heard these islanders shout out 
 " Vive le roi ! " as I have banked' their towns ? 
 Have I not here the best 'cards for the game. 
 To 'win this easy match played for a crown ? 
 And shall I now give-o'er the 'yielded set ? 
 No ! on my soul, it never shall be said ! — [4 parley is .ommea. 
 What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ? 
 Sir Richard Faulconbridge enters, attended. 
 
 Faul. According to the fair play of the world. 
 
 Let 'me have audience ; I am 'sent to speak. — 
 
 My holy lord of Milan, from the 'King 
 
 I come, to learn, How you have dealt for him ? 
 
 Jr'and. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite : 
 
 He flatly says, he 'U 'not lay down his arms. 
 
 Faul. By all the blood that ever fury breathed. 
 
 The youth says 'well. Now hear our English 'King ; 
 
 ^ Treated like a stage property or tool. * Traversed tlie embankment. 
 
44 THE KEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [ Act 6. 
 
 For thus his royalty doth speak in 'me. 
 
 He is prepared (and reason too he should) 
 
 To 'whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 
 
 From out the circle of his territories. 
 
 Shall that victorious hand be f eebled 'here ? 
 
 No : — know, the gallant monarch is in 'arms : 
 
 And, like an eagle o'er his eerie," towers,' 
 
 To souse* annoyance that comes near his nest. 
 
 And 'you, degenerate, you ingrate revolts. 
 
 You bloody Neroes, ripping-up the heart^ 
 
 Of your dear mother England, blush for shame! 
 
 Lew. There 'end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace ; 
 We grant thou canst 'out-scold us : fare thee well. 
 We hold our time too precious, to be spent 
 With such a ' brabbler ! 
 
 Pand. Give 'me leave to speak. 
 
 Faul. No, ' I will speak. 
 
 The Dauphin replies : 
 
 Lew. We will attend to 'neither. 
 
 Strike up the drums ! and let the tongue of 'war 
 Plead for our interest, and our being here. 
 
 Faul. Indeed, your 'drums being beaten, will cry out ; 
 And so shall 'you, being beaten : Do but start 
 An echo with the clamour of 'thy drum ; 
 And even at hand a drum is ready braced, 
 That shall 'reverberate all as loud as thine ; 
 Sound but 'another, and another shall 
 As loud as thine rattle the welkin's* ear. 
 And mock the deep-mouthed thunder : For at hand, 
 (Not trusting to this halting' Legate here, 
 Whom he hath used rather for 'sport than need,) . 
 Is war-like John ; and on his forehead sits 
 A bare-ribbed Death, whose office is — this day 
 To feast upon whole 'thousands of the French. 
 
 Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger 'out. 
 
 Faul. And thou 'shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exsum. 
 
 These war-notes of actual invasion recall the English nobles to 
 the defence of their country. Many of the hostile Barons return to 
 their allegiance ; and thus, under the just dread of a foreign con- 
 queror, John is again enabled to collect a considerable army. But, 
 taking the shore-route from Lynn Regis, (in Norfolk,) to Lincoln- 
 shire, he lost (by one of the rapid inundations common along 
 the level narrowing strands of the Wash) all his regalia, treasures, 
 carriages, and baggage. 
 
 ' An eagle's nest. ^ Rises high. * To fall violently on. "^O. R. womb. 
 * The upper region of the air. ' Irresolute. 
 
Scene 11.] KING JOHN. 45 
 
 In the darkness of night, two English Officers encounter suddenly, 
 on an open field in the neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey." 
 
 Huh. Who's there *? speak, ho ! Speak quickly, or I shoot. 
 
 Faul. A friend. — What art 'thou ? 
 
 Hah. Of the part of 'England. 
 
 Faul. Hubert, I think ? 
 
 Sub. Thou hast a 'perfect thought : 
 
 Faul. In br,ief, now : What's the news ? 
 
 Hub. 0, my sweet sir, news fitting to the 'night, — 
 
 Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible ! 
 Faul. Show me the very 'wound of this Ul news: 
 
 I am no 'woman ; I'll not 'swoon at it. 
 Huh. The King, I fear, is 'poisoned — by a Monk : 
 
 I left him almost speechless ; and broke out 
 
 To acquaint 'you with this evil. 
 Faul. Whom didst thou 'leave to tend his majesty'? 
 Huh. Why, know you not % the lords are all come back, 
 
 And brought Prince Henry in their company ; 
 
 At whose request the King hath 'pardoned them. 
 
 And they are 'all about his majesty. 
 Faul. Withhold 'thine indignation, mighty Heaven ! — 
 
 I'll tell thee, Hubert, half 'my power this night, 
 
 Passing these flats^ was taken by the tide ; 
 
 These Lincoln Washes have 'devoured them : 
 
 Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. 
 
 Away before : conduct me to the King. . . . 
 
 I doubt he will be 'dead, or ere I come. [Exeuot 
 
 The intelligence of the French shipwrecks has reached King John : 
 but a raging fever, or (as the dramatist prefers to show) a secret poi- 
 son tortures him, and will not allow him to welcome the good news. 
 The dying King is conveyed to the Abbey of Swinstead, where (and 
 not at Newark) the closing scene is represented : He is brought, by 
 his own request, into the open air. The " returned " Barons — 
 Pembroke, Salisbury, Essex, and a few others " faithful found amid 
 the faithless," stand at a little distance. Prince Henry, his son and 
 successor — afterwards Henry the Third — now only nine years of 
 age — is close to his couch. The King says : 
 
 H. John. Ay, marry !* now my soul hath elbow-room ; 
 It would not out at 'windows, nor at 'doors. . . . 
 There is so 'hot a summer in my bosom, 
 That all my body crumbles up to 'dust : . . . 
 I am a 'scribbled 'form, drawn with a pen 
 Upon a parchment ; . . . and 'against this fire 
 Do I shrink up ! 
 
 ^ In Lincolnshire. ^ The level stranda of the Wash off Lincolnshire. 
 
 * A colloquial contraction of By the Virgin Mary. 
 
46 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 The young Prince piteously asks : 
 P. Hen. How fares your majesty? 
 
 K. John. ' Poisoned, — ' ill fare ! — Dead, forsook, cast off ! 
 
 And none of you will bid the Wiater come, 
 
 To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ; 
 
 Nor let my kingdom's 'rivers take their course 
 
 Through my burned bosom ; nor entreat the North 
 
 To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips. 
 
 And comfort me with 'cold. ... I do not ask you 'much, 
 
 I beg 'cold comfort ; and you are so strait . . . 
 
 And so ingrateful, . . . you 'deny me that ! 
 P. Hen. O that there were some virtue in my 'tears 
 
 That might relieve you ! 
 K. John. The 'salt in them is hot. . . . 
 
 Within me is a ' hell ; and there the 'poison 
 
 Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize 
 
 On unreprievable-condemned blood. 
 
 Faulconbridge enters hastily. 
 
 O cousin ! — thou art come to 'set mine eye. 
 
 My heart hath 'one poor string to stay it by. 
 
 Which holds but till ' thy news be uttered ; . . 
 
 And then ... all this thou seest is but a clod, 
 
 And module^ of confounded' royalty. 
 Faul. The Dauphin is preparing hither ward, 
 
 Where Heaven He knows how we shall answer him ; 
 
 For, in a night, the best part of 'my power, 
 
 (As I upon 'advantage did remove,) 
 
 Was, in the Washes, all unwarily 
 
 Devoured by the unexpected flood. . . . 
 The King dies. . . . Sahsbury first breaks the silence : 
 Sal. You breathe these dead 'news in as dead an 'ear. 
 
 My liege ! my lord ! . . But now a King, — now thus ! 
 Faulconbridge at last gives utterance to his contending emotions : 
 Faul. Art thou gone 'so f I do but stay 'behind. 
 
 To do the office for thee of 'revenge ; 
 
 And then 'my soul shall wait on thee to ' heaven. 
 
 As it on 'earth hath been thy servant still. — 
 
 And happily may 'you, sweet Prince, put on 
 
 The lineal state and glory of the land ! 
 
 Prince Henry sobs his reply : 
 
 P Hen. I have a kind soul that 'would give you thanks, 
 And knows not 'how to do it . . . but with 'tears. 
 
 = Model, lifeless figure. ' Defeated. 
 
Scene vii.] KING JOHN. 47 
 
 Faul. O, let us pay the time but 'needful woe, 
 
 Since it hath been ' beforehand with our griefs. — 
 
 This England never 'did, nor never 'shall, 
 
 Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. 
 
 But when it first did help to wound 'itself. 
 
 Now these her Princes' are come home again. 
 
 Come the three corners of the 'world in arms, 
 
 And we shall shocF them. Nought shall make us rue. 
 
 If England to 'itself do rest but true. [Ei.ont. 
 
 End of King John. 
 
 2 The lately rebellious nobles. = Encounter with snbflning power . 
 
KING RICH_A.RD II. 
 
 This Play must have been written in 1596 : it was published, and 
 acted at the Globe, in 1597, and is included in Meres' list of 1598.^ 
 Several editions followed. During the reign of Elizabeth, the scenes 
 in Parliament, concerning the deposition of the King, were by au- 
 thority suppressed ; but they were restored in the folio of 1623. — 
 There was an older play on the same subject; it is now lost, but 
 the analysis of it (in Dr. Simon Forman's Diary) shows that its ar- 
 rangement at least was different from that of Shakespeare's play. 
 
 The incidents are taken chiefly from that mine of dramatic 
 wealth — the Chronicles of Holinshed ; but the play, though care- 
 fully revised by its author, has not proved attractive on the stage ; 
 for which, perhaps, it is less adapted than, by its poetical beauties 
 and historical truth, for the School, Study, or Platform It is the 
 only dramatic production of Shakespeare which is not graced by 
 some pleasantry, or blurred by some buffoonery ; and is believed 
 to be the first of his " original " Historical Plays. 
 
 King John died in 1216. The subsequent reigns were those of 
 Henry the Third— Edward the First— Edward the Second,— and 
 Edward the Third. . The next reign chr^icled in the Shakespeare 
 series is this of Richard the Secondi'^This monarch's father is 
 favourably known in history as Edward the Black Prince : he died 
 in 1376 ; and in 1377, this son succeeded to the English throne in 
 right of his grandfather, Edward the Third. Crowned at eleven 
 years of age, he had not, by that course of education which is best 
 acquired in the school of adversity, learned to regulate his weak 
 and wayward disposition. 
 
 The love of the people of England for his father and his grand- 
 father, as well as his own early display of energy and ability,— in 
 quelling the outbreak of Wat Tyler and his infuriated followers, — 
 sustained for a time the young King's popularity; till his folly, his 
 pride, his pomp, and his extravagance, —his magnificent pagean- 
 tries and costly amusements,— for even when the country was 
 desolated by plague and famine, he daily entertained about six 
 thousand persons, and had a retinue of three hundred servants, 
 with a like number in attendance on the Queen — completely alien- 
 ated the affections of his subjectSj^<^is first wife died early ; and 
 his marriage to his second wife^sabel, daughter of the King of 
 France, (a girl only nine years of age, although Shakespeare repre- 
 sents her as a noble 'woman,) did not "increase the love of the 
 people." The " farming " of the revenues, and other acts of pub- 
 lic and private injustice, aroused the indignant nobility, who either 
 had, or made, new grievances. 
 
 The King's three uncles, the Dukes of Lancaster, York, and 
 Gloster, had, during his long minority, engrossed all power ; and, 
 even after his majority, Gloster especially endeavoured to leave his 
 royal nephew only the name of King. Gloster was at last got rid 
 
 2 See page 8. 
 
Scene i.] KING EICHAKD II. 49 
 
 of— having been put to death in prison by his keepers ; not with- 
 out the connivance of his royal brothers ; and, it is believed, by 
 direction of the King, who thus gratified, and, as he thought, 
 'concealed his revenge. 
 
 After the murder of the Duke of Gloster, quarrels arose among 
 the nobles who had joined in this conspiracy. The most conspic- 
 uous rupture was that between the Duke of Lancaster's son, Henry 
 Bolingbroke, Earl of Hereford, and the Duke of Norfolk ; and, as 
 this quarrel is intimately connected with the action of this play, 
 and even led to a change in the order of succession, Shakespeare 
 has copiously and judiciously introduced it here. 
 
 The Characters retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 EaeL or NOETHUMBEELAND. 
 
 Henky Peeot, his Son. 
 
 King Kichaed the Second. 
 John op Gaunt, Duke ~| 
 
 of Lancaster. I Uncles to 
 
 Edmund or Langlet, [ the King. 
 
 Duke of York. J 
 
 HeNET BolilNGBEOKE, ^ Dukc Of 
 
 Hereford, Son to John of 
 Gaunt; afterwards King 
 Henry IV. 
 
 Duke of Aumerle," Son to the 
 Duke of York. 
 
 Thomas Moweeat, Duke of Nor- 
 folk. 
 
 Duke op Sueeet. 
 
 Eael or Salisbuet. 
 usH , 1 Creatures to Kinq 
 
 Eeeen', I ^-^-'^- 
 
 LOED Koss. ' 
 LoED Willoughby. 
 Bishop of Caelisle. 
 
 LoED MAESHAIili. 
 
 SlE PlEEOE OF EXTON. 
 
 SiE Stephen Soeoop. 
 
 Isabel, Queen to King Richard. 
 
 Duchess of Glostee. 
 
 Duchess of Yoek. 
 
 Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, 
 Keeper, Messenger, and At- 
 tendants. 
 
 The Action of the play is sometinies in Kngland, sometimes in 
 Wales. 
 
 The Time extends over two years : from the banishment of 
 Hereford in 1398, till the murder of the King in 1400. 
 
 The Scene is a State apartment of the Palace in London. King 
 Richard is before us, with his uncle the aged Duke of Lancaster 
 and other noblemen. The King speaks : 
 
 IT. Mich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, 
 Hast thou, according to thy oath and bond,' 
 Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son — 
 Here to make 'good his boisterous late appeal 
 Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 
 
 G-au. I have, my liege. 
 
 K. Mich. Then call them to our presence : face to face, 
 And frowning brow to brow, 'ourselves will hear 
 The accuser, and the accused, freely speak. — 
 
 ^ Or Bullingbrook (as now it is pronounced.) In the folio of 1623, tlie spelling is 
 Bullingbrooke. ^ Now Albemarle, * Now spelt Boos. " O. R. bancL 
 
50 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 High- stomached' are they 'both, and full of ire ; 
 In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. 
 Bolingbroke and Norfolk enter. 
 
 K. Rich. Cousin of Hereford, 'what dost thou object 
 Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? 
 
 Bol. First, — Heaven be the 'record to my speech ! — 
 In the devotion of a 'subject's 'love. 
 Come I, appellant, to this princely presence. — 
 Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to ' thee : . . . 
 Thou art a ' traitor, and a miscreant ; 
 Too good to be so, and too bad to live ; 
 Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, 
 The uglier seem the 'clouds that in it fly. 
 
 Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my 'zeal : 
 'T is not the trial of a 'woman's war, — 
 The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, — 
 Can 'arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : 
 The blood is ' hot, that must be 'cooled for this. 
 Setting aside his high blood's 'royalty. 
 And let him be 'no kinsman to my liege, 
 I do defy him, and I 'spit at him ; 
 Call him a slanderous 'coward, and a 'villain ! 
 Meantime, let this 'defend 'my loyalty, — 
 By all my hopes, most falsely doth he ' lie ! 
 
 Bol. Pale trembling coward ! there I threw my gage,^ 
 ' Disclaiming here the kindred of the King. 
 If guilty dread have left thee so much strength 
 As to take 'up mine honour's pawn,* then 'stoop. 
 By that, and all the rights of knighthood else. 
 Will I make good against thee what I've spoke. 
 
 Nor. I ' take it up ; and by that sword I swear, 
 
 Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, 
 I '11 'answer thee — -ia any fair degree, 
 Or chivalrous design, of knightly ' trial. 
 And when I mount, alive may I not light, 
 'If I be traitor, or unjustly fight ! 
 
 K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge ? 
 
 Bol. Look, 'what I speak, my ' life shall prove it ' true : — 
 That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles. 
 In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ; 
 The which he hath 'detained, for ' base* employments, 
 Like a false traitor and injurious villain. 
 Besides, I say, and will in battle 'prove. 
 That 'all the treasons, — for these eighteen years 
 
 2 Hot-tempered. ^ An armed glove, a sign of defiance. ■* Pledge. ^ O. R. lewd , 
 
Scene i.] KING EIOHAED II. 51 
 
 Complotted and contrived in this land, — 
 
 Fetch, from false Mowbray, their ' first head and spring. 
 
 Further I say, and further will maintain — 
 
 That ' he did 'plot the Duke of Gloster's' death. 
 
 Whose blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, 
 
 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. 
 
 To 'me for justice and rough chastisement ; 
 
 And, by the glorious worth of my descent. 
 
 This arm shall 'do it, or this 'life be 'spent. 
 
 K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars ! — 
 Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to ' this ? 
 
 JSfor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face. 
 And bid his ears a httle while be deaf. 
 Till I have told this 'slander of his blood, 
 How Heaven, and good men, ' hate so foul a liar. 
 
 K. Rich. Mowbray, 'impartial are 'our eyes and ears : 
 Were he my 'brother, — nay, our kingdom's 'heir, — 
 Such neighbour-nearness to our sacred blood 
 Should nothing 'privilege him, nor partialize 
 The unstooping firmness of my upright soul. 
 He is our 'subject, Mowbray ; so art ' thou : 
 'Free speech, and 'fearless, I to thee allow. 
 
 Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy 'heart. 
 
 Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! 
 
 'Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, 
 
 Disbursed I 'duly to his highness' soldiers : 
 
 The other part reserved I by 'consent. 
 
 For that my sovereign liege was in my debt : 
 
 Now swallow down 'that lie. — For Gloster's death, . . . 
 
 ' I slew him 'not ; but to mine own disgrace, 
 
 Neglected my sworn 'duty. — As for the 'rest 
 
 It issues from the rancour of a 'villain, 
 
 A recreant and most 'degenerate traitor ! 
 
 Which, in 'myself, I boldly will defend. 
 
 And prove myself a 'loyal gentleman : 
 
 In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 
 
 Tour highness to assign our trial-day. 
 
 K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be 'ruled by 'me. 
 Let 's 'purge this choler 'without letting blood : 
 Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed. — ■ 
 Good uncle, let this end where it 'begun ; 
 ' We '11 calm the Duke of Norfolk, — you your son. 
 
 Gau. To be a make-peace shall ' become my age : 
 
 Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. 
 
 ^ Murdered at Calais in 1397. 
 
52 THE BEADEe's SHAKESPEABE. [Actl. 
 
 K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down 'his. 
 
 ^or. ' Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. 
 
 My 'life thou shalt command, but not my 'shame ! 
 
 I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled ' here ; 
 
 Pierced to the 'soul with slander's venomed spear ; 
 
 The which no ' balm can cure, but ' his heart-blood 
 
 Which breathed this poison ! 
 JS^. Rich. Eage must be withstood. 
 
 Give 'me his gage: — -lions make 'leopards tame. 
 JN^or. Yea, but not change their spots : take but my 'shame, 
 
 And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord. 
 
 The purest treasure mortal times afford. 
 
 Is — 'spotless reputation ! that 'away. 
 
 Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 
 
 A jewel in a ten-times barred-up chest 
 
 Is — a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
 
 Mine ' honour is my life ; both grow in 'one : 
 
 Take honour from me, and my ' life is done. 
 
 Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me 'try ; 
 
 In that I ' live, and ' for that will I 'die. 
 JK. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage : do 'you begin. 
 JBol. O, Heaven defend my soul from such foul sin ! 
 
 Shall I seem crest-f all'n in my ' father's sight ? 
 
 Or, with pale beggar-fear, impeach my height * 
 
 Before this out-dared 'dastard ? Ere my tongue 
 
 Shall wound mine honour so, my teeth shall tear 
 
 The slavish 'motive of recanting fear, 
 
 And spit it, bleeding, in his high disgrace. 
 
 Where shame doth harbour, — even in ' Mowbray's ' face. 
 JK. Rich. We were not born to 'sue, but to 'command : 
 
 Which, since we cannot do to make you ' friends. 
 
 Be ready, as your ' lives shall answer it. 
 
 At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day : 
 ■ ^ ', , 'There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
 
 The swelling ' difference of your settled hate. — 
 ,^ . Marshal, command our Officers-at-arms 
 
 Be ready, to 'direct these home-alarms. [Eieunt. 
 
 ' ■ While preparations are being made for this trial by ordeal, the 
 aged John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, has an interview with his 
 murdered brother's widow — the Duchess of Gloster. He says : 
 
 Qau. Alas ! the part' I had in Gloster's blood* 
 Doth 'more solicit me, than 'your exclaims. 
 To stir against the butchers of his life. 
 
 =* Dignity, high station. = Share. ■* Belationship, family. 
 
Scene ii.] KING KICHARD n. 53 
 
 Put we our quarrel to the will of ' Heaven. 
 
 Ditch. Finds brotherhood in thee no 'sharper spur? 
 Hath ' love in thy old blood no ' living fire ? 
 Edward's seven sons, (whereof thyself art one,) 
 Were as seven vials of his sacred blood : 
 Some of those seven are dried by 'nature's course ; 
 But Thomas, 'my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, 
 One vial full of Edward's sacred blood. 
 Is cracked, and all the precious liquor spilled. 
 Ah, Gaunt, ' his blood was ' thine ! ' Thou 'rt slaiu in 
 
 ' him ! 
 In suffering thus thy ' brother to be slaughtered, ; 
 
 Thou show'st the naked pathway to 'thy life. — :, v 
 That which in 'mean men we entitle patience, ' 
 
 Is pale cold 'cowardice, in 'noble breasts : / 
 
 What shall I say ? To safeguard thine 'own life, / 
 The best way is — to 'venge my Gloster's death ! \ 
 
 Gau. 'Heaven's is the quarrel; foE_Hea ven's substitut e. 
 His deputy anointed in His sight, 
 
 Hath 'caused his death : the which, if wrongfully. 
 
 
 Let Heaven revenge ; for ' I may never lift 
 An angry arm against 'His minister. 
 
 Duch. Where then, alas ! oh, where may I complain ? 
 
 Gaunt. To 'Heaven, — the widow's champion and defence. 
 
 Duch. Why then, I will. — Farewell, old Gaunt : 
 Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold 
 Our cousin^ Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. 
 O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear. 
 That it may enter butcher-Mowbray's breast ! — 
 Farewell, old Gaunt : thy 'sometime' brother's wife. 
 With her companion Grief, must end her life. . . . 
 Yet' one word more : — grief 'boundeth where it falls. 
 And sorrow 'ends not when it 'seemeth done. 
 Commend me to my brother, Edmund York : Bid hint 
 
 —Ah, what ■?— 
 At Plashy* visit me. . . . 
 
 Alack ! and what shall good old York there see 
 But 'empty lodgings, and unfurnished^ walls. 
 Unpeopled offices,* untrodden stones % 
 And what hear there for welcome, but my 'groans % 
 Therefore, 'commend me, — let him 'not come there. 
 To seek out Sorrow — that dwells everywhere ! 
 Desolate, desolate, wiU I hence, . . . and die : 
 The ' last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Eienot. 
 
 ^ A vague term applied to kinsmen generally. ^ For a brief period. * The- 
 
 Duchess's residence in Essex. ^ Untapestried. ^ Places for business. 
 
54 THE READEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 The lists at Gosford Green, near Coventry, are set out. The Lord 
 Marshal and Heralds are in attendance. 
 
 A flourish of trumpets is heard. King Richard enters and takes 
 his seat on the throne ; the young Duke of Aumerle, Gaunt, Bushy, 
 Bagot, Green, and others, take their places. A trumpet is sounded, 
 and answered by another trumpet within. Then Norfolk enters, in 
 armour, preceded by a Herald. The King speaks : 
 
 -E". Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion 
 The 'cause of his arrival here in arms : 
 Ask him his name ; and orderly proceed 
 To swear him in the 'justice of his cause. 
 
 Mar. In Heaven's name, and the King's, say who thou art ? 
 And 'why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms t 
 
 Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk : 
 Who hither come engaged by my oath, 
 Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me ; — 
 And as I 'truly fight, defend me Heaven ! 
 
 Norfolk takes his place, awaiting the arrival of his opponent. The 
 trumpet again sounds. Bolingbroke enters in armour, preceded by 
 a Herald. 
 
 K. Rich. Marshal, ask 'yonder knight in-arms, 
 Both who he is, and why he cometh hither. 
 
 Mar. What is thy name ? And wherefore com'st thou 
 hither? 
 Against 'whom comest thou ? And what 's thy quarrel ? 
 Speak like a ' true knight, so defend thee Heaven ! 
 
 Sol. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
 Am I ; who ready here do stand in arms, 
 To prove on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, 
 That he 's a ' traitor, foul and dangerous : 
 And, 'as I truly fight, defend me Heaven ! 
 
 The ceremonies of appeal and defence being ended, the combat- 
 ants are about to commence their ordeal — when the King, suddenly 
 rising, throws down his truncheon, as a sign that the fight shoulff 
 not proceed. 
 
 JB^. Rich. Let them lay-by their helmets and their spears. 
 And list what, with our Council, we decree : — 
 For that our kingdom's earth should not be soiled 
 With that dear blood which it hath ' fostered ; 
 And for we think the eagle-winged pride 
 Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts. 
 With rival-hating envy, set you on, 
 Therefore, we ' banish you our territories : 
 Tou, cousin Hereford, upon pain of 'death. 
 Till twice five summers have enriched our fields. — 
 
Scene iil] KING BICHAED II. 55 
 
 Norfolk, for 'thee remains a ' heavier doom : — 
 
 The 'hopeless words of — "Never to return," 
 
 Breathe I against ' thee, upon pain of ' life. 
 Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege. 
 
 And all unlooked-for from your highness' mouth. 
 
 The language I have learned these forty years, — 
 
 My native English, — now I must forego ; 
 
 Within my mouth you have 'engaoled my tongue ; 
 
 What is thy sentence then but 'speechless 'death ? 
 
 Which 'robs my tongue from breathing 'native breath. 
 K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate : 
 
 After our sentence 'plaining comes too late. 
 Nor. Then, thus I turn me from my 'country's light. 
 
 To dwell in solemn shades of endless 'night. (Retiring. 
 
 The banished Norfolk is about to retire when the King, fearing 
 their possible reconciliation and amity, calls him back. 
 
 K. Rich. Eeturn, my lord; and take an oath — with 'him : 
 Lay on our royal sword^ your banished hands ; 
 Swear, by the duty that ye owe to Heaven, 
 To 'keep the oath that we administer: — 
 You never shall, (so help you truth and Heaven !) 
 Embrace each other's 'love in banishment ; 
 Nor never, by advised'* purpose, meet 
 To plot 'gainst 'us, our subjects, or our land. 
 
 Bol. I swear. 
 
 Nor. And I, to 'keep all this. 
 
 Bolingbroke addresses his opponent : 
 
 Bol. Norfolk, by this time, had the King permitted, 
 'One of our souls had wandered in the 'air. 
 Banished this sepulchre of our frail flesh. 
 As now our flesh is banished from this land : — 
 'Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm ; 
 Since thou hast far to go, bear not along 
 The clogging burden of a 'guUty soul ! 
 
 Nor. No, Bolingbroke ; if 'ever I were traitor. 
 My name be blotted from the Book of Life, 
 And I from 'Heaven be banished, as from 'hence. 
 But what ' thou art, Heaven, thou, and I do know ; 
 And all too soon, I fear, the King shall 'rue.- — 
 Farewell, my liege. — Now, no way can I 'stray : 
 Save ' back to England, all the 'world 's my way. (eiu. 
 
 The King, observing the dejection of old John of Gaunt, addresses 
 him : 
 
 2 The handle being shaped like a Cross. =* Concerted. 
 
56 THE EEADEb's SHAKESPEAEE. [Actl. 
 
 K. Mich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes 
 I see thy grieving heart : thy aspect sad 
 Hath, from the number of 'his banished years. 
 Plucked ' four away. — (to boio ' Six frozen winters spent. 
 Return, with welcome, 'home from banishment. 
 
 Bol. How 'long a time lies in one little 'word! 
 
 Tour lagging winters, and four wanton 'springs, 
 End in a 'word ! such is the breath of ' kings ! 
 
 Gau. I thank my hege ; but little vantage shall 'I reap : 
 for 'ere the six years that he- hath to spend 
 Can change their moons, and bring their times about, 
 ' My inch of taper wUl be burnt and done. 
 And blindfold Death not let me 'see my son. 
 
 -ZT. Jtich. Why, uncle, thou hast 'many years to live. 
 
 Gau. But not a 'minute. King, that 'thou canst give : 
 ' Shorten my days thou canst, with sullen sorrow. 
 And pluck 'nights from me, but not lend a 'morrow ! 
 Thou canst 'help Time to furrow me with age, 
 But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage ; 
 Thy word is current with him for my 'death ; 
 But 'dead, . . . thy ' kingdom cannot buy my breath ! 
 
 JS^. Rich. Thy son is banished upon good advice. 
 Cousin, farewell ; — and, uncle, bid him so : 
 ' Six years we banish him ; and he 'shall 'go. iex. sing, to. 
 
 As the King and his train withdraw, the Duke of Aumerle and 
 other friends group sorrowfully around the banished Bolingbroke. 
 His father says : 
 
 Gau. 0, to what purpose dost thou ' hoard thy words, 
 
 That thou 'return'st no greeting to thy friends'? 
 Bol. I have too few to take my leave of 'you. 
 Gau. Thy grief is but thy absence for a ' time. 
 
 What are six winters ? they are quickly gone. 
 JBol. To men in 'joy ; but grief makes 'one hour 'ten. 
 Gau. Call it a ' travel, that thou tak'st for 'pleasure. 
 JBol. My heart will sigh when I 'mis-call it so. 
 
 Nay rather, every tedious stride I make 
 
 Will but remember^ me — what a deal of world 
 
 I wander, from the jewels that I love ! 
 Gau. 'All places that the eye of Heaven visits. 
 
 Are, to a 'wise man, ports and ' happy havens. 
 
 Teach thy 'necessity to reason thus ; — 
 
 There is no virtue ' like necessity. 
 
 Think not it was the King did banish ' thee. 
 
 But thou the ' King : Woe doth the 'heavier sit 
 
 * Bemind. 
 
Scene Hi.] KING RICHARD II. 57 
 
 Where it perceives it is but 'faintly borne. 
 
 Go, say ' I sent thee forth to purchase honour, 
 
 And not the King 'exiled thee : Or suppose, 
 
 Devouring pestilence hangs in 'our air. 
 
 And thou art flying to a 'fresher clime. 
 
 Look, what thy soul holds dear, 'imagine it 
 
 To lie that way thou 'go'st, not whence thou 'com'st. 
 
 Suppose the singing birds 'musicians ; 
 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st, the 'presence' strewed ; 
 
 The flowers fair 'ladies, and thy steps no more 
 
 Than a delightful measure,' or a dance ; 
 
 For gnarling 'sorrow hath 'less power to bite 
 
 The man that 'mocks at it, and sets it light. 
 Bol. 0, who can hold a ' fire* in his hand 
 
 By ' thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
 
 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
 
 By bare ' imagination of a feast % 
 
 Or wallow naked in December 'snow. 
 
 By thinking on fantastic Summer's 'heat? 
 
 O, no ! the apprehension^ of the 'good, 
 
 Gives but the greater feeling to the 'worse : 
 
 Fell Sorrow's tooth doth never rankle 'more 
 
 Than when it 'bites, but 'lanceth not the sore. 
 Gau. Come, come, my son ; I '11 'bring thee on thy way: 
 
 Had I ' thy youth and cause, I would not 'stay. 
 Bol. Then, England's ground, farewell ; sweet soil, adieu ; 
 
 My mother, and my nurse, that bears me 'yet! . . 
 
 ' Where'er I wander, boast of ' this I can, — 
 
 'Though banished, yet a true-born 'Englishman! uEieant. 
 
 Before the departure of Bolingbroke the crafty King, especially 
 anxious to keep on good terms with his cousin, grants him letters 
 patent by which his succession to the vast estates and possessions 
 of his father, the old Duke of Lancaster, will, notwithstanding his 
 banishment, be secured. 
 
 The exiled Bolingbroke proceeds to France, and soon enters into 
 a treaty of marriage with the daughter of the Duke of Berry, uncle 
 to the King of France ; but Richard, fearing this alliance', sends over 
 a royal commission to frustrate the match. 
 
 At this time also, Richard's cousin, Roger, Earl of March, 
 (presumptive heir to the Crown of England,) has been slain in 
 Ireland by the unhappy natives ; and the King thinks himself 
 bound to avenge the death of his kinsman by undertaking a war in 
 Ireland — thus, by his absence, leaving England open to insurrec- 
 tion or invasion. 
 
 * The Sing's chamber strewed with rushes. ^ Pace regulated by music. 
 
 ^ Pronouuced as a dissyllable. " Conception, recollection. 
 
58 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 The banishment of Bolingbroke completely prostrates old Gaunt, 
 his father. When the King is sent for by his dying uncle, he 
 callously says : 
 
 K. Rich. Now put it, Heaven, in his physician's mind, 
 To ' help him to his grave ' immediately ! 
 The lining of his coffers shall make coats 
 To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. — 
 Come, gentlemen, let 's aU go 'visit him : 
 Pray Heaven, we may make haste — and come too late ! 
 
 Before us, in a room of Ely House, old John of Gaunt is lying 
 on a couch : his brother, the aged Duke of York, is standing by : — 
 both waiting the arrival of their royal nephew. Gaunt is the first 
 to speak : 
 
 Gau. Will the King 'come ? that I may breathe my last 
 In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth. 
 
 York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath ; 
 For all in 'vain comes counsel to 'his ear. 
 
 Gau. O, but, they say, the tongues of 'dying men 
 ' Enforce attention, like deep harmony : 
 Though Richard my 'life's counsel would not hear. 
 My 'death's sad tale may yet 'un-deaf his ear. 
 
 York. No ; it is 'stopped, with other 'flattering sounds : 
 Xi^As, praises of his^tat e ; lasciviou s metres ; 
 ,^fi^ Beport5f__faiEions3n~proud-Italy,~" 
 
 Whose manners still our tardy, 'apish nation 
 Limps-after in base, awkward imitation. 
 Where doth the world thrust forth a 'vanity, 
 (So it be 'new, there 's no respect how 'vile,) 
 That is not quickly buzzed into ' his ears ? 
 Then all too late comes 'counsel to be heard. 
 
 Gau. . . . Methinks, I am a Prophet, new inspired : 
 And thus, expiring, do foretell of ' him : — 
 His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot ' last. 
 For 'violent fires soon burn out themselves : 
 'Small showers last 'long, but 'sudden storms are 
 
 'short. — 
 This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle. 
 This fortress, built by Nature for herself. 
 Against infection" and the hand of war ; 
 This 'happy breed of men, this little world, 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea. 
 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this Eng- 
 land, . . . 
 
 2 Gontamlnatiou, moral or physical. 
 
Scene!.] KING RICHARD II. 59 
 
 Is now 'leased out, (I die pronouncing it,) 
 Like to a tenement, or pelting^ farm : 
 England, bound-in with the triumphant 'sea, — 
 Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
 Of watery Neptune, — ^is 'now bound-in with 'shame. 
 With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds. 
 Ah ! would the scandal vanish with my ' Uf e, 
 How 'happy then were my ensuing 'death! 
 
 ITorh. The King is 'come : deal mildly with his youth. - 
 King Richard enters with Attendants : 
 
 K. Rich. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? 
 
 What ! comfort, man ! How is 't with aged Gaunt ? 
 
 Gau. O, how that name ' befits my composition ! 
 ' Old Gaunt, indeed ; and gaunt in ' being old : 
 Gaunt am I for the 'grave, . . . gaunt 'as a grave ! 
 
 K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely' with their names ? 
 
 Gau. No ; misery 'makes sport, to mock ' itself ; 
 And, King, though I the sicker be, 't is ' thou 
 Art dying, and thy death-bed is this land. 
 Wherein ' thou liest, in 'reputation sick ; 
 And thou, — too careless patient as thou art, — 
 Committ'st thy 'nointed body to the 'cure 
 Of those physicians that first 'wounded thee. 
 O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye, 
 Seen how his son's son should 'destroy his sons. 
 From forth thy reach he would have laid thy ' shame, — 
 ' Deposing thee ' before thou wert possessed ! 
 ' Landlord of England art thou now, not ' Kin^ : 
 Thy state of law is ' bondslave to the law. 
 And thou 
 
 K. Rich. Thou ? Lunatic, lean-witted fool ! 
 
 Dar'st thou with frozen admonition. 
 Make pale 'our cheek, — chasing the royal blood ~ 
 
 With fury, from his native residence ? 
 Now, by my throne's right royal majesty, 
 Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son. 
 This tongue, that runs so roundly' in thy head. 
 Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. 
 
 Gau. O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son ! 
 My brother Gloster, — plain well-meaning soul, — 
 May be a precedent, and witness good. 
 That thou respect'st not 'spUling 'Edward's 'blood. — 
 'Join with the present sickness that I have ; 
 And thy unkindness be, like crooked age, 
 
 ^ Paltry. ' Fancifully, pedantically. ■'Freely. 
 
60 THE EBADEe's SHAKESPEABE. [Act 2. 
 
 To crop at 'once a too-long withered flower. . . . 
 Convey me to my bed, — then to my 'grave ! 
 Love they to ' live, that love and ' honour have. 
 
 I p (j Richard, unpityingly, sees his dying uncle borne out by his at- 
 J^ tendants : then, turning to the Dttke of York, he says : 
 
 K. Rich. And let ' them 'die, that age and 'sullens have ; 
 For ' both hast thou ; and both ' become the grave. 
 
 York. Beseech your majesty, impute his words 
 To wayward sickliness : he holds you 'dear — 
 As Harry, ' Duke of Hereford, were he here. 
 
 K. Rich. Right, you say true : As ' Hereford's love, so his ; 
 As theirs, so mine ; and all be as it is. 
 Northumberland enters. 
 
 Nor. My liege, . . . old Gaunt commends him to your 
 majesty. 
 
 K. Rich. What says he 'now ? 
 
 Nor. . . . Nay, nothing : all is 'said. 
 
 His tongue is now a 'stringless instrument : 
 Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath 'spent ! 
 
 K. Rich. The ripest 'fruit first falls, and so doth he : — 
 So much for that. — Now for our L-ish wars : 
 We must 'supplant those rough rug-headed kerns ;^ 
 And, for the 'charge, we seize unto 'our use 
 The plate, coin, revenues, and movables. 
 Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed. 
 The old Duke of York, astonished at the King's rapid forgetfiil- 
 
 ness of the pre-arranged settlements with his banished nephew, 
 
 who is thus to be deprived of his substantial inheritance, — with only 
 
 the nominal title of Duke of Lancaster, — remonstrates with his 
 
 royal nephew : 
 
 York. How long shall I be 'patient ? Ah, how long 
 Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong ? 
 Not Gloster's death ; nor Hereford's banishment ; 
 Not Gaunt's rebukes ; nor England's private wrongs ; 
 Nor the prevention^ of poor Bolingbroke 
 About his marriage ;* nor my own disgrace, — 
 Have ever made me 'sour my patient cheek. 
 Or bend one 'wrinkle on my sovereign's face. 
 I am the ' last of noble Edward's sons. 
 Of whom thy father, (Prince of Wales,) was 'first ; 
 In 'war, was never 'lion raged more iierce ; 
 In 'peace, was never gentle lamb more 'mild. 
 His ' face thou hast ; for even so looked ' he. 
 Accomplished with the number of thy hours ; 
 
 2 Common soldiers. ^ Hindrance. * To the daughter of the Duke of Berry. 
 
Scene 1.3 KING EICHAED II. 61 
 
 But when lie ' frowned, it was against the ' French, 
 
 And not against his friends. 
 _fir. Rich. Why, uncle! what 's the matter? 
 York. O my liege, — 
 
 Seek you to seize into your hands 
 
 The royalties and rights of banished ' Hereford ? 
 
 Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford ' live ? 
 
 If you 'do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, 
 
 You pluck a thousand dangers on your head ; 
 
 You lose a thousand well disposed hearts ; 
 
 And urge my tender patience to those thoughts 
 
 Which honour, and allegiance, 'cannot think. 
 Jl. Rich. Think what you ' will ! We seize, into our hands, 
 
 His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. 
 York. I '11 not be ' by, the while. My liege, farewell ! 
 
 What will 'ensue hereof, there 's none can tell ; 
 
 But, by ' bad courses, may be understood 
 
 That their 'events can never fall out 'good. [Exh. 
 
 -ff". Rich. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight : 
 
 Bid him repair to us to Ely House. — 
 
 To-morrow next we will for Ireland ; 
 
 And we create, in absence of ourself, 
 
 Our uncle York lord governor of England. 
 
 Come on, my friends : to-morrow must we 'part ; 
 
 Be merry, for our 'time of stay is short. [EjiiKioj,4» 
 
 The King is followed by his creatures, Bushy, Bagot, and Green. 
 Some friends of Bolingbroke remain in conversation — the Earl of 
 Northumberland, Lords Ross and Willoughby. Northumberland 
 cautiously says : 
 
 Nor. Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. 
 Ross. And 'living too ; for now his 'son is Duke. 
 Wil. Barely in ' title, not in 'revenue. 
 JVor. Richly in 'both, if justice had her right. 
 Ross. My heart is great ; but it must break with 'sUence. 
 JVor. Nay, 'speak thy mind ; and let him ne'er speak more 
 
 That speaks thy words 'again, to do thee harm ! 
 Wil. Tends that thou'dst speak of to the Duke of Here- 
 fond? 
 
 If it be so, out with it ' boldly, man ; 
 
 Quick is mine ear to hear of 'good towards him. V 
 Ross. Be 'confident to speak, Northumberland : 
 
 We three are but ' thyself ; and, speaking 'so, 
 
 Thy words are but as ' thoughts ; therefore, be bold. 
 JVor. Then thus : — I have received inteUigenee, 
 
62 THE EEADEr's SHAXESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 That Harry Hereford, nobly accompanied, 
 
 With eight tall ships, and full three thousand men, 
 
 Is making hitherward ; but that he stays 
 
 The first departing of the King for Ireland. 
 
 If, then, we shall shake-off our slavish yoke. 
 
 Away with me in post to Eavenspurg ;' 
 
 But if you 'faint, as 'fearing to do so. 
 
 Stay — and be secret, and 'myself wiU go. 
 
 Hoss. To horse, to horse ! urge doubts to them that ' fear. 
 
 Wil. Hold-out my horse, and I will 'first be there. [Ei™nt. 
 
 After th« departure of King Richard for Inland, intelligence of 
 the landing of the banished Duke of Hereford — and the defection 
 of the Earl of Northumberland, with Lords Willoughby, Ross, and 
 others — together with the Earl's son, Harry Percy (the Hotspur 
 of later history), rapidly spreads. 
 
 Tidings of this rebellious calamity reach the Queen, while in 
 her Palace, attended by Bushy and Bagot : 
 
 Sushy. Madam, your majesty is too much sad : 
 
 You promised, when you parted with the King, 
 To lay 'aside life-harming heaviness, 
 And entertain a 'cheerful disposition. 
 
 Queen. To please the ' King, I did ; to please myself, 
 I 'cannot do it ; yet I know no 'cause 
 Why I should welcome such a guest as Grief, — 
 Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
 As my sweet Richard. 
 
 Green enters : 
 
 Oreen. Heaven save your majesty ! 
 
 I hope, the King is not yet 'shipped for Ireland. 
 
 Queen. ' Why hop'st thou so % 't is ' better hope he ' is. 
 For his designs crave ' haste, his haste good ' hope : 
 Then 'wherefore dost thou hope he is 'not shipped ? 
 
 Green. That he, our hope, might have retired his power, 
 And driven into despair an 'enemy's hope, 
 Who strongly hath set footing in this land : 
 The banished Bolingbroke repeals ' himself. 
 And, with uplifted arms, is safe arrived 
 At Eavenspurg : And what is worse. 
 The Lord Northumberland, his son young Percy, 
 With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. 
 
 Bushy. Why have you not proclaimed Northumberland, 
 And the rest of the revolted faction, ' traitors ? 
 
 " A port that formerly existed at the mouth of the Humber, near Spurn Head, in 
 Yorkshire. 
 
Scene il.] KING BIOHAED II. 63 
 
 Oreen. We have : whereupon the Earl of Worcester 
 Hath broke his staff,^ resigned his stewardship, 
 And all the household fled To Bolingbroke. — 
 Here comes the Duke of York. 
 
 Queen. With signs of 'wai about his aged neck. 
 
 O, full of careful business are his looks. — ^^"^ '"*""• 
 
 Uncle, for Heaven's sake, speak 'comfortable words. 
 
 York. Should I do so, I should belie my ' thoughts : 
 Comfort' s in 'heaven; and 'we are on the 'earth, — 
 Where nothing lives but crosses, care, and grief. 
 Your husband, he is gone to 'save far off. 
 Whilst others come to make him 'lose at 'home : 
 Here am ' I left to underprop his land. 
 Who, weak with age, cannot support 'myself. 
 Now comes the 'sick hour that his 'surfeit made ; 
 Now shall he ' try his friends that flattered him.' 
 
 \ In his perplexity, the Duke has sent a Messenger for his son the 
 
 i , Duke of Aumerle ; who, for some time, has not been on good terms 
 ^ with his father. The Messenger now returns : 
 
 Mess. My lord, your son was 'gone before I came. 
 
 York. He was 1 — Why, so. — Go all which way it will ! — 
 The nobles they are fled, the commons cold. 
 And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. — 
 Sirrah, get thee to Flashy, to my sister ; 
 Bid her send me presently a thousand pound. 
 Hold ; take my ring. 
 
 Mess. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship : 
 1^ To-day, as I came by, I halted there ; 
 
 But I shall grieve you to report the 'rest. . . . 
 An hour before I came, the Duchess died. 
 
 York. Heaven for his mercy ! what a ' tide of woes 
 Comes rushing on this woful land at once ! 
 Gentlemen, will 'you go muster men 1 If I know 
 How, or which way to order these affairs, 
 (Thus thrust 'dis-orderly into my hands,) 
 Never believe me. — ' Both are my kinsmen : — 
 The one 's my 'sovereign, whom both my oath 
 And duty bid defend ; the other again . . . 
 He is my kinsman whom the King hath wronged ; 
 Whom conscience and my kindred bid to 'right. 
 Well, somewhat we 'must do. Go muster men. 
 And meet me presently at Berkley Castle. — 
 I' should to Plashy too ; 
 
 *A white staff, the token of the of&ce of Lord Steward. 
 
■64 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 But time will not permit. — All is uneven, 
 
 And everything is left at six-and -seven.'' [Eieunt. 
 
 ^, 
 
 Soon after Bolingbroke's landing in England, his forces rapidly in- 
 crease, until he has under his command sixty thousand men : 
 easily able to overthrow Richard's lukewarm soldiers. 
 
 The scene is now in the Wilds of Glostershire, with the invading 
 forces headed by Bolingbroke, who inquires of Northumberland : 
 
 Hol. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley 'now? 
 JSTor. I am a stranger here in Glostershire. 
 
 These high wild hills, and rough uneven ways, 
 
 Draw-out our miles and make them wearisome ; 
 
 And yet your fair discourse hath much 'beguiled 
 
 The tediousness of travel. Who comes here ? — 
 Harry Percy enters. 
 
 It is my son, young Harry Percy. How fares your 
 uncle ? 
 I'er. I had thought, my lord, to have learned his health of 
 
 'you. 
 Nor. Why, is he not with the Queen % 
 Per. No, my good lord : he hath ' forsook the Court. 
 Nor. What was his 'reason ? 
 Per. Because your lordship was proclaimed a traitor. 
 
 And he, my lord, is gone to ' Eavenspurg, 
 
 To offer service to the Duke of Hereford. 
 Nor. . . . Have you ' forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy ? 
 Per. No, my good lord ; for that is not ' forgot. 
 
 Which ne'er I did 'remember : to my knowledge, 
 
 I never iu my life did ' look on him. 
 Nor. Then learn to know him 'now : ' this is the Duke. 
 Per. My gracious lord ! — I tender you my service. 
 
 Such as it is, being tender, raw,'' and young. 
 JBol. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be sure, 
 
 I count myself in nothing else so happy 
 
 As in a soul remembering my good friends ; 
 
 And as my ' fortune ripens with thy love. 
 
 It shall be still thy true love's 'recompense : 
 
 My 'heart this covenant makes, my hand thus 'seals it. 
 Nor. How ' far is it to Berkley % and what stir 
 
 Keeps good old York there, with his men of war ? 
 Per. ' There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of trees : 
 
 Manned with three hundred men, as I have heard : 
 
 ^ In great confusion. ^^ Inexperienced. 
 
Scene UL] KING RICHAKD II. 65 
 
 And in it are the Lords of York and Berkley ; 
 None else of 'name and noble estimate. 
 Nor. Here come the Lords of Eoss and Willoughby. [™S. 
 Bolingbroke advances to receive them. 
 
 £ol. Welcome, my lords. I wot/ your love pursues 
 
 A ' banished ' traitor. All my treasury 
 
 Is yet but heartfelt^ thanks. 
 Hoss. Your 'presence makes us 'rich, most noble lord. 
 Sol. Ever 'more thanks, the exchequer of the poor ; 
 
 Which, till my ' infant fortune comes to years, 
 
 Stands for my 'bounty. — But who comes here? 
 Nur. It is my Lord of Berkley, as I guess. 
 
 Lord Berkley enters : 
 
 Her. My Lord of Hereford, my message is to 'you. 
 
 J3ol. My lord, my answer is — -to ' Lancaster, 
 
 And I am come to 'seek that name in England ; 
 And I must 'find that title in your tongue. 
 Before I make 'reply to aught you say. 
 
 Ser. Mistake me not, my lord : 't is not my meaning 
 To raze 'one title of your honour out. 
 To 'you, my lord, I come, — 'what lord you will, — 
 From the most gracious Regent of this land. 
 The Duke of York ; to know — what sets you on 
 To fright our native peace with self-borne arms ? 
 
 JBol. I shall not need transport my words by 'you : 
 
 Here comes his grace in person. — ^X 
 
 The Duke of York — Regent of England during the King's ab- 
 sence in Ireland — enters, attended by the royal guards. Boling- 
 broke kneels : 
 
 My noble uncle ! 
 York. Show me thy humble ' heart ; and 'not thy knee, 
 
 Whose duty is deceivable — and ' false ! 
 Bol. My gracious uncle — 
 York. Tut, tut ! 
 
 Grace me 'no grace, nor uncle me no uncle : 
 I am no ' traitor's uncle ; and that word " grace," 
 In an ungracious mouth, is but 'profane. — 
 ' Why have those banished and forbidden legs 
 Dared once to touch a 'dust of England's ground ? 
 But more than this, — Why have they dared to march 
 So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, 
 Frighting her pale-faced villages with 'war? 
 Com'st thou because the anointed King is ' hence ? 
 
 " Know. = O. E. unfelt. 
 
66 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEAKB. [Acta. 
 
 Why, foolish boy, the King is left ' behind, 
 And in 'my loyal bosom lies his power. 
 Were I but 'now the lord of such hot 'youth. 
 As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, 
 Rescued the Black Prince, — that young Mars of men ! — 
 Prom forth the ranks of many thousand French, 
 O, 'then, how quickly should this arm of mine, — 
 Now prisoner to the palsy — chastise thee. 
 And minister 'correction to thy fault ! 
 Sol. My gracious uncle, let me ' know my fault ! 
 York. Fault ? gross 'rebellion, and detested ' treason : 
 Thou art a banished man ; and here art come, 
 ' Before the expiration of thy time. 
 In braving'' arms against thy sovereign. 
 JBol. As I was ' banished, I was banished ' Hereford ; 
 But as I 'come, I come for ' Lancaster. 
 And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace. 
 Look on my Wrongs with an 'indifferent' eye : 
 You are my ' father ; for methinks, in you 
 I see old Gaunt 'alive : O, then, my father, 
 Will you permit that ' I shall stand condemned 
 A wandering 'vagabond? my rights and royalties 
 ' Plucked from my arms, and given to upstart unthrif ts ? 
 If that my cousin-king ' be King of England, 
 It must be granted ' I am Duke of Lancaster. 
 I am denied to sue my livery' here. 
 And yet my letters-patent 'give me leave : 
 What would 'you have me do ? I am a subject. 
 And challenge ' law. 'Attorneys are 'denied me ; 
 And therefore, 'personally, I lay my claim 
 To my inheritance of free descent. 
 The aged Regent, struck with this reasonable appeal, is, for a 
 few moments, silent from perplexity; at last he addresses the as- 
 sembled peers : 
 
 York. My lords of England, let me tell you this : — 
 ' I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs. 
 And laboured all I could to do him 'right ; 
 But in 'this kind to come, — in braving arms, — 
 To find out right with 'wrong, — it may not be ; 
 And you that do 'abet him in this kind 
 Cherish 'rebellion, and are 'rebels 'all. 
 
 Nor. The noble duke hath sworn — his coming is 
 But for his 'own ; and, for the right of ' that, 
 We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ; 
 
 ^ Defiant. = Impartial. * = Enter a legal claim for possession of lauds. 
 
Scene ill.] KING RIOHABD n. 67 
 
 And let 'him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath ! 
 
 Yorh. "Well, well I see the issue^ of these arms ! — 
 I cannot 'mend it, I must needs confess, 
 Because my power is weak, and all ill left : 
 But, if I 'could, — by Him that gave me life, 
 I would attach' you 'all, and 'make you stoop 
 Unto the sovereign mercy of the King : 
 But, since I 'cannot, be it known to you . . . 
 I do remain as 'neuter.* So, fare you well ; — 
 Unless you please to enter in the Castle, 
 And there 'repose you for this night. 
 
 Bol. An offer, uncle, that we will 'accept. 
 
 But we must win your 'grace to go with us 
 To Bristol Castle ; which, they say, is held 
 By Bushy, Bagot, and their 'complices, — 
 The 'caterpillars of the Commonwealth, 
 Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. 
 
 York. May be, I '11 go with you ; . . . but yet I '11 pause ; 
 For I am loth to ' break our country's laws. 
 Nor friends nor foes, to me 'welcome you are : 
 Things past 'redress are now with me past 'care. [Exemt. 
 
 The facile, temporizing Regent thus falls into the snares of the 
 subtle, crown-aspiring Bolingbroke. The Earl of Salisbury pro- 
 phetically ejaculates : 
 
 Sal. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind, 
 I see thy glory, like a shooting star. 
 Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! 
 Thy sun 'sets, weeping, in the lowly west. 
 Witnessing — storms to come, woe, and unrest : 
 Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy ' foes, — 
 And, 'crossly to thy good, all fortune goes. [Em. 
 
 KX 
 
 In the meanwhile, the rebels are both prompt and prospetousy 
 The " creatures " of King Richard — the Earl of Wiltshire, Sir John. 
 Bushy, and Sir Henry Green, who were not unjustly censured as JV^ 
 abettors of the King's excesses, withdraw to Bristol Castle ; but the -"^7^ 
 spirited invader, Bolingbroke, quickly follows them ; and, without 
 the formality of a trial, orders their immediate execution. 
 
 ^Vhen King Richard receives intelligence of this invasion and 
 insurrection, he hastens from Ireland and lands near Barkloughly 
 Castle, Wales. He is now there — attended by the Duke of Aumerle, 
 son to the Duke of York, by the Bishop of Carlisle, and others. 
 
 ^ ReBTllt. 3 Accuse of treason. * Neutral. 
 
68 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 K. Rich. Barkloughly Castle call they this at hand ? 
 
 The Duke of Aumerle replies : 
 
 A. am. Yea, my good lord. How brooks your grace the air, 
 After late tossing on the breaking seas ? 
 
 JS^. Rich. Needs must I like it 'well : I 'weep for joy 
 To stand upon my kingdom once again. — 
 Dear Earth ! I do 'salute thee with my ' hand, 
 Though rebels 'wo und the ejw ith their hor ses' ' hoofs : 
 
 ji's'a long^p a rt"ed~mother with her^hj_ld_^ 
 
 Plays fondly, 'twixt her tears and smiles, in meeting, 
 So, weeping, smiling, greet I ' thee, my earth ! 
 Feed not thy sovereign's 'foe, my gentle earth; 
 But do 'annoyance to the treacherous feet 
 Which, with 'usurping steps, do trample thee ! 
 Yield stinging 'nettles to mine enemies ; 
 And when they from thy bosom pluck a ' flower. 
 Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking 'adder, — 
 Whose double tongue may, with a mortal touch, 
 Throw 'death upon thy sovereign's enemies. . . . 
 Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords : 
 This earth 'shall have a feeling ; and these 'stones 
 Prove armed soldiers, ere her native King 
 Shall falter, under foul Eebellion's arms. 
 
 Aum. I fear, my lord, that 'we are too remiss ; 
 Whilst ' Bolingbroke, through our security,'^ 
 Grows strong and great — in substance and in fiiends. 
 
 JK. Rich. ' Dis-comfortable cousin ! knoVst thou not ^ 
 ,__ ThafcglffiTi tlrp.::aeaxghing^.eye of Heaven^ is ' hid, llT? 
 ' Then thieves and robbers range abroad 'unseen ? 
 But when, from 'under this terrestrial ball, 
 He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines. 
 And darts his light through every guilty ' hole, 
 ' Then murders, treasons, and detected' sins. 
 Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? 
 So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, — 
 Who all this while hath revelled in the 'night, — 
 Shall see 'us rising in our throne, the east, 
 His treasons will sit blushing in his face, 
 Not able to endure the sight of 'day ! — 
 Not all the water in the rough rude sea 
 Can 'wash the balm from an anointed ' King ; 
 The breath of 'worldly men cannot depose 
 The deputy elected by -the ' Lord. 
 For every man that 'Bolingbroke hath pressed, 
 
 ^ Oonfldent carelessness. =0. R. detested. 
 
Scene ii.] KING EICHAED II. 69 
 
 , God, for his Eicbard, hath, in 'heavenly pay, 
 . ''" J A glorious 'Angel : then, if 'angels fight, 
 
 ,| ),Weak 'men miist ' fall ; for Heaven still guards the 
 
 /Mf-ti^Etr 
 
 fj' The General of the Royal Forces, Lord Salisbury, enters. 
 Welcome, my lord. How far off lies your power ? 
 
 Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord. 
 
 Than this weak 'arm. ' Dis-comfort guides my tongue,. 
 
 And bids me speak of nothing but 'despair. 
 
 One day too late, "I fear, my noble lord. 
 
 Hath clouded all thy ' happy days on earth : 
 
 O, call back 'yesterday ! bid time return. 
 
 And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men : 
 
 To-day, — to-day, unhappy day ! too late, — 
 
 O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state ; 
 
 For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert 'dead, 
 
 Are gone to ' Bolingbroke, — dispersed, and fled. 
 
 Aum. Comfort, my liege ! Why looks your grace so pale ?' 
 
 JS'. Rich. Have I not 'reason to look pale, and dead ? 
 All souls that will be 'safe, ' fly from my side ! 
 
 Aii,m. Comfort, my liege ! Remember who you are. 
 
 K. Rich. I had 'forgot myself. . . . Am I not 'King'? . . . 
 Awake, thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleep'st. 
 Is not the ' King's name forty ' thousand names ? 
 Arm, arm, my 'name ! a puny 'subject strikes 
 At thy great glory. — Look not to the 'ground, 
 Te favourites of a King : are we not ' high ? 
 High be our ' thoughts. I know, my uncle York 
 Hath power enough to serve our turn. — But who comes, 
 here ? 
 
 Sir Stephen Scroop dejectedly enters. 
 
 Scroop. ' More health and happiness betide my liege, 
 'Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him ! 
 
 S. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared : 
 The worst is 'worldly loss thou canst unfold. 
 Say, is my ' kingdom lost ! why, 't was my 'care ; 
 And what loss is it to be 'rid of care 1 
 Strives Bolingbroke to be as 'great as we ? 
 'Greater he 'shall not be : if ' he serve God, 
 We '11 serve Him too, and be his ' fellow so. 
 Revolt our subjects % that we 'cannot mend ; 
 They break their faith to 'Heaven as well as 'us. 
 Cry, Woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay ! 
 The worst is 'death — and Death will have his day L 
 
70 THE KBADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 /Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is 'so armed, 
 To ' bear the tidings of calamity. 
 Like an unseasonable 'stormy day, 
 (Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores. 
 As if the w^orld vcere all dissolved to tears,) 
 So high above his limits, swells the rage 
 Of ' Bolingbroke ; covering your fearful land 
 With hard bright steel, and hearts ' harder than steel : 
 'White beards^ have armed their thin and hairless 
 
 scalps 
 Against thy throne" : both young and old 'rebel. 
 And all goes 'worse than I have power to tell. 
 
 jS^. Bich. Too weU, too well thou tell'st a tale so ' iU. 
 Where is the Earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot "? 
 What is become of Bushy ? where is Green? 
 I warrant, 'they 've made peace with Bolingbroke. 
 
 Scroop. Peace 'have they made with him, indeed, my lord. 
 
 IC. Jtich. O villains, vipers, lost without redemption ! 
 Would they make 'peace ? Terrible hell make 'war 
 Upon their spotted souls for this offence ! 
 
 Scroop. Sweet ' love, I see, changing his property, 
 'Turns to the sourest and most deadly ' hate. 
 Again 'un-curse their souls ; their peace is made 
 With death's fell wound, — graved in the hoUow ground. 
 
 Aum. Are Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire, dead 1 
 
 Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol* lost their heads. 
 
 Aum. . . . Where is the 'Duke, my father, with his power ? 
 
 J£. Hich- No matter where ; — of 'comfort no man speak : 
 Let 's talk of 'graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; 
 Make 'dust our paper ; and, with rainy eyes. 
 Write Sorrow, on the bosom of the earth. 
 Let 's choose 'executors, and talk of 'wiUs : . . . 
 JAnd yet 'not so — for what 'can we bequeath, 
 
 ■' f/ Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 
 
 Our lands, our lives, and 'all, are ' Bolingbroke's ; 
 And nothing can we call our own — but death. 
 And that small module^ of the barren earth, 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 For Heaven's sake, let 's sit upon the ground. 
 And tell sad stories of the 'death of 'kings : — 
 How some have been 'deposed ; some 'slain in war ; 
 Some ' haunted, by the ghosts of those dethroned ;° 
 Some 'poisoned by their wives ; some 'sleeping killed ; — 
 'All 'murdered ! — For within the hollow crown 
 
 = Old men. = O. E. seat. * O. R Bristow (In Gloucester and Somerset.) 
 
 ^ O. R. modell— a diminutive part. ^ O. R. they have deposed. 
 
Scene ii.] KING KICHAED II. 71 
 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
 
 Keeps Death his 'court ; and there the Antic'' sits, 
 
 Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp ; 
 
 Allowing him — a breath, a little scene, 
 
 To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks ; 
 
 Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 
 
 As if this flesh which walls about our life. 
 
 Were ' brass impregnable ; and, humoured thus. 
 
 Comes at the last, and, with a little 'pin, 
 
 Bores through his castle-wall, and . . . farewell King ! 
 
 'Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
 
 With solemn reverence ; throw away respect. 
 
 Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty ; 
 
 For you have but 'mistook me all this while : 
 
 I live on bread like you, — feel want, taste grief. 
 
 Need friends, fear enemies. ' Subjected thus. 
 
 How 'can you say to me, I am a ' King ? 
 
 The Bishop of Carlisle and the Duke of Aumerle endeavour to 
 rouse him. The Bishop says : 
 
 , Bhh JM j Inrd j 'wi fin yn a r , n o 'ffic-lmn.il tViflir present w oes. 
 /> But presently..;presfiiitJJie-lways to waU. 
 
 To lear the foe, (since fear oppresseth strength,) 
 Gives, in your weakness, 'strength unto your foe. 
 And so your follies fight against yourself. 
 
 Aumerle adds : 
 
 Aum. My father hath a power ; inquire of 'him. 
 ^. Mich. Thou chid'st me well. — Proud Bolingbroke, I 
 come 
 
 To change blows with thee for 'our day of doom. 
 
 This ague-fit of fear is over-blown : . . . 
 
 Say, Scroop, where lies our 'uncle with his power ? 
 Scroop. I play the torturer, by small and small. 
 
 To lengthen out the 'worst — that 'must be spoken. 
 
 Tour uncle York is 'joined with Bolingbroke, 
 
 And aU your northern castles yielded up ; 
 
 And all your southern gentlemen, in arms 
 
 Upon 'his party. 
 jK". JRich. . . . 'Thou hast said enough ! — 
 
 Beshrew' thee, cousin, who didst lead me 'forth 
 
 Of that 'sweet way I 'was in, to 'despair ! 
 
 What say you 'now ? What 'comfort have we now ? 
 'By Heaven, I 11 hate 'him everlastingly 
 
 That bids me be of comfort any more. . . . 
 
 2 Or the Fool of the old moral plays. ^ Misfortune attend. 
 
72 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Go to Flint Castle : Jhere I '11 'pine away ; 
 
 A King, Woe's slave, shall kingly Woe obey. rKxeunt. 
 
 The Scene changes to Flint Castle ; and, outside the gates, are 
 Bolingbroke and his new ally — the aged apostate Duke of York — 
 demanding admittance. Bolingbroke inquires of young Harry 
 Percy : 
 
 Bol. Well, Harry : What, will not this castle 'yield °i 
 Per. The castle 'royally is manned, my lord, 
 
 'Against thy entrance. 
 Bol. ' Royally ? Why, it contains no ' king '? 
 Per. Yes, my good lord, 
 
 It 'doth contain a king : King Richard Hes 
 Within the limits of yond lime and stone. 
 JBol. Noble Northumberland, 
 
 Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle ; 
 Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle,' 
 And thus deliver: — Henry Bolingbroke, 
 r On both his knees, doth kiss King Richard's hand, 
 y And sends allegiance and true faith of heart : 
 f-^ \ Provided that, my banishment's repeal, 
 
 / And lands restored again, be freely granted. 
 If not, I '11 use the 'advantage of my power, 
 And lay the summer's dust with showers of 'blood. — 
 March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. 
 
 A parley is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. 
 York and Northumberland advance to be the spokesmen for Bol- 
 ingbroke : As King Richard, the Bishop of Carlisle, Aumerle, 
 Scroop, and Salisbury enter on the walls, Bolingbroke speaks: 
 
 Bol. See, see. King Richard doth ' himself appear ; 
 As doth the blushing discontented 'sun, 
 When he perceives the envious 'clouds are bent 
 To dim his glory, and to stain his track. 
 Richard, from the ramparts, looks fixedly on Northumberland. 
 
 K. Rich. . . . We are 'amazed! and thus long have we stood 
 To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, 
 Because we ' thought ourself thy lawful ' King : 
 And if we be, how dare thy joints 'forget 
 To pay their awful 'duty to our presence ? 
 If we be 'not, show us the hand of Heaven 
 That hath 'dismissed us from our stewardship ? 
 And though you think that all, (as 'you have done,) 
 Have torn their souls by turning them from 'us, 
 And we are barren and 'bereft of friends ; 
 
 = Parley, 
 
Scene ili.] KING EICHABD II. 73 
 
 Tet know, my Master — God Omnipotent, — 
 
 Is mustering, in His clouds, on our behalf, 
 
 Armies of 'pestilence ; and ' they shall strike 
 
 Your 'children, yet unborn, 
 
 That lift your 'vassal hands against 'my ' head ! 
 yor. The King of Heaven forbid ! But thus doth speak 
 
 Through me, thy noble cousin Bolicgbroke: — 
 
 His coming hither hath no further scope 
 
 Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
 
 Enfranchisement^ immediate on his knees : 
 
 Which, on thy royal party 'granted once. 
 
 His glittering arms he will commend to 'rust ; 
 
 His barbed' steeds to 'stables ; and his heart 
 
 To faithful 'service of your majesty. 
 -ff". Rich. Northumberland, say thus the King returns : — 
 
 His noble cousin is right 'welcome hither ; 
 ^ And 'all the number of his ' fair demands 
 ) Shall be ' accomplished, without contradiction. 
 ) With all the gracious utterance thou hast, 
 ' Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. — 
 
 Northumberland retires to Bolingbroke. The humiliated King 
 meanwhile turns to Aumerle : 
 
 . . . We do 'debase ourself, cousin, do we not. 
 To look so poorly, and to speak so fair ? 
 Shall we call 'back Northumberland, and send 
 ' Defiance to the traitor . . . and so 'die ? 
 
 Aiim. No, good my lord : let 's fight with 'gentle words. 
 Till time lend friends,— and friends their helpful 
 'swords. 
 
 K. Rich. O Heaven, O Heaven ! that e'er this tongue of mine. 
 
 That laid the sentence of dread banishment , 
 
 On yon proud man, should take it 'off again i : i] 
 
 With words of 'sooth "?* O, that I were as great ^■^'^ - ( 
 As is my 'grief, or lesser than my 'name ! v , . v"^ 
 
 Or that I could ' forget what I ' have been, rs?\ / 
 
 Or 'not remember what I must be 'now ! C 
 
 See, he returns: How now, Northumberland? 
 What 'must the King do now ? ' Must he submit ? 
 The ' King shall 'do it. ' Must he be deposed ? 
 The King shall be 'contented. ' Mast he lose 
 The 'name of King ? o' Heaven's name, let it 'go ! 
 I 'U give my 'jewels, for a set of beads ; 
 My gorgeous 'palace, for a hermitage ; 
 
 2 Restoration of freedom to self and property. ^ protected by armour. 
 
 * Softness, peace. 
 
74 THE EEADEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 My gay 'apparel, for an alms-man's gown ; 
 My figured 'goblets, for a dish of wood ; 
 My 'sceptre, for a palmer's walking-staff ; 
 My 'subjects, for a pair of carved saints ; 
 And my large ' kingdom, for a little 'grave, — 
 A little, little grave ... an 'obscure grave ! 
 Or, I '11 be buried in the King's highway, 
 Some way of common trade,^ where subjects' feet 
 May ' hourly trample on their sovereign's head ; 
 For on my ' heart they tread, now whilst I ' live. 
 And ' buried once, why 'not upon my head ? . . . 
 I talk but idly, and you mock at me. — 
 Most 'mighty prince, . . . my Lord Northumberland, . . . 
 What says 'King Bolingbroke 1 will his majesty 
 Give Richard leave to live till Richard die ? 
 JVor. My lord, he doth attend to speak with you ; 
 Will you come down ? 
 
 . . K. Rich. Down ■? down I come ! Down, Court ! down, King ! 
 qVC '~/t^ For night-'owls shriek, where mounting larks should 
 
 \f^(y^ 'sing. 
 
 -"' As King Richard descends, he is preceded by Northumberland, 
 
 who is thus addressed by Bolingbroke : 
 
 Bol. What says his majesty ? 
 
 Nor. Sorrow and grief of heart 
 
 Make him speak ' fondly," like a ' frantic man : 
 
 Yet he is come. 
 
 King Richard and his Attendants re-enter below. 
 
 Bol. Stand all apart. 
 
 And show fair duty to his majesty. — 
 
 My gracious lord, — [Kteeiing. 
 
 K. Rich. . . . Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee, 
 To make the base earth 'proud with kissing it : 
 ' Up, cousin, up ! Your ' heart is up, I know, — 
 ' Thus high at least ; — although your ' knee be low. 
 
 Rol. My gracious lord, I come but for mine 'own. 
 
 K. Rich. . . . Your own is 'yours; — and 'I am yours, — and 
 'aU! 
 
 £ol. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord. 
 As my true service shall 'deserve your love. 
 
 IK. Rich. 'Well you deserve : 'they well deserve to ' have. 
 That know the strongest, surest way to 'get. — 
 TJncle, give me your hand : nay, 'dry your eyes ; 
 Tears show their 'love, but want then- 'remedies. — 
 
 2 Trafflok. » Foolishly. 
 
Scene iii.] KING EICHAKD II. 75 
 
 Cousin, I am too young to be your ' father, 
 Though 'you are old enough to be my ' heir. 
 "What you will ' have, I '11 'give, and willing, too ; 
 For do we 'must, what ' force will have us do. — 
 Set on towards . . . London : — Cousin, ... is it so ? 
 
 Bol. Yea, my good lord. 
 
 jK". Rich. Then I must 'not say, No. [Exeunt. 
 
 The listless and desponding King, accustomed to all outward 
 
 pomp and splendour, is now meanly attired, and mounted on a very 
 
 miserable horse, in his miserable " progress." 
 
 Bolingbroke soon fears that this extorted resignation of the King 
 would too plainly appear an act of force. Richard was, with much 
 indignity, led through the streets, where the populace had an oppor- 
 tunity of showing their dislike and contempt for their ill-starred and 
 extravagant King. — At this time, too, Aumerle is openly charged 
 with complicity in the murder of the Duke of Gloster. 
 
 But the terrible degradation of the King had yet to be consum- 
 mated by his faithless, facile uncle the Duke of York ; who knew 
 that the obsequious parliament at Westminster would give its sanc- 
 tion to any proposal in favour of Bolingbroke. A public Act of Ac- 
 cusation, including many charges of arbitrary power, was brought 
 forward, and, without any evidence, received as proved. 
 
 It may be repeated here that in the first quarto edition of this 
 play, a considerable portion of this Act, especially the Scene of the 
 King's deposition, was, for evident political reasons, suppressed by 
 authority. Royalty then dreaded any example of dethronement. 
 For many years this scene was not allowed to be performed. 
 
 The time-serving Duke of York thus addresses the King Elect in 
 Parliament : 
 
 York. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee 
 
 From plume-plucked Richard, — who, with willing soul, 
 , /^ Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields 
 ' 1, To the possession of ' thy royal hand : 
 
 '" Ascend his throne, descending now from him ; 
 And long live Henry, of that name the Fourth ! 
 Bolingbroke solemnly says : 
 Bol. In 'God's name, I '11 ascend the regal throne. 
 
 But the Bishop of Carlisle^ instantly rises : 
 £ishop. Marry, Heaven ' forbid ! — 
 
 ' Worst in this royal presence may ' I speak. 
 Yet best beseeming me to speak the ' truth ! 
 'Would Heaven, that any, in this noble presence, 
 Were enough noble to be 'upright judge 
 
 * The name of this out-spoken Bishop deserves to be honourably remembered : Dr. 
 Thomas Marks. 
 
^CK 
 
 76 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Of noble Richard : then true nobleness would 
 Ijearn him 'forbearance from so foul a wrong, 
 /what 'subject can give sentence on his 'King? 
 And who sits here that is not 'Richard's subject '? 
 ' Thieves are not judged,^ but they are ' by'' to hear, 
 Although 'apparent 'guilt be seen in them : 
 And shall the figure of 'God's Majesty, — 
 ' His captain, steward, deputy elect. 
 Anointed, crowned, and planted many years, — 
 Be judged by subject and 'inferior breath, 
 And he himself 'not present ? 0, forbid it. Heaven, 
 That, in a 'Christian climate, souls refined* 
 Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! 
 I speak to 'subjects ; and a subject speaks, 
 Stirred up by Heaven, thus boldly for his ' King. 
 Lord of Hereford here, whom you 'call King, 
 foul ' traitor to proud Hereford's King ; 
 And 'if you crown him, let me prophesy, — 
 The blood of English shall 'manure the ground, 
 And future ages 'groan for this foul act : 
 Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels ; 
 And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars 
 Shall, kin with kin, and kind with kind, confound ; 
 Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny. 
 Shall 'here inhabit ; and 'this land be called 
 The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. 
 O, if you rear this house 'against this house, 
 It will the wofullest division prove 
 That ever fell upon this cursed earth. 
 Prevent, resist it, let it not be so. 
 Lest children's children^ cry against you — 'Woe ! 
 
 The Earl of Northumberland, on behalf of the newly-elected King, 
 addresses the Bishop : 
 
 JVor. Well have you argued, sir ; and, for your pains, 
 Of capital treason we 'arrest you here. — 
 My Lord of Westminster, be it 'your charge 
 To keep him safely tiU his day of trial. — 
 May it please you, lords, to 'grant the Commons' suit 1 
 Bol. Fetch hither Richard, that, in common view, 
 He may surrender : so we shall proceed 
 Without suspicion. [EiitTort. 
 
 Before, however, this suit is granted, for the legal deposition of 
 the King, he himself is conducted, before Parliament, by his faith- 
 less Uncle. King Richard, followed by Officers bearing the crown, 
 slowly advances : 
 
 2 Condemned. » Present. . * Purified by faith. = O. E. Least cliild, child's cliildren. 
 
Scene is] KING EICHAED II. 77 
 
 K. Rich. Alack ! why am I sent for to a King, 
 Before I have shook off the regal thoughts 
 Wherewith ' I reigned °i Alas, I well remember 
 The favours^ of these men : were they not 'mine ? 
 Did they not sometime cry, All hail ! to 'me ? . . . 
 God save the King !^ — Will no man say, Amen % 
 Am I both priest and clerk % well then. Amen. 
 God save the King ! although 'I be not he ; 
 And yet, Amen, if ' Heaven do think him me. — 
 To do what service am I sent for hither % 
 The Duke of York replies : 
 
 York. The 'resignation of thy state and crown . i , ' 
 To Harry Bolingbroke. i ^ 
 
 K. Rich. . . . Give me the crown. — Here, cousin, . . . 'seize 
 the crown ; 
 On this side, 'my hand, and on that side, 'thine. — 
 Now is this golden crown like a deep 'well 
 That owns two buckets, filling one another ; 
 The emptier, ever dancing ia the air ; 
 The other, down, unseen, and full of water : — 
 That bucket 'down, and fuU of tears, am I, 
 Drinking my griefs, — whilst 'you mount up on high. 
 
 Bol. I thought you had been 'willing to resign. 
 
 K. Rich. My 'crown, I am ; but still my 'griefs are mine. . . . 
 Now mark me ' how I will undo 'myself : — 
 I 'give . . . this heavy weight from off my ' head, — 
 And this unwieldly sceptre from my 'hand, — 
 The pride of kingly sway from out my 'heart ; 
 With mine own 'tears, I wash away my ' balm f 
 With mine own 'hands, I give away my crown ; 
 With mine own ' tongue, deny my sacred state ; 
 With mine own 'breath, release all duteous oaths: 
 All pomp and majesty, I do 'forswear; 
 My manors, rents, revenues, I ' forego ; 
 My acts, decrees, and statutes, I 'deny: 
 Heaven pardon all oaths that are 'broke to 'me! 
 Heaven keep all vows 'un-broke, that swear to ' thee ! 
 God save King 'Henry, 'un-kinged Richard says. 
 And send him many years of sunshine days ! . . . 
 What more remains ■? 
 
 No): loiferinga paper] No morc, but that you read ^. 
 
 This list of accusations and of crimes, ' " 
 
 That, by 'confessing them, the souls of men 
 
 May deem that you are 'worthily deposed. / 
 
 2 Countenances, faces. ^ The consecrated oil. 
 
78 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4, 
 
 K. Rich. ' Must I do so ? and must I ravel-out 
 
 My weaved-up follies ? Gentle Northumberland, 
 If 'thy oifences were recorded thus, 
 Would it not shame thee, in so fair a troop,'' 
 To read a ' lecture' of them ? If thou shouldst. 
 There wouldst thou find one heinous article, 
 Containing the 'deposing of a ' King, 
 And 'cracMng the strong warrant of an 'oath, — 
 Marked with a ' blot, — 'damned in the book of Heaven ! 
 
 Nor. My lord, despatch : read o'er these articles. 
 
 K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see. 
 
 Nor. My lord, my lord — 
 
 K. Rich. ' No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man ! . . 
 Nor 'no man's lord : I have no name, no title, — 
 No, not that name was given me at the font, 
 But 't is 'usurped. — Alack, the heavy day ! 
 That I have worn so many winters out, 
 And know not now what name to call myself ! 
 O, that I were a 'mockery king of 'snow 
 Standing before the 'sun of Bolingbroke, 
 To melt myself away in water-drops ! — 
 Good King, — great King, — and yet not 'greatly 
 
 good,— 
 An if my word be sterling yet in England, 
 Let it command a 'mirror hither straight ; 
 That it may show me 'what a face I have. 
 Since it is bankrupt of its majesty. 
 
 Bol. Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. [exu Auen. 
 
 Nor. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth come. 
 The Commons will not else be satisfied. 
 
 K. Rich. They 'shall be satisfied : I '11 read enough. 
 When I do see the very book indeed 
 Where all my sins are writ ; and that 's — myself ! 
 
 The Attendant returns with a small mirror. 
 Give me that glass, and ' therein will I read. . . . 
 No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck 
 So 'many blows upon this face of mine, 
 And made no 'deeper wounds ? — O flattering glass ! 
 Like to my ' followers in prosperity. 
 Thou dost beguile me ! Was ' this face the face 
 That, every day, under his household roof 
 Did keep ten thousand men I Was this the face 
 That, like the sun, did make beholders wink ? 
 Was this the face that faced so many follies, 
 
 " An assembly. ^ Catalogue read aloud. 
 
Scene i.] KING EICHAED II. 79 
 
 And was at last 'out-faced by Bolingbroke ? ^__ 
 
 A ' brittle glory sliineth in this face : ---' ^ 
 
 As brittle as the 'glory is the 'face ; [^""f.dbraL'u.'""" 
 For 'there it is, cracked in a hundred shivers ! — 
 Mark, silent King, the 'moral of this spoftp^ 
 How soon my sorrow hath 'destroyed my face. . . . 
 O, give me leave to go. 
 
 Bol. Whither? 
 
 K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from 'your sights. 
 
 Bol. Go, some of you ; convey him to the Tower. 
 
 K. Rich. 0, good ! " Convey ? " — Conveyers' are you all, 
 That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. [EjiiKWd,. 
 
 Bol. . . . On Wednesday next we solemnly set down 
 
 Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. [EMiint. 
 
 Queen Isabella, hearing of Bolingbroke 's success and of Richard's 
 dethronement, hastens to London ; and in a street leading to the .' 
 
 Tower, awaits the approach of her husband. She addresses her ^^ 
 
 Ladies-in-Waiting : ^ it*\i 
 
 Queen. 'This way the King will come ; this is the way '^ ^-S 
 To Julius Csesar's ill-erected Tower ; ///^ 
 
 To whose flint bosom my condemned lord 'f y y"^ 
 
 Is doomed a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke. — ■ C- 
 
 Here let us rest ; if this rebellious earth \ -.-'^ 
 
 Have 'any resting for her true King's Queen. I 
 
 King Richard and his Guards approach. 
 But soft ; but see, or rather do 'not see 
 My fair rose wither : yet look up, behold. 
 That you in pity may dissolve to dew. 
 Thou map' of honour ! thou Kiag Eichard's ' tomb ! 
 Why should hard-favoured * Grief be lodged in ' thee ? 
 K. Rich. Join not with Grief, fair woman ! Learn, good soul, 
 To think our former state a happy 'dream ; 
 Prom which awaked, the truth of what we 'are 
 Shows us but this : — I am sworn brother, sweet. 
 To grim ' Necessity ; and he and I 
 Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to Prance, 
 And cloister thee in some religious house : 
 Our ' holy lives must win a 'new world's crown. 
 The Queen, amazed at this unexpected di&Dla-V-o£jneek-hmnilia- 
 tion, exblaims ;. 
 
 QiiemTwiii&i ! is my Eichard, both in shape and mind. 
 Transformed and weakened? Hath Bolingbroke de- 
 posed 
 
 2 Bobbers. ^ Picture reduced. * Harsb-featured. 
 
80 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Thine ' intellect ? Hath he been in thy ' heart ? 
 The ' lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw. 
 And wounds the 'earth, if nothing else, with rage 
 To be o'erpowered : And wilt 'thou, pupil-like. 
 Take thy correction 'mildly, 'kiss the rod, 
 And 'fawn on rage with base 'humility, — 
 Which art a lion, and a ' king of beasts 1 
 K. Rich. A king of 'beasts, indeed : If aught 'but beasts, 
 I had been still a happy king of 'men. 
 Good sometime Queen, prepare thee hence for ' France : 
 Think I am 'dead ; and that, even here, thou tak'st, 
 'As from my death-bed, my last living leave. 
 In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 
 With good old folks, and let them tell the tales 
 Of woful ages long ago betid ;^ 
 
 And, (ere thou bid good-night,) to 'quit' their grief. 
 Tell thou the lamentable fall of 'me. 
 And send the hearers weeping to their beds. 
 
 The Earl of Northumberland, attended by a strong Guard to en- 
 force the new King's orders, enters. 
 
 Ifor. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed : 
 You must to ' Pomfret,* not unto the Tower. — 
 And, madam, there is order ta'en for 'you : 
 With all swift speed you must away to France. 
 JS^. Rich. JSorthumberland, — thxyujadd^rj^wherewithal 
 The niojrntjng^Bohn^bJxfai-asceTi d s-my, throne, — 
 ^5v The time shall not be many hours of age 
 
 More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head. 
 Shall break into 'corruption. 'Thou shalt think, — 
 Though he 'divide the realm, and give thee ' half, — 
 It is too little, helping him to 'all ; 
 And ' he shall think, that thou, who know'st the way 
 To plant 'unrightful kings, wilt know again. 
 To pluck 'him headlong from the usurped throne. 
 Nor. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. 
 
 Take leave, and part ; for you must part ' forthwith. 
 K. Rich. ' Doubly divorced ! — Bad men, ye violate 
 A ' two-fold marriage ; 'twixt my 'crown and me. 
 And then betwi:st me and my married 'wife. — 
 Let me 'un-kiss the oath 'twixt thee and me ; 
 And yet not so, for with a kiss 't was 'made. 
 The poor Queen adds her entreaties in vain ; she is dragged 
 from her submissive husband, by the Guards attending on North- 
 umberland, to be conveyed to France ; while the spiritless, dejected 
 
 ^ Past. ^ Requite. * Now Pontefract in Yorkshire. 
 
Scene ii,] KING RICHARD II. 81 
 
 King is removed to Pomfret, there to be consigned to a living 
 tomb. 
 
 The Scene is now in the residence of the Duke of York, who is in 
 conversation with his high-spirited Duchess : 
 
 Duch. My lord, you told me you would tell the 'rest, 
 When weeping made you break the story off, 
 Of our two cousins coming into London. 
 
 York. Where did I leave ? 
 
 Duch. At that sad stop, my lord. 
 
 Where rude misgoverned hands, from windows' tops, 
 Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. 
 
 York. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bolingbroke, 
 Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
 (Which his aspiring rider seemed to ' know,) 
 With slow, but stately pace, kept-on his course ; 
 While all tongues cried — " God save thee, Boling- 
 broke ! " 
 Tou would have thought, the very 'windows spake ; — 
 So many greedy looks of young and old. 
 Through casements, darted their desiring eyes 
 Upon his visage ; and that all the 'waUs, 
 With painted imagery, had said at once, — 
 " Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke ! " 
 Whilst he, from one side to the other turning. 
 Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
 Bespake them thus, — " I thank you, countrymen : " 
 And thus still doing, thus he passed along. 
 
 Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rode 'he the whilst? / ' 
 
 York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, — ^, 
 
 After a well-graced actor ' leaves the stage, — / 
 
 Are ' idly bent on him that 'enters next, 
 (Thinking his prattle to be tedious ;) / 
 
 Even so, or with much 'more contempt, men's eyes 
 Did scowl on ' Richard : no man cried, — " God save 
 
 him ! " 
 No joyful tongue gave ' him his welcome home ; 
 But 'dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 
 Which, with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — 
 His face still combating with tears and smiles, 
 The badges of his grief and patience, — 
 That, had not Heaven, for some strong purpose, 'steeled 
 The hearts of men, they must perforce have 'melted. 
 And barbarism itself have pitied him. 
 But Heaven 'hath a hand in these events. 
 
82 THE eeader's SHAKESPEAEE. [Acts. 
 
 To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
 
 To 'Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, 
 
 Whose state and honour I for aye allow. [Eieuat. 
 
 After a short interval, we follow the successful Bolingbroke — now 
 to be known as King Henry the Fourth — to his Court at Windsor 
 Castle. Domestic difficulties take the place of political ones : he is 
 making inquiry for his eldest son — now become Prince of Wales : 
 (afterwards to be known as England's great warrior-king, Henry the 
 Fifth.) 
 
 JBol. Can no man tell me of my unthrifty 'son ? 
 
 'T is full three months since I did see him last. 
 If any 'plague hang over us, 't is he. 
 I would to Heaven, my lords, he might be found : 
 Inquire in London, 'mongst the ' taverns there. 
 For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, 
 With unconstrained loose companions. 
 Even such, they say, as beat our watch, and rob : 
 While he, — young, wanton, and effeminate boy, — 
 Takes-on the point of ' honour to support 
 So dissolute a crew. 
 The young Harry Percy — the Hotspur of later history — replies to 
 
 the new King : 
 
 Per. My lord, some two days since, I saw the Prince, 
 And told him of the triumphs held at Oxford. 
 
 Hoi. And what said the gallant? 
 
 Per. His answer was, — he would unto the streets. 
 And from the common'st creature pluck a glove. 
 And wear it as a favour ; and with that 
 He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. 
 
 Bol. As dissolute as desperate ! yet through both 
 I see some sparkles of a ' better hope. 
 Which 'elder days may happily bring forth. [Exeunt. 
 
 The deposed Richard is not without friends. A conspiracy in his 
 favour is plotted to release him. The leaders are — the Duke of Au- 
 merle, the Abbot of Westminster, and the out-spoken Bishop of 
 Carlisle. Their papers fell into the hands of Aumerle's reputed 
 father, the old Duke of York : who more than doubted the fidelity 
 of his wife, and whose ideas of loyalty were now so great that, — 
 notwithstanding his repeated tergiversations, and in spite of the 
 prayers of his Duchess, — he resolves to sacrifice Aumerle, his 
 supposed son, by discovering the plot to the King. 
 
 But the distracted mother also hastens to Windsor, to be in ad- 
 vance of her husband ; and, before the offence had been clearly ex- 
 plained to the King, she supplicates for her son ; and at the same 
 
y 
 
 Scene v.] KING EICHAKD II. 83 
 
 time, the old "father" falls on his knees to frustrate the expected 
 pardon. The Duchess then makes this passionate appeal against 
 her husband : 
 
 Duch. Pleads he in 'earnest ? look upon his face ; 
 
 His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are 'jest ; 
 
 ' His words come from his 'mouth, ours from our breast ; 
 
 ' He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; 
 
 ' We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside : 
 
 'His weary joints would gladly 'rise, I know ; 
 
 ' Our knees shall kneel, till to the ground they grow : 
 
 ' His prayers are full of false ' hypocrisy ; 
 
 ' Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. 
 
 ' Our prayers do ' out-pray ' his ! ... 0, pardon ! pardon ! 
 
 I never ' longed to hear a word till now ; 
 
 Say " Pardon," ' King ; let pity teach thee how : 
 
 The word is 'short, but not so short as 'sweet ; 
 
 No word like " Pardon," for ' Kings' mouths so meet. 
 Yorh. Speak it in French, King : say, Pardonnez-moL 
 
 The entreaties of the mother prevail, and the young Duke is un- 
 conditionally pardoned. But several of his fellow-conspirators are 
 condemned to death ; the Bishop of Carlisle, however, is allowed to 
 be self-exiled. 
 
 Other factions were formed, numerous enough to disturb the 
 tranquillity of the new King ; who, one day, in the presence of Sir 
 
 Pierce Exton, happened to say peevishly — ^ ' 
 
 Will no friend rid me of this living fear ? 
 and, on this suggestion, Exton, hoping to clear the way for his own 
 advancement, hastens, with armed servants, to Pomfret. 
 
 In a Dungeon of Pomfret Castle, the imprisoned King is wearily 
 pining. ,^ y, ^^., 
 
 Rich. I have been studying how I may compare 
 
 This 'prison where I live, unto the 'world : , - n 
 
 And for because the world is 'populous, — i -■ j 
 
 And here is not a creature but myself, — j ,4 C C 
 
 I cannot do it ; yet I '11 hammer it out. a/' y 
 
 Now play ' I, in one person, 'many people, — / c - 
 And none 'contented. Sometimes am I ' King ; 
 Then treason makes me wish myself a 'beggar, — 
 And so I am : Then, crushing penury 
 Persuades me I was ' better when a King ; 
 Then I am kinged 'again ; and, by-and-by. 
 Think that I am 'unkinged by Bolingbroke, — 
 And straight am 'nothing ! — But whate'er I am. 
 Nor I, nor 'any man that but man is, 
 
I - 
 
 84 THE BEADEE's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 5. 
 
 With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased 
 / With ' being nothing. — [musico Music do I hear ? 
 
 Ha, ha ! keep time : — How sour sweet music is 
 / When ' time is broke, and no proportion kept ! 
 
 One of the prison- Warders enters with food : i but the poor King, 
 fearing death at every turn, eyes him suspiciously, as he says : 
 
 Keep. My lord, will 't please you to fall-to ? 
 Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art 'wont to do. 
 Keep. My lord, I dare not : Sir Pierce of Exton, 
 
 Who late came from the King, commands the contrary. 
 Mich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster, and thee ! 
 
 Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [strikes Mm. 
 
 The affrighted Keeper, as he is beaten, cries loudly for help : 
 Exton and his armed followers rush in : B,ichard, strong in valour 
 hut feeble in mind, exclaims : 
 
 Mich. How now ! what means death in this rude assault? 
 Villain ! thine own hand yields 'thy death's instrument. 
 Go thou, and fiU another room in hell. 
 
 He kills one of the ruffians — then another. 
 That hand shaU burn in never-quenching fire, 
 That staggers thus my person. 
 At last he himself is struck down by their murderous leader. 
 
 Exton, thy fierce hand 
 Hath, with the King's blood, stained- the King's own 
 
 land. 
 Mount, mount, my 'soul ! thy seat is up on ' high ; 
 Whilst my gross 'flesh sinks downward, here to die. [du.. 
 
 The death of Richard, though represented by the dramatist as 
 being caused by Sir Pierce of Exton, is by many historians ascribed 
 to starvation — if possible a more reprehensible crime than murder. 
 
 While King Henry is keeping his state in Windsor Castle, sev- 
 eral men, bearing a funeral pall, are seen to approach. One of 
 them stealthily advances to address the new sovereign : 
 
 Kxt. Great King, within this coffin I present 
 Thy buried fear ; herein, all breathless, lies 
 The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, — 
 Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. 
 
 Bol. Exton, I thank thee not ; for thou hast wrought 
 A deed of slander with thy fatal hand, 
 Upon 'my head, and all this famous land. 
 
 JSxt. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. 
 
Scene vl.] KING EICHABD II. 85 
 
 JBol. They 'love not poison that do poison 'need, , ,, i 
 
 Nor do I thee : though I did 'wish him dead, ' ■ "" 
 I ' hate the murderer, love him murdered ! — 
 The guilt of 'conscience take thou for thy labour, 
 But neither my good word, nor princely favour : 
 With Caia go wander through the shades of night, 
 And never show thy head by day nor light. — 
 Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe 
 That ' blood should sprinkle me to make me grow : 
 Come, mourn 'with me for what I do lament, 
 And put-on suUen black, incontinent.'' 
 I '11 make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
 To 'wash this blood off from my guilty hand. — 
 March sadly after ; grace 'my mourning here, 
 In weeping after this untimely bier. CKieunt. 
 
 End of King Eichard the Second. 
 
 ^ Immediately. 
 
PART FIRST. 
 
 The Two Parts of King Henry the Fourth, as well as the subse- 
 quent play of King Henry the Fifth, were dramatic and poetic 
 developments of an old play, very often performed, but not printed 
 till 1598— entitled " The Chronicle Historie of Henry the fift, with 
 his battell fought at Agin Court in France. Togither with Aun- 
 cient PistoU : As it was plaide by the Queenes Maiesties Players." 
 This, however, is evidently a reprint of some earlier version, of 
 which no trace can now be found. Of this second publication (of 
 1598) only one copy is known to exist — in the Bodleian Library at 
 Oxford. Its chief peculiarities are, its unpoetic treatment of bare 
 historical facts, and the introduction of an unimportant character 
 (to whom are assigned only about thirty lines during the whole 
 play,) named Sir John (or Jockey) Oldcastle. 
 
 Shakespeare's First Part of Henry the Fourth was written in 
 1597, and printed in 1598; entered in the Stationers' Register as 
 " A booke entitled the Historie of Henry the Fourth, with his bat- 
 tle at Shrewsbury against Hottspurre of the North, with the con- 
 ceipted Mirth of Sir John Falstaff." Of this play no fewer than 
 five editions were printed before its appearance in the folio of 1623. 
 
 In the first version given to the actors (in 1597) Shakespeare 
 seems to have retained the name of Sir John Oldcastle ; but, hear- 
 ing that the historical Sir John — afterwards better known as Lord 
 Cobham, and burnt at the stake (1417) for his liberal religious 
 opinions — was a man of unblemished character, the dramatist 
 changed the name to Falstaff. — In the earlier portion of this play 
 I page 96) it will be observed that the Prince addresses Sir John 
 as " My old lad of the Castle " — the Jirst reference which Shakes- 
 peare has made to the change of name ; the second is found in the 
 Epilogue, at the end of the Second Part of the play, when the 
 dramatist thus announces his intention of producing another 
 play : " If you be not too much cloyed with fat meat, our humble 
 author will continue the story with Sir John in it * * * where, 
 for anything I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, unless already 
 he be killed with your hard opinion ; for Oldcastle died a martyr, 
 and this is not the man." — The quaint old " Worthy," Thomas 
 Fuller, says in his " Church History," (1656J : " Stage poets have 
 themselves been very bold with, and others very merry at, the 
 memory of Sir John Oldcastle, whom they have fancied a boon 
 companion, a jovial royster, and a coward to boot. The best is. 
 Sir John Falstaff hath relieved the memory of Sir John Oldcastle, 
 and of late is substituted buffoon in his place." 
 
 Shakespeare's object was to give, by these dramatic reproduc- 
 tions of old plays, (aided by his own developments), a. series of 
 connected theatrical pictures, in the Historical Plays of King 
 John, Richard the Second, Henry the Fourth, and Henry the 
 Fifth. 
 
Scene 1.] 
 
 KING HENBY IV PART I. 
 
 87 
 
 The Characters retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 King Henry the Foueth. 
 
 Henet, Prince of "] 
 
 Wales, I Sons to the 
 
 Peince John or | King. 
 Lancastee, J 
 
 Balph Netille, Earl of West- 
 moreland. 
 
 Thomas Peboy, Earl of Wor- 
 cester. 
 
 Henet Peeoy, Ea/rl of Northum- 
 berland. 
 
 Henbt Peecy, surnamed Hot- 
 spue, his Son. 
 
 Abchieald, Earl of Douglas. 
 
 Sir Waltee Blunt. 
 
 Edmund Moetimee, Earl of 
 Ma/rch. 
 
 Owen Glendowee, a Welsh Chief- 
 tain. 
 SiE BiCHAKD Vernon. 
 Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 POINS. 
 
 Gadshill. 
 
 Peto. 
 
 Bardolph. 
 
 Lady Percy, Wife to Hotspur. 
 
 Mistress Quickly, Hostess of the 
 Boar's Head Tavern in East- 
 cheap. 
 
 Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Drawers, 
 Carriers, Travellers, and At- 
 tendants. 
 
 The Action is in various parts of England and Wales, chiefly in 
 or near London ; and, later, at Shrewsbury, in Shropshire. 
 
 The Time extends over about ten months ; beginning at the 
 Battle of Holmedon (or HalidownJ Hill in 1402, and ending with 
 the Battle of Shrewsbury in 1403. 
 
 It will be remembered that, in consequence of the deposition of 
 King Richard the Second — in 1399 — Henry Hereford, or Boling- 
 broke, Duke of Lancaster, ascended the throne by the title of 
 Henry the Fourth ; and that his fears, as a usurper, were speedily 
 allayed by the assassination of the late King in 1400. 
 
 Notwithstanding his apparent security, Henry IV lived in con- 
 stant dread of secret enemies ; — being at war with the Scots — 
 harassed by insurrectionary tumults in many parts of England — 
 uneasy at the irregularities of his son the Prince of Wales— infirm 
 in health, and tortured with remorse : he resolved, therefore, to 
 expiate his sins and make his peace with heaven, by a warlike 
 pilgrimage to the Holy Land : for, although the Crusades were 
 practically ended, there was still a restless desire, with many 
 European princes, to recover Jerusalem — if not all the Holy 
 Land — from the Infidels. 
 
 The First Scene is a Chamber of the Palace in London. King 
 Henry is attended by the Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Walter 
 Blunt, and others. 
 
 JS^. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
 Find we a time for frighted Peace to 'pant -^ 
 
 "^ To breathe after violent exercise. 
 
Ob THE READEB S SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 1. 
 
 Then, say, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 
 
 What yesternight our Council did decree. 
 West. But yesternight, there came, my sovereign liege, 
 
 A post from 'Wales, loaden with 'heavy news ; 
 
 Whose 'worst wa?, — that the noble Mortimer, 
 
 (Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight"" 
 
 Against the irregular and wild Glendower,) 
 
 Was, by the rude hands of that Welshman, taken. 
 IT. -Hen. It seems, then, that the 'tidings of this broil 
 
 Brake off 'our business for the Holy Land"? 
 West. This, matched with other, did, my gracious lord ; 
 
 For, 'more uneven and unwelcome news 
 
 Came from the ' North ; 
 
 And he that brought them, in the very heat 
 
 And pride of their contention, did take horse, — 
 
 Uncertain of the 'issue any way. 
 -K^. Heii. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend. 
 
 Sir Walter Blunt, new-lighted from his horse ; 
 
 And ' he hath brought us smooth and 'welcome news : — 
 
 The Earl of Douglas is 'discomfited 
 
 On Holmedon's plains : Of 'prisoners, Hotspur took 
 
 Mordake, the Earl of Fife, and eldest son 
 
 To beaten Douglas ; and the Earls of Athol, 
 
 Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
 
 And is not this an ' honourable spoil ? 
 
 A gallant 'prize? Ha, cousin, is it not? 
 West. In faith, a conquest for a 'Prince to boast of. 
 JT. Hen. . . . Yea, there thou mak'st me sad ; and mak'st 
 me sin, 
 
 In 'envy, that my Lord Northumberland 
 
 Should be the ' father of so blest a son ; 
 
 Whilst I, by looking on the praise of ' him, 
 
 See riot and 'dis-honour stain the brow 
 
 Of 'my young Harry. — But let him from my thoughts ! — 
 
 What think you, coz. 
 
 Of this young Percy's 'pride ? The prisoners. 
 
 Which he in this adventure hath surprised, 
 
 To his 'own use he keeps ; and sends me word, 
 
 I shall have none, — but Mordake, Earl of Fife. 
 West. This is his 'uncle's teaching ! this is ' Worcester ! 
 JT. Hen. But I have sent for him to 'answer this ; 
 
 And, for this cause, awhile we must 'neglect 
 
 Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. 
 
 Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we 
 
Scene iii.] KING HBNBY IV PART I. 89 
 
 Will hold at Windsor, — so inform the lords. 
 West. I will, my liege. [Eseont. 
 
 The Scene is now in the Council Chamber at Windsor. There 
 are specially present the Karl of Northumberland and his Son 
 Henry Percy, (now surnamed Hotspur.) The Earl of Worcester, 
 brother to Northumberland, and deeply involved in the conduct of 
 the Percies, stands in a prominent position. The scene is disclosed 
 in the midst of an angry altercation : The King speaks : 
 
 IC. Hen. My blood 'hath been too 'cold and temperatej 
 
 Unapt to 'stir at these indignities ; 
 
 I will, from henceforth, rather be 'myself, — 
 
 Mighty, and to be feared, — than my condition 
 
 Which ' hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down. 
 
 And therefore 'lost that title of respect 
 
 Which the ' proud soul ne'er pays, but ' to the proud. 
 Worcester says : 
 War. Our House, my sovereign liege, little deserves 
 
 The 'scourge of greatness to be used on it ; 
 
 And that 'same greatness, too, which our 'own hands 
 
 Have holp to make so portly. 
 jZT. Jlen. Worcester, get thee gone ! for I do see 
 
 Danger and disobedience in thine eye. 
 
 O, sir ! Tour presence is too peremptory ; 
 
 And majesty might never yet endure 
 
 The moody frontier'' of a 'servant-brow. 
 
 You have good leave to ' leave us ; when we 'need 
 
 Tour use and counsel, we shall 'send for you. — [Eiitivor. 
 
 My lord Northumberland, 'you were about to speak. 
 North. Tea, my good lord. 
 
 Those prisoners, in your highness' name demanded, 
 
 Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, 
 
 Were, as he says, not with such strength denied, 
 
 As was delivered to your majesty. 
 
 Hotspur at once endeavors to justify himself. 
 
 Hot. My liege, I did deny 'no prisoners. 
 
 But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
 
 (When I was dry with rage and extreme toil. 
 
 Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,) 
 
 Came there ... a certain Lord, — neat, trimly dressed. 
 
 Fresh as a ' bridegroom ; and his chin, new reaped, 
 
 Showed like a stubble-land at harvest home : 
 
 He was perfumed like a 'mUliner ; 
 
 2 Front or forehead. 
 
90 THE READEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Aotl. 
 
 And, twixt his finger and his thumb, he held 
 A pouncet ''-box, which ever and anon 
 He gave his nose, and took 't away again ; 
 And still he smiled, and talked ; 
 And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by. 
 He called them — untaught knaves ! unmannerly ! 
 To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
 Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
 With many holiday and ' lady terms 
 He questioned 'me ; among the rest, 'demanded 
 My prisoners in your majesty's behalf. 
 I then, all smarting with my wounds, (being galled " 
 To be so pestered with a 'popinjay,*) 
 Out of my grief and my impatience 
 Answered, neglectingly, . . I know not what, — 
 He should, or he should 'not ; — for he made me 'mad 
 To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet. 
 And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman. 
 Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (O, save the mark !) 
 And telling me — " the sovereign'st thing on earth 
 "Was parmaciti^ for an inward bruise ; " 
 And — " that it was great pity, so it was. 
 That villainous saltpetre should be digged 
 Out of the bowels of the harmless earth ; 
 Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed 
 So cowardly ; " and, " but for these 'vile 'guns, 
 He would ' himself have been a 'soldier ! " 
 This bald un jointed 'chat of his, my lord, 
 I answered ' indirectly, as I said ; 
 And, I beseech you, let not 'his report 
 Come current for an 'accusation, 
 Betwixt my love and your high 'majesty. 
 Sir Walter Blunt interposes : 
 
 JBlunt. The circumstance considered, good my lord, 
 Whatever Harry Percy ' then had said — 
 To 'such a person, and in such a 'place. 
 At such a ' time, with all the rest 're-told, — 
 May reasonably 'die ; and never rise 
 To do him 'wrong, or 'any way impeach 
 What 'then he said, — so he 'un-say it 'now. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, 'yet he doth deny his prisoners ; 
 But with proviso and exception," — 
 That we, at our own charge,' shall ransom straight 
 His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer ; 
 
 Perfume. ^ 0. R. with my wounds being cold. *A parrot. ° Spermaceti. 
 
 •* Conditional stipulation. ^ Cost, expense. 
 
Scene iii.] KING HBNEY IV PAKT I. 91 
 
 Who, on my soul, hath wilfully ' betrayed 
 The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
 Against the great magician, bold Glendower, — 
 Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March 
 Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then. 
 Be emptied to redeem a ' traitor home 1 
 Shall we ' buy treason ? — and indent' with fears 
 When they have lost and forfeited ' themselves ? 
 No ! — on the barren mountains let him 'starve ; 
 For I shall never hold that man my 'friend. 
 Whose tongue shall ask me for one 'penny-cost 
 To ransom home 'revolted Mortimer. 
 
 Hot. ' Revolted Mortimer ! 
 
 He 'never did fall off, my sovereign liege. 
 
 But bore' the chance of war: To prove 'that true, 
 
 Needs no more but 'one tongue for all those wounds, — 
 
 Those 'mouthed wounds, — which valiantly he took ; 
 
 When, on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank. 
 
 In single opposition, hand to hand. 
 
 He did confound the best part of an hour 
 
 In changing hardiment with 'great Glendower. 
 
 Three times they breathed,* and three times did they 
 
 drink. 
 Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; 
 Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, 
 Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds. 
 And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank. 
 Blood stained with these 'valiant combatants. 
 Never did base and rotten 'policy" 
 Colour" her working with such deadly 'wounds ; 
 Nor never could the ' noble Mortimer 
 Receive so many, and all willingly : 
 Then let him not be 'slandered with 'revolt. 
 
 IT. Hen. Thou dost 'belie him, Percy! thou beliest him; 
 He 'never did encounter with Glendower. 
 He durst as well have met the ' Devil alone, 
 As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 
 Art thou not ashamed ? But, sirrah, henceforth 
 Let me not hear you 'speak of Mortimer. . . 
 Send me your prisoners with the 'speediest means. 
 Or — you shall hear in such a kind from 'me 
 As will 'displease you. — My Lord Northumberland . . . 
 We license your 'departure, — with your son. — 
 Send us your prisoners, or . . . you '11 ' hear of it. 
 
 [Ex. King, &c. 
 
 ^ Sign an indenture or compact. ^ O. R. by. ^ Stopped to take breath. 
 
 ^ Scheming. ** Conceal. 
 
92 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 The King and his train withdraw. The enraged Hotspur, after a 
 pause, replies to the King's whispered threats : 
 
 Hot. And if the ' Devil come, and 'roar for them, 
 I will 'not send them. — I -will after straight 
 And ' tell him so : for I will ease my ' heart, 
 Although it be with hazard of my ' head. 
 
 North. What, drunk with choler % stay, and pause awhile : 
 
 Here comes your uncle. [Worcester returns. 
 
 Hot. ' Speak of Mortimer ! 
 
 'Zounds ! I 'will speak of him ; .and let my soul 
 Want mercy if I do not ' join with him : 
 Yea, on 'his part, I '11 'empty all these veins, 
 And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust. 
 But I will lift the down-trod ' Mortimer 
 As high i' the air as this unthankful ' King, — 
 As this ingrate and cankered Bolingbroke ! 
 
 North. Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad. 
 
 Hot. He will, forsooth, have 'all my prisoners ; 
 And when I urged the ransom once again 
 Of my wife's brother, ' then his cheek looked 'pale. 
 And on my face he turned an eye of 'death,^ 
 ' Trembling even at the 'name of Mortimer ! 
 
 Wor. I cannot blame him. Was he not proclaimed. 
 By Richard that is dead, the 'next of blood ? 
 
 Hot. What ! soft, I pray you. ' Did King Richard then 
 ' Proclaim my brother, Edmund Mortimer, 
 ' Heir to the crown % 
 
 North. He did ; 'myself did hear it. 
 
 Hot. Nay, ' then I cannot blame his cousin-king. 
 
 That wished him on the barren mountains 'starved. 
 But, shall 't, for shame, be spoken in ' these days, 
 Or fill up chronicles in time to 'come, 
 That men of your nobility and power 
 Did gage^ them both in an 'unjust behalf, 
 (As both of you, Heaven pardon it ! have done) 
 'i?o put 'down Richard, that sweet lovely rose. 
 And 'plant this ' thorn, this canker,* BoUngbroke ? 
 No ! 'yet time serves, wherein you may 'redeem 
 Your banished honours ; therefore, I say, — 
 
 Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more. 
 
 And now I will unclasp a 'secret book. 
 And read you matter deep and dangerous ; 
 As fuU of peril and adventurous spirit, 
 As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud, 
 
 2 An eye menacing death. ^ Pledge. ■* The wild or dog rose. 
 
Scene Mi.] KING HENEY IV — PAET I. 93 
 
 On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 
 
 Hot. If 'he fall in, good-night! — Or sink, or swim! — 
 Send Danger from the east unto the west, 
 So Honour cross it from the north to south, 
 And 'let them grapple! — O, the blood more stirs 
 To rouse a ' lion than to start a ' hare ! 
 By Heaven, methinks, it were an 'easy leap 
 To pluck bright Honour from the pale-faced 'moon ; 
 Or dive into the bottom of the 'deep, 
 Where fathom-line could never touch the ground. 
 And pluck-up drowned Honour by the locks ; 
 So he that doth 'redeem her thence might wear. 
 Without corrival,^ all her dignities : 
 But 'out upon this ' half-faced fellowship I 
 
 Wor. Good cousin, give me audience for a while % 
 
 Sot. I cry you mercy. 
 
 Wor. Those same noble Soots 
 
 That are your prisoners, — 
 
 Hot. I 'U keep them 'aU. 
 
 By Heaven, he shall not have a ' Scot of them ! 
 No, if a Scot would save his 'soul, he shall not ! 
 I '11 'keep them, by this hand ! 
 
 Wor. You start away. 
 
 And lend no ear unto my purposes. — - 
 Those prisoners you 'shaU keep. 
 
 Hot. Nay, I 'will : that 's flat. 
 
 He said, he 'would not ransom Mortimer ; 
 Forbad my tongue to 'speak of Mortimer ; 
 But I will find him when he lies asleep. 
 And in his ear I '11 holla — " Mortimer ! " 
 Nay, I '11 have a 'starling shall be taught to speak 
 Nothing ' but " Mortimer," and give it him, 
 To keep his anger 'stUl in motion. 
 
 North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool 
 Art thou, to break into this 'woman's mood, — 
 Tying thine ear to 'no tongue but thine own ! 
 
 Sot. Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with rods. 
 Nettled, and stung with pismires,' when I hear 
 Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke ! 
 In Richard's time, — what do ye call the place 1 — 
 A plague upon 't !— it is in Glo'stershire ; — 
 'T was where the madcap Duke his uncle kept, — 
 His uncle York, — where I first bowed my knee 
 Unto this King of 'smiles, this Bolingbroke, . . . 
 
 2 Competitor. ^ ^^tg or emmets. 
 
94 THE BEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Actl. 
 
 When you and he came back from Eavenspurg — 
 
 North. At Berkley Castle '^ 
 
 Sot. Berkley <■ — you say true : — 
 
 Why, what a candied^ deal of courtesy 
 This fawning greyhound 'then did proffer me ! 
 Look, — " When his infant fortune came to age," — 
 And, — " Gentle Harry Percy," — and, "Kind cousin ! " — 
 O, the Devil take such cozeners ! — Heaven forgive 
 
 me! — 
 Good uncle, tell your tale ; — for I have done. 
 
 Wor. Nay, if you have ' not, to 't again ; 
 We 11 stay your leisure. 
 
 Hot. I have done, i' ' faith. 
 
 Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners : — 
 Deliver them, — 'without their ransom, — straight ; 
 And make the 'Douglas' son your only mean 
 For powers in Scotland. 
 Meanwhile — you, brother Northumberland, 
 Shall secretly into the bosom creep 
 Of that same noble prelate, Scroop of York, 
 Who only stays but to behold the face 
 Of that occasion that shall bring him'* on. 
 
 Hot. I smell it ! Upon my life, it will do well. 
 It cannot choose but i)e a ' noble plot ! — 
 And then the power of Scotland and of York, — 
 To 'join with Mortimer ? ha ? . . . 
 In faith, it is 'exceedingly well aimed. 
 
 Wor. And 't is no little reason bids us 'speed ! 
 You see, already, how the King begins 
 To make us 'strangers to his looks of ' love. 
 
 Hot. He does, he does : we '11 be revenged on him ! 
 Uncle, adieu. — O, let the hours be 'short, 
 Till fields and blows and groans 'applaud our sport ! (ex. 
 
 At the commencement of the reign of Henry the Fourth, England 
 was in a deplorably misgoverned condition. Robberies were fre- 
 quent, and incorporated thieves infested all the highways. The 
 " swell mob " of those days could boast of having, among the fra- 
 ternity, men of rank, men of title, yea, men of royalty — in the per- 
 son of the Prince of Wales. But we must not forget that his youth- 
 ful follies were counterbalanced by his virtues, his valour, and his 
 victories ; by all of which he was distinguished when he became 
 King Henry the Fifth — the greatest monarch of his race, and one of 
 the most high-minded, manly, and patriotic princes that English 
 History records. 
 
 2 O. B. caudle. = O. B. it. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY IV PART I. 95 
 
 In the character of Sir John Falstaff, we have a full-length por- 
 traiture of an old, hoary, roystering sinner ; in whom are blended 
 debauchery, gluttony, cowardice, and lying. But this morally dis- 
 gusting being becomes, in spite of propriety, irresistibly fascinat- 
 ing. The wit of Falstaff is pointed, rich, racy, and sometimes judi- 
 cially satirical ; occasionally realizing the aphorism that truth is 
 often told in jest. But we enjoy most his extravagant boastings of 
 courage, and his shameless effrontery in cowardice. 
 
 The corpulency, too, of Falstaff increases our amusement ; as if 
 there were some latent affinity between a rotund body and a ready 
 wit. Fat men, we all know, are sometimes lean in understanding, 
 and sterile in imagination ; more apt to snore away existence, than 
 to "keep the table in a roar." Sleek heads and enormous bodies 
 seem intended by nature for the somnolent and successful, among 
 the hippopotami of the human race. 
 
 The Scene before us is at a Tavern in London. Prince Henry 
 and Sir John Falstaff are before us. 
 
 ■Fal. Ha! ha ! ha! Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? 
 
 P. Hen. Thou art so fat witted, with drinking of old sack, 
 and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon 
 benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand 
 'that traly, which thou wouldst truly 'know. "What a 
 plague hast 'thou to do with the time of the day? 
 Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, 
 I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous 
 to demand the time of the 'day. 
 
 Fal. Indeed, you come near me 'now, Hal ; for we, that 
 take purses, go by the 'Moon, and the Seven Stars,' 
 and not by Phoebus,' — he, " that wandering knight so 
 fair." And, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, when thou art 
 'King, — as. Heaven save thy grace^'majesty, I 'should 
 say ; for grace thou wilt have 'none, — 
 
 F. Hen. What! none? 
 
 Fal. No, by my troth ; — not so much as will serve to be 
 prologue to an egg and butter. 
 
 P. Hen. Well! how then? come, roundly,* roundly. 
 
 Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art King, let not 
 us, that are squires of the Night's body, be called 
 thieves of the Day's beauty ; let us be ' Diana's^ forest- 
 ers, gentlemen of the 'shade, minions of the 'Moon; — 
 under whose countenance we . . . 'steal. 
 
 P. Hen. Thou sayest well, and it holds well too ; for the 
 fortune of 'us that are the Moon's men, doth ebb and 
 flow like the 'sea ; being governed, as the sea is, by the 
 
 ^ Collectively called the Plougli, the Dipper, the Seven Stars, or Charles's Wain 
 (the Churl's Waggon) in the Constellation the Great Bear (Ursa Major). 
 
 'TheSuu. 'Candidly. = The Moon. 
 
96 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Moon. As, for proof, now : a purse of gold most res- 
 olutely 'snatched on Monday night, and most disso- 
 lutely 'spent on Tuesday morning ; got with swearing 
 " Lay by ; '" and spent with crying " Bring in ; '" Now, 
 in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder ; and, by- 
 and-by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. 
 
 Fal. Thou sayest true, lad. And is not my Hostess of the 
 Tavern a most sweet wench ? 
 
 F. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the Castle. 
 
 Fal. But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be 'gallows 
 standing in England when thou art King ? and Reso- 
 lution thus fobbed* as it is, with the rusty curb of old 
 Father Antic the Law ? Do not ' thou, when thou art 
 ' King, ' hang a thief. 
 
 F. Hen. No ; ' thou shalt. 
 
 Fal. Shall I ? O rare ! I '11 be a 'brave judge ! 
 
 F Hen. Thou judgest false already. I mean, thou shalt 
 have the 'hanging of the thieves, — and so become a' 
 rare 'hangman. 
 
 Fal. Well, Hal, well ; and in some sort it jumps with my 
 humour — as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell 
 you. 
 
 F. Hen. For obtaining of suits ? * 
 
 Fal. Tea, for obtaining of suits," whereof the hangman 
 hath no ' lean wardrobe. — But, Hal, I would thou and 
 I knew where a commodity of 'good names were to be 
 'bought. An old Lord of the Council rated me the 
 other day in the street, about 'you, sir, — but I marked 
 him not ; and yet he talked 'wisely, and in the 'street 
 too. 
 
 F. Hen. Thou didst well ; for " Wisdom cries out in the 
 streets, and no man regards it." 
 
 Fal. O, thou hast abominable iteration ; and art, indeed, 
 able to corrupt a saint ! Thou hast done much ' harm 
 upon me, Hal, — Heaven forgive thee for it! Before I 
 knew ' thee, Hal, I knew 'nothing ; and 'now am I, (if a 
 man should speak ' truly,) little better than one of the 
 'wicked. I must give over this life, and I 'wUl give it 
 over ; an I do 'not, I am a villain ! 
 
 F. Hen. . . Where shall we take a 'purse to-morrow, Jack? 
 
 Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I '11 make one ; an I do 'not, call 
 me villain, and baffle me. 
 
 P Hen. I see a good 'amendment of life in thee, — from 
 'praying to 'purse-taking. 
 
 ^ That is, " Lay by your arms " — equal to the modern cry of Hands up I 
 ^ That is, Bring in more wine. * Defrauded. " Pleas at law. ^ A prisoner's clothes. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENKY IV — PAET I. 97 
 
 Fal. Why, Hal, 't is my 'vocation, Hal ; 't is no sin for a 
 man to labour in his vocation. cpoins enters. 
 
 F. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. 
 
 Foins. Good morrovr, sweet Hal. — What says Monsieur 
 Kemorse % What says Sir John Sack-and-sugar '? — But, 
 my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, 
 early at Gadshill. There are 'pUgrims going to Canter- 
 bury with rich offerings, and 'traders riding to London 
 with fat purses : Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester : 
 I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap : 
 we may do it as secure as 'sleep. If you will 'go, I will 
 stuff your purses full of crowns : If you will 'not, tarry 
 at home and be hanged ! 
 
 Fal. Hal, wilt 'thou make one 1 
 
 F. Hen. Who, ' I ? I rob ? la thief ? Not I, by my faith. 
 
 Fal. There 's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellow- 
 ship in thee ; nor thou earnest not of the blood-royal, 
 if thou darest not cry " Stand ! " for ten shillings. 
 
 Foins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the Prince and me alone : 
 I will lay him down such 'reasons for this adventure, 
 that he 'shall go. 
 
 Fal. Well, mayst ' thou have the spirit of persuasion, and 
 ' he the ears of profiting ; that what thou speakest may 
 move, and what he hears may be believed ; that the 
 true Prince may, (for recreation sake,) prove a false 
 ' thief ; for the poor abuses of the time want 'counte- 
 nance. Farewell : you shall find me in Eastcheap. 
 
 P Hen. Farewell, thou latter Spring ! Farewell, All- 
 Hallown Summer P [Exurnistafr. 
 
 Foins. Now, my good sweet, honey-lord, ride with us to- 
 morrow: I have a 'jest to execute, that I cannot 
 manage 'alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, 
 shall 'rob those men : Yourself and I will 'not be there ; 
 and, when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob 
 'them, cut this head off from my shoulders. 
 
 F. Hen. But how shall we 'part with them in setting 
 forth 1 
 
 Foins. Why, we will set forth ' before or 'after them, and 
 appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our 
 pleasure to ' fail : and then will they adventure upon 
 the exploit ' themselves : which they shall have no 
 sooner achieved, but 'we '11 set upon ' them. 
 
 F. Hen. Tea ; but 'tis like that they will know us by our 
 horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment. 
 
 2 All Hallow's, (or All Saints') day is the lat of November : (alluding to youthful 
 pranks in old age). 
 
98 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Poivs. Tut ! our 'horses they shall not see ; I '11 tie them iu 
 the wood ; our 'visors we will change ; and I have 
 cases of buckram for the nonce,^ to immask^ our noted 
 'outward garments. 
 
 F. Hen. Tea, — ' but I doubt they will be too ' hard for us ! 
 
 Poins. Well, for 'two of them, 1 know them to be as true- 
 bred 'cowards as ever turned back ; and for the ' third, 
 if he fight longer than he sees reason, I '11 forswear 
 arms. The 'virtue of this jest will be, — the incompre- 
 hensible 'lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when 
 we meet at supper : how ' thirty, at least, he fought 
 with ; what wards, what blows, what extremities he 
 endured ; and in the 'reproof of this, lies the jest. 
 
 p. Hen. Well, I '11 'go with thee : Provide us all things 
 necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap, — 
 there I '11 sup. Farewell. 
 
 Foins. Farewell, my lord. ceih. 
 
 jP. Hen. I know you 'all, and will 'awhile uphold 
 The unyok'd humour of your idleness : 
 Yet herein will I imitate the 'sun ; 
 Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
 To smother up his beauty from the world ; 
 That, when he please 'again to be himself. 
 Being wanted, he may be more wondered at, 
 By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
 Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. 
 If 'all the year were playing holidays. 
 To 'sport would be as tedious as to 'work ; 
 But when they 'seldom come, they 'wished-for come, 
 And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
 So, when this 'loose behaviour I throw 'off. 
 My 'reformation, glittering o'er my ' fault. 
 Shall show more goodly ; and attract more eyes 
 Than that which hath 'no foil to set it off. 
 I '11 so offend, to make offence a 'skill ; 
 ' Redeeming time, when men think ' least I will. [Exit. 
 
 A few hours pass, and the Scene is now in the Yard of an Inn at 
 Rochester. The Carriers are early stirrers, preparing for the rich 
 Travellers' journey to Canterbury. One of the Carriers enters with 
 a lantern in his hand. 
 
 1 Car. Heigh-ho ! An 't be not ' four by the day, I '11 be 
 hanged : Charles' wain* is over the new chimney, and 
 
 ^^ Occasion. ^ conceal. * See note 2d, page 95. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY IV — PAKT I. 99 
 
 yet our horse not packed. What, ostler ! 
 
 Ostler. [ Within.'] Anon, anon. 
 
 Another Carrier enters. 
 
 2 Gar. Peas and beans are as dank' here as a dog, and that 
 is the next way to give poor jades the bots :' this house 
 is turned upside down since ' Eobin ostler died. 
 
 1 Car. Poor fellow ! never joyed since the price of oats rose ; 
 
 it was the 'death of him. 
 
 2 Car. I think, this be the most villainous house in all Lon- 
 
 don-road for 'fleas : I am stung like a tench.* 
 1 Car. Like a tench f there is ne'er a king in Christendom 
 could be 'better bit than I have been. What, ostler 1 
 come away, and be hanged ; come away ! What, ost- 
 ler ! — A plague on thee ! hast thou never an 'eye in thy 
 head ? canst not hear ? An 't were not as good a deed 
 as di-ink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain. 
 Come, and be hanged ! — hast no faith in thee ? 
 Instead of the sleepy Ostler, Gadshill, one of Poins's thievish fra- 
 ternity, enters. 
 
 Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What 's o'clock ? 
 1 Gar. I think it be ' two o'clock. 
 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding in 
 the stable. 
 
 1 Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye : I know a trick worth ' two of 
 
 that, i' faith. 
 Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me ' thine. 
 
 2 Car. Ay, when ? canst tell ? — Lend me thy lantern, quoth 
 
 'a ? — marry, I '11 see thee hanged first. 
 
 Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to 
 London ? 
 
 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant 
 thee. — Come, neighbour Mugs, we 'Ucall up the gentle- 
 men : they will along with company, for they have great 
 
 Charffe. [Exeunt OarrierB. 
 
 We .have before us the road by Gadshill — (O, Dickens !) The 
 Carriers with the gentlemen Travellers are about to proceed to Can- 
 terbury. Poins and the Prince are seeking a place of concealment. 
 Bardolph and Peto are on the watch at a little distance. — Poins 
 says : 
 
 Poins. Come, shelter, shelter : I have removed Palstaff 's 
 horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. 
 Prince Henry replies : 
 JP. Sen. Hush ! Stand close ! 
 
 2 Damp. ^ Worms. ^ A spotted fish 
 
100 THE KEADER's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 The broken-winded Falstaff is heard shouting : 
 Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged ! Poins ! 
 F. Hen. Peace, ye fat rascal ! "What a brawling dost thou 
 
 keep ! 
 Fal. Where 's Poins, Hal ? 
 P Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill : I '11 go 
 
 seek him. [The Prlnce pretends to do so.] 
 
 Fal. I am accursed to rob in that thief's company : the 
 rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know 
 not where. If I travel but four foot by the square 
 further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt 
 not but to die a 'fair death for all this, if I 'scape 
 'hanging for killing that rogue. I have 'forsworn 
 his company hourly any time this two-and-twenty 
 years, and yet I am 'bewitched with the rogue's com- 
 pany. If the rascal have not given me medicines to 
 'make me love him, I '11 be hanged ; it could not be 
 else. — Poins! — Hal! — A plague upon you 'both! — 
 Bardolph ! — Peto ! — I '11 'starve, ere I '11 rob a foot 
 further. Eight 'yards of uneven ground is three- 
 score and ten 'miles afoot with 'me ; and the stony- 
 hearted villains 'know it well enough. A plague 
 upon 't, when 'thieves cannot be true to one 
 another! [a wMsue is heard.: Whew! — A plague light upon 
 you all ! Give me my horse, you rogues ! Give me 
 my horse, and be hanged ! 
 
 P. Hen. [The Prince returns.: Peacc, ye fat fellow ! lie down : lay 
 thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst 
 hear the tread of travellers. 
 
 Ful. Have you any levers to lift me 'up again, 'being down? 
 I '11 not bear mine own flesh so far afoot 'again, for 
 all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague 
 mean ye to colt^ me thus % 
 
 I*. Hen. Thou liest ; thou art 'not colted, thou art 'un- 
 colted. 
 
 Fal. I pr'ythee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good 
 King's son. 
 
 F. Hen. Out, ye rogue ! shall 'I be your 'ostler ? 
 
 Ful. Go, hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters ! 
 If I be ta'en, I '11 'peach for this. An I have not 
 ballads made on you all, let a cup of sack be my 
 'jDoison ! When a jest is so forward, and afoot too, — 
 I hate it ! 
 
 The rich Travellers are approaching. Falstaff is raised by Bar- 
 dolph, and Gadshill enters. 
 
 " Befool. 
 
Scene il.] KING HENEY IV PART I. 101 
 
 Gads. Stand! 
 
 Fal. So I do, against my will. 
 
 Gads. Case ye, case ye : on with your vizards : there 's money 
 
 of the King's coming down the hill ; 't is going ia 
 
 the King's exchequer. 
 Fal. You lie, ye rogue : 't is going to the King's ' Tavern. 
 F. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane ;. 
 
 Ned Poins and I will walk ' lower : if they 'scape from 
 
 'your encounter, then they light on 'us. 
 I'eto. How many be there of ' them ? 
 Gads. Some eight, or ten. 
 Fal. 'Zounds, will they not rob 'us ? 
 I'. Hen. "What, a coward, Sir John Paunch ? 
 Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather ;. 
 
 but yet no 'coward, Hal ! 
 F. Hen. Well, we leave that to the 'proof. 
 Foins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge : 
 when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. 
 
 Farewell, and stand fast. [Exeunt prince ana Polos. 
 
 Fal. Now, my masters, " Happy man be his dole," say I : 
 every man to his business. 
 The purse-weighty Travellers enter : the Thieves at once fall on 
 them. Falstaff keeps out of the way, but shouts to the others : 
 
 Fal. Stand ! strike ! down with them ! cut the villains' 
 throats ! Ah, caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves ! they 
 hate us youth : Down with them ! fleece them ! On^ 
 bacons, on ! What, ye knaves, 'young men must live. 
 You are 'grand-jurors, are ye % we '11 jure ye, i' faith. 
 The Travellers are robbed, bound, and driven away by Falstaff 
 
 and his accomplices. — Prince Henry and Poins return, disguised in 
 
 buckram suits : 
 
 P. Hen. The thieves have bound the true men ! Now 
 could thou and I rob the ' thieves, and go merrily to 
 London, it would be argument for a 'week, laughter 
 for a 'month, and a good jest for ' ever ! 
 
 Foins. Stand close ; I hear them coming. [Thej retire. 
 
 The Thieves return laden with their plunder. Falstaff joyously 
 
 says : 
 
 Fal. Come, my masters ! let us 'share, and then to horse 
 
 before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two 
 
 arrant cowards, there 's no equity stirring : there 's no 
 
 more valour in that Poins than in a wild duck. 
 
 As the Thieves are sharing, the disguised Buckram-men rush on 
 
 them : 
 
102 THE KEADEk's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 2. 
 
 P. Hen. Your money ! 
 Poins. Villains ! 
 
 The Prince and Poins set upon them. The Thieves all run 
 away, and Falstaff, after a blow or two, runs away too. The Prince 
 seizes the booty, and laughs heartily at his success. 
 
 P- Hen. Got with much ease ! Now merrily to horse : 
 The thieves are scattered, and possessed with fear 
 So strongly, that they dare not meet each other ; 
 Each takes his fellow for an 'officer. 
 Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, 
 And lards the lean earth as he walks along : 
 Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
 
 Poins. How the rogue roared ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! [Exeum. 
 
 The military preparations, hostile to the King, of the Earl of 
 Northumberland and his friends, have, in the meantime, been 
 carried on, but with secrecy; safety often depends on caution as 
 well as action. Hotspur is again before us, in his residence at 
 Warkworth Castle, perusing a letter which has somewhat dis- 
 turbed him — when he is addressed by his wife. Lady Percy : but he 
 is too cautious to entrust a 'woman with his momentous secret. 
 He reads: 
 
 — ^\But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well con- 
 tented to be there, in respect of the 'love J bear your 
 House.'^ — He 'could be contented, — why is he 'not then ? 
 In respect of the love he bears our House ? — he shows 
 in this, he loves his own ' barn better than he loves our 
 house. Let me see some more. "The purpose you 
 undertake, is dangerous ; " — Why, that 's certain : 't is 
 dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink ; but I tell 
 you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, 'danger, we pluck 
 this flower, 'safety. "The purpose you undertake is 
 dangerous/ the friends you have natned, uncertain ; 
 the time itself unsorted ; and your wliole pilot too light 
 for the counterpoise of so great an 'opiposition.^'' — 'Say 
 you so % say you 'so ? 1 say unto 'you again, you are a 
 shallow, cowardly 'hind, — and you 'lie ! What a lack- 
 brain is this ! Our plot is as good a plot as ever was 
 laid ; our friends true and constant : a good plot, good 
 friends, and full of expectation ; an 'excellent plot, 
 'very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is 
 this ! Why, my Lord of ' York commends the plot, and 
 the general course of the action. An I were now by 
 this rascal, I could ' brain him with his lady's ' fan. Is 
 
Sceueiii.] KING HENEY IT PART I. 103 
 
 there not my father, my uncle, and myself? Lord 
 Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glen- 
 dower ? Is there not, besides, the Douglas 1 Have I 
 not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth 
 of the next month? and are they not, some of them, 
 set forward 'already ? What a 'pagan rascal is this ! 
 an infidel ! Ha ! you shall see now, in very sincerity 
 of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open 
 all our proceedings. ... 0,1 could 'divide myself, and go 
 to bufi'ets, for moving 'such a dish of skimmed milk 
 with so 'honourable an action! Hang him! 'let him 
 tell the King ! We are prepared. I wUl set forward 
 ' to-night. 
 
 Lady Percy enters. 
 
 How now, Kate ? I must leave you, within these two 
 hours. 
 
 Lady. O, my good lord, why art thou thus 'alone ? 
 Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth ? 
 In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched, 
 And heard thee murmur tales of iron 'wars ; 
 Cry, " Courage !— To the ' field ! " And thou hast talked 
 Of prisoners ransomed, and of soldiers slain. 
 And 'all the occurrents of a heady fight. 
 Some ' heavy business hath my lord in hand ; 
 And I must ' know it, else he loves me not. 
 Hear you, my lord ? 
 
 Hot. T\Tiat sayest thou, my 'lady? 
 
 Lady. TMiat is it carries you away ? 
 
 Hot. Why, my horse, my love ; my horse. 
 
 Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape ! 
 
 A ' weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 
 
 As 'you are tossed with. But in 'faith I '11 know — 
 
 I '11 know your ' business, Harry, that I 'will ! 
 
 I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir 
 
 About his title ; and hath sent for you 
 
 To ' line'^ his enterprise. But if you go — 
 
 Hot. So far 'afoot, I shall be weary, love. 
 
 Lady. Come, come, you paraquito,' 'answer me : 
 In faith I '11 break thy little finger, Harry, 
 An if thou wilt not 'tell me all things 'true. 
 
 Hot. Away, you trifler ! — Love ? — I love thee 'not, 
 I care not for thee, Kate : this is no world 
 To play with mammets,* and to tilt with lips : 
 We must have ' bloody noses, and cracked crowns, 
 
 ^strengthen. ^^ Paroquet, a small parrot. ■* Puppets. 
 
104 THE EEADEK's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 And pass them, 'current too. — Odd 's me ! my horse ! — 
 What say'st thou, Kate *? what wouldst thou have with 
 me? 
 
 Lady. Do you 'not love me ? do you not, 'indeed ? 
 Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no? 
 
 Hot. Come, wilt thou see me 'ride ? 
 
 And when I am o' horseback, I will swear 
 I love thee 'infinitely. But hark you, Kate : — 
 I must not have you henceforth 'question me 
 Whither I go, nor reason whereabout : 
 Whither I 'must, I must ; and, to conclude. 
 This 'evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. 
 I know you 'wise ; but yet no ' further wise 
 Than Harry Percy's 'wife : constant you are, 
 But yet a 'woman : and for 'secrecy, 
 No lady closer ;■ — for I well believe 
 Thou wilt not 'utter what thou dost not 'know, — 
 And 'so far 'will I trust thee, gentle Kate ! 
 
 Lady. How ! 'so far ? 
 
 Hot. Not an inch ' further. But now hark you, Kate ! 
 Whither I go, thither shall 'you go too ; 
 To-day will ' I set forth, to-morrow 'you. 
 Will this 'content you, Kate ? 
 
 Lady. It must, of force. [Exeum. 
 
 The Prince and Poins reach the Boar's Head Tavern in East- 
 cheap, before the out-witted Falstaff and his associates. Overcome 
 with mirth, the Prince, when he hears of Falstaff s arrival, addresses 
 Poins : 
 
 F Hen. Call in ribs ! call in tallow ! — Ah, here they come — 
 the whole four of them ! 
 Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto enter, followed by Francis 
 with wine. The merry Poins says : 
 
 Poins. Welcome, Jack ! — Where hast thou been ? 
 
 Fal. ... A plague of all 'cowards, I say, and a 'vengeance 
 too ! marry, and amen !^Give me a cup of sack, boy. — 
 Ere I lead this life 'long, I'll sew nether-stocks, and 
 mend them, and foot them too. A plague of 'all cow- 
 ards! — Give me a cup of sack, rogue. — Is there no 
 'virtue extant ? [Drinks 
 
 JP. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan'' kiss a dish of but- 
 ter ? — pitiful-hearted Titan — that melted at the sweet 
 tale of the sun ! If thou didst, then behold that com- 
 pound! 
 
 Fal. You rogue, here's 'lime in 'this sack too: There is 
 nothing 'but roguery to be found in villainous man. 
 
 " 2 A Dame applied to the Sun by Virgil and Ovid. 
 
Scene iv.] KING HENET IV — PABT I. 105 
 
 Yet a 'coward is 'worse than a cup of sack with lime in 
 it, — a 'villainous coward ! — Go thy ways, old Jack ! die 
 when thou wilt, if manhood, 'good manhood, be not 
 forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten 
 herring. There live not 'three good men 'unhanged in 
 England ; and one of them is fat, and grows old : 
 Heaven help the while ! A bad world, I say. I would 
 I were a 'weaver ; I could sing psalms — or anything. 
 A plague of 'all cowards, I say still. 
 
 P. Hen. How now, wool-sack ? what mutter you ? 
 
 Fal. A King's son ? If I do not beat thee 'out of thy king- 
 dom with a dagger of 'lath, and drive aU thy subjects 
 afore thee like a flock of wild 'geese, I 'U never wear 
 hair on my face more. ' Tou Prince of Wales ! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, you round man ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Fal. Axe you not a 'coward ? answer me to that ; and ' Poins 
 there ? 
 
 Poins. 'Zounds, ye fat-paunch, an ye call 'me coward, I '11 
 'stab thee. 
 
 Fal. ' I caU thee coward ! I 'U see thee hanged ere I 'call 
 thee coward ; but ... I would give a thousand pound 
 I could 'run as fast as thou canst. You are straight 
 enough in the shoulders ; you care not who sees your 
 ' back : Call you that backing of your friends ? A 
 plague upon 'such backing ! give 'me them that will 
 ' face me. — Give me — a cup of sack : — I am a rogue if 
 I drunk to-day. 
 
 P. Hen. villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou 
 drunk'st 'last. 
 
 Fal. All's one for that. [He drinks.: A plague of all cowards, 
 stiU. say I. 
 
 P. Hen. What 's the matter ? 
 
 Fal. What's the matter ? there be four of us here have 
 ta'en a thousand pound this morning. 
 
 P. Hen. Where is it. Jack ? where is it ? 
 
 Fal. Where is it ? taken from us it is : a ' hundred upon 
 poor ' four of us. 
 
 P. Hen. What, a hundred, man ? 
 
 Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a 'dozen 
 of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by 'mira- 
 cle ! I am 'eight times thrust through the doublet ; 
 ' four through the hose ; my buckler cut through and 
 through ; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, — ecce sig- 
 num!^ I never dealt better since I was a man : all 
 
 ' Behold the proof. 
 
106 THE KEADEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 would not do. A plague of all cowards ! — Let ' them 
 
 speak : if they speak more or less than ' truth, they 
 
 are villains and the sons of darkness. 
 F Sen. Speak, sirs: how was itf 
 Gads. We four set upon some 'dozen, — 
 Fal. ' Sixteen, at least, my lord. 
 Gads. And bound them. 
 jPeto. No, no ; they were 'not bound. 
 Fal. You rogue, they 'were bound, every man of them ; or 
 
 I am a Jew else an — 'Ebrew Jew. 
 Gad*. As we were sharing, some six or seven ' fresh men 
 
 set upon us, — 
 Fal. And unbound the 'rest ; and then come in the 'others. 
 F. Sen. What, fought ye with them 'alH 
 Fal. All % I know not what 'ye call all ; but if 'Ifought not 
 
 with ' fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish : if there 
 
 were not two- or three-and-fifty upon poor old Jack, 
 
 then am I no two-legged creature. 
 F. Sen. Pray Heaven you have not 'murdered some of 
 
 them. 
 Fal. Nay, that 's 'past praying for : ' I have peppered ' two 
 
 of them ; ' two, I am sure, I have 'paid ; two rogues in 
 
 buckram suits. — I tell thee what, Hal, — if I tell thee a 
 
 lie, 'spit in my face, call me 'horse ! Thou knowest my 
 
 old ward,' — here I lay, and thus I bore my point. 
 
 ' Four rogues in buckram let 'drive at me, — 
 F. Sen. What, ' four % thou saidst but ' two, even now. 
 Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four. 
 Foins. Ay, ay, he said four. 
 Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at 'me. 
 
 I made me no more ado, but took all their 'seven points 
 
 in my target, thus. 
 P. Sen. Seven % why, there were but 'four, even 'now. 
 Fal. In buckram ? 
 Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
 Fal. Seven, by these hilts ; or I am a villain else ! Dost 
 
 thou hear me, Hal % 
 P. Sen. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. 
 Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These 'nine 
 
 in buckram, that I told thee of, — their points being 
 
 broken, — began to give me ground ; but I followed me 
 
 close, came-in foot and hand ; and, with a thought, 
 
 'seven of the eleven I 'paid ! 
 P Sen. O monstrous ! 'eleven buckram men grown out of 
 
 'two! 
 
 ^ Sword guard. 
 
Scene Iv.] KING HENEY IV — PART I. 107 
 
 Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten 
 knaves, in Kendal-green," came at my back and let 
 drive at 'me ; — for it was so dark, Hal, that thou 
 couldst not see thy hand. 
 
 P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them, — 
 gross as a 'mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay- 
 brained, knotty-pated fool ! thou greasy tallow-keech, — 
 
 Fat. What ! art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth 
 the 'truth? 
 
 P. Hen. Why, how 'couldst thou ' know these men in Ken- 
 dal-green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy 
 ' hand % Come, tell us your 'reason : what sayest thou 
 to this? 
 
 Poins. Come, your reason. Jack ; your reason. 
 
 Fal. What, upon 'compulsion? No; were I at the strap- 
 pado," or 'all the racks in the world, I would not tell 
 you on compulsion. Give you a reason on 'compulsion ? 
 No ! — If 'reasons were as plenty as ' blackberries, I 
 would give 'no man a reason upon 'compulsion, I ! 
 
 P., Sen. I '11 be no longer guilty of this sin. — This sanguine 
 coward, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of 
 flesh— 
 
 Fal. Away, you starveling ! you elf-skin ! you dried neat's- 
 tongue ! you stock-fish, — 0, for breath to utter what is 
 like thee ! — you tailor's-yard ! you sheath ! you bow- 
 case ! you vile standing tuck, — 
 
 P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it 'again ; and 
 when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear 
 me speak but this. We ' two saw you ' four set-on four ; 
 you bound them, and 'were masters of their wealth. — 
 Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. — Then 
 did we 'two set-on you 'four, and, with a 'word, out- 
 faced you from your prize — and ' have it ! yea, and can 
 'show it you here in the house ! — And, P'alstaff, you car- 
 ried your fat sides aways as nimbly, with as quick dex- 
 terity, and 'roared for mercy, and stiU 'ran and roared, 
 as ever I heard bull-calf. What a 'slave art thou to 
 ' hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say, it was 
 in ' fight ! What trick, what device, what starting-hole 
 canst thou 'now find out, to ' hide thee from this open 
 and apparent shame ? 
 
 Fal. . . . O, ha ! ha ! ha ! I ' knew ye — as well as he that 
 made ye ! Why, hear ye, my masters. Was it for 'me 
 to kill the Heir-apparent ? Should ' I turn upon the 
 
 = Green woollen cloth manufactured at Kendal, 'Westmoreland. ^ An old 
 
 military torture. 
 
108 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 true Prince ? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as 
 Hercules ; but beware 'instinct ! the 'lion will not touch 
 the ' true Prince. Instinct is a great matter ; I 'was a 
 coward — on instinct. I shall think the better of myself 
 and thee during my life ; I, for a valiant lion, and ' thou, 
 for a true Prince. But, lads, I am glad you have the 
 money ! — Hostess, clap-to the doors : Watch to-night, 
 pray to-morrow. — Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, 
 'all the titles of good fellowship come to you ! What ! 
 shall we be merry ? shall we have a play extempore ? 
 
 P. Sen. Content ; — and the argument" shall be — thy run- 
 ning away ! 
 
 JFal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. 
 The Hostess enters hastily. 
 
 Host. O, my lord the Prince, — 
 
 P. Hen. How now, my lady the Hostess ? what say'st thou 
 to me? 
 
 Host. Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the Court at 
 door, would speak with you : he says, he comes from 
 your father. 
 
 P. Hen. Give him as much as will make him a royaP man, 
 and send him back again to my 'mother. 
 
 Fal. What 'manner of man is he 1 
 
 Host. An 'old man. 
 
 Fed. What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight 1 — 
 Shall ' I give him his answer ? 
 
 P. Hen. Pr'ythee, do. Jack. 
 
 Fal. 'Faith, and I '11 send him packing. [Edt 
 
 P. Hen. Now, sirs : — by 'r lady, you fought fair ; — so did 
 'you, Peto ; — so did 'you, Bardolph : 'you are lions too ; 
 'you ran away upon ' instinct ; 'you will not touch the 
 true Prince, no ; — fie ! 
 
 Bard. 'Faith, I ran when I saw 'others run. 
 
 P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's sword 
 so hacked? 
 
 Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger, and said he 
 would make you believe it was done in ' fight ; and 
 persuaded 'us to do the like. 
 
 Bard. Tea, and to tickle our noses with spear -grass, to 
 make them bleed ; and then to beslubber our garments 
 with it, and to swear it was the blood of true men. I 
 did that I did not this seven years before, — I blushed, 
 to hear his monstrous devices. 
 
 P. Hen. Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. 
 
 = Subject. 'Drunk. 
 
Scene iv.] KING HENEY IV — PART I. 109 
 
 [luiuna F.i.wr.] How DOW, my sweet creature of bombast? 
 — How long is 't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine 
 own knee ? 
 
 Fal. My own knee ? When I was about ' thy years, Hal, I 
 was not an eagle's talon in the waist ; I could have 
 crept into any alderman's thumb-ring. A plague of 
 sighing and grief ! it ' blows a man up, like a bladder. 
 There 's villainous news abroad : here was Sir John 
 Bracy from your father ; you must to the Court in the 
 morning. That same mad fellow of the north, Percy ; 
 and he of Wales, — what, a plague, call you him % — 
 
 Poins. O, Glendower. 
 
 Fal. Owen, Owen, — the same ; — -and his son-in-law, Morti- 
 mer ; and old Northumberland ; and that sprightly 
 Scot of Scots, Douglas, — that runs o' horseback up a 
 hill perpendicular, — 
 
 p. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol 
 kills a sparrow flying % 
 
 Fal. Tou have hit it. 
 
 P. Sen. So did he 'never the sparrow. 
 
 Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him ; he wiU 
 not 'run. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art ' thou, then, to 'praise him 
 so for running ? 
 
 Fal. O' horseback, ye cuckoo ! but, afoot, he wiU not ' budge 
 a foot. 
 
 P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon 'instinct. 
 
 Fal ... I grant ye, upon instinct. — But, teU me, Hal, art 
 thou not horribly afeard, thou being heir-apparent? 
 Could the world pick thee out three such enemies 
 again — as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and 
 that devil Glendower °i Doth not thy blood ' thrill at it ? 
 
 P. Hen. Not a whit, i' faith ; I lack some of thy ' instinct. 
 
 Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly 'chid to-morrow, when 
 thou comest to thy father : if thou love me, 'practise 
 an answer. 
 
 P. Hen. Do ' thou stand for my father,, and examine me — 
 upon the particulars of my life. 
 
 Fal. Shall I ? content : — This chair shall be my state, this 
 dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. Well, 
 an the fire of grace be not quite 'out of thee, 'now 
 thou shalt be moved. — Give me a cup of sack, to make 
 mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have 
 'wept ; for I must speak in 'passion, and I will do it in 
 King Cambyses' ^ vein. [Drinks. 
 
 ^ A bombastic character in an old play (Cambyses King of Persia,) by Tiiomas 
 Preston. 
 
110 THE BEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 P- Hen. Well, here is my leg. [Kneeling to the mook KiDg 
 
 The amused Hostess laughs herself into tears. 
 
 Fal. And here is my speech. — Stand aside, nobility. 
 Host. O, this is excellent sport, i' faith ! 
 
 King Falstaff addresses the overcome Hostess : 
 
 Fal. Weep not, sweet Queen ! for trickling tears are vain. 
 
 Host. O, the father ! how he holds his countenance ! 
 
 Fal. For Heaven's sake, lords, convey my tristful Queen ; 
 For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. 
 
 Host. O, rare ! he doth it as like one of these players as 
 ever I see. 
 
 Fal. Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain. . . 
 Ah — Harry ! I do not only marvel where thou spendest 
 thy time, but also how thou art 'accompanied : for 
 though the camomile, the more it is trodden on the 
 faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the 
 sooner it wears. That thou art 'my son, I have partly 
 thy mother's word, partly my own opinion ; but chiefly 
 a villainous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging 
 of thy nether lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou 
 be son to me, why art thou so pointed at ? There is 
 a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it 
 is known to many in our laud by the name of 'pitch : 
 this pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth 'defile ; so 
 doth the 'company thou keepest ; for, Harry, now I do 
 not speak to thee in 'drink, but in ' tears ; not in 'pleas- 
 ure, but in 'passion ; not in 'words only, but in 'woes 
 also : — And yet, there 'is a virtuous man, whom I have 
 often noted in thy company, — but I know not his 
 name. 
 
 P. Hen. What 'manner of man, an it like your majesty ? 
 
 Fal. A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent ; of a 
 cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage ; 
 and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by 'r lady, in- 
 clining to threescore : And now I remember me, his 
 name is Falstafi^ : if ' that man should be ' lewdly given, 
 he deceiveth me ; for, Harry, I see 'virtue in his looks : 
 ' Him ' keep with, the rest ' banish. — And tell me now, 
 thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been 
 this month ? 
 
 P. Hen. . . . Dost 'thou speak like a 'King? — Do thou stand 
 for 'me, and 'I '11 play my father. 
 
 Fal. 'Depose me? If thou dost it half so gravely, so 
 
Scene iv, J KING HENKY IV PAET I. Ill 
 
 majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by 
 the heels. 
 
 P. Hen. "Well, here I am set. 
 
 Fal. And here I stand. — Judge, my masters. 
 
 P. Sen. . . Now, Harry ! ' Whence come you ? 
 
 Fal. My noble lord, from Eastcheap. 
 
 P. Sen. The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. 
 
 Fal. But, my lord, they are 'false ! — nay, I '11 'tickle ye for 
 a young Prince, i' faith. 
 
 P. Sen. ' Swearest thou, ungracious boy % Thou art vio- 
 lently carried 'away from grace : There is a 'devU haunts 
 thee, in the likeness of a fat old 'man, — a ' tun of man 
 is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that 
 trunk of humours, that swoln parcel of dropsies, that 
 huge bombard of sack, that reverend Vice, that grey 
 iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years ? 
 Wherein is he 'good, but to taste sack and drink it ? 
 wherein neat and 'cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat 
 it ? wherein cunning, but in 'craft ? wherein crafty, but 
 in 'villainy ? wherein villainous, but in 'all things ? 
 wherein worthy, but in 'nothing ? 
 
 Fal. ' Whom means your grace ? 
 
 P. Sen. That vUlainous, abominable misleader of youth, 
 Falstaff! — that old white-bearded Satan! 
 
 Fal. My lord, the man I ' know. 
 
 P. Sen. I know thou dost. 
 
 Fal. But to say I know more harm in 'him than in 'myself, 
 were to say 'more than I know. That he is 'old, — the 
 more the pity, — his white hairs do witness it. If sack 
 and sugar be a 'fault. Heaven help the 'wicked? If to 
 be old and merry be a 'sin, then many an old host that 
 I know is condemned: if to be fat be to be 'hated, 
 then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be 'loved. No, my 
 good lord ; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish 
 Poins ; but for sweet Jack Falstaff, ' kind Jack Falstaff, 
 ' true Jack Falstaff, 'valiant Jack Falstaff, — and there- 
 fore 'more valiant, being, as he is, 'old Jack Falstaff, — 
 banish not ' him thy Harry's company ? Banish plump 
 ' Jack, and banish all the 'world ! 
 While the lookers-on are enjoying the mock representation of 
 
 royalty, a knocking is heard ; and the Hostess and others run to the 
 
 door. Bardolph is the first to return. 
 
 Bard. O, my lord, my lord ! the Sheriff, with a most mon- 
 strous watch," is at the door : they are come to search 
 the house. Shall I let them in ? 
 
 ^ Body of watchmen. 
 
112 THE KEADER's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? 'Deny the Sheriff; if not, 'let 
 
 him enter : if I become not a cart as well as another 
 
 man, a plague on my bringing up ! 
 F Hen. Go, Jack, hide thee behind the arras. 'Now, my 
 
 masters, for a true face, and good conscience. 
 Fal. Both which I ' have had ; but theu- date is out, and 
 
 therefore I '11 hide me. [ExitFaistaff 
 
 The Sheriff and one of the Carriers enter.' 
 
 F. Hen. Now, master Sheriff, what 's your wiU with me ? 
 Sher. First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry 
 
 Hath followed certain men unto this house. 
 F. Hen. 'What men? 
 Sher. 'One of them is 'well known, my gracious lord, — 
 
 A gross fat man. 
 Car. As fat as butter. 
 
 F. Hen. The man, I do assure you, is not ' here ; 
 
 For I myself at this time have 'employed him ; . . . 
 
 And, Sheriff, I engage my word to thee, 
 
 That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time. 
 
 Send him, to answer ' thee, or 'any man. 
 
 For anything he shall be charged withal : 
 
 And so, let me entreat you leave the house. 
 
 He shall be 'answerable ; and so, farewell. 
 Sher. Good night, my noble lord. 
 F. Hen. I think it is good-'morrow, is it not ? 
 Sher. Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. 
 The Sheriff and Carrier go away. 
 
 F. Hen. This oUy rascal is known as well as Paul's.'' Go, 
 call him forth, Poins. 
 
 Poins. Falstaff ! — Fast asleep behind the arras, — and snort- 
 ing like a horse. 
 
 F. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his 
 pockets. [PoiD. searches.) What hast thou found ? 
 
 Foins. Nothing but papers, my lord. 
 
 F. Hen. Read them. 
 
 Poins. [EradB.] " Item, A capon . . .2s. id. 
 
 Item, sauce, 4t?. 
 
 Item, Sack, two gallons ... 5s. ^d. 
 
 Item, Anchovies, and Sack after supper . 2s. Qd. 
 Item, Bread . . . . .a half-penny." 
 
 F. Hen. O monstrous ! but one half-penny worth of ' bread 
 to this intolerable deal of 'sack ! — What there is 'else, 
 keep close ; we '11 read it at more advantage. We 
 
 ^ Catbedral in Londou. 
 
Act 3, Scene i.] KING HENRY IV^PART I. 113 
 
 must 'all to the wars, and thy place, Poins, shall be 
 honourable. I '11 procure this fat rogue a charge of 
 ' foot ; and I know his death will be a march of twelve- 
 score yards. The money shall be paid back again with 
 advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning ; and 
 so, good morrow, Poins. 
 Jr'oins. Good morrow, good my lord. [Eienm. 
 
 We have now before us a room in the Archdeacon's house, at 
 Bangor, North Wales, and we overhear in debate the fiery Hot- 
 spur, the cautious Worcester, the gallant Mortimer, and the wily, 
 superstitious Welsh magician, bold Owen Glendower, whose 
 Welsh boastings are contrasted with Hotspur's merry rebukes. 
 There is divided counsel among them. Mortimer speaks : 
 
 Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure. 
 And our induction' full of prosperous hope. 
 
 Glend. Here is the map. Sit, good cousin 'Hotspur, 
 For by ' that name, as oft as Lancaster 
 Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale ; and, with 
 A rising sigh, he wisheth you in ' Heaven. 
 
 Hot. And you in 'hell, — as often as he hears 
 Owen Glendower spoke of. 
 
 Glend. I cannot blame him ; for, at my nativity. 
 The frame and huge foundations 
 Of the earth shook like a coward. 
 
 Hot. Why, so it would have done 
 
 At the same season, if your mother's cat 
 
 Had kittened, though yourself had ne'er been ' born. 
 
 Glend. I say, the earth 'did shake when I was born. 
 
 Hot. And 'I say, the earth was not of 'my mind. 
 If you suppose, as ' fearing you, it shook. 
 
 Glend. The heavens were aU on fire ! the earth did tremble ! 
 
 Hot. O, then the earth shook to 'see the heavens on fire. 
 And 'not in fear of your nativity. 
 
 Glend. Cousin, of 'many men 
 
 I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave 
 To teU you once again, — that, at my birth, 
 The front of heaven was ' full of fiery shapes ; 
 The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds 
 Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. 
 These signs have marked me 'extra-ordinary ; 
 And all the courses of my ' life do show 
 ' I am not in the roll of 'common men. 
 
 ^ Beginning. 
 
114 THE EBADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Hot. I think, . . . there is no man speaks better Welsh. — 
 
 So I '11 to dinner. 
 Mart. Peace, cousin Percy ; you will make him mad. 
 Glend. I can call Spirits from the vasty deep. 
 Hot. Why, so can I, or so can 'any man ; 
 
 But will they 'come when you do call for them? 
 Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the 
 
 'Devil. 
 Hot. And I can teach ' thee, coz, to 'shame the Devil. 
 
 If thou ' have power to raise him, bring him ' hither. 
 
 And I '11 be sworn, ' I 've power to 'shame him ' hence : 
 
 0, while you live, tell 'truth, and 'shame the Devil. 
 Mart. Come, come ! no more of this unprofitable chat. 
 Glend. Well, here 's the map. Shall we 'divide our right, 
 
 According to our three-fold order ta'en ? 
 Mart. The Archdeacon ' hath divided it already. 
 
 Into three limits ; — and, dear coz, to you 
 
 This portion northward, lying off from Trent. 
 Hot. Methinks 'my moiety does not equal 'yours. 
 
 See, how this river comes me cranking' in, 
 
 And cuts me from the best of all my land ; 
 
 It shall not wind with such a deep indent. 
 Glend. Not wind ? it 'shall, it 'must ; you see, it 'doth. 
 
 I will not have it altered. 
 Hot. 'Will not you? 
 
 Glend. No, nor 'you 'shall not. 
 
 Hot. Who shall say me 'nay? 
 
 Glend. Why, that will I. 
 Hot. Let me 'not understand you then : 
 
 Speak it in 'Welsh. 
 Glend. I can speak 'English, lord, as well as you. 
 
 For I was trained up in the English 'Court ; 
 
 Where, being but young, I framed to the harp 
 
 Many an English ditty, lovely well, — 
 
 A virtue that was never seen in 'you. 
 Hot. Marry, I 'm 'glad of it with all my heart. 
 
 I had rather be a 'kitten, and cry — "mew," 
 
 Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ! 
 
 I 'd rather hear a wheel grate on the axle ; 
 
 And ' that would set my teeth nothing on edge. 
 
 Nothing, so much as 'mincing 'poetry : — 
 
 'T is like the 'forced gait of a shuffling 'nag ! 
 Glend. Come, you shall 'have the river turned. 
 Hot. I do not care : I '11 'give 'thrice so much land 
 
 2 Running in curves. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY IV — PART I. 115 
 
 Away, to any well-deserving friend ; 
 
 But in the way of ' bargain, mark ye me, 
 
 I '11 cavil on the ninth part of a ' hair. 
 
 Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone? 
 
 Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by 'night. 
 
 1 11 tell your wife of your departure hence. [R^euni. 
 
 Mort. Fie, cousin Percy, how you 'cross my father ! 
 
 Hot. I cannot 'choose : Sometimes he angers me 
 With telling of the moldwarp," and the ant ; 
 Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies ; 
 And of a dragon, and a finless fish, 
 A couching lion, and a ramping cat ; 
 And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
 As puts me from my faith. I tell you what, — 
 He held me, last night, at the least nine hours. 
 In reckoning up the several Devils' names 
 That were his lackeys : I cried, " Hum ! " and " WeU ! " 
 But 'marked him not a word. I 'd rather live 
 With cheese and garlic in a 'windmill, far. 
 Than feed on cates,' and have ' him talk to me, 
 In any 'summer-house in Christendom. 
 
 Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman ; 
 I warrant you, that man is not alive 
 Might 'so have tempted him as 'you have done. 
 Without the taste of danger and reproof : 
 But do not use it 'oft, let me entreat you. 
 
 Hot. Well, I am 'schooled: good manners be 'your speed! 
 Now to our wives, and let us take our leave. [p.xeuni. 
 
 The scene is again in Windsor Castle. The Prince of Wales 
 has just entered the presence-chamber : the King at once 
 dismisses the Courtiers. 
 
 K. Hen. Lords, give us leave ; the Prince of Wales and I 
 Must have some private conference : but be near. 
 For we shall presently have need of you. — [Exeunt T.ords. 
 I know not whether Heaven will have it so, 
 That, in His secret doom, out of my 'blood 
 He '11 breed revengement and a scourge for me ; 
 But 'thoa dost, in thy passages of life. 
 Make me believe — that ' thou art only marked 
 For the hot vengeance and the rod of Heaven, 
 To punish 'my mistreadings. Tell me else, 
 'Could such inordinate and ' low desires, 
 
 2 Mole. 3 Luxurious dainties. 
 
116 THE BEADEb's SHAKESPEABE. [Act 3. 
 
 Such ' barren pleasures, 'rude society, 
 
 (As thou art matched withal and grafted to,) 
 
 Accompany the 'greatness of thy blood 1 
 
 P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I could 
 Quit 'all offences with as clear excuse. 
 As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge 
 Myself of 'many I am charged withal : 
 Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
 As may, — for some things true, wherein my youth 
 ' Hath faulty wandered and irregular, — 
 Find 'pardon on my true submission. 
 
 K. Hen. ' Heaven pardon thee ! — Yet let me wonder, Harry, 
 At thy affections, — which do hold a wing 
 Quite 'from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
 Had ' I so lavish of my presence been. 
 So common-hackneyed in the eyes of men ; 
 So stale and cheap to 'vulgar company ; 
 Opinion, that did ' help me to the crown. 
 Had still kept loyal to 'possession ; 
 And left me in reputeless ' banishment, — 
 A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
 By being 'seldom seen, I could not stir. 
 But, like a comet, I was 'wondered at ; 
 That men would teU their children, " This is he ;" 
 Others would say, — " Where ? which is Bolingbroke ? " 
 But ' thou has lost thy 'princely privilege. 
 With 'vOe participation. Not an eye 
 But is 'a-weary of thy common sight, — 
 Save 'mine, — which hath desired to see thee 'more ; 
 Which 'now doth that I would not have it do, — 
 Make 'blind itself with foolish tenderness. 
 
 P. Hen. I shall, hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord. 
 Be 'more myself. 
 
 K. Hen. For all the world. 
 
 As ' thou art to this hour, was ' Richard then, 
 When I from Prance set foot at Ravenspurg ; 
 And even as ' I was ' then, is ' Percy 'now ! 
 But wherefore do I tell these news to 'thee? 
 Why, Harry, do I tell 'thee of my foes. 
 Who art my near'st and 'dearest enemy % 
 Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear. 
 Base inclination, and the start of spleen, — 
 To fight 'against me under Percy's 'pay. 
 To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns. 
 To 'show how much thou art 'degenerate ! 
 
Scene ill.] KING HENKY IV PART I. 117 
 
 P. Hen. Do not think so ; you shall not ' find it so : 
 I wUl 'redeem all this on Percy's head, 
 And, in the closing of some glorious day. 
 Be bold to tell you that I 'am your 'son ! 
 For every honour sitting on his helm, 
 'Would they were 'multitudes, and on 'my head 
 My shames 'redoubled ! for the time will come 
 That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
 His 'glorious deeds for my 'indignities. 
 This, in the name of Heaven, I promise here : 
 The which, if ' He be pleased, I shall 'perform ; 
 If not, the 'end of life cancels aU bands ; 
 And I will die a hundred -'thousand deaths. 
 Ere break the smallest 'parcel of this vow. 
 
 K. Hen. A hundred-thousand 'rebels die in this : — 
 
 Thou shalt have charge and 'sovereign trust herein. 
 
 Enter Blunt. 
 How, now, good Blunt ? thy looks are full of speed. 
 
 Blunt. So is the ' business that I come to speak of. 
 Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word — 
 That Douglas and the English rebels met. 
 The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury : 
 A mighty and a fearful head they are, 
 (If promises be kept on every hand,) 
 As ever offered foul play in a state. 
 
 K. Hen. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth ' to-day, 
 With him my son. Lord John of Lancaster ; 
 On ' Wednesday next, Harry, 'you shall set forward ; 
 On ' Thursday we ourselves will march : 
 Our hands are 'full of business : let 's away ; 
 Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. cKMunt 
 
 While the Prince is at Court, and thus changed, by his father's 
 wise admonitions, and the brilliant example of young Harry 
 Percy — a theme in itself calculated to rouse the dormant energies 
 and develop the latent virtues that adorned the Prince's brief 
 reign as King Henry the Fifth, — we find Sir John Falstaff in his 
 place of concealment, (the Boar's Head Tavern,) still suffering 
 from the fatigues of the preceding day, and calling on his fiery- 
 uosed follower to condole with him. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, . . am I not fallen away 'vUely since this 
 last action ? Do I not bate ? do I not dwindle ? Why 
 my skin 'hangs about me, like an old lady's loose gown: 
 I am withered, like an old apple-John. WeU, I 'U re- 
 
118 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 pent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking ; '^ I 
 shall be 'out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no 
 'strength to repent. . . . An I have not forgotten what 
 the inside of a 'church is made of, I am a peppercorn, 
 a brewer's horse ! The 'inside of a church ! Company, 
 'villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, you are so 'fretful you cannot live ' long. 
 
 Fal. Why, there is it : — Come, sing me a jolly song ; make 
 me 'merry! I 'was as virtuously given, as a 'gentleman 
 need to be ; virtuous enough : swore, little ; diced, not 
 above seven times a week ; paid money that I had bor- 
 rowed, three or four times ; lived well, and in good 
 compass : and now ... I live out of 'all order, — out of 
 all 'compass. 
 
 Bard. Why, you are so ' fat, Sir John, that you must needs 
 be out of all compass, — out of all 'reasonable compass, 
 Sir John. 
 
 F(jI. Do thou amend thy 'face, and I '11 amend my 'life. 
 Thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the 
 'poop, — but 't is in the 'nose of ' thee ; thou art the 
 Knight of the Burning Lamp. 
 
 Hard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm ? 
 
 Fal. No, I '11 be sworn ; I make as good use of it as many 
 a man doth of a death's-head, or a memento mori.^ I 
 never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives 
 that lived in purple ; for there he is in his robes, burn- 
 ing, burning ! When thou rann'st up Gadshill in the 
 night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst 
 been an ignis fatuus,^ or a ball, of wild-fire, there 's no 
 purchase in money. O, thou art a -perpetual ' triumph, 
 an everlasting ' bon-fire-light. Thou hast saved me a 
 thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee 
 in the night betwixt tavern and tavern : but . . . the 
 'sack that thou hast drunk would have bought me 
 lights as good-cheap, at the 'dearest chandler's in 
 Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours 
 with fire, any time this twoand-thirty years; heaven 
 reward me for it ! [The Hostess enters.] How now. Dame Part- 
 let the hen? have you inquired yet who picked my 
 pocket % 
 
 Host. Why, Sir John ! what do you think. Sir John % Do 
 you think I keep 'thieves in my house? I have 
 searched, I have inquired, — so has my husband, — man 
 
 " Condition. =* " Be mindful of death " — an inscription on a tombstone. 
 *A deceiving light— often appearing over marshes, and popularly known as Will o' 
 the Wisp or Jack o' Lantern. 
 
Sceneiiii.]; KING HENRL IV — PART I. 119 
 
 by man, boy by boy, servant by servant : the tithe of a 
 'hair was never lost in my house 'before. 
 
 Fdi. Te lie, Hostess ; Bardolph was 'shaved, and lost 'many 
 a hair. Go to, you are a woman — go ! 
 
 Host. Who, I ? No ! I defy thee : I was never called so 
 in mine own house before. 
 
 Fal. Go to ! I know you well enough. 
 
 Host. No, Sir John; you do 'not know me, Sir John. I 
 know 'you, Sir John : you owe me money, Sir John ; 
 and now you pick a quarrel to ' beguile me of it. I 
 bought you a dozen shirts to your back. 
 
 Fal. Dowlas,'^ filthy dowlas : I have given them away to 
 bakers' wives, and they have made boulters' of them. 
 
 Host. Now, as I am a true woman, 'holland of eight shil- 
 lings an ell. — You owe money here 'besides, Sir John, 
 for your diet, — and 'by-drinkings, — and money lent you, 
 four-and-twenty pound. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph had his part of it ; let ' him pay. 
 
 Host. He % alas, he is poor : he hath nothing. 
 
 Fal. How ! 'poor % look upon his 'face ; What call you 
 'rich ? let them coin his 'nose, let them coin his 'cheeks : 
 ' I 'U not pay a denier.* What, will you make a youn- 
 ker of 'me % shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but 
 I shall have my pocket picked ? I have lost a seal-ring 
 of my grandfather's, worth forty mark.* 
 
 Host. O ! I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not 
 how oft, that that ring was 'copper. 
 
 Ful. How ! the Prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup : an he were 
 here, I would cudgel him like a 'dog, if he would say so. 
 
 The Prince and Poins enter marching. Falstaff salutes the 
 Prince, who is playing on his truncheon as if it was a fife. 
 
 Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in ' that door, i' faith ? 
 must we all 'march? 
 
 Bardolph replies : 
 Bard. Tea, two and two, Newgate-fashion. 
 The garrulous Hostess exclaims : 
 
 Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 
 
 F. Hen. What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly % How does 
 thy husband? 
 
 Falstaff intervenes. 
 
 Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to 'me. 
 F. Hen. What sayest thou. Jack ? 
 
 2 Coarse linen. ^ Sieves. * An old Frenct coin, equal to tlie twelfth part of 
 
 a sou. ^ An old English coin worth 13s. 4d. sterling. 
 
120 THE KEADEr's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Fal. The other night I fell asleep here, behind the arras, 
 
 and had my pocket picked. 
 P. Hen. . . What didst thou 'lose, Jack? 
 JFal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of 
 
 forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my grand- 
 father's. 
 Jr'. Sen. A trifle; some eight-penny matter. 
 Host. So I told him, my lord ; and I said I heard your 
 
 'grace say so : And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of 
 
 'you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is ; and said he 
 
 wpuld 'cudgel you. 
 ^. Hen. What ! he did not ? 
 Host. There 's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me 
 
 else. 
 Fal. There 's no more ' faith in thee, than in a stewed prune ; 
 
 nor no more ' truth in thee, than in a drawn fox ; and 
 
 for 'womanhood . . , Go, you thing ! go. 
 Host. Say ! 'what thing ? what thing ? 
 Fal. ' What thing ? why, ... a thing to thank Heaven on. 
 Host. I am 'no thing to thank Heaven on : I am an honest 
 
 man's 'wife ; and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou 
 
 art a ' knave to call me so. 
 P. Hen. Thou sayest ' true. Hostess ; and he slanders thee 
 
 most grossly. 
 Host. So he doth 'you, my lord ; and said this other day, 
 
 you owed him a thousand pound. 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, 'do I owe you a thousand pound ? 
 Fal. A ' thousand pound, Hal ? a 'million ! thy love is 'worth 
 
 a million ; thou owest me thy ' love. 
 Host. Nay, my lord, he called you 'Jack, and said he would 
 
 'cudgel you. 
 Fal. Did I, Bardolph ? 
 Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. 
 Fal. Yea, — if he said my ring was 'copper. 
 P. Hen. I say, ' 't is copper : darest thou be as good as thy 
 
 word ' now ? 
 Fal. . . . Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but a 'man, I 
 
 'dare ; but as thou art a ' Prince, I ' fear thee, as I fear 
 
 the roaring of the lion's 'whelp. 
 P. Hen. And why not as the 'lion ? 
 Fal. The King 'himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost 
 
 thou think I 'U fear ' thee as I fear thy ' father ? nay, 
 
 an I do, let my girdle break ! 
 P. Hen. What, sirrah ! Charge an honest woman with 
 
Scene iii.] 
 
 KING HENBT IV PABT I. 121 
 
 picking thy pocket ! Why, thou impudent, embossed^ 
 rascal ! if there were anything in thy pocket but tavern- 
 reckonings, and one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy 
 to make thee long-winded, — if thy pocket were enriched 
 with any other injuries but these, [Shewing some iorspa or paper,] I 
 am a vUlain. And yet you will 'stand to it ! Art thou 
 not ashamed ? 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou knowest, in the state of 
 ' innocency, Adam fell ; and what should poor Jack Fal- 
 staff do, in the days of 'villainy ? Thou seest I have 
 more 'flesh than another man ; and therefore more 
 ' frailty. — You confess, then, 'you picked my pocket % 
 
 F. Hen. It appears so by the story. 
 
 Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : go, make ready breakfast ; 
 love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy 
 guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any honest 
 'reason. Nay, pr'ythee, be gone, [eiu Hostess.: Now, Hal, 
 to the news at Court. For the robbery, lad, — how is 
 that 'answered ? 
 
 P. Hen. O ! my sweet beef, the money is paid back again. 
 
 Fal. O, I do not like that paying ' back ; 't is a ' double la- 
 bour. 
 
 P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do 
 'anything. 
 
 Fal. Bob me the Exchequer the ' first thing thou doest, and 
 do it with unwashed hands too. 
 
 F. Hen. 1 have procured ' thee. Jack, a charge of ' foot. 
 
 Fal. I would it had been of 'horse. 
 
 P. Hen. Meet me to-morrow in the Temple Hall, 
 At two o'clock. Jack, in the afternoon : 
 There shalt thou 'know thy charge, and there receive 
 Money, and order for their furniture. 
 The land is 'burning; 'Percy stands on high; 
 And either they, or we, must lower lie. [^rdiiLlcfpi?""'"'' 
 
 Fal. Rare words ! brave world ! — Hostess, my breakfast ; 
 come ! — 
 O ! I could wish this ' tavern were my drum. ceiu. 
 
 We follow the combatants to their camps near Shrewsbury, where 
 preparations are being made for the battle. We are now before 
 Hotspur's tent. The Earl of Worcester, the Earl of Douglas, and 
 other of the rebel leaders, are in conversation with Hotspur. 
 
 Hot. Well said, my noble Scot : If speaking ' truth, 
 
 = Puffy. 
 
122 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 In this fine age, were not thought ' flattery, 
 
 Such attribution should the ' Douglas have, 
 
 As not a soldier of this season's stamp 
 
 Should go so general-current through the world. 
 A Messenger with despatches enters. 
 
 What letters hast thou there ? 
 Mess. These from your father, — 
 
 -Hot. ' Letters — from ' him ! why comes he not ' himself ? 
 Mess. He 'cannot come, my lord : he 's grievous 'sick. 
 -Hot. Sick ! how has he the ' leisure to be sick. 
 
 In such a justling time ? Who leads his power ? 
 
 Under whose government come they along ? 
 Mess. His ' letters bear his mind, not ' I, my lord. 
 
 Worcester inquires : 
 
 Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his ' bed ? 
 Mess. He 'did, my lord, four days ere I set forth : 
 
 He was much feared by his physicians. 
 JTot. Sick 'now ! 'droop now ! this sickness doth infect 
 The very ' life-blood of our enterprise ; 
 'T is catching hither, even to our camp. 
 He writes — the King is 'certainly possessed 
 Of all our purposes. Uncle, what say 'you 1 
 
 Wor. Your father's sickness is a 'maim to us. 
 It wUl be thought 
 
 By some, that know not 'why he is away, 
 That wisdom, loyalty, and mere 'dislike 
 Of our proceedings, keep the Earl from hence. 
 
 Hot. You strain too far. 
 
 ' I, rather, of his absence make ' this use : — 
 
 It lends a ' lustre, and more great opinion, 
 
 A ' larger dare to our great enterprise, 
 
 Than if the Earl were ' here ; for men must think. 
 
 If we, 'without his help, can make a head 
 
 To push against the kingdom, 'with his help 
 
 We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. — 
 
 'Yet all goes weU; — yet all our joints are 'whole. 
 
 Sir Richard Vernon enters. 
 My cousin Vernon ! welcome, by my soul. 
 
 Ver. Pray Heaven, my news be 'worth a welcome, lord. 
 The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong. 
 Is marching ' hitherwards ; with him. Prince John. 
 
 Hot. No harm : What more 1 
 
 Ver. And further, I have learned. 
 
 The T§!!ing himself in 'person is set forth. 
 
Act i. Scene i.] KING HENKY IV PAET I. 123 
 
 Hot. ' He shall be welcome too. Where is his 'son, 
 The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales ? 
 And his comrades, that daffed^ the world aside, 
 And bid it pass ? 
 
 Ver. All furnished, all in arms ; 
 
 All plumed, like estridges' that wing the wind ; 
 
 Bated,* like eagles having lately bathed ; 
 
 Glittering in golden coats, like images ; 
 
 As full of spirit as the month of May, 
 
 And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer.' 
 
 I 'saw young Harry, — with his beaver on, 
 
 His cuisses^ on his thighs, gallantly armed, — 
 
 Rise from the ground like feathered ' Mercury ; 
 
 And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
 
 As if an 'angel dropped down from the clouds 
 
 To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus," 
 
 And 'witch the world with noble horsemanship. 
 
 ITot. No more, no more ! Worse than the sun in March, 
 This praise dothnourish 'agues. 'Let them come ; 
 They come like sabrrfices in their trim, — 
 And to the fire-eyed inaid' of smoky war. 
 All hot and bleeding, will we offer them : 
 The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit. 
 Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire 
 To hear this rich reprisal is so 'nigh. 
 And 'yet not ours. — Come, let me mount' my horse, 
 That is to bear me, like a ' thunderbolt. 
 Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales : 
 Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse. 
 Meet, and ne'er part, till 'one drop down a 'corse. — 
 O, that 'Glendower were come ! 
 
 Ver. There is 'more news : 
 
 I learned in Worcester, as I rode along. 
 He cannot draw his power these fourteen daj's. 
 
 Hot. . . . What may the King's 'whole battle reach unto ? 
 
 Ver. To thirty thousand. 
 
 Hot. ' ' Forty let it be ! — 
 
 My father and Glendower being both 'away, 
 
 The powers of 'us may serve so great a day. 
 
 Come, let us take a muster speedily : — 
 
 Doomsday is near ; die 'all, die ' merrily ! rEieunt. 
 
 While the forces on both sides are concentrating at Shrewsbury, 
 we are to suppose ourselves on the public road near Coventry ; hear- 
 
 " Cast aside, doffed. =* Ostriches. * Beating the wind for flight. ^ Armour 
 
 for the legs. « A fabled winged horse. 'Bellona. 'O. E. Taste. 
 
124 THE header's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 4. 
 
 ing Falstaff, who is in advance of some raw recruits, give directions 
 
 to his subaltern : 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, — get thee 'before to Coventry; fill me a 
 bottle of sack. 
 
 Bard. Will you give me 'money, captain ? 
 
 Fal. Lay out, lay out. 
 
 Bard. This bottle makes an angel.^ 
 
 Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour. Bid my lieuten- 
 ant Peto meet me at the town's end. 
 
 Bard. I will, captain : farewell. tE^'" 
 
 Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused 
 gurnet. I have misused the King's press abominably. 
 I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, 
 three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but 
 good 'householders, 'yeomen's sons: inquire me out 
 'contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on 
 the banns ; such a commodity of warm' slaves as had 
 as lief* hear the 'devil as a drum ; such as fear the re- 
 port of a caliver* worse than a struck fowl or a hurt 
 wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts-and- 
 butter, with hearts in their bodies no bigger than pins' 
 heads ; and they have boughtout their services. And 
 now my whole charge consists of slaves — as ragged as 
 Lazarus in the painted cloth ; and such as, indeed, 
 were never 'soldiers, but discarded unjust serving-men, 
 younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, 
 and ostlers trade-fallen ; the cankers of a calm world, 
 and a long peace : and such have I, to fiU up the rooms 
 of them that have bought-out their services, that you 
 would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered 
 prodigals lately come from swine-keeping. A mad fel- 
 low met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded 
 all the 'gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye 
 hath seen such scarecrows. ' I '11 not march through 
 Coventry 'with them, that 's flat ! There 's but a shirt 
 and a half in all my company : and the half- shirt is two 
 napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoul- 
 ders, like a herald's coat without sleeves ; and the shirt, 
 (to say the truth,) stolen from my host at St. Alban's, 
 or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daventry. But that 's all 
 one ; they '11 find linen enough on every hedge. 
 Enter Prince Henry and Lord Westmoreland : 
 
 P. Sen. How now, blown Jack ? how now, quilt ? 
 
 Ifal. What, Hal! How now, mad wag? what dost thou 
 
 ' A gold coin, then worth ten shillings. = Well-to-do, wealthy. » Willingly. 
 
 ^ A hand-gun. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY IV PAET I. 125 
 
 in Warwickshire ? — My good Lord of Westmoreland, I 
 
 cry you mercy ; I thought your honour had already 
 
 been at ' Shrewsbury. 
 West. 'Faith, Sir John, 't is more than ' time that I were 
 
 there, and you too ; but my 'powers are there already. 
 
 The King, I can tell you, looks for us 'all : we must 
 
 away all, 'to-night. 
 J^'al. Tut, never fear 'me ; I am as vigilant, as a cat to steal 
 
 cream. 
 -P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed ; for thy theft hath 
 
 already made thee ' butter. But tell me. Jack ; — whose 
 
 fellows are these that come after ? 
 Fal. . . . Mine, Hal, mine. 
 P. Men. I did never see such pitiful rascals. 
 I^al. Tut, tut! good enough to toss'; food for powder, 
 
 food for powder: 'they '11 fill a pit, as well as better; 
 
 tush, man! mortal men, mortal men. 
 West. Ay, but. Sir John, methinks they are 'exceeding poor 
 
 and bare, — too ' beggarly. 
 -Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had 
 
 ' that ; and for their ' bareness, I am sure, they never 
 
 learned that of 'me. 
 P. Hen. No, I '11 be sworn. But, sirrah, make haste ; Percy 
 
 is already in the field. ce"- ">=""> ptioM". 
 
 Fal. Well, well, well ! 
 
 The 'end of a fray, and the beginning of a ' feast, 
 
 Fits a dull fighter — and a keen guest. CEiit. 
 
 Anxious to save the slaughter of his subjects, the King sends Sir 
 Walter Blunt, with proposals of peace to the rebel leaders ; who 
 promise that, early on the following morning, the Earl of Worcester 
 will deliver their reply. 
 
 The Scene is now before the royal camp near Shrewsbury. The 
 King is attended by his two sons — the Prince of Wales and Prince 
 John of Lancaster — with Sir Walter Blunt and Sir John Falstaff. 
 The King speaks : 
 
 JT. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer 
 Above yon bosky' hill ! The day looks pale 
 At his distemperature. 
 
 J-". Hen. The southern wind 
 
 Doth play the ' trumpet to his purposes ; 
 And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves. 
 Foretells a ' tempest and a blustering day. 
 
 ^i e., on a pike. ^ coyered witli trees. 
 
126 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 The enemy's trumpet sounds a parley. The Earl of Worcester 
 (with Sir Richard Vernon bearing a flag of truce) enters. 
 
 K. Sen. How now, my Lord of Worcester ! 'T is not well 
 That you and I should meet upon such terms 
 As 'now we meet. You have 'deceived our trust ; 
 And made us doff our easy robes of 'peace, 
 To crush our old limbs in ungentle 'steel : 
 This is not well, my lord ; this is not well ! 
 
 Wor. Hear me, my liege. I could be well content 
 To entertain the lag-end of my life 
 With 'quiet hours f for, I do protest, 
 I have not 'sought the day of this dislike. 
 
 K. Hen. You have not 'sought it, sir ! — How 'comes it then ? 
 
 Falstaff whispers to the Prince. 
 
 Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. 
 
 P. Hen. Peace, chewet," peace ! 
 
 Wor. It pleased your majesty to turn your looks 
 Of favour from myself and all our House ; 
 And yet I must remember you, my lord, 
 "We were the 'first, and dearest, of your 'friends. 
 Then you did swear an oath at Dcncaster, 
 That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the ' State, 
 Nor claim no further than your new-fallen right, — 
 The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
 To this 'we swore our 'aid. But, in short space. 
 You took occasion to be quickly wooed 
 To grip the 'general sway into your hand ; 
 Whereby 'now we stand opposed — by such means 
 As you yourself have forged 'against yourself ; 
 By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, 
 And violation of all faith and troth, 
 ' Sworn to us in your 'younger enterprise. 
 
 K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated, 
 Proclaimed at market-crosses, read in churches, 
 To 'face' the garment of rebellion 
 With some fine 'colour — that may please the eye 
 Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, 
 WTio gape, and rub the elbow, at the news 
 Of hurly-burly ianovation : 
 And never yet did Insurrection want 
 Such 'water-colours to impaint his cause ; 
 Nor moody 'beggars, starving for a time 
 Of pell-mell havoc and confusion. 
 
 2 A chattering bird. ^ Cover. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENBY IV — PAET I. 127 
 
 Prince Henry advances : 
 
 P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul 
 Shall pay full dearly for this dire encounter, 
 If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew. 
 The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
 In praise of Henry Percy : For 'my part, 
 I have a truant been to chivalry ; 
 And so, I hear, he doth 'account me too ; 
 Yet this, before my father's majesty : — 
 I am content that he shall ' take the odds 
 Of his great name and estimation ; 
 And will, — to save the blood on either side, — 
 Try fortune with him in a 'single fight. 
 
 K. Hen. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we 'venture thee ; 
 Albeit considerations infinite 
 Do make 'against it.— No, good Worcester, no. 
 We love our people well ; even ' those we love 
 That are misled upon your cousin's part ; 
 And, — wUl they take the offer of our grace, — 
 Both he, and they, and you, yea, 'every man. 
 Shall be my friend 'again, and I '11 be ' his. 
 So tell your cousin : go, and bring me word 
 What he will do : But if he wUl not 'yield. 
 Rebuke and dread correction wait on us. 
 And they shall do their office. So, be gone. 
 We wUl not 'now be troubled with reply : 
 We offer fair ; take it advisedly. [^XS"wuhdTar° 
 
 P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life. 
 
 The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
 Are confident against the 'world in arms. 
 
 K. Hen. Hence every leader to his charge assigned ; 
 For, on their answer, will we set on them : 
 And heaven befriend us as our cause is just ! ['^'St'""' 
 Falstaff addresses the Prince. 
 
 Fal. Hal, if thou see me 'down in the battle, bestride me, 
 so ; 't is a point of friendship. 
 
 P. Hen. Nothing but a 'colossus can do thee ' that friend- 
 ship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 
 
 Fal. I would it were 'bed-time, Hal, and aU well. 
 
 P. Hen. Why, thou 'owest heaven a death. , [Exit. 
 
 Fal. ... 'T is not due 'yet ; I would be loath to pay him 
 before his day. What need I be so forward with him 
 that 'calls not on me ? Well, 't is no matter ; ' Honour 
 sets me on. Tea ; but how if Honour set me 'off, when 
 
128 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 I 'come on ? How then ? Can honour set-to a leg ? 
 No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a 
 wound? No. Honour hath 'no skill in surgery then? 
 No. What ' is honour 1 A word. ' What is that word 
 honour 1 Air. A trim reckoning !— Who hath it ? He 
 that 'died o' Wednesday. Doth he ' feel it ? No. Doth 
 he ' hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the 
 'dead. But will it not live with the ' living 1 No. Why ? 
 ' Detraction will not suffer it. — Therefore, I '11 none of 
 it : honour is a mere 'scutcheon f — and so ends my 
 catechism. cexh. 
 
 The Scene changes to Hotspur's tent. The King's offer is re- 
 jected ; and war is by both sides accepted as the dread arbiter. 
 Hotspur is anxiously awaiting the arrival of his uncle Worcester, 
 who enters excitedly. 
 
 Woi: The King will bid you battle presently. 
 
 Doug. Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland. 
 
 Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. ceih Douglas. 
 
 War. There is no seeming 'mercy in the King. 
 
 Hot. Did you 'beg any % Heaven forbid ! 
 
 Wor. I told him gently of 'our grievances, 
 
 Of 'his oath-breaking ; which he mended thus. 
 
 By now forswearing that he ' is forsworn : 
 
 He calls us rebels, traitors ; and will 'scourge 
 
 With haughty arms this hateful name in us. [Douglas rewrns. 
 
 Doug. Arm, gentlemen ! to arms ! for I have thrown 
 A brave 'defiance in King Henry's teeth. 
 
 Wo7\ The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the King, 
 And, nephew, challenged you to 'single fight. 
 
 Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon 'our heads. 
 
 And that no man might draw short breath to-day. 
 But I and Harry Monmouth ! Tell me, tell me. 
 How 'showed his tasking I seemed it in 'contempt ? 
 
 Ver. No, by my soul ; I never in my life 
 
 Did hear a challenge urged more modestly. 
 
 A Messenger addresses Hotspur ■ 
 
 Mess. My lord, here are some letters for you. 
 Hot. I cannot read them 'now. — 
 
 O gentlemen ! the time of life is short ; 
 
 To spend that shortness ' basely were too long, 
 
 If life did ride upon a dial's 'point. 
 
 Still ending at the arrival of an 'hour. 
 
 2 A heraldic painting for a funeral. 
 
Scene iii.] KING HENRY IV -PART I. 129 
 
 An if we ' live, we live to tread on ' kings ; 
 If 'die, ' brave death, when ' Princes die with us. 
 Another Messenger enters. 
 
 Mess. My lord, prepare ; the King comes on 'apace. 
 
 Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale. 
 For I profess not ' talking. Only this, — 
 Let each man do his ' best : and here draw I 
 A sword, whose temper I intend to stain 
 With the best blood that I can meet withal. 
 Sound all the lofty instruments of war. 
 And ' by that music let us all embrace ; 
 For, heaven to earth, 'some of us never shall 
 A 'second time do such a courtesy. [The trompeu sound. 
 
 Now, — Esperanza ! — Percy ! — and set on ! — 
 
 And now begins the battle of Shrewsbury. ^ After many excur- 
 sions and alarums, and amidst the shouts and groans of the living 
 and the dying, Sir Walter Blunt, who, for strategical purposes, is 
 accoutred like the King, is suddenly attacked and slain by the gal- 
 lant leader of the Scottish contingent. As Blunt falls, Hotspur 
 enters • 
 
 Hot. O Douglas ! hadst thou fought at ' Holmedon thus, 
 
 ' I ne'er had triumphed o'er a Scot like thee. 
 Doug. All 's done, all 's won ! Here breathless lies the 
 
 King. 
 Hot. This, Douglas ? no ; I know this face full well : 
 
 A gallant ' knight he was, his name was Blunt ; 
 
 ' Semblably furnished like the King himself. 
 
 The King hath 'many, marching in his coats. 
 Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kiU 'all his coats ; 
 
 I '11 murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece. 
 
 Until I meet the ' King. 
 Hot. Up, and away ! 
 
 Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [Eieunt. 
 
 In the midst of continued alarums Falstaff cautiously enters. 
 Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at 'London, I fear 
 the shot ' here ; here 's no scoring, but upon the 'pate. — 
 Soft ! who are you % Sir Walter Blunt : . there 's 
 ' honour for 'you. — I am as hot as molten lead, and as 
 heavy too : Heaven keep lead 'out of me ! I need no 
 more weight than mine own body. — I have led my rag- 
 amuffins where they are 'peppered ! there 's not three 
 of my hundred and fifty left alive, — and 'they are for 
 
 Fought on July 21, 1403. 
 
130 THE KEADEr's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 the town's end, to beg during life. Well, if Percy be 
 alive, I '11 'pierce him. If he 'do come in my way, so : if 
 he do 'not ... if I come in his 'willingly, let him make 
 a carbonado'' of me. — I like not such 'grinning honour 
 as Sir Walter hath : give me 'life ; which if I can 'save, 
 so ; if not, . . . honour comes unlooked for, — and 
 there 's an end ! [exu. 
 
 The fierce warfare continues. In another part of the field, the 
 ■ Earl of Douglas encounters the King himself, who is only saved by 
 the intervention of his son, the Prince of Wales. The discomfited 
 Scot has no sooner been forced, in consequence of this double 
 attack, to seek safety by flight, than two other antagonists sud- 
 denly encounter, and stand at bay. 
 
 Hot. ... If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. 
 
 F. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would ' deny my name. 
 
 Hot. ' My name is Harry Percy. 
 
 F. Hen. Why, then I see 
 
 A very valiant 'rebel of that name. 
 ' I am the Prince of Wales ; and think not, Percy, 
 To ' share with me in glory any more : 
 ' Two stars keep not their motion in 'one sphere ; 
 Nor can one England brook a 'double reign, — 
 Of Harry Percy, 'and the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Hot. Nor 'shall it, Harry, for the hour is come 
 
 To end the 'one of us : And 'would to Heaven, 
 ' Thy name in arms were now as great as 'mine ! 
 
 P Hen. I '11 make it 'greater ere I part from thee ; 
 And all the budding honours on ' thy crest 
 I '11 crop, — to make a garland for 'my head ! 
 
 Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. 
 
 As they fight, Falstaff enters, exclaiming ; 
 
 Fal. Well said, Hal ! to it, Hal ! — Nay, you shall find no 
 'boy's play here, I can tell you. 
 But the Earl of Douglas re-enters ; he fights with Falstaff, who 
 
 instantly falls down as if he were dead. Douglas, having overcome 
 
 the fat Knight, goes in search of other foes. In the meantime 
 
 Hotspur is fatally wounded, and falls. 
 
 Hot. O Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth ! 
 I better brook the loss of brittle ' life 
 Than those proud ' titles thou hast won of me ; 
 'They wound my 'thoughts worse than thy sword my 
 
 'flesh:— 
 But Thought 's the slave of life, and life Time's fool ; 
 And Time, that takes survey of all the world, 
 
 ^ A piece of meat cut crossways for the gridiron. 
 
Scene iv.] KING HENKY IV PAST I. 131 
 
 Must have a ' stop. O, I could prophesy, 
 But that the earthy and cold hand of 'Death 
 Lies on my tongue : . . . No, Percy, thou art dust. 
 And food for — [uiea. 
 
 F. Sen. For worms, brave Percy! Fare thee well, great 
 heart ! — 
 lU-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! 
 When that this body did contain a 'spirit, 
 A ' kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
 But 'now . . . two paces of the vilest earth 
 Is room enough : — This earth, that bears thee 'dead, 
 Bears not 'aUve so brave^ a gentleman. 
 Adieu ! and take thy 'praise with thee to heaven ! 
 Thy 'ignomy^ sleep with thee in the grave. 
 But not remembered in thy 'epitaph ! — 
 He sees Falstaff on the ground. 
 What ! old acquaintance ! . . . Could not all this flesh 
 Keep-in a Uttle 'life? Poor Jack, farewell! 
 I could have better spared a better man. 
 Death hath not struck so ' fat a deer to-day, 
 Though many 'dearer, in this bloody fray. 
 Embowelled wiU I see thee by-and-by ; 
 Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Ent. 
 
 The victorious Prince, suddenly struck with melancholy at the 
 death of his old friend, proceeds to his camp. — Amid the slain, an 
 apparently dead body begins to stir : — it is Falstaff ! He carefully 
 looks round, and makes several attempts to rise ; but, on hearing 
 the drums, he crouches under his shield again. At last he gets up 
 with breathless difficulty : 
 
 Fal. Embowelled ? if thou embowel me ' to-day, I '11 give 
 you leave to powder* me, and 'eat me too, ' to-morrow. — 
 'T was time to counterfeit ; or that hot termagant Scot 
 had paid 'me, scot and lot too. Counterfeit ? I lie ; I 
 am 'no counterfeit : To 'die is to be a counterfeit ; for 
 he is but the 'counterfeit of a man, who hath not the 
 ' life of a man ; but to counterfeit dying, when a man 
 thereby 'Hveth, is to be 'no counterfeit, but the true 
 and perfect image of 'Ufe indeed. The 'better part of 
 valour is — 'discretion ; in the which better part I have 
 saved my life. . . . Zounds, I am afraid of this gun- 
 powder Percy, though he ' be dead. How, if ' he should 
 counterfeit too, and rise ? By my faith, I am afraid he 
 would prove the 'better counterfeit. Therefore I 'U 
 make him 'sure ; yea, and I '11 swear ' I kiUed him. . . 
 
 * O, R. stout. ^ Ignominy. * Preserve by pickling : to salt. 
 
132 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Why may not ' lie rise, as well as I ? Nothing con- 
 futes me but eyes, — and nobody sees me : — therefore, 
 sirrah, . . . [stabbing him] with a 'new wound in your thigh, 
 come you along with me. 
 
 Falstaff vainly endeavors to take up the dead body. In the midst 
 of his exertions, Prince Henry and Prince John enter. 
 
 I'. Hen. Come, brother John ; full bravely hast thou fleshed 
 Thy maiden sword. 
 
 P John. But, soft ! whom have we here "? . . . 
 
 Did you not tell me, this fat man was 'dead ? 
 
 p. Hen. I did ; I 'saw him dead, and breathless on the 
 ground. — 
 Art thou 'alive ? or is it ' fantasy 
 That plays upon our eyesight ? Pr'ythee, speak ! 
 Thou art not what thou seem'st. 
 
 Fal. No, that 's certain ; I am not a 'double man ; but if I 
 be not Jack Falstaff, then am I Jack. ' There is Percy ! 
 If your father will do me any honour, so ; if not, let 
 him kiU the 'next Percy himself. I look to be either 
 Earl or Duke, I can assure you ! 
 
 P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed 'myself, — and saw thee dead ! 
 
 Fal. Didst thou 1 — O, O, oh ! how this world is given to 
 'lying! — I grant you I was 'down, and out of breath, 
 and so was ' he ; but we rose both at an instant, and 
 fought a long ' hour, by Shrewsbury clock. If I may 
 be ' believed, so ; if not, let them that 'should reward 
 valour bear the sin upon their own heads. I '11 take 
 it upon my death, ' I gave him this wound in the thigh : 
 if the man were alive, and would 'deny it, . .1 would 
 make him eat a piece of my sword ! 
 
 P John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard. 
 
 jf. Hen. This is the strangest ' fellow, brother John. — 
 For 'my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
 I '11 'gUd it with the happiest terms I have. (Retreat heira. 
 The trumpet soands retreat ; the day is ors ! 
 Come, brother, to the highest of the field. 
 To see what friends are living, who are dead. cEiaimt prinoes. 
 
 Fal. I '11 follow, as they say, for 'reward. He that re- 
 wards 'me. Heaven reward ' him ! If I 'do grow great, 
 I '11 grow ' less ; for I '11 leave sack, and live cleanly — 
 as a 'nobleman 'should do. [Exit.bearingofftiiebody. 
 
 We now accompany the young Princes to the King, who is giving 
 directions concerning the prisoners : 
 
Scene v.] KING HENRY IV PAET I. 133 
 
 K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. — 
 
 Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too ; 
 Other offenders we will pause upon.— ["""■"XTgL^dcT "" 
 How goes the field"? 
 
 P Hen. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, — when he saw 
 The fortune of the day quite turned from him, 
 The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
 Upon the foot of fear, — fled with the rest ; 
 But his pursuers took him. I beseech your grace 
 ' I may (£spose of him. 
 
 K. Hen. With all my heart. 
 
 P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you 
 This honourable bounty shall belong : — 
 Go to the Douglas, and deliver him 
 Up to his pleasure, ransomless, and free. — 
 ' EebeUion in this land shall ' lose his sway. 
 Meeting the cheek of such 'another day : 
 And since this business so far fajr is done. 
 Let us not leave, till 'all our ow'n be won. [Ezeunt. 
 
 End of Henby IV — Pabt I. 
 
KINO HEMRY IV. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth owes its origin — like 
 the prevenient and subsequent plays — Henry the Fourth Part First, 
 and Henry the Fifth, — partly to the " Chronicles " of Holinshed, 
 and principally to an anonymous drama (performed several years 
 before Shakespeare became a writer for the stage), entitled " The 
 famous Victories of Henry the Fifth." 
 
 The first edition of this play was registered in 1599, and published 
 in 1600 : it is remarkable for containing on its title page the first 
 entry of Shakespeare's name as a dramatic author. Another edi- 
 tion, with considerable alterations, was printed in the same year. 
 No subsequent edition appeared till the folio collection of 1623. 
 
 The Second Part begins with news of the Battle at Shrewsbury 
 in 1403, and is continued till the Death of Henry in 1413. 
 
 The Time therefore extends over nine years. 
 
 The Scenes of the action are in various parts of England. 
 
 The Dramatis Personae retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 King Henet the Fotjbth. 
 
 Henkt, Princeof Wales, ] 
 
 afterwards King 
 
 Henry V, 
 Thomas, Duke of Gla/r- The 
 
 ence, )■ King's 
 
 Peincb John of Lanoas- Sons. 
 
 TEE, 
 
 Peince Humpheet of 
 Glostee, J 
 
 Of the 
 King^s 
 Party. 
 
 Eabl of Waewick, 
 Eabi; of Westmoee- 
 
 LAND, 
 Go WEE, 
 
 Haecouet, 
 
 Blunt, 
 
 LoED Chief Justice of the King's 
 
 Bench. 
 Eael of Noethum- 1 
 
 BEELAND, | 
 
 SoBoop, Archbishop 
 of York, 
 
 LoED MOWBEAT, 
 
 LoED Hastings, 
 LoED Baedolph, 
 Sib John Coletile, 
 
 to the 
 King. 
 
 Followers of 
 Falstaff. 
 
 SiE John Falstaff. 
 A BoY-Ais Page. 
 Baedolph, "] 
 Pistol, I 
 
 POINS, ( 
 
 Peto. J 
 
 Shallow and } „ j t ^ ■ 
 Silence, \ Country Justices. 
 
 Datt, Servant to Shallow. 
 
 Mouldy, Shadow, Wabt, Fee- 
 ble, and Bull-calf, Mecruits. 
 
 Fang and Snabe, Sheriff's Offi- 
 cers. 
 
 Ladt Nobthumbebland. 
 Lady Peecy. 
 Hostess Quickly. 
 
 Lords and Attendants; O'ffiaers, 
 Soldiers, Messenger, do.; Bu- 
 MOUE as the Prologue-Speaker; 
 and a Dancing Gikl as the 
 Epilogue. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY IT PART II. 135 
 
 As a kind of Prologue, or, as it is called, an Induction, Shakes- 
 peare introduces the Second Part of King Henry the Fourth by a 
 mythological personage called Rumour, painted over with tongues. 
 The object is to connect this Part with the First one. This In- 
 duction is supposed to be spoken outside the Earl of Northumber- 
 land's residence at Warkworth. 
 
 Mum. Open your ears : For which of you will 'stop 
 The vent of hearing, wheu loud ' Rumour speaks ? 
 I, from the Orient to the drooping West, 
 Making the 'wind my post-horse, still unfold 
 The acts commencing on this ball of Earth : 
 Upon my tongues continual 'slanders ride, 
 (The which in 'every language I pronounce,) 
 Stuffing the ears of men with ' false reports. 
 I speak of ' Peace ; while covert Enmity, 
 Under the smUe of 'safety, wounds the world : 
 And who but Rumour, — who but 'only I, — 
 Make fearful musters and prepared 'defence ? 
 Say, Why is Rumour 'here ? 
 I run ' before King Harry's victory ; 
 Who, in a bloody field, by Shrewsbury, 
 Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops ; 
 Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
 Even with the rebels' ' blood. My office is 
 To noise abroad, — that Harry Monmouth fell 
 Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ; 
 And that the King, before the Douglas' rage. 
 Stooped his anointed head as low as death. 
 This have I rumoured — through the pleasant* towns 
 Between that royal field of Shrewsbury 
 And this worm-eaten holdf of ragged stone ; 
 Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, 
 Lies 'crafty-sick. The posts come ' tiring on ; 
 And not a man of them brings other news 
 Than they have learned of 'me : from Rumour's tongues 
 They bring smooth comforts 'false, — 'worse than true 
 'wrongs. [Exit. 
 
 The first Scene opens on the Earl of Northumberland's Castle at 
 Warkworth. The Earl, pretending still to suffer from his feigned 
 sickness, which had kept him away from the battle at Shrewsbury, 
 does not yet know its result. Lord Bardolph, outside the Castle, 
 calls : 
 
 i. Sard. Who keeps the gate here ? ho ! — 
 
 • O. R. peasaat. t Stronghold. 
 
136 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 The Porter appears. 
 
 Tell thou the Earl 
 That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. 
 Fort. His lordship is walked forth into the orchard : 
 Please it your honour, ' knock but at that gate, 
 And he 'himself will answer. 
 
 The Earl of Northumberland enters : 
 
 North. "What news, Lord Bardolph ? every minute 'now 
 Should be the father of some 'stratagem.* 
 The times are wild : Contention, like a horse 
 Full of high feeding, 'madly hath broke loose, 
 And bears down all jjefore him. 
 
 L. Bard. Noble Earl, 
 
 I bring you 'certain news from Shrewsbury : — 
 The King is almost wounded to the death ; 
 And, in the fortune of my lord your son. 
 Prince Harry slain outright. O, such a day, 
 So fought, so followed, and so fairly 'won. 
 Came not, till now, to dignify the times. 
 Since ' Csesar's fortunes ! 
 
 North. How is this 'derived % 
 
 ' Saw you the field % came 'you from Shrewsbury ? 
 
 L. Bard. I 'spake with one, my lord, that came from thence. 
 
 North. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent. 
 On Tuesday last, to listen after news. 
 
 L. Bard. My lord, I 'over-rode him on the way ; 
 And he is furnished with no 'certainties. 
 More than he haply may retail from 'me. [Travers enters 
 
 North. Now, Travers, what good tidings come with 'you ? 
 
 Tra. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back 
 With 'joyful tidings ; and, being better horsed. 
 Out-rode me. After him came, spurring hard, 
 A gentleman, — almost forspent with speed, — 
 Who asked the way to Chester ; and of him 
 I did demand what news from Shrewsbury : 
 He told me that rebellion had 'ill luck. 
 And that young Harry Percy's spur was 'cold. 
 
 North. Ha ! — Again. f 
 
 Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
 
 Lord Bardolph advances : 
 
 L. Bard. He was some ' hildingj fellow, that had 'stolen 
 The horse he rode on ; and, upon my life. 
 Spoke at a 'venture. Look, here comes 'more news. 
 
 " Military exploit. f Repeat. Say again. t Bastard, base. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENBY IV PAET II. 137 
 
 Morton, another retainer, enters. 
 
 North. Tea, ' this man's brow, like to a ' title-leaf, 
 Foretells the nature of a ' tragic volume : 
 Say, Morton, didst ' thou come from Shrewsbury ? 
 
 Mor. I 'ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord. 
 
 Worth. How doth my 'son ? . . . and brother ? . . . 
 
 Thou tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
 Is apter than thy ' tongue to tell thy errand. 
 Even 'such a man, so faint, so woe-begone, 
 Drew ' Priam's curtain in the dead of night. 
 And 'would have told him, half his Troy was 'burned; 
 But Priam ' found the fire ere he his tongue — 
 And I my Percy's 'death ere thou report'st it. 
 This thou 'wouldst say, — " Tour son did thus, and thus ; 
 Tour brother, thus ; so fought the noble Douglas ;" 
 Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds : 
 But in the 'end, — to stop mine ear ' indeed, — 
 Thou hast a 'sigh to blow away this praise, 
 Ending with — " Brother, son, and aU, are 'dead !" 
 
 Mor. ' Douglas is living, and your ' brother, yet ; 
 But for my lord your 'son, — 
 
 Worth. Why, he is dead ! . . . 
 
 See, what a ready tongue ' Suspicion hath ! 
 I see a strange 'confession in thine eye : 
 Tet the 'first bringer of unwelcome news 
 Hath but a ' losing office ; and his tongue 
 Sounds ever after as a 'sullen ' bell. 
 Remembered knolUng a departed friend. 
 
 Zi. Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. 
 
 Mor. I 'm sorry I should ' force you to believe 
 
 Tbat, which I would to Heaven I had not 'seen ; 
 
 But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state. 
 
 Rendering 'faiat quittance,* wearied and outbreathed. 
 
 To Harry Monmouth ; whpse swift wrath beat down 
 
 The never-daunted Percy to the earth, 
 
 From whence with life he never more sprang up. 
 
 Then did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, 
 
 ' Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester 
 
 Too soon ta'en prisoner ; and that furious Scot, 
 
 The bloody Douglas, stumbling in fear, was took. The 
 
 'sum of all 
 Is — that the King hath 'won ; and hath sent out 
 A speedy power, — to encounter 'you, my lord, — 
 Under the conduct of young Lancaster. 
 
 * Betnm of blow. 
 
138 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 North. For this I shall have time enough to 'mourn. 
 In poison there is physic ; and these news, 
 Having been 'well, that would have made me 'sick, 
 'Being sick, have in some measure made me 'well. — 
 ' Now, biad my brows with ' iron ; and approach 
 The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring ! 
 Let heaven kiss earth ! now, let not Nature's hand 
 Keep the wild flood 'confined ! let order 'die ! 
 And let this world no longer be a 'stage 
 To feed contention in a ' lingering act ; 
 But let 'one spirit — of the first-born Cain — 
 Eeign in 'all bosoms ; that, 'each heart being set 
 On 'bloody courses, the rude scene may 'end, 
 And darkness be the ' burier of the dead ! 
 Lord Bardolph, Morton, and Travers expostulate with the Earl 
 
 for his unexpected violence. 
 
 Ii. Bard. Sweet Earl, divorce not 'wisdom from your ' hon- 
 our. 
 We all, that are engaged to face this loss, 
 'Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas. 
 That, if we wrought out ' life, 't was ten to one ; 
 And 'yet we ventured. 
 
 Mor. And, my noble lord. 
 
 The gentle Archbishop of York is up, 
 With well-appointed powers : he is a man 
 Who with a 'double surety binds his followers ; 
 Turns 'insurrection to 'religion : 
 Derives from ' Heaven his quarrel and his cause ; 
 And more and less do 'flock to follow him. 
 
 North. I ' knew of this before ; but, to speak truth, 
 This present grief had wiped it from my mind. 
 Go in with me ; and counsel every man 
 The aptest way for safety and revenge : 
 Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed : 
 Never so ' few, nor never yet more 'need. [Exmui. 
 
 The Scene now changes to a Street in London ; the fat Sir John, 
 FalstaiT loiters pensively along, attended by a sharp-eyed little boy 
 his page — bearing a sword and buckler. 
 
 Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the Doctor to my symp- 
 toms? 
 Page. He said, sir, that, for the party that sent me, he 
 might have 'more diseases than he knew for. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENEY IV — PART II. 139 
 
 Fal. , . . Men of all sorts take a pride to gird* at 'me : The 
 brain of this foolish- compounded clay, man, is not able 
 to invent anything that tends to laughter, more than 
 ' I invent, or is invented 'on me : I am not only witty in 
 'myself, but the 'cause that wit is in 'other men. Boy, 
 I do here walk before ' thee, like a sow that hath over- 
 whelmed all her litter but 'one. If the Prince put thee 
 into my service for any other reason than to set me off, 
 why then I have no judgment. Thou mandrake \\ thou 
 art fitter to be worn in my 'cap, than to wait at my 
 heels. What said Master Dombledon about the satin 
 for my short cloak, and my slops ?{ 
 
 Jfage. He said, sir, you should procure him better assur- 
 ance than ' Bardolph : he would not take ' his bond and 
 'yours ; he liked not the security. 
 
 Fal. Let him be hanged ! A rascally " yea-forsooth " knave, 
 to bear a 'gentleman in hand,§ and then stand upon 
 'security ! — I had as lief they would put 'ratsbane in 
 my mouth, as offer to stop it with security. I looked he 
 should have sent me two and-twenty yards of satin, as I 
 am a true knight ; and he sends me 'security ! Well, 
 he may 'sleep in security ; for ' he hath the horn, of 
 'abundance. 
 
 Page,. Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the 
 Prince for striking him. 
 
 Fal. Wait close ; || I will not see him. 
 
 The Lord Chief Justice and an Attendant enter. 
 
 Ch. Just. What 's he that goes away there ? 
 
 Atten. Palstaff. an 't please your lordship. 
 
 Gh. Just. He that was in question for the robbery ? 
 
 Atten. He, my lord ; but he hath since done 'good service 
 at Shrewsbury. 
 
 Ch. Just. Call him back. 
 
 Atten. Sir John Palstaff! Sir John Palstaff ! 
 
 Fal. Boy, tell him I am 'deaf. 
 
 Fage. You must speak louder ; my master is deaf. 
 
 Ch. Just. I am sure he is, to the hearing of anything 
 'good. — Go, pluck him by the elbow ; I 'must speak 
 with him. 
 
 Atten. Sir John, — 
 
 Fal. What ! a young knave, and 'beg ? Is there not 'wars? 
 is there not 'employment? doth not the King lack 
 'subjects? do not the 'rebels want 'soldiers? 
 
 Atten. You mistake me, sir. 
 
 * To sneer or jibe. t A root with forked brauclies, like the legs of a man ; diminu- 
 tive for man. X Breeches. § To have dealings with a gentleman. U Gome aside. 
 
140 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 JFal. Why, sir, did I say you were an ' honest man ? setting 
 my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had ' lied 
 in my throat if I had said 'so. 
 
 Atten. I pray you, sir, then 'set your knighthood and your 
 soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, 'you 
 lie in your throat, if you say I am any 'other than an 
 honest man. 
 
 Fal. ' I give thee ' leave to tell me so ? If thou gett'st any 
 leave of 'me, hang me ! if thou ' takest leave, thou 
 veert better be hanged. You hunt-counter!* Hence! 
 avaunt ! 
 
 Atten. Sir, my 'lord would speak with you. 
 
 The Chief Justice himself advances : 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. 
 
 Fal. My good lord ! — Heaven give your lordship good time 
 of day. — I am glad to see your lordship abroad : — I 
 heard say your lordship was sick : — I hope, your lord- 
 ship goes abroad by 'advice. Your lordship, though 
 not clean past your 'youth, hath yet some smack of 'age 
 in you ; and I most humbly beseech your lordship to 
 have a reverent care of your health. 
 
 Gh. Just. Sir John, I sent for you ' before your expedition 
 to Shrewsbury. 
 
 Fal. . . . An 't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is 
 'returned, with some discomfort, from Wales. 
 
 Oh. Just. I talk not of his ' majesty : — You would not 'come, 
 when I 'sent for you. 
 
 Fal. And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into this 
 same abominable apoplexy. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, Heaven mend him ! — I pray you, let me 
 speak with you. 
 
 Fal. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, an 't 
 please your lordship ; a kind of sleeping in the blood — 
 a sort of . . . tingling. 
 
 Ch. Just. What tell you me of 'it 1 be it as it is; 
 
 Fal. It hath its 'original from much grief ; from study, and 
 perturbation of the brain. I have read the 'cause of 
 his effects in Galen : it is a kind of 'deafness. 
 
 Ch. Just. I think 'you are fallen into the disease; for you hear 
 not what I say to you. 
 
 Fal. Very well, my lord, very well : rather, an 't please you, 
 it is the disease of not ' listening, — the malady of not 
 'marking, — that ' I am troubled withal. 
 
 Ch. Just. To punish you by the ' heels would amend the 
 
 * Petty law officer ; tipstaff. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY IV PART II. 141 
 
 attention of your 'ears ; and I care not if I do become 
 your physician. 
 
 JFal, I am as 'poor as Job, my lord, but not so 'patient : 
 your lordship may minister the potion of imprisonment 
 to me, in respect of 'poverty ; but how I should be 
 your patient to 'follow your prescriptions, the wise 
 may make some dram of a 'scruple — or, indeed, a scruple 
 itself. 
 
 Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were matters against 
 you for your 'life, to come speak with me. 
 
 Fal. As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the 
 laws of this land-service, I did not come. 
 
 Ch. Just. "Well, the truth is. Sir John, you live in 'great ' in- 
 famy. 
 
 Ji'al. He that buckles him in my ' belt cannot live in ' less. 
 
 Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and your waste is 
 great. 
 
 Fal. I would it were otherwise : I would my means were 
 greater, — and my 'waist slenderer. 
 
 Ch. Just. Tou have misled the youthful Prince. 
 
 JFal. The young Prince hath misled 'me. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, I am loath to gall* a new-healed wound. 
 Your day's service at ' Shrewsbury hath a little gUded- 
 over your night's exploit on ' Gadshill. — You follow the 
 young Prince up and down, like his ill angel. 
 
 I^al. Not so, my lord ; your ' ill angelf is ' light, but I hope, 
 he that looks upon 'me will take me without 'weighing. 
 You, that are old, consider not the capacities of us that 
 are 'young : and we that are in the vawardj of our 
 youth, I must confess, are wags too. 
 
 Ch. Just. Do 'you set down your name in the scroll of 
 'youth, that are written down 'old, with all the 'charac- 
 ters of age ? Have you not a moist eye ? a dry hand ? 
 a yellow cheek % a white beard ? a decreasing leg ? an 
 increasing body ? Is not your voice broken ? your 
 wind short % your chin double % your wit single 1§ and 
 every part about you blasted with antiquity ? And will 
 you yet call yourself 'young ? Fie, fie, fie. Sir John ! 
 
 Fal. My lord, I was ' born, about three of the clock in the 
 afternoon, 'with a white head, and something a round 
 body. For my voice, — I have lost it with hallooing, 
 and singing of anthems. To approve my youth 'fur- 
 ther, I will not : the truth is, I am only old in 'judgment 
 and 'understanding ; and he that wiU 'caper with me 
 
 * Chafe ; irritate, t Counterfeit coin. t Vanguard ; foremost rank. * 
 
 § Slight, coniined to one subject. 
 
142 THE EEADEK's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 for a thousand marks, — let him 'lend me the money, 
 and have at him ! For the box o' the ear that the 
 Prince gave you, — he gave it like a rude Prince; and 
 you 'took it like a sensible lord. I have checked him 
 for it ; and the young lion 'repents ; — marry, not in 
 ashes and sackcloth, . . . but in nev? silk and old sack. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, Heaven send the Prince a better compan- 
 ion! 
 
 Fal. Heaven send the companion a better ' Prince ! I cannot 
 rid my hands of him. There is not a dangerous action 
 can peep out his head, but ' I am thrust upon it. Well, 
 I cannot last 'ever. But it vs^as always yet the trick of 
 our English nation, if they 'have a good thing, to make 
 it too 'common. If you will needs say, I am an 'old 
 man, you 'should give me 'rest. I would to Heaven 
 my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is : I 
 were better to be eaten to death with 'rust, thsin to be 
 scoured to 'nothing with perpetual motion. 
 
 Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest ; and Heaven bless 
 your expedition ! 
 
 Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to fur- 
 nish me forth ? 
 
 Ch. Just. Not a ' penny, not a penny. Pare you well : com- 
 mend me to my cousin Westmoreland. [''"'""na'^AMf"''' 
 
 Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle.* — A man 
 can never separate 'age and 'covetousness. — Boy ! 
 What money is in my purse? 
 
 Page. Seven groats and twopence. 
 
 Fal. ... I can get no remedy against this 'consumption of 
 the 'purse : ' borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, 
 but the disease is ' incurable. — Go bear this letter to 
 the Prince. About it : you know where to find me. 
 [Eiitpage.] A plague of this gout! it plays the rogue 
 with my great toe. 'T is no matter if I do halt; I have 
 the wars for my colour,! and my 'pension shall seem 
 the more reasonable. A good wit will make use of 
 'anything : I will turn 'diseases to 'commodity. cexu. 
 
 Falstaff is all day walking about the streets, with, of course, only 
 a small remainder of his " seven groats and twopence " in his 
 pocket. His commission is delivered ; but, without money, how 
 can he join his regiment ? And here we have the Hostess of the 
 Boar's Head, with two Sheriffs officers. Fang and Snare, to arrest 
 him for his tavern debt. The Hostess says : 
 
 * An implement for driving piles worked by three men. t Excuse. 
 
Scene!.] KING HENBY IV — PART II. 143 
 
 Most. Master Fang, have you entered the action ? 
 
 Fang. It ' is entered. Snare, we must 'arrest Sir John 
 Falstaff. 
 
 Snare. It may chance cost some of us our 'lives, for he will 
 'stab. 
 
 Host. Alas the day ! take heed of him. In good faith, 'a 
 cares not 'what mischief he doth ; he will spare neither 
 man, woman, nor child. 
 
 Fang. If I can 'close with him, I care not for his thrust. 
 An I but ' fist him once — an he come but within 'my 
 vice, — 
 
 Host. I am 'undone by his going ; I warrant yoa, he 's an 
 'infinitive thing upon my score. — Good Master Fang, 
 hold him sure : — good Master Snare, let him not 'scape. 
 'A comes continuantly to Pie Corner to buy a saddle ; 
 and he 's indited to dinner to the Lubbar's Head in 
 Lumbert Street, to Master Smooth's the silkman : I 
 pray you, since my exion ' is entered, let him be brought- 
 in to his 'answer. A hundred mark* is a long loan for 
 a poor lone woman to bear ; and I have borne, and borne 
 and borne ; and have been f ubbed off, and f ubbed off, 
 and fubbed off, froiri this day to that day, that it is a 
 shame to be ' thought on. There is no ' honesty in such 
 deaUng ; unless a woman should be made a ' beast, to 
 bear 'every knave's wrong. — Yonder he comes ; and 
 that arrant malmsey-nosef Bardolph, with him. 
 Sir John Falstaff, his Page, and Bardolph, enter. 
 Do your offices, do your ofiS.ces, Master Fang, and 
 Master Snare : do me, do me, do me your offices ! 
 
 Fal. How now ? whose mare 's dead ? What 's the mat- 
 ter? 
 
 Fang. Sir John, I arrest you, at the suit of Mistress 
 Quickly. 
 
 Fal. A.W&J, varlets ! — Draw, Bardolph : cut me off the 
 villain's head ! Throw the queanj in the channel. 
 
 Host. Throw me in the channel ? I '11 throw ' thee there. 
 Wilt thou ? wilt thou ? thou rogue !— Murder, murder ! 
 O, thou honey-suckle villain ! wilt thou kill Heaven's 
 officers, and the King's % O, thou honey- seed§ rogue ! 
 Thou 'art a honey-seed ; a 'man-queller, and a 'woman- 
 queller. 
 
 Fang. A rescue ! a rescue ! 
 
 Host. Good people, 'bring a rescue, or 'two. — Thou wo 't, 
 wo 't thou ? do, do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp-seed ! 
 
 * A mark was -worth about 13s. 4d. ($3, 22). t Red, from the effects of malmsey wine. 
 t A worthless old cow, a slut. ■ § Homicide, 
 
144 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Fal. Away, you scullion ! you rampallian ! you fustilarian ! 
 I '11 tickle your catastrophe ! 
 
 The Lord Chief Justice, attended, enters. 
 
 Ch. Just. What is the matter ? keep the peace here, ho ! 
 
 Host. Good my lord, be good to me, I beseech you ! 
 
 Ch. Just. How now. Sir John ! what, are you brawling here ? 
 Doth this become your place, your time, and business ? 
 You 'should have been well on your way to York. — 
 Stand from him, fellow ; wherefore hang'st upon him ? 
 
 Host. O my most worshipful lord, an 't please your grace, I 
 am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at 
 my suit. 
 
 <Jh. Just. For what sum 1 
 
 Host. It is 'more than for 'some, my lord ; it is for 'all, — all 
 I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home ; he 
 hath put all my substance into that fat body of his ; — 
 but I will have some of it out again ! 
 
 Ch. Just. How comes this. Sir John ? Tie ! what man of 
 good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation ? 
 Are you not ashamed to 'enforce a poor widow to so 
 rough a course to come by her 'own ? 
 
 Fal. . . . What is the 'gross sum that I owe thee ? 
 
 Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, ' thyself, and the 
 money too. Thou didst 'swear to me, — upon a parcel- 
 gilt goblet, — sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, — at the 
 round table, — by a sea-coal fire, — upon Wednesday in 
 Wheeson* week, — when the Prince broke thy head for 
 likingt his father to a singing man of Windsor, — thou 
 'didst 'swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, 
 to 'marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canst 
 thou 'deny it % Did not good- wife Keech, the butcher's 
 wife, come in then, and call me 'Gossip Quickly? 
 coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us she 
 had a good dish of prawns ; whereby thou didst desire 
 to eat some ; whereby I told thee, they were ill for a 
 'green wound % And didst thou not, when she was 
 gone downstairs, desire me to be no more so familiarity 
 with such 'poor people ; saying that ere long they 
 should call me 'madam 1 And didst thou not kiss 
 me °>. . . . and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings ? I put 
 thee now to thy book-'oath : deny it, if thou canst. 
 
 Fal. My lord, this is a poor 'mad soul ; and she says, up 
 and down the town, that her eldest son is like 'you. 
 
 * WhitBun. t Resembling. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY IV PART II. 145 
 
 She ' hath been in good case ; and the truth is, poverty 
 hath 'distracted her. — 
 
 Ch. Just. Sir John, I am well acquainted -with your manner 
 of 'wrenching the true cause the false way. It is not a 
 confident brow, nor the throng of words, that come 
 with such more than impudent sauciness from you, 
 can thrust 'me from a level consideration ; you have, 
 (as it appears to me,) 'practised upon the easy-yielding 
 spirit of this woman. 
 
 Most. Yes, in troth, my lord. 
 
 Ch. Just. Pr'ythee, peace ! — Pay her the 'debt you owe her, 
 and 'un-pay the 'villainy you have done her : the one you 
 may do with sterling 'money, — and the other with cur- 
 rent 'repentance. 
 
 Fal. My lord, I will not undergo this sneap* without reply. 
 You call honourable boldness impudent sauciness : if 
 a man will make court'sy, and say 'nothing, he is 
 virtuous. No, my lord, my humble duty remembered, 
 I do desire 'deliverance from these officers, being 
 upon hasty employment in the ' King's affairs. 
 
 Ch. Just. You speak as having 'power to do wrong : But 
 'answer, in the effect of your 'reputation, and satisfy 
 the poor woman. 
 
 Ji^al. Come hither, hostess. [He tatea her !»ide. 
 
 Gower, a gentleman of the King's household, enters. 
 
 Ch. Just. Now, Master Gower, — what news? 
 
 Gow. The King, my lord, and Harry Prince of "Wales, 
 
 Are near at hand : the rest this paper tells. [Gives aietier. 
 Falstaff is thus overheard : 
 
 Fal. As I am a gentleman, — 
 
 Host. Nay, you said so before. 
 
 Fal. As I am a gentleman ! — -Come, no more words of it. 
 
 Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain 
 to 'pawn both my plate, and the tapestry of my dining- 
 chambers. 
 
 Fal. Glasses, 'glasses is the only 'drinking : and for thy 
 'walls, — a pretty slight drollery, or the story of the 
 Prodigal, in water-work,t is worth a ' thousand of these 
 bed-hangings, and these fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be 
 ' ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an 't were not for thy 
 humours, there 's not a better wench in England. Go, 
 wash thy face, and draw J thy action. Come, thou must 
 not be in this humour with 'me ! Come, come ! I know 
 thou wast set 'on to this. 
 
 * Rebuke. t Water-colour. t Withdraw 
 
146 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Host. Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty 'nobles* • 
 i' faith, I am loath to pawn my 'plate, in good ear- 
 nest, la. 
 
 Fal. Let it alone ; I '11 make 'other shift : you 'U be a fool 
 still. 
 
 Host. Well, you shall ' have it, though I pawn my 'gown. 
 I hope, you '11 come to supper. — You '11 pay me 'all 
 together % 
 
 Fal. Will I live ? — [to Bardoiph.: Go, with her, with her ; hook 
 
 on, hook on. [Eicunt 
 
 We leave the Chief Justice and Gower to their duties, while 
 
 Falstaff cheerily proceeds to his military preparations before he 
 
 commences the orgies at the Boar's Head. 
 
 We saunter into another street, where we overhear the Prince 
 and Poins in earnest conversation: 
 
 -P Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary. — Shall I tell thee 
 one thing, Poins ? 
 
 Poins. Yes, faith, and let it be an excellent 'good thing. 
 
 p. He7i. Marry, I tell thee, — it is not meet that I should 
 be 'sad, now my father is 'sick. But my heart bleeds 
 inwardly that my father is 'so sick ; and keeping such 
 vile company as 'thou art, hath in reason taken from 
 me all ostentation of 'sorrow. — What wouldst thou 
 think of me, if I should 'weep ? 
 
 jPoins. I would think thee a most princely 'hypocrite. 
 
 jF Hen. It would be 'every man's thought. But here 
 comes Bardoiph, and the boy that I gave Falstaff. 
 
 Enter Bardoiph and Page : 
 
 Bard. Heaven save your grace. 
 
 F Hen. And yours, most noble Bardoiph. 
 
 Bard. There 's a letter for you. 
 
 Foins. Delivered with good respect. — And how doth the 
 martlemas,t your master ? 
 
 Bard. In ' bodily health, sir. 
 
 F. Hen. Look 'you, Poins, how he writes. [Gives rhc letter to poins. 
 
 Foins [reada]. " iSiT Johu Falstoff, knight, to the son of the 
 King, nearest his father, Harry Frince of Wales, 
 greeting. — F will imitate the honourable RomanX in 
 brevity :^' — 'he sure means brevity in breath, short- 
 winded. — '■'■ I commend me to thee, 1 commend 'thee,and 
 I leave thee. Be not too familiar with Foins; for he 
 
 * Gold coins worth Gs. 8d. t St. Martin's Day is on the 11th of Noveniber=Fine 
 weather in winter — youth in age. t Alluding to Julius Cffisar and his laconic 
 despatch, Veni^ vidi, vici. 
 
Sceue iii.] KINO HENRY IV — PART 11. 147 
 
 misuses thy favours so much, that he swears thou art 
 
 to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle tim.es as thou 
 
 may'' St, and so farewell. 
 
 Thine, by yea and no, {which is as much as to say, 
 as thou usest hhn,) Jack IFalstaff, with my famil- 
 iars; John, with my brothers and sisters; and 
 'Sir John with 0,11 Europe.^'' 
 
 My lord, I will steep this letter in 'sack, and make 
 
 him eat it. 
 I'. Hen. That 's to make him eat plenty* of his words. But 
 
 'do you use me thus, Ned ? must I marry your sister ? 
 Poins. Heaven send the wench no 'worse fortune ! But I 
 
 never 'said so. 
 F. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with the time. — Is 
 
 your master here in London ? 
 .Bard. Yes, my lord. 
 p. Hen. Where sups he ? 
 
 Hard. At the old place, my lord, — in Eastcheap. 
 P. Hen. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper ? 
 Poins. I am your shadow, my lord ; I '11 follow you. 
 P. Hen. Sirrah, you boy, — and Bardolph, — no word to your 
 
 master that I am yet come to town ; there 's for your 
 
 SIi.6iJ.C6> [Gives money. 
 
 Hard. I have no tongue, sir. 
 
 Page. And for mine, sir, — I will 'govern it. 
 
 P. Hen. Fare ye well; go. kx. Bard, and page.: How might we 
 see Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his ' true colours, 
 and not 'ourselves be seen? 
 
 Poins. Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait 
 upon him at his table as Drawers, f 
 
 P. Hen From a Prince to a prentice ! a low transforma- 
 tion ! In everything, the 'purpose must weigh with the 
 'folly. Follow me, Ned. [E,mnt. 
 
 The Scene is again before the Earl of Northumberland's Castle at 
 Warkworth ; the Earl is now desirous to make amends for his re- 
 cent inaction ; but he is dissuaded by his wife Lady Northumber- 
 land, as well as by his daughter-in-law, the widow of his son the 
 gallant Hotspur. 
 
 North. I pray thee, loving wife and gentle daughter, 
 
 Give 'even way unto my rough affairs : 
 
 Put not 'you on the visage of the times. 
 Ijady Nor. I have given over, I will speak no more : 
 
 Do what you will ; your 'wisdom be your guide. 
 
 ' 0. R. twenty, t Serving-men. 
 
J 
 
 148 THE KEADEr's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 JVorth. Alas, sweet wife, my ' honour is at pawn ; 
 And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. 
 
 Lady Per. O, yet, for heaven's sake, go not to these wars ! 
 The time 'was, father, that you ' broke your word, 
 When you were more endeared to it than 'now ; 
 When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, 
 Threw many a northward look, to see his father 
 Bring-up his powers ; but he did long in vain. 
 ' Who ' then persuaded you to stay at ' home ? 
 There were ' two honours lost, — yours and your son's ! 
 He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
 That fashioned others. And you left him there. 
 Second to none, unseconded by 'you — 
 To look upon the hideous god of war 
 In disadvantage ; to abide a field. 
 Where nothing but the sound of 'Hotspur's name 
 Did seem defensible : — e'en so you left him. 
 Never, O, never, do his ghost the wrong 
 To hold your honour more precise and nice 
 With 'others than with him : let them 'alone. 
 Had my sweet Harry had but ' half their numbers, 
 To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck. 
 Have talked of Monmouth's grave. 
 
 North. Beshrew your heart. 
 
 Fair daughter! you do draw my spirits from me, 
 With new-lamenting ancient oversights. 
 But I 'must go, and meet with danger there ; 
 Or it will seek me in another .place, 
 And find me worse provided. 
 
 Lady Nor. O, fly to Scotland, 
 
 Till that the Nobles and the arm^d Commons 
 Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
 
 Lady. Per. If they get ground and vantage of the King, 
 'Then join you with them — like a rib of steel, 
 To make strength stronger ; but, for all our loves. 
 First let them ' try themselves. So did your son ; 
 ' He was so suffered ; so came I a widow ! 
 
 North. Come, come, go in with me. 'T is with my 'mind. 
 As with the tide swelled up unto its height. 
 That makes a still-stand, running neither way : 
 I 'wiU resolve for Scotland : there am I, 
 Till time and vantage crave my company. [Esaunt. 
 
 The scheme to watch Falstaff at his revelries is now to be car- 
 ried out by the Prince and Poins. The Scene reverts to London — 
 
Scene iv.] KING HENRY IV PABT II. 14:9 
 
 to a room in the Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap, where Fal- 
 staff has spent the evening jollily. While in merry confabulation 
 with the Hostess and her boon companion, one of the Waiters an- 
 nounces an unexpected visitor : 
 
 Draw. Sir, swaggering Pistol 's below, and would speak 
 with you. 
 
 Host. If he swagger, let him not come ' here : no, by my 
 faith ; I must live among my 'neighbours ; I '11 'no 
 swaggerers : I am in good name and fame with the 
 very 'best: — shut the door; — there comes no swag- 
 gerers here : I have not lived all this while, to have 
 swaggering 'now. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear. Hostess ? — 
 
 Host. Pray you, pacify yourself. Sir John : there comes no 
 swaggerers here. 
 
 Fal. Dost thou hear ■? it is mine 'Ancient.* 
 
 Host. Tilly-faUy, Sir John, ne'er tell me : your 'ancient 
 swaggerer comes not in 'my doors. I was before 
 Master Tisick, the deputy, t' other day ; and, as he said 
 to me, — ^'t was no longer ago than Wednesday last, — 
 " Neighbour Quickly," says he ; — Master Dumb, our 
 minister, was by then ; — " Neighbour Quickly," says 
 he, " receive those that are 'civil ; for," says he, " you 
 are an honest woman, and well thought on ; therefore 
 take heed what 'guests you receive : Receive," says he, 
 "no swaggering companions."— ^There comes none 
 here : — Tou would bless you to ' hear what he said. — 
 No, I '11 no swaggerers. 
 
 Fal. He 's 'no swaggerer, Hostess ; you may stroke him as 
 gently as a puppy greyhound : he 'U not swagger with 
 a Barbary hen, if her feathers turn back in any show 
 of 'resistance. — Call him up, drawer. [Exit Drawer. 
 
 Host. I will bar no 'honest man myhouse; but I do not 
 love swaggering ; by my troth, I am the worse, when 
 one 'says — " swagger." Peel, master, how I shake ; 
 look you, I warrant you. 
 
 Fal. So you do. Hostess. 
 
 Host. Do I °i yea, in very truth do I, an 't were an aspen- 
 leaf : I cannot abide swaggerers. 
 
 Pistol, very drunk, enters with Bardolph and Page : 
 
 Fist. Save you, Sir John ! 
 
 Fal. Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge you 
 with a cup of sack: do you 'dis-charge upon mine 
 Hostess. She is pistol-proof, sir ; you shall hardly 
 offend her. 
 
 ' * Flag-bearer, eUBign, 
 
r50 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEABE. [Acta. 
 
 Host. Come, I '11 drink no proofs : I 'II drink no more than 
 
 will do me 'good, for no man's pleasure, I. — Away, you 
 
 cut -purse rascal ! 
 JPist. ... I will murder your ruff for this. 
 Fal. No more, Pistol ; I would not have you go off here. 
 
 Discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. 
 Hard. Pray thee, go down, good Ancient. 
 JPist. Not I : I teU thee what, Corporal Bardolph ; I could 
 
 ' tear her. — I '11 be 'revenged on her. 
 Page. Pray thee, go down. 
 Pist. I '11 see her hanged first ; — To Pluto's burning lake, 
 
 to the infernal deep, with Erebus* and tortures vile 
 
 also ! Hold hook and line, say I. Down, down, dogs ! 
 
 down ! Have we not Hirenf here ? 
 Host. Good Captain Peesel, be quiet ; it is very late, i' faith. 
 
 I beseek you now, aggravate your choler. 
 Pist. These be good humours, indeed ! Shall pack-horses. 
 
 And hollow pampered jades of Asia, 
 
 Compare with Csesars, and with Cannibals,^ 
 
 And Trojan Greeks ? nay, let the welkin roar ! 
 
 Shall we fall foul for ' toys % 
 Bard. Be gone, good Ancient : this will grow to a brawl 
 
 anon. 
 Pist. Die men, like dogs ! Have we not Hiren here ? — 
 
 Come, give 's some sack. 
 
 Fear we broadsides ? no, let the fiend give ' fire : 
 
 Give 'me some 'sack ; and, sweetheart, lie thou there. 
 
 CLaylag down 
 his awotd. 
 
 ' FalstafPs anger is now aroused by the shouting and spouting of 
 his subaltern. 
 
 Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet. 
 
 Pist. Sweet knight, I kiss thy neif ;§ what ! we have seen 
 
 the Seven Stars. || 
 Host. O, thrust him down-stairs ! I cannot endure such a 
 
 fustian rascal. 
 Fal. 'Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat shilling. H 
 Bard. Come, get you down-stairs. 
 Pist^ What ! shall we have incision'? shaU we imbrue ? — 
 
 ESnatcblDg up 
 his sword. 
 
 Then, death, rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days ! 
 Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds 
 Untwine the Sisters Three !** Come, Atropos, I say! 
 
 Fal. Give me my rapier, boy. 
 
 Host. I pray thee, Sir John, I pray thee do not draw. 
 
 * A deity of hell, t Quotations from old plays. t Hannibals. § Fist. II The 
 Plough, in Ursa Major. % A shilling made smooth by being frequently thrown down 
 at shovel-board. ** The Three Fates (the Parcse) were Glotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. 
 
Scene iT.] KING HENKY IV — PAKT II. 151 
 
 Fal. Get you down-stairs. Drawing. 
 
 Host. Here 's a goodly tumult ! I '11 forswear keeping 
 
 house, afore I '11 be in these tirrits and frights. So ; 
 
 murder, I warrant now. 
 Bardolph, with his sword drawn, drives out Pistol, while the 
 Hostess continues her exclamation : 
 
 AJas, alas ! put up your naked weapons, put up your naked 
 weapons ! 
 
 Bardolph returns, followed by two strange Waiters. 
 
 Fal. Have you turned him out o' doors ? 
 
 Bard. Tes, sir : the rascal's drunk. You have hurt him, 
 sir, in the shoulder. 
 
 Fal. A rascal, to brave 'me ! A rascally slave ! I will toss 
 the rogue in a blanket. 
 
 Host. Ah ! Thou little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, when 
 wilt thou leave fighting, and begin to patch up thine 
 old body for heaven ? 
 
 Fal. Peace, good hostess ! do not speak like a Death's head ; 
 do not bid me remember mine end. 
 
 Host. Well, well ! What humour is the Prince of % 
 
 Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he would have made a 
 good pantler ;* he would ha' chipped bread well. 
 The two Drawers quietly advance that they may hear distinctly. 
 
 Host. They say Poins has a good wit. 
 
 Fal. He a good wit? hang him, baboon ! his wit is as thick 
 as Tewksbury mustard ! 
 
 Host. Why does the Prince ' love him so, then '? 
 
 Fal. Because their legs are both of a bigness ; and he plays 
 at quoits well ; and eats conger and fennel ; and drinks 
 off candles' ends for flap-dragons ;t and jumps upon 
 joint-stools ; and swears with a good grace ; and such 
 other gambol faculties he has, that show a weak mind and 
 an able body, — for the which the Prince admits him : 
 for the Prince himself is such another ; the weight of 
 a ' hair will turn the scales between their avoirdupois. J 
 
 P. Hen. [Aside w poinn.a Would not this nave of a wheel§ have 
 his ears cut off'? 
 
 Poins. Let 's beat him before the Hostess. 
 
 Fal. Some sack, Francis. 
 
 P. Hen., Poins. Anon, anon, sir. 
 
 The Prince and Poins both rush forward to attend on Sir John ; 
 
 but he at once recognizes them, and all burst into peals of laughter. 
 
 Fal. Ha ! surely a son of the King's ! — ^And art not thou 
 Poins his brother ? O, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 • The bread pantry-boy. t Burning brandy with combustible sweetmeats. 
 t Equal balance. § =■ this knave with a round body. 
 
152 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 P Hen. Why, thou globe of sinful contineiits,* what a life 
 
 dost thou lead ! 
 Fal. A better than thou : ' I am a gentleman ; ' thou art a 
 
 'drawer. 
 P^ Sen. Very true, sir ; and I come to draw you out by the 
 
 ears. [The Hostess also recognizes her new attendaots. 
 
 Host. O, my lord the Prince ! by my troth, welcome to 
 London. — Now, bless that sweet face of thine ! Are 
 you come from Wales ? 
 
 Fal. Thou mad compound of majesty, thou art welcome. 
 
 ./-". Sen. You tallow candle-mine ! how vilely did you speak 
 of me even now, before this honest, virtuous, civil gen- 
 tlewoman 1 
 
 Fal. Didst thou 'hear me? 
 
 F Sen. Yes ; and you ' knew me, — as you did when you ran 
 away by Gadshill : You knew I was at your back ; and 
 spoke it on purpose to try my patience. 
 
 Fal. No, no, no ; not so ; I did not think thou wast within 
 hearing. 
 
 P. Sen. I shall drive you, then, to 'confess the wilful abuse; 
 and then I know how to handle you! 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour; no abuse. 
 
 F. Sen. Not ! — to dispraise me, and call me — pantler, and 
 bread-chipper, and I know not what? 
 
 Fal. No abuse, Ned, i' the world : honest Ned, none. ... I 
 dispraised him before the 'wicked, that the wicked 
 might not fall in 'love with him; — in which doing, I 
 have done the part of a careful friend and a true sub- 
 ject ; and thy father is to give me 'thanks for it. No 
 abuse, Hal ; — none, Ned, none ; no, 'faith, boys, none. 
 
 F. Sen. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, 
 do not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman! 
 Is thine ' Hostess here of the wicked 1 Or is thy ' Boy 
 of the wicked ? Or honest ' Bardolph, whose zeal burns 
 in his nose, of the wicked ? 
 
 Foins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer. 
 
 Fal. The fiend hath marked Bardolph irrecoverable ; and 
 his face is Lucifer's kitchen, where he doth nothing but 
 roast 'malt-worms. For the Boy, — there is a 'good 
 angel about him, but the Devil 'outlsids him too! [\°c'^rt°' 
 
 Sost. Who knocks so loud? look to the door there, 
 Francis. 
 
 Peto enters. 
 
 F. Sen. Peto, how now ! what news ? 
 
 * A round body containing many debauches — as a continent consists of many coun- 
 tries. 
 
Act 8, Scene i ] KING HENRY IV — PABT II. 153 
 
 Peto. The King your father is at Westminster ; 
 And there are twenty weak and wearied posts 
 Come from the North: and, as I came along, 
 I met, and overtook, a dozen Captains, 
 Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns. 
 And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame. 
 So ' idly to profane the precious time. 
 Give me my sword and cloak. — Falstaff, good-night. 
 
 [BxeuDt Prince aad followers. Knocking heard. 
 
 JPal. ' More knocking at the door ! CBardoiph retaraa.: How now ? 
 what 's the matter? 
 
 Sard. Tou must away to Court, sir, presently ; A dozen 
 Captains stay at door for you. 
 
 Fal. Farewell, Hostess: — Tou see how men of merit are 
 sought after: the 'un-deserver may sleep, when the man 
 of 'action is called on. Farewell : if I be not sent away 
 'post, I will see you again ere I go. Farewell, fare- 
 well. [Exeunt Falstaff aLd Bardolph. 
 
 Host. Well, fare thee well : I have known thee these twenty- 
 nine years, come peascod-time ; but an honester, and 
 truer -hearted man, — well, fare thee well. [Exit. 
 
 The Scene now changes to a Room in the Palace where, during 
 the night, we see the watchful King Henry in his robe de chambre, 
 attended by a Page. 
 
 K. Hen. Go, call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick ; 
 But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters. 
 And well consider of them. Make good speed. CEiupage. 
 . . . How many thousands of my 'poorest subjects 
 Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep ! O gentle Sleep, 
 . Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee. 
 That thou no more wilt weigh 'my eyelids down, 
 And srteep my senses in f orgetf ulness % 
 Why, rather. Sleep, Uest thou in 'smoky 'cribs, — 
 Upon 'uneasy pallets stretching thee. 
 And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, — 
 Than in the 'perfumed chambers of the 'great. 
 Under the canopies of costly state. 
 And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody ? 
 O thou dull god ! 'why liest thou with the 'vUe, 
 In ' loathsome beds ? and leav'st the ' kingly couch 
 A watch-case, to a common 'larum bell ? 
 Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy mast. 
 
154 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Seal-up the ship-boy's eyes ; and rock his brains 
 
 In cradle of the rude imperious surge 1 
 
 And, in the visitation of the winds, 
 
 "Who take the ruffian billows by the top. 
 
 Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
 
 With deafening clamours in the slippery shrouds,* 
 
 That, with the hurly,t ' Death-itself awakes ; — 
 
 Canst thou, 'partial Sleep ! 'give thy repose 
 
 To the wet 'sea-boy in an hour so rude ; 
 
 And, in the calmest and the stillest night. 
 
 With all apphances and means to boot, 
 
 ' Deny it to a ' King 1 Then, happy, ' low-lie-down ! — 
 
 "Uneasy lies the head that wears a 'crown. 
 
 Warwick and Surrey enter. 
 
 War. Many good-morrows to your majesty ! 
 
 jK". Men. Is it good-'morrow, lords 1 
 
 Why then, good-morrow to you both, my lords. 
 Have you read-o'er the letters that I sent you ? 
 Then you perceive, the body of our kingdom 
 How f oill it is ; what rank 'diseases grow. 
 And with what 'danger, near the heart of it. 
 
 War. It is but as a body yet distempered ; 
 
 Which, to his former strength, may be 'restored, 
 
 With good advice and little medicine. 
 
 My Lord ' Northumberland wUl soon be cooled. 
 
 JT. Hen. O Heaven ! that one might read the book of Fate, 
 And see the revolution of the times 
 Make mountains level ; and the continent, 
 (Weary of solid firmness,) melt itself 
 Into the sea ! And, 'other times, how chances mock. 
 And changes fill the cup of alteration ! 
 O, if this 'were seen. 
 
 The 'happiest youth — viewing his progress ' through. 
 What perils 'past, what crosses to 'ensue — 
 Would 'shut the book, and sit him down, and die ! 
 It is not ten years gone, 
 
 Since Richard aad Northumberland, (great 'friends,) 
 Did ' feast together ; and, in two years after. 
 Were they at 'wars. But which of you was by, 
 When Richard, with his eyes brimful of tears, 
 Did speak these words, — now proved a 'prophecy — 
 " Northumberland, thou ' ladder, by the which 
 My cousin Bolingbroke ascends 'my throne ; — 
 The time shall come, that foul ' Sin, gathering head, 
 
 * O. R. clouds. t Noisy confusion. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY IV — PAKT II. 155 
 
 Shall break into 'corruption ; " — so went on, 
 'Foretelling this same time's condition, 
 And the 'division of our amity. 
 
 War. There is a history in 'all men's lives ; 
 
 The which observed, a man 'may prophesy. 
 With a near aim, of the main chance of things 
 As yet 'not come to life ; and, by the form of this, 
 King Richard might create a 'perfect guess — 
 That great Northumberland, then false to ' him. 
 Would, of that seed, grow to a 'greater falseness ; 
 Which should not find a ground to root upon. 
 Unless on 'you. 
 
 JS". Hen. Are these things then 'necessities % . . . 
 Then let us 'meet them, ' like necessities : — 
 They say, the Bishop and Northumberland 
 Ave fifty thousand strong. 
 
 War. It 'cannot be, my lord ; 
 
 Rumour doth 'double, like the Voice and Echo, 
 The numbers of the ' feared. — Upon my life, my lord, 
 The powers that you 'already have sent forth 
 Shall bring this prize in very easily. 
 To comfort you the 'more, I have received 
 A certain instance* that Glendower is 'dead. — 
 Tour majesty hath been this fortnight ill ; 
 And these unseasoned hours, perforce, must 'add 
 Unto your sickness. 
 
 K. Hen. I will take your counsel : 
 
 And were these 'inward wars once out of hand. 
 We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. iT;»uiit. 
 
 Falstaff, labouring under his two great disadvantages — obesity 
 and impecuniosity, — is now on his journey to the north ; having, 
 on his way, to raise soldiers for the King, and money for himself. 
 His ragged, raw recruits have to be attested by a magistrate : 
 and, on his march through Gloucestershire, he takes advantage of 
 old acquaintanceship with Robert Shallow, Esquire and Justice of 
 the Peace, to wait on him. Before the fat Knight's arrival, we find 
 ourselves in the Court-yard of the Justice's house, and overhear a 
 conversation between Justice Shallow and another old gentleman. 
 Justice Silence, his cousin; who has just come over to consult about 
 the King's levy of soldiers. Justice Shallow gives a hearty welcome 
 to his brother magistrate ; while the recruits — Mouldy, Shadow, 
 ^Vart, Feeble, Bull-calf — remain behind with the Servants. 
 
 Shal. Come on, come on, come on, sir ; give me your hand, 
 
 * Immediate information. 
 
156 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act *- 
 
 sir, give me your hand, sir; an early stirrer, by the 
 rood.* And how doth my good cousin Silence ? 
 
 Ml. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 
 
 Shal. And how doth my cousin your wife ? and your fair 
 daughter, (and mine,) my 'god-daughter Ellen? 
 
 Sil. Alas, a 'black ousel,! cousin Shallow. 
 
 Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say, my cousin William 
 is become a good scholar : He is at Oxford still, is he 
 not? 
 
 Sil. Indeed, sir ; to my cost. 
 
 /Shal. He must, then, to the Inns o' Court shortly. ' I was 
 once of 'Clement's Inn, where I think they will talk of 
 'mad Shallow yet. 
 
 Sil. Tou were called ' lusty Shallow ' then, cousin. 
 
 Shal. By the mass, I was called 'anything ; and I would 
 have 'done anything indeed too, and roundly too. 
 There was I, — and little John Doit of Staffordshire, — 
 and black George Bare, — and Francis Pickbone, — and 
 Will Squele, a Cotswold man ; — ^you had not four such 
 swinge-bucklers in all the Inns o' Court again. Then 
 was Jack Falstaff, (now 'Sir John,) a boy, and page to 
 Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about 
 soldiers? 
 
 Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. I saw him break 
 Skogan's head at the Court gate, when he was a crack,f 
 not thus high : and the very same day did ' I fight with 
 one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's Inn. 
 O, the mad days that I have spent ! And to see how 
 many of my old acquaintance are 'dead ! 
 
 Sil. We shall all 'follow, cousin. 
 
 Shal. Certain, 't is certain ; very sure, very sure : Death, as 
 the Psalmist saith, is certain to 'all ; all shall die. — 
 How a good yoke of ' buUocks at Stamford fair ? 
 
 Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there. 
 
 Shal. . . Death 'is certain. — Is old Double of your town 
 living yet ? 
 
 Sil. Dead, sir. 
 
 Shal. Oh! dead? — See, see! — he drew a good bow; — and 
 dead ! — he shot a fine shoot ! — John of Gaunt loved him 
 well, and betted much money on his head. Dead ! — 
 Ah ! . . . How a score of 'ewes now ? 
 
 Sil. A score of 'good ewes may be worth ten pounds. 
 
 Shal. And is old Double dead? 
 
 Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. 
 
 * Holy Cross. \ Blackbird. t A thin creature. 
 
Scene it] KING HENRY rv PART II. 157 
 
 Bardolph and a Man with him enter. 
 
 Sard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen : I beseech you, 
 which is Justice Shallow? 
 
 Shal. 'I am Eobert Shallow, sir; a poor Esquire of this 
 county, and one of the King's Justices of the Peace : 
 What is your good pleasure with me ? 
 
 Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to you ; my captain, 
 Sir John Falstaff : a tall gentleman, and a most gallant 
 leader. 
 
 Shal. He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword- 
 man. How doth the good knight? May I ask, how 
 my lady his 'wife doth ? 
 
 Hard. Sir, pardon ; a 'soldier is better accommodated than 
 with a 'wife. 
 
 Shal. It is well said, in faith, sir ; and it is well said indeed 
 too. " Better 'accommodated ! " — it is good ; yea, in- 
 deed, is it : good phrases 'are surely, and ever 'were, 
 verj' commendable. Accommodated ! — it comes of 
 accommodo : Very good ! a good 'phrase. 
 
 Bard. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the 'word. Phrase, 
 call you it? By this good day, I know not the 'phrase ; 
 but I will maintain the 'word, with my sword, to be a 
 soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good com- 
 mand. "Accommodated": That is, when a man is, as 
 they say, accommodated ; — or, when a man is — ^being — 
 whereby — he may be ' thought to be accommodated ; 
 which is an excellent thing. 
 
 Shal. It is very just. — Look, here comes good Sir John. 
 ["ens'] -A-h ! Give me your good hand, give me your 
 worship's good hand ! By my troth, you look well, 
 and bear your years 'very well : Welcome, good Sir 
 John. 
 
 Fal. I am glad to see 'you well, good Master Robert 
 Shallow. — Master Sure-card, as I think ? 
 
 Shal. No, Sir John ; it is my cousin Silence, in commission 
 with me. 
 
 Fal. Good Master Silence, it well befits 'you should be of 
 the peace. 
 
 Sil. Tour good worship is welcome. 
 
 Fal. Pie ! this is hot weather. — Gentlemen, have you pro- 
 vided me here half a dozen sufficient men ? 
 
 Shal. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit ? 
 
 Ful. Let me 'see them, I beseech you. 
 
 Shal. Where 's the roll ? where 's the roll ? where 's the 
 
158 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 roll'? — Let me see, let me see, let me'see : so, so, so, 
 
 so : yea, marry, sir : — Ralph Mouldy : — let them appear 
 
 as I call ; — let me see : Where is Mouldy 1 
 Moul. Here, an 't please you. 
 Shal. What think you. Sir John ? a good-limbed fellow ; 
 
 youDg, strong, and of good friends. 
 Fal. Is thy name Mouldy % 
 Moul. Yea, an 't please you. 
 Fal. 'T is the more time thou wert 'used. 
 8hal. Ha, ha, ha ! most excellent, i' faith ! things, that are 
 
 mouldy, lack use : very singular good ! — In faith, well 
 
 said, Sir John ; very well said. 
 Fal. [To Shallow] Enter him, enter him. 
 Moul. I was entered well enough before, an you could have 
 
 let me 'alone : my old dame will be undone now, for 
 
 one to do her husbandry and her drudgery. Tou need 
 
 not to have entered 'me ; there are other men fitter to 
 
 go out than I. 
 Fal. Go to ; peace. Mouldy : you 'shall go. 
 Shal. For the other. Sir John: — let me see. — Simon 
 
 Shadow ! 
 Fal. Yea, marry, let me have 'him to sit under; he 's like 
 
 to be a 'cold soldier. 
 Shal. Where 's Shadow % 
 Shad. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou ? 
 Shad. My mother's son, sir. 
 Fal. Thy 'mother's son ! like enough ; and thy father's 
 
 'shadow : It is often so, indeed : but not much of the 
 
 father's 'substance. 
 Shal. Do you like him, Sir John ? 
 Iial. Shadow will serve for summer, — enter him ; for we 
 
 have a 'number of shadows to fill up the muster-book. 
 Shal. Thomas Wart ! 
 Fal. Where 's he % 
 Wart. Here, sir. 
 Fal. Is thy name Wart t 
 Wart. Yea, sir. 
 
 Fal. Thou art a very 'ragged wart. 
 Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! — you can do it, sir ; you can do it : I 
 
 commend you well. — Francis Feeble ! 
 Fee. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble ? 
 Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENEY IV — PART 11. 159 
 
 Shal. Shall I mark him, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle, 
 
 as thou hast done in a coat % 
 Fee. I will do my good will, sir ; you can have no more. 
 Fal. "Well said, good woman's tailor ! well said, courageous 
 
 Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful 
 
 dove, or most magnanimous mouse. — Mark the 
 
 woman's tailor 'well, Master Shallow ; deep, Master 
 
 Shallow. 
 Fee. I would ' Wart might have gone, sir. 
 Fal. I would thou wert a 'man's tailor, that thou mightst 
 
 mend him, and make him 'fit to go. Let that suffice, 
 
 most forcible Feeble. 
 Fee. It 'shall suffice, sir. 
 
 Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. — Who is next ? 
 Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the Green! 
 Fal. Yea, marry, let 's 'see Bull-calf. 
 Hull. Here, sir. 
 Fal. A likely fellow ! — Come, score me Bull-calf till he roar 
 
 again. 
 Hull. O law ! good my lord captain, — 
 Fal. What, dost thou roar ' before thou art entered ? 
 Jiull. sir ! I am a 'diseased man. 
 Fal. ' What disease hast thou ? 
 Bull. ... A cold, sir, — a cough, sir, — which I caught with 
 
 ringing-in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, 
 
 sir. 
 Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a 'gown ; we will 
 
 have away thy cold ; and I will take such order, that 
 
 thy friends shall ring for 'thee. — Is here 'all. Master 
 
 Shallow? 
 Shal. Here is more called than your number ; you must 
 
 have but 'four here, sir. And so, I pray you, go in 
 
 with me to dinner. 
 Fal. Come, I will go 'drink with you, but I cannot tarry 
 
 'dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master 
 
 Shallow. 
 Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night 
 
 in the windmill in Saint George's field ? 
 Fal. No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of 
 
 that! 
 Shal. Ha, 't was a 'merry night ! 
 Sil. That 's fifty-five years ago. 
 Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen ' that, that 
 
160 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 this knight and I have seen ! — Ha, Sir John, said I 
 well? 
 
 Fal. We have heard the chimes at 'midnight. Master Shal- 
 low. 
 
 Shal. That we have, that we have, that we have ; in faith, 
 Sir John, we have : our watchword was, " Hem, boys!" 
 — Come, let 's to dinner ; come; let 's to dinner. — O ! 
 the days that we have seen ! — Come, come, [shairand'sn. 
 
 While Sir John Falstaff is taking some refreshment with his 
 friends, Bardolph is engaged in conversation with Mouldy and Bull- 
 calf, who give money to obtain their exemption from service. On 
 Sir John's return, Bardolph whispers to him that he has " three 
 pound to free Mouldy and Bull-calf." — Shallow says, in an after- 
 dinner fashion : 
 
 Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you have ? 
 
 Fal. Do 'you choose for me. 
 
 Shal. Marry, then, — Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and Shadow. 
 
 Fal. Mouldy, and Bull-calf : — For you. Mouldy, stay at home 
 till you are 'past service : — and, for 'your part, Bull- 
 calf, 'grow till you 'come unto it : I will none of 'you. 
 
 Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong : they are 
 your 'likeliest men. 
 
 Fal. "Will you tell 'me. Master Shallow, how to choose a 
 man ? Care I for the limb, the thews,* the stature, bulk, 
 and big 'assemblance of a man % Give me the 'spirit. 
 Master Shallow. — Here 's "Wart ; — you see what a 
 ragged 'appearance it is : he shall charge you, and 
 'dis-charge you, with the motion of a pewterer's ham- 
 mer. And this same half-faced fellow. Shadow, — give 
 me ' this man : ' he presents no mark to the enemy ; the 
 foeman may, with as great aim, level at the edge of a 
 penknife. And, for a 'retreat, — how swiftly will this 
 Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off! O, give me the 
 'spare men, and spare me the 'great ones. — O, give me 
 always a little, lean, old, chapped, 'bald shot. 'These 
 fellows will do 'well. Master Shallow. — Heaven keep 
 you. Master Silence : I will not use many words with 
 'you. — Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. 
 
 Shal. Sir John, Heaven bless you, and prosper your affairs, 
 and send us 'peace ! As you 'return, visit my house ; 
 let our old acquaintance be 'renewed : peradventure, I 
 will 'with you to the Court. 
 
 Fal. I would you would. Master Shallow. 
 
 Shal. Go to ; I have spoke at a word. Fare you well. 
 
 Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. ["S'sKe'"] On, Bar- 
 
Act 4, Scene ii.] KING HENBT IV — PART II. 161 
 
 dolph ; lead the men away. P'Sruu" ftL'' ] ^^ I return, I 
 'will fetch-off these Justices. ... I do see the ' bottom 
 of Justice Shallow. Law, law ! how subject we 'old 
 men are to this vice of ' lying ! This same starved Jus- 
 tice hath done nothing but prate to me of the 'wildness 
 of his youth, and every third word a ' lie. I 'do remem- 
 ber him at Clement's Inn, — like a man made after sup- 
 per of a cheese-paring : when he was naked, he was, 
 for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fan- 
 tastically carved upon it with a knife ; he was so forlorn, 
 that his dimensions to any 'thick sight were 'invisible; 
 he was the very Genius* of Famine ! Tou might have 
 thrust him and all his apparel into an 'eel-skin. Well, 
 I '11 be 'acquainted with him, if I return. If the young 
 'dace be a bait for the old 'pike, I see no reason, in the 
 law of nature, but I may 'snap at 'him. Let 'time 
 shape, and there an end. [eih. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the rebel forces are already assembled at Gaul- 
 tree forest in Yorkshire, led on by Lords Mowbray and Hastings, 
 countenanced by the militant Archbishop of York. Still desirous of 
 peace, the King appoints a Commission, headed by his son Prince 
 John of Lancaster, to enter into terms with the malcontents. After 
 much preliminary discussion, a conference is agreed on. 
 
 The Scene is now in an open part of Gaultree Forest. Enter, from 
 one side, Mowbray, with the Archbishop of York, Hastings, and 
 others : from the other side. Prince John of Lancaster, West- 
 moreland, Officers, and Attendants. 
 
 J^ John. Tou are well encountered here, my cousin Mow- 
 bray. — 
 Good day to you, gentle lord Archbishop ; — 
 And so to you, Lord Hastings, — and to aU. — 
 My Lord of York, it better showed with 'you. 
 When that your flock, assembled by the bell. 
 Encircled you, to hear with reverence 
 Your exposition on the holy text ; 
 Than 'now, to see you here an ' iron man, 
 Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, — 
 Turning the ' Word to 'sword, and life to death. 
 You have 'misused the reverence of your place ; 
 In deeds dishonourable you have ta'en-up,t 
 Under the counterfeited seal of Heaven, 
 The subjects of Heaven's substitute, my father ; 
 
 * Spirit, ghost. t Enlisted. 
 
162 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEAKE. [Act 4 
 
 And, both against the peace of Heaven and him, 
 Have here up-swarmed them. 
 
 Arch. Good my Lord of Lancaster, 
 
 I am 'not here against your father's peace ; 
 The time doth 'crush* us to this monstrous form. 
 To hold our safety up. I sent your grace 
 The parcels and particulars of our grief, 
 "Whereon this Hydraf son of war is born ; 
 Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed 'asleep. 
 With 'grant of our most just and right desires. 
 Mowbray adds : 
 
 Mowb. If not, we ready are to ' try our fortunes 
 To the last man. 
 
 Prince John replies : 
 
 f. John. Well, I have 'read these articles, my lords : 
 I like them 'all, . . and do 'allow them well ; 
 And swear here, by the honour of my blood. 
 My father's purposes have been 'mistook ; 
 And some about him have too lavishly 
 'Wrested his meaning and authority. — 
 My lord, these griefs shall be with 'speed redressed. 
 The Archbishop rephes : 
 
 Arch. I take your princely 'word for these redresses. 
 
 JP. John. I 'give it you, and will 'maintain my word ! 
 
 Hast. [To au officer.] Go, captalu, and deliver to the army 
 This news of peace : let them have pay, and part. 
 I know, it will 'well please them : hie thee, captain. 
 
 Exit Offlccr. 
 
 As soon as this intelligence is made known, shouts of rejoicing 
 are heard from the rebel forces, who immediately and gladly dis- 
 perse. The Earl of ^A^estmoreland, basely acting in concert with 
 the deceitful Prince John, receives directions that the Royalist 
 troops should be also dismissed — but with the tacit understanding 
 that the order is not to be executed. When Westmoreland returns 
 from his pretended mission, the strategic Prince plausibly asks : 
 
 P. John. Now, cousin, wherefore stands 'our army still 1 
 West. The leaders, having charge from 'you to 'stand. 
 
 Will not go off until they hear 'you speak. 
 P. John. They know their duties. 
 
 As Lord Hastings, joyous at the return of peace, re-enters, a party 
 of the Royal forces quickly advances. Hastings says to Prince 
 John: 
 
 Hast. My lord, 'our army is dispensed already : 
 
 Like youthful steers unyoked, or school broke-up. 
 Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. 
 
 * Compel. t A fablilouB, many-headed moDBter. 
 
Scene iii.] KING HENEY IV PART II. 163 
 
 The King's soldiers silently surround Lords Hastings, Mowbray, 
 and the Archbishop of York. 
 
 Westmoreland advances to execute his secret orders — involving 
 breach of faith and infamous treachery. 
 
 West 'Good tidings, my Lord Hastings ; for tlie which 
 I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason : — 
 And you. Lord Archbishop, — and you. Lord Mow- 
 bray,— 
 Of 'capital treason I attach you both. 
 
 Mowbray exclaims : 
 Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable ? 
 West. Is your 'assembly so ? 
 
 The Archbishop asks : 
 Arch. Will you thus break your faith ? 
 Prince John replies : 
 P. John. I pawned thee none. — 
 
 I promised you 'redress of these same grievances 
 Whereof you did complain ; which, by mine honour, 
 I will perform with a most Christian care. 
 But, for you, 'rebels — look to taste the due 
 ' Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. — 
 Strike up our drums ! 'pursue the 'scattered stray ; 
 Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. — ■ 
 Some guard these traitors to the block of death, — 
 Treason's ' true bed, and yielder-up of breath. [Exeum. 
 
 In the Forest, Sir John Falstaff has been so fortunate as to en- 
 counter one of the rebel Officers, and, seeing that he was not a man 
 likely to make much resistance, valiantly flourishes his sword : 
 
 ^al. What 's your name, sir ? of what condition are you ? 
 
 and of what place, I pray ? 
 Cole. I am a knight, sir ; and my name is — ColevUe of the 
 
 Dale. 
 Fal. WeU, then, Colevile is your name ; a knight is your 
 
 degree ; and your place, the Dale : Colevile shall 'still 
 
 be your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon 
 
 your place, — a dale deep enough ; so shall you be still 
 
 Colevile of the Dale. 
 Cole. Are not you Sir John Falstaff? 
 Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye yield, 
 
 sir ? or shall I sweat for you ? 
 Cole. I think, you are Sir John Falstaff, and, in that thought, 
 
 'yield me. 
 Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, and others. 
 
164 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 I'- John. The heat is past ; follow no further now. — 
 Call-in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. — 
 
 [Exit Wi Btmoroland. 
 
 Now, Falstaff, where have 'you been all this while ? 
 "When everything is ended, ' then you come : 
 These tardy tricks of yours wUl, on my life, 
 One time or other break some gallows' back. 
 
 JPal. I would be sorry, my lord, . . . but it 'should be thus : 
 I never knew yet but 'rebuke and 'check was the reward 
 of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a 
 bullet ? Have I, in my poor and old motion, the ex- 
 pedition of ' thought ? I have speeded hither with the 
 very extremest inch of 'possibility ; and here, travel- 
 tainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate 
 valour, taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, — a most 
 furious knight, and valorous enemy. But what of that ? 
 he 'saw 'me, and yielded ; that 'I may justly say (with 
 the hook-nosed fellow* of Rome), I 'came, 'saw, and 
 'over-came. 
 
 P. John. It was more of his 'courtesy than your 'deserving. — 
 Is thy name Colevile ? 
 
 Cole. It is, my lord. 
 
 P. John. A famous 'rebel art thou, Colevile. 
 
 Fal. And a famous true subject 'took him. 
 
 Cole. 'I am, my lord, but as my 'betters are. 
 
 That led me hither : Had they been ruled by 'me, 
 You should have won them 'dearer than you have. 
 
 Jfal. I know not how 'they sold themselves : but thou, like 
 a kind fellow, gavest thyself away 'gratis ; and I thank 
 thee for-thee. 
 
 JP. John. Send Colevile on, with his confederates. 
 
 To York, to present execution. [ex t coievue guarded. 
 
 And now despatch we toward the Court, my lords. 
 I hear the King my father is sore sick : 
 Our news shall go before us to his majesty, to comfort 
 him. 
 
 Falstaff advances. 
 
 Fal. My lord, beseech you, give me leave to go 
 
 Through Glo'stershire ; and, when you come to Court, 
 Stand my good friend, 'pray, in your good report. 
 
 JP. John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition. 
 
 Shall ' better speak of you than you 'deserve. [Exit. 
 
 Fal. I would, you had but the 'wit : 't were better than 
 your 'dukedom. — Good faith, this same young 'sober- 
 blooded boy doth not love me ; nor a man cannot make 
 
 * Julius Csesar — see note t, p. 146. 
 
Scene ivO KING HENRY IV PAST II. 165 
 
 him 'laugh ; — but that 's no marvel, — he drinks no wine. 
 There 's never any of these 'demure boys come to any 
 'proof ; for ' thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, 
 and making many 'fish-meals, that they are generally 
 fools and covrards. A good 'sherris-saok* hath a ' two- 
 fold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain ; 
 dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy 
 vapours which environ it ; makes it full of nimble, 
 fiery, and delectable shapes ; which, delivered o'er -to 
 the tongue, becomes excellent 'wit. The 'second prop- 
 erty of your excellent sherris is, the 'warming of the 
 ' blood ; it illumineth the face ; which, as a beacon, 
 gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, 
 man, to arm ; and ' then, the vital commoners and inland 
 petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the Heart ; 
 who, great, and puffed up with this retinue, doth 'any 
 deed of courage : and this valour comes of 'sherris. 
 So that 'skUl in the 'weapon is nothing, 'without sack. 
 Hereof comes it that Prince ' Harry is valiant. If I 
 had a ' thousand sons, the first human principle I would 
 teach them should be — to forswear ' thin potations, and 
 to addict themselves to 'sack, ["'i?",'"'] How now, Bar- 
 dolph 1 
 
 Hard. 'The army is discharged, and all gone. 
 
 I''al. ' Let them go. ' I '11 through Gloucestershire ; and 
 there will I visit Master Eobert Shallow, Esquire : I 
 have him already tempering between my finger and my 
 thumb, and shortly will I 'seal with him. Come, away. 
 
 After the death of the Earl of Northumberland, who had fled into 
 Scotland; and of Glendower, who had headed the insurgents in 
 Wales, the remainder of the reign of Henry the Fourth was un- 
 disturbed by any enemy ; but he was subjected to many mental 
 anxieties. He was still desirous of atoning for his sins by a pious 
 expedition to the Holy Land. 
 
 We are now in a Room of State in Westminster Palace — in the 
 Jerusalem Chamber ; — where we see the enfeebled King attended 
 by two of his sons, Thomas Duke of Clarence, and Humphrey Duke 
 of Gloster. The Earl of Warwick and other lords are in attend- 
 ance. The King speaks : 
 
 IC. Sen. Now, lords, if Heaven doth give 'successful end 
 To this debate that bleedeth at our doors. 
 We will our youth lead-on to higher fields, 
 
 • Sweetened Xeres (sherry) wine. 
 
166 THE header's SHAKESPEAKE. [Act*. 
 
 And draw no swords but what are 'sanctified. 
 
 Only, we want a little 'personal strength ; 
 
 And pause us till these rebels, now afoot. 
 
 Come underneath the yoke of 'government. 
 War. Both which, we doubt not but your majesty 
 
 Shall 'soon enjoy. 
 JS'. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster, 
 
 Where is the Prince your brother ? 
 P. Humph. I think he 's gone to 'hunt, my lord, at "Wind- 
 sor. 
 K. Hen. And how 'accompanied % 
 
 Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him % 
 P. Humph. No, my good lord ; he is in presence ' here. 
 
 Clarence advances : 
 Clar. What would my lord and father i. 
 K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. 
 
 How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? 
 
 He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas. 
 
 ' Thou hast a better place in his affection 
 
 Than all thy brothers : cherish it, my boy. 
 
 And noble offices thou may'st effect 
 
 Of mediation, after I am dead ; 
 
 Therefore, omit him not ; blunt not his love. 
 
 For he is gracious, if he be 'observed :* 
 
 He hath a tear for 'pity, and a hand 
 
 Open as day for melting 'charity ; 
 
 Chide him for 'faults — but do it 'reverently — 
 
 When you perceive his blood inclined to 'mirth ; 
 
 But, being 'moody, give him line and scope : 
 
 And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy 'friends, 
 
 A hoop of gold to bind thy 'brothers in. 
 (Jlar. I shall observe him with- all care and love. 
 K. Hen. ' Why art thou not at Windsor 'with him, Thomas ? 
 Clar. He is not ' there to-day : he dines in London. 
 K. Hen. And how 'accompanied % canst thou tell that % 
 Clar. . . . With Poins, and other his continual followers. 
 H. Hen. 'Most subject is the 'fattest soil to 'weeds; 
 
 And he, the noble image of 'my youth. 
 
 Is 'overspread with them ; therefore, my grief 
 
 Stretches itself ' beyond the hour of death. 
 
 The blood weeps from my ' heart, when I do shape 
 
 The unguided days that 'you shall look upon. 
 
 When I am sleeping with my ancestors. 
 
 For when his headstrong riot hath 'no curb, 
 
 * Carefully attended to. 
 
Scene iv.] KING HENRY IV PART II. 167 
 
 When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, 
 When means and lavish manners meet together, 
 O, vyith what wings shall his affections fly 
 'Towards fronting peril and opposed decay! 
 
 Warwick endeavours to pacify the King. 
 
 War. My gracious lord, you look ' beyond him quite. 
 The Prince but 'studies his companions — 
 Like a strange tongue : wherein, to 'gain the language, 
 'T is needful that the most immodest word 
 Be looked upon and learned ; which once attained. 
 Is to be known and hated. So, ' like gross terms. 
 The Prince will, in the perfectness of time. 
 Cast off his ' followers ; and their memory 
 Shall as a pattern or a measure live. 
 By which his grace must mete* the lives of 'others, — 
 Turning past 'evils to 'advantages. 
 
 Westmoreland enters : 
 
 West. Health to my sovereign ! and 'new happiness 
 'Added to that that I am to deliver ! 
 Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand : 
 Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings, and aU, 
 Are brought to the correction of your law. 
 There is not now a 'rebel's sword unsheathed. 
 But Peace puts forth her olive 'everywhere. 
 
 JT. Jlen. O, Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird. 
 Which ever, in the haunchf of 'winter, sings 
 The lifting-up of day. Look ! here's more news. 
 
 Harcourt enters : 
 Sar. From enemies Heaven keep your majesty! 
 
 The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph 
 With a great power of English and of Scots, 
 Are, by the Sheriff of Yorkshire, overthrown. 
 JT. Hen. And wherefore should these good news make me 
 'sickt 
 Will Fortune never come with ' both hands full 1 
 I 'should rejoice now at this happy news : . . 
 O me ! my sight faUs, and my brain is giddy ! — 
 
 The King swoons. His sons, supporting him, express their grief. 
 Warwick says : 
 
 War. Be patient, princes ; you do know, these fits 
 Are with his highness very ordinary. 
 Stand from him, give him air ; see, he recovers. 
 
 * Measure. t Bear, close. 
 
168 THE EBADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence 
 Into some other chamber : softly, pray. 
 They place the King on a bed in an inner part of the room. 
 Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends ; — 
 Unless some dull* and favourable hand 
 Will whisper 'music to my wearied spirit. . . . 
 Set me the crown upon my pillow here. 
 
 As the afflicted King is gently laid on his couch, the Prince of 
 Wales enters hastily. 
 
 P. Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence ? 
 
 Clar. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. 
 
 P. Hen. How now ! rain 'within doors, and none 'abroad ! 
 
 How doth the King ? 
 P. Humph. Exceeding ill. 
 
 P. Hen. Heard he the 'good news yet ? Pray, tell it him. 
 P. Humph. He altered much upon the hearing it. 
 P. Hen. If he be sick with 'joy, he will recover 'without 
 physic. 
 
 Warwick advances : 
 
 War. Not so much noise, my lords. — Sweet Prince, speak 
 low; 
 The King your father is disposed to sleep. 
 Clar. Let us withdraw into the other room. 
 "War. Will 't please your grace to go along with us ? 
 F- Hen. No ; I wUl sit and watch here by the King. 
 
 CAU leave the Chamber 
 but Prince Henry. 
 
 . . . Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow. 
 
 Being so ' troublesome a bedfellow ? 
 
 O polished perturbation ! golden care ! 
 
 That keep'st the ports of slumber 'open wide 
 
 To many a watchful night !— 'sleep with it 'now ! 
 
 Yet not so sound, nor half so deeply sweet. 
 
 As he, whose brow, with homely bigginf bound, 
 
 'Snores-out the watch of night. O majesty ! 
 
 Thou 'rt like rich armour worn in heat of day. 
 
 That scalds with safety ! By his gates of breath 
 
 There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : 
 
 Did he suspire, that light and weightless down 
 
 Perforce must 'move. — My gracious lord ! my father ! . . . 
 
 'This sleep is sound indeed! this is a sleep 
 
 That, from this golden rigol,J hath divorced 
 
 So many English kings. ' Thy due, from 'me. 
 
 Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood, — 
 
 * Soothiug. t A plain night-cap. t Circlet. 
 
Scene iT.] KING HBNBT IV — PABT II. 169 
 
 Which nature, love, and filial tenderness 
 Shall, O dear father! pay thee 'plenteously: — 
 ' My due, from ' thee, is this imperial 'crown. 
 Which, as immediate from ' thy place and blood, 
 Derives itself to 'me. Lo, here it sits, — 
 
 The Prince places the crown on his head. 
 Which Heaven shall guard : And, put the 'world's whole 
 
 strength 
 Into one 'giant arm, it shall not force 
 This lineal honour ' from me. This from thee 
 Will I to 'mine leave, as 't is left to 'me. ceih. 
 
 The Prince, still wearing the crown, goes into another room. 
 The King, awaking, calls : 
 
 K. Hen. Warwick ! Gloster ! Clarence ! 
 
 The young Princes and the Earl of Warwick re-enter hastily. 
 War. What would your majesty? how fares your grace ? 
 K. Hen. Why did you leave me here 'alone, my lords ? 
 Glar. We left the Prince my brother here, my liege. 
 K. Hen. The Prince of Wales? where is he ? let me see him. 
 P. Humph. He came not through the chamber where we 
 
 stayed. 
 K. Hen. . . . Where is the crown ? who took it from my 
 
 pillow ? 
 War. When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. 
 H. Hen. . . . The ' Prince hath ta'en it hence ! — go, seek him 
 oiit. 
 
 Is he so hasty, thathe doth suppose 
 
 My sleep my 'death ? — 
 
 Find him, my Lord of Warwick ; 'chide him hither. 
 
 [Exit TTarwick. 
 
 This part of his conjoins with my disease. 
 
 And helps to 'end me. — See, sons, what things you are ! 
 
 How quickly Nature falls into revolt, 
 
 When 'gold becomes her object ! 
 
 For this, the foolish over-careful fathers 
 
 Have broke their sleeps with thought,— their brains 
 
 with care. 
 Their bones with industry : when, like the bee. 
 Culling from 'every flower the virtuous sweets. 
 We bring it to the hive ; and, ' like the bees, 
 Are murdered for our pains ! [Te"™f ] Where is he 
 
 Warwick ? 
 War. My lord, I found the Prince 
 
 Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks. 
 
170 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 K. Hen. But wherefore did he take away the crown ? 
 
 Lo, where he comes.— [^"rj;r''T Come hither to me, 
 
 Harry. — 
 Depart the chamber, lords — leave us alone. [i.ord^^'i 
 
 P. Hen. . . . I never thought to hear you speak 'again. 
 
 K. Hen. Thy 'wish was father, Harry, to that thought : . . . 
 I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
 Dost thou 'so hunger for mine empty chair. 
 That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours 
 'Before thy hour be ripe'? O foolish youth. 
 Thou 'seek'st the greatness that will 'overwhelm thee ! 
 What ! canst thou not forbear me half an hour ? 
 Then get thee gone, and dig my grave ' thyself ; 
 And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear, 
 That ' thou art crowned, but not that I am 'dead. 
 Pluck down my officers, break my decrees ; 
 For now a time is come to 'mock at form : — 
 Hai-ry the ' Fifth is crowned ! — Up, vanity ! 
 Down, royal state ! all you sage counsellors, hence ! 
 And to the English Court assemble now. 
 From every region, apes of idleness ! 
 Now, neighbour confines,* purge you of your 'scum : 
 Have you a ruffian — that will swear, drink, dance. 
 Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit 
 The oldest sins the newest kind of ways % 
 Be happy, he will trouble 'you no more : 
 'England shall give him office, honour, might ; 
 For the Fifth Harry, from curbed licence, plucks 
 The muzzle of restraint ; and the wild dog 
 Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. 
 
 my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows ! 
 O, thou wilt be a 'wUderness again, — 
 Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants ! 
 
 P. Hen. [Kneeling.] O, pardon me, my liege ! But for my tears, 
 
 1 had forestalled this dear and deep rebuke, 
 Ere you with grief had spoke, and I had heard 
 The course of it so far. ' There is your crown : 
 And He that wears the crown immortally 
 Long 'guard it yours ! ... If I do ' feign, 
 
 O, let me in my present wildness 'die ! 
 
 Coming to look on you, — thinking you 'dead, — 
 
 (And dead almost, my liege, to think you 'were,) 
 
 I spake unto the crown as having sense. 
 
 And thus upbraided it : " The care on thee depending 
 
 * Territories contiguous. 
 
Scene Iv.] KING HENRY IV PART II. 171 
 
 Hath fed upon the body of my father, 
 
 And eat thy bearer up." Thus, my most royal liege, 
 
 'Accusing it, I put it on my head ; 
 
 To try with it — as with an 'enemy, 
 
 That had before my face 'murdered my father, — 
 
 The quarrel of a true inheritor : 
 
 But if it did infect my blood with 'joy. 
 
 Or sweU my thoughts to 'any strain of pride, 
 
 Let God for ever keep it ' from my head ! 
 
 Andmake me as the poorest 'vassal is, — 
 
 That doth, with awe and terror, kneel to it ! 
 
 K. Hen. O my son! 
 
 ' Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence. 
 
 That thou might'st win the 'more thy father's love. 
 
 Pleading so wisely in 'excuse of it. 
 
 Come hither, Harry : sit thou by my bed. 
 
 And hear, I think, the very ' latest counsel 
 
 That ever I shall breathe. . . . Heaven knows, my son, 
 
 By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
 
 I 'met this crown ; and I myself know weU 
 
 How troublesome it sat upon my head : 
 
 To ' thee it shaU descend with better quiet, 
 
 Better opinion, better confirmation ; 
 
 Yet, though thou stand' st more sure than ' I could do, 
 
 Thou art not ' firm enough : Therefore, my Harry, 
 
 Be it ' thy course to busy giddy minds 
 
 With 'foreign quarrels; — that action, 'hence borne out, 
 
 May waste the memory of thy ' former days. . . . 
 
 More would I, but my lungs are wasted so. 
 
 That strength of speech is utterly denied me. . . 
 
 How ' I came by the crown, O God, forgive ! 
 
 And grant it may with ' thee in true peace live ! 
 
 ^- Hen. My gracious liege, 
 
 Tou 'won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me ; 
 Then plain and right must my possession be : 
 Which I, with more than with a 'common pain, 
 'Gainst all the 'world will rightfully maintain. 
 
 K. Hen. Doth any name particular belong 
 
 Unto the chamber where I first did swoon % 
 
 I'. Hen. 'T is called Jerusalem, my royal father. 
 
 S. Hen. Laud be to Heaven! — even there my life must 
 'end. 
 It hath been prophesied to me many years, 
 I should not die ' but in Jerusalem, 
 
172 THE KEADEk's SHAKESPEAEE. [Acts. 
 
 Which Vainly I supposed the Holy Land. — 
 
 But, bear me to that chamber ! ' there I '11 lie ; 
 
 In 'that Jerusalem shall Harry die. [EMoot. 
 
 The Scene is again at Justice Shallow's House in Gloucestershire. 
 The feeble fussy Justice — whose want of words compels him to lo- 
 quacious repetitions — is as anxious to detain his honoured guest 
 Sir John Falstaff, as he is (now that he has gained his ends) to de- 
 part. 
 
 Shal. By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night. — 
 What, Davy, I say ! 
 
 Fal. You 'must excuse me, Master Eobert Shallow. 
 
 Shal. I wiU 'not excuse you ; — you shall not be excused ; — 
 excuses shall not be admitted ; — there is no excuse shall 
 serve ; — you shall 'not be excused. — Why, Davy ! [eSS. 
 
 Davy. Here, sir. 
 
 Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy, — let me see, Davy ; let me see : — 
 Yea, marry, William cook, — bid him come hither. — Sir 
 John, you shall 'not be excused. 
 
 Davy. Marry, sir, — ^shall we sow the headland with wheat? 
 
 Shal. With 'red wheat, Davy. But for WiUiam cook :— Are 
 there no young pigeons ? 
 
 Davy. Yes, sir. — Here is now the smith's note, for shoeing, 
 and plough-irons. 
 
 Shal. Let it be cast,* and paid. — Sir John, you shall not be 
 excused. 
 
 Davy. Now, sir, — a new link to the bucket must needs be 
 had : — And, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's 
 wages, about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley 
 fair? 
 
 Shal. He shall answer it. — Some pigeons, Davy ; a couple 
 of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty 
 little tiny kickshaws, — tell William cook. 
 
 Davy. Doth the man of war stay all night, sir ? 
 
 Shal. Yea, Davy. I will use him 'well. A friend i' the 
 'Court is better than a penny in 'purse.— Use his 'men 
 well, Davy ; for they are arrant ' knaves, and wUl back- 
 bite. 
 
 Davy. No worse than they are back-' bitten, sir; for they 
 have marvellous foul linen. 
 
 Shal. Ha! ha! ha! Well conceited, Davy. About thj 
 business, Davy. Look about, Davy. cEsit Da»y.] Where 
 are you. Sir John ! Come, come, come ; off with your 
 boots. — Give me your hand. Master Bardolph. 
 
 * Cast up, computed. 
 
Scene i,il] KING HENEY IV —PART II. 173 
 
 Bard. I am glad to see your -worship. 
 
 Shal. I thank thee with all my heart, kind Master Bar- 
 
 dolph : — [p,ge!] and welcome, my ' tail fellow. — Come, 
 
 Sir John. 
 Fal. I '11 ' follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. [Kiit 
 
 Shallow : Bardolph, look to our horses. (Exeunt Burdolpb and Page.] 
 
 If I were sawed into 'quantities,* I should make four 
 dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master Shal- 
 low. It is a wonderful thing, to see the semblable 
 coherence of his 'men's spirits and ' his : they, by observ- 
 ing of him, do bear themselves like foolish 'justices; 
 he, by conversing with them, is turned into a justice- 
 like 'serving-man. If I had a suit to Master Shallow, 
 I would humour his men with the imputation of being 
 near their 'master : if to his 'men, I would ciUTyf with 
 Master Shallow, that no man could better command 
 his servants. I will devise matter enough out of this 
 Shallow, to keep Prince Harry in continual laughter. 
 O, it is much, that a lie with a slight oath, and a jest 
 with a sad brow, will do with a fellow that never had 
 the ache in his shoulders ! O, you shall see him laugh, 
 till his face be like a w^et cloak ill laid up. 
 
 Shal. cwuhin.] Sir John ! 
 
 Fal. I come. Master Shallow ; I come. Master Shallow. lEiit. 
 
 The approaching death of the Kihg causes great public anxiety, 
 on account of the unworthy past conduct and companionship of his 
 son and successor. Among the later escapades of the young 
 Prince was a public display of his " wanton pastime " in the Court 
 of King's Bench, where Sir William Gascoigne at that time pre- 
 sided. Holinshed says of the Prince that " on a time, he struck the 
 Chief Justice on the face with his fist for imprisoning one of his 
 mates : he was not only committed to straight prison himself by 
 the said Chief Justice, but also by his father put out of the Privy 
 Council and banished the Court." This incident is now to be re- 
 ferred to by the dramatist. 
 
 The Scene changes to an Apartment in the Palace at Westmin- 
 ster. Enter, severally, Warwick and the Lord Chief Justice. 
 
 War. How now, my Lord Chief Justice ? whither away ? 
 
 Ch. Just. How doth the King ? 
 
 War. . . . ' Exceeding 'well : his cares are now all ended. 
 
 Ch. Just. I hope, not dead ? 
 
 War. He 's walked the way of nature. 
 
 Ch. Just. I would his majesty had called 'me with him : 
 
 * Small pieces. t Seek favour. 
 
174 THE EEADER's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 The service that I truly did his life, 
 
 Hath left me open to all injuries. 
 Wa7\ Indeed, I think the young King 'loves you not. 
 Ch. Just. I 'know he doth not, and do arm myself 
 
 To vrelcome the condition of the time. 
 Prince John, Prince Humphrey, Clarence, Westmoreland, and 
 others enter. 
 
 P. John. Good morrow, cousin Warwick. 
 
 J^. Humph., Clar. Good morrow, cousin. 
 
 Ir". John. . . . We meet like men that had 'forgot to speak. 
 
 War. We do 'remember ; but our argument 
 Is all too heavy to admit much 'talk. 
 
 P. John. Well, peace be with 'him that 'made us heavy! ■ 
 
 Ch. Just. Peace be with 'us, lest we be 'heavier! 
 Sweet princes, what I did, I did in 'honour. 
 If truth and upright innocency ' fail me, 
 I '11 to the King my master that is 'dead. 
 And tell him 'who hath sent me after him. 
 Enter King Henry the Fifth, attended. 
 Good morrow, and Heaven save your majesty ! 
 
 King. This new and gorgeous garmejnt, majesty, 
 Sits not so easy on me as you think. — 
 Brothers, you mix your 'sadness with some 'fear : 
 But entertain no more of it, good brothers. 
 Than a 'joint burden laid upon us 'all. 
 For me, by Heaven, I bid you be assured 
 I '11 be your 'father and your brother too ; 
 Let me but bear your 'love, I '11 bear your 'cares : 
 ' Yet weep that Harry's 'dead, and so will I ; 
 But Harry ' lives ; that shall convert those ' tears. 
 By number, into 'hours of 'happiness. 
 
 P. John. We hope no other from your majesty. 
 
 King. . . . You all look 'strangely on me : — ["usjo'e] and 'you 
 'most ; 
 You are, I think, 'assured I love you not % 
 
 Ch. Just. I am assured, if I be measured 'rightly. 
 Your majesty hath no just cause to 'hate me. 
 
 King. No ? How might a prince of my great hopes ' forget 
 So great indignities you laid upon me ? 
 What ! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison 
 The immediate heir of England ! Was this easy % 
 May ' this be washed in Lethe,* and ' forgotten % 
 
 Ch. Just. I ' then did use the person of your ' father ; 
 The image of 'his power lay then in 'me : 
 
 * The river of forgetf ulness in hell. 
 
Scene ii.] KINO HENKT IV — PART II. 175 
 
 And, in the administration of his law, 
 Your highness then pleased to forget my place, 
 And 'struck me in my very seat of judgment ; 
 Whereon., as an offender to your ' father, 
 I gave bold way to my authority. 
 And did 'commit you. If the deed were HI, 
 Be 'you contented, — wearing 'now the garland,-- 
 To have a son set 'your decrees at naught, 
 To pluck down justice from 'your awful bench. 
 To ' trip the course of law, and ' blunt the sword 
 That guards the peace and safety of your person ; 
 Nay, more ; to spurn at your most royal ' image. 
 And mock 'your workings in a 'second body. 
 Question your royal thoughts ; make the case 'yours ; 
 Behold 'yourself so by a son disdained ; — 
 And then imagine me taking 'your part. 
 And, in 'your power, soft silencing your son : 
 Now, as you 'are a King, speak, in your state. 
 What I have done that 'misbecame my place. 
 My person, or my liege's sovereignty. 
 King. You are 'right, Justice, and you weigh this well ; 
 Therefore 'still bear the balance and the sword : 
 And I do wish your honours may ' increase, 
 Tin you do live to 'see a son of mine 
 Offend you — and 'obey you, as ' I did. 
 So shall I live to speak my ' father's words : — 
 " Happy am I, that have a man so bold 
 That dares do justice on my proper 'son ; 
 And not ' less happy, ' having such a son. 
 That would deliver-up his greatness so 
 Into the hands of justice." — You did 'commit me — 
 For which, ' I do commit, into your hand. 
 The unstained sword that you have used to bear ; 
 With this remembrance, — That you use the same 
 With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit 
 As you have done 'gainst 'me. . . . There is my hand. 
 You shall be as a ' father to my youth : 
 And I will stoop and humble my intents 
 To your well-practised, wise directions. — 
 And, Princes all, believe me, I beseech you ; 
 My father is gone sadly* to his grave. 
 And in his tomb lie all my 'past affections ; 
 And, with his spii-it, sadly I survive 
 To 'mock the expectation of the world ; 
 
 * O. R. mlde into. 
 
176 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 To 'frustrate prophecies ; and to raze out 
 
 Rotten opinion. — which hath writ me down 
 
 After my 'seeming. The tide of blood in me 
 
 Hath proudly flowed in 'vanity, till now : 
 
 Now doth it ' turn, and ebb back to the sea. — 
 
 Now call we our High Court of Parliament : 
 
 And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, 
 
 That the great body of 'our state may go 
 
 In equal rank with the ' best-governed nation ; 
 
 That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 
 
 As things acquainted and familiar to us ; — 
 
 In which, Lord Justice, you '11 have foremost hand. — 
 
 And, (Heaven consigning to my good intents,) 
 
 No prince, nor peer, shall have ' just cause to say. 
 
 Heaven 'shorten Harry's happy life one day. [Exeum. 
 
 We return to the garden of Justice Shallow's house, where we see 
 Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, Bardolph, the Page, and Davy. 
 
 Shal. Nay, you shaU see mine 'orchard ; where, in an arbour, 
 we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with 
 a dash of caraways, and so forth: — Come, cousin 
 SUence ; — and then to bed. 
 
 Fal. You have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich. 
 
 Shal. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars all, Sir 
 John: marry, good 'air. — Spread, Davy ; spread, Davy; 
 well laid, Davy. 
 
 Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses. 
 
 Shal. A good varlet, a good varlet, a 'very good varlet, Sir 
 
 John: — By the mass, I have drunk too much sack at 
 
 supper : — a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit 
 
 down : — Come, cousin. 
 
 Silence, under the influence of after-supper potations, has become 
 
 jolly, talkative, and given to singing. 
 
 Sit. Ah, sirrah ! quoth-a, — we shall 
 
 nsinging.] Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer. 
 And praise heaven for the merry year; 
 "When bread is cheap and drink is dear, 
 And jolly lads roam there and here. 
 
 So merrily. 
 And ever along so merrily. 
 Fal. There 's a merry heart ! — Good Master Silence, I '11 
 give you a health for that anon. 
 
Scene iil.] KING HENBT IV PART II. 177 
 
 Shal. Give Master 'Bardolph some wine, Davy. Be meiTy, 
 Master Bardolph ; — and my little soldier there, [ p f'} 
 be merry. 
 Sil. [singiog ] Se merry, be merry y m,y wife has all / 
 
 For women are shrews, both short and tall : 
 ' T is merry in hall tohen beards wag all, 
 A^d welcome merry Shrove-tide. 
 Fal. I did not think Master Silence had been a man of ' this 
 
 mettle. 
 SU. Who, I? I 'have been merry twice and once, ere now. 
 
 [sioginB.: Fill the cup and let it come ; 
 
 I HI pledge you a mile to the bottom, 
 Davy says to Bardolph : 
 Davy. I hope to see London 'once ere I die. 
 Sard. If ' I might see you there, Davy, — 
 Shallow interrupts : 
 
 Shal. By the mass, you '11 crack a quart together, — ah ! will 
 
 you not, Master Bardolph? 
 Sard. Tea, sir, in a 'pottle-pot.* 
 Shal. I thank thee : — the Imave will stick by thee, I can 
 
 assure thee that. 
 Bard. And I '11 stick by ' him, sir. 
 Shal. Why, there-spoke a 'king ! Lack nothing: be merry. 
 
 C\°e°rf"T Look, who's at door there, Davy ! \_%t,. 
 
 Fal. [jAckiTbLpi'rT'Why, 'now you have done me right. 
 Sil. Is 't so? Why, then say, an 'old man can do 'somewhat. 
 
 Davy re-enters. 
 Davy. If it please your worship, there 's one Pistol come 
 
 from the Court with news. 
 Fal. From the Court ! let him come in. — \J1^'\ How now. 
 
 Pistol ? 
 Pist. Sir John, Heaven save you ! 
 Fal. What wind blew you 'hither. Pistol? 
 Fist. Not the 'Ul wind which blows 'no man to good. — 
 
 Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in 
 
 the realm. 
 Sil. By 'r lady, I think he be ; — butf goodman Puff of Barson. 
 Pist. Puff! 
 
 Puff in thy teeth, most recreat coward base ! — 
 
 Sir John, I am thy Pistol, and thy friend. 
 
 And helter-skelter have I rode to thee; 
 
 And tidings do I bring, and 'golden times ! 
 
 * A. measure of two quarts. t Except. 
 
178 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Fal. I pr'ythee now deliver them like a; man of the 'world. 
 Pist. A ' f outra* for the world, and worldings base ! 
 
 Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ?t 
 
 And shall good news be ' baffled ? 
 
 Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap ! 
 Shallow hiccups to Pistol : 
 
 Shal. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. 
 
 Pist. Why then, lament there-fore. 
 
 Shal. Give me pardon, sir : — If, sir, you come with news 
 from the Court, I take it, there 's but two ways ; — 
 either to 'utter them, or to 'conceal them. ' I am, sir, 
 under the King, in some authority. 
 
 Plat. Under 'which king, Bezonian %\ speak, or die. 
 
 Shal. Under Kiug Harry. 
 
 Pisl. Harry the Fourth ? or Fifth ? 
 
 Shal. Harry the Fourth. 
 
 Pist. A foutra* for thine office ! — 
 
 Sir John, thy tender 'lambkin now is King ! 
 Harry the 'Fifth 's the man ! I speak the truth ! 
 
 Fal. What ! is the old king dead ? 
 
 Pist. As nail in door. The things 'I speak are just. 
 
 Fal. Away, Bardolph ! saddle my horse. — Master Robert 
 Shallow, choose what office thoa wilt in the land, 't is 
 thine. — Pistol,! will 'double-charge thee with dignities. 
 
 Bard. O joyful day ! — I would not take a 'knighthood for 
 'my fortune. 
 
 Fal. Carry Master Silence to bed. — Master Shallow —my 
 'Lord Shallow! be what thou wilt, I am Fortune's 
 steward. Get on thy boots : we '11 ride all night. — O 
 sweet Pistol ! — Away, Bardolph. [RoridU ] Come, Pis- 
 tol, utter 'more to me ; and, withal, devise something 
 to do ' thyself good. — Boot, boot. Master Shallow : I 
 know the young King is 'sick for me. Let us take 'any 
 man's horses ; the laws of England are at 'my com- 
 mandment. Happy are they which ha,ve been my 
 ' friends ; — and woe to my Lord Chief Justice ! 
 
 Pist. Let vultures vile seize on his limgs also ! 
 
 "Where is the life that 'late I led? " say they ; 
 
 Why 'here it is ! — Welcome this pleasant day ! [Exeunt. 
 
 We hasten, with Falstaff and his companions, to London, and 
 join the crowd waiting for the young King's return from his corona- 
 tion in Westminster Abbey. Falstaff says : 
 
 * A term of contempt. t A sacred mountain in Bceotia. 
 
 }A term of contempt frequently used by the old dramatists. 
 
Scene v.] KING HENET IV PAST II. 179 
 
 Fal. stand here by 'me, Master Robert Shallow; I will 
 make the King do you grace. I will 'leer upon him as 
 he comes by ; and do but mark the 'countenance that 
 he wiU give me. O, if I had had time to have made 
 new liveries, I would have bestowed the thousand 
 pound I borrowed of you. But 't is no matter ; this 
 'poor show doth better : this doth ' infer the zeal I had 
 to see him, — 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 Fal. It shows my 'earnestness of affection, — 
 
 Shal. It doth so. 
 
 Fal. My 'devotion, — 
 
 Shal. It doth, it doth, it doth. 
 
 Fal. As it were, to ride day and night ; and not to deUb- 
 erate, not to remember, not to have patience to 'shift* 
 me, — 
 
 Shal. It is most certain. 
 
 Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and 'sweating with 
 desire to see him ; thinking of nothing else ; putting 
 all affairs else in 'obhvion, as if there were nothing else 
 to be done but to see ' him. 
 
 Shal. 'T is so, indeed. 
 
 Shouts are heard within, and the trumpets sound. The King and 
 his Train of Attendants enter, the Chief Justice among them. Fal- 
 staff eagerly presses forward, followed by Pistol. 
 
 Fal. Heaven save thy grace. King Hal ! 'my royal Hal ! 
 Fist. The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of 
 
 fame! 
 Fal. Heaven save thee, my sweet boy ! 
 King. . . . My Lord Chief Justice, speak to that vain man. 
 Ch. Just. Have you your wits ? ' know you what 't is you 
 
 speak ? 
 Fal. My Bong ! my Jove ! I speak to ' thee, my heart ! 
 King. I know thee not, old man : Fall to thy ' prayers ; 
 
 How ill 'white airs become a fool and jester ! 
 
 I have long 'dreamed of such a kind of man, 
 
 So surfeit-sweUed, so old, and so profane ; 
 
 But, being 'awake, I do 'despise my dream. 
 
 Reply not to me with a fool-born jest: 
 
 Presume not that I 'am the thing I 'was ; 
 
 For ' Heaven doth know, — so shall the 'world perceive,^ 
 
 That I have turned away my ' former self ; 
 
 So violl I those that kept me 'company. 
 
 * Change clothing. 
 
180 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 When thou dost hear I 'am as I 'have been, 
 
 Approach me, and 'thou shalt be as thou 'wast, — 
 
 The tutor and the feeder of my riots : 
 
 ' Till then, I ' banish thee, on pain of death, 
 
 (As I have done the rest of my misleaders,) 
 
 Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
 
 For 'competence of life, I will allow you. 
 
 That ' lack of means enforce you not to evil : 
 
 And, as we hear you do 'reform yourselves, 
 
 Give you advancement. — Be 't ' your charge, my lord. 
 
 To see 'performed the tenor of our word. — 
 
 Set on. r-S'.."" 
 
 As the royal procession moves onward, Falstaff says to his friend : 
 
 J''al. Master Shallow, ... I owe you a thousand pound. 
 
 Shal. Ay, marry. Sir John ; which I beseech you to let me 
 have 'home with me. 
 
 JF'al. That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you 
 grieve at this ; I shall be sent for, in 'private, to him : 
 look you, he must 'seem thus to the world. Fear not 
 your advancement : I will be ' the man 'yet, that shall 
 make you 'great. 
 
 ^hal. I cannot conceive how ; unless you should give me 
 your doublet, and stuff me out with straw. I beseech 
 you, good Sir John, let me have iive 'hundred of my 
 thousand. 
 
 Ji'dl. Sir, I will be as good as my 'word : this that you 
 heard was but a 'colour. 
 
 jShal. A colour, I fear, that you wUl 'die in. Sir John. 
 
 S'al. Fear 'no colours : go with me to dinner : — come, Lieu- 
 tenant Pistol ; — come, Bardolph : I shall be sent for 
 soon at 'night. 
 
 As they are proceeding to this promised dinner, Prince John, the 
 Chief Justice and his officers, return. The Chief Justice speaks : 
 
 Ch. Just. Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet ;* 
 
 Take all his company along with him. 
 Ji'al. My lord ! my lord !— 
 Ch. Just. I cannot 'now speak: I will hear you soon. — 
 
 Take them away. 
 
 The prisoners are led off. Prince John says : 
 jP. John. I like this fair proceeding of the King's : 
 
 He hath intent, his wonted followers 
 
 Shall all be very well 'provided for ; 
 
 * A prison in Loudon. 
 
Scene v.] KING HENRY IV PAHT II. 181 
 
 But all are ' banished, — till their conversations 
 Appear more wise and modest to the world. 
 Meantime, the King hath called his Parliament. 
 I will lay odds, — that, ere this year expire, 
 We bear our 'civil swords, and native fire, 
 As far as 'France. I heard a 'bird so sing, 
 Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the King. 
 Come, will you hence ? ccieuDt 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 Spoken by a Dancer. 
 
 First, my 'fear ; then, my 'court'sy ; last, my 'speech. My 
 fear is, your displeasure ; my court'sy, my duty ; and my 
 speech, to beg your pardons. If you look for a 'good speeck 
 'now, you undo me : for what I ' have to say is of mine own 
 'making ; and what indeed I 'should say, will, I doubt, prove 
 mine own 'marring. 
 
 If my ' tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you 
 command me to use my 'legs 1 and yet that were but 'light 
 payment, — to 'dance out of your debt. But a good ' con- 
 science will make any possible satisfaction ; and so will ' I. 
 All. the 'gentlewomen here have forgiven me: if the 'gen- 
 tlemen wiU not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the 
 gentle-' women, — which was never seen before in such an_ 
 assembly. 
 
 One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too much 
 cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will 'continue the 
 story, with Sir John in it, and make you merry with fair 
 Katharine of France : where, for anything I know, Falstaff" 
 shall die of a sweat, unless already he be killed with your 
 hard opinions ; for ' Oldcastle* died a 'martyr, and this is 
 'not the man. My tongue is weary ; when my ' legs are too^ 
 I will bid you good night ; and so kneel down before you ;. 
 but, indeed, to pray for the Queen.f [Exit. 
 
 End of Henet IV — Past II. 
 
 * Allading to Sir John Oldcastle, a character in the old play, and the supposed origi- 
 nal of Sir John Falstaff. t Queen Elizabeth. 
 
KING HEISTRY V. 
 
 It will be observed that the play of " The Life of Henry the Fift " 
 is not included in Meres' list of 1598 : it must have been written in 
 iSgg. 
 
 Shakespeare, in this play, makes very little use of the older 
 drama known as " The Famous Victories of Henrye the Ffyft, 
 conteyning the Honourable Battell of Agin Court," which was per- 
 formed before 1588, but not printed until 1598. It was originally 
 performed at the Globe Theatre— the " Wooden O " of the Pro- 
 logue—and first printed in 1600, with the following title : " The 
 Cronicle History of Henry the Fift. With his battell fought at 
 Agin Court in France. Togither with Auntient PistoU. As it 
 hath bene sundry times played by the right honourable the Lord 
 Chamberlaine his servants." This early edition wants the Chorus 
 and several scenes. The play was afterwards rewritten by Shake- 
 speare ; so that, in the folio of 1623, it is almost doubled in size. 
 
 The character of Henry the Fifth was evidently a public favourite : 
 he has a prominent place in three of these Historical plays : in 
 which he figures successively as the affectionate, ardent Youth — 
 the gay licentious Prince— and the brave high-minded King, the 
 greatest of England's Warrior Monarchs. 
 
 The characters introduced 
 
 King Henkt the Fifth. 
 
 _ ^ ( Brothers 
 
 Duke of Gloucestek, 1 . ,, 
 
 Duke of Bedford, "j xina 
 Duke of Exeter, Uncle to the 
 
 King. 
 Duke of Yokk,* Oousin to the 
 
 King. 
 The Eaels of Saliseuey, West- 
 
 MOKELAND, AND WaKWICK. 
 
 The Akchbishop of Oanteebuky. 
 The Bishop of Ely. 
 Eakl of Cambridge, ( Gonspira- 
 LoED ScEOOP, i. tors against 
 
 SiE Thomas Grey, {the King. 
 Sib Thomas Ekpingham, Gowee, 
 
 AND Fluellen, officers in King 
 
 Henry's a/rmy. 
 John Bates, Alexandee Court, 
 
 Michael Williams, soldiers in 
 
 the same. 
 Pistol, Nym, Baedolph, 
 Boy, servant to them. 
 An English Herald. 
 
 in this Condensation are : 
 
 Charles the Sixth, King of 
 
 France. 
 Louis, the Dauphin, f 
 Dukes op Buegundy, Oeleans, 
 
 AND Bourbon. 
 The Constable of France. 
 Governor of Harfleur. 
 Montjoy, a French Herald. 
 Ambassadors to the King of 
 
 England. 
 
 Isabel, Queen of France. 
 
 Katharine, Daughter to diaries 
 and Isabel. 
 
 Hostess o/a tavern in Eastcheap, 
 formerly Mistress Quickly, and 
 now married to Pistol. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Offlcm-s, Soldiers, 
 Citizens, Messengers, and At- 
 tendants. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 *Aumerle in the play of Richard II. 
 
 t O. K. Dolphin. 
 
Scenei.] KING HENRY Y. 
 
 183 
 
 This last-named personage is frequently introduced. To con- 
 nect historical events, unfitted for dramatic representation, each 
 Act is introduced by a kind of prologue- speaker or Chorus, who 
 describes events necessary for the auditor to know. These pro- 
 logues, says Schlegel, unite epic pomp and solemnity with lyrical 
 simplicity : In them the Dramatist sings as a poetical herald what 
 he could not represent to the eye ; and by them the spectators are 
 constantly reminded that the peculiar greatness of the actions 
 cannot be developed on a narrow stage : and that they must sup- 
 ply, from their imaginations, the deficiencies of the representation. 
 
 The reign of Henry the Fifth extended from 1413 till 1422. The 
 Time, therefore, occupies more than eight years. 
 
 The Scene, at the beginning of the play, is in England ; but, at 
 the end, in France. 
 
 Dr. Johnson remarks that Shakespeare was evidently sensible of 
 
 the absurdity of representing battles within the limits of a theatre ; 
 
 and, dilating chiefly on this point as an apology, the Chorus comes 
 
 forward : 
 
 Ghor. O for a Muse of 'fire, that would ascend 
 The brightest ' heaven of invention ! 
 A ' kingdom for a stage, 'princes to 'act, 
 And 'monarchs to 'behold the swelling scene ! 
 Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
 Assume the port of ' Mars ;* and at his heels, 
 Leashed-in like hounds, should Famine, Sword, and 
 
 Fire, 
 Crouch for employment. Pardon, gentles all, 
 The flat unraised spirit that hath dared. 
 On this unworthy scaffold,t to bring forth 
 So great an object : Can this cockpitj hold 
 The vasty fields of France? or may we cram, 
 Upon this little stage,§ the very 'casques 
 That did affright the air at 'Aginoourt % 
 O, pardon ! Since a crooked figure may 
 Attest, in little place, a million ; 
 So let us, 'ciphers to this great account. 
 On your ' imaginary forces work. 
 ' Suppose, within the girdle of these walls. 
 Are now confined two mighty Monarchies, 
 Whose high upreared and abutting fronts 
 The perilous narrow Ocean parts asunder : 
 Piece-out our imperfections with your ' thoughts : 
 Into a ' thousand parts divide one man. 
 And make 'imaginary puissance ; 
 ' Think, when we talk of horses, that you 'see them 
 Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth : — 
 
 * Demeanour of the God of War. t Stage. t The old Phoenix Theatre in 
 
 Drury Lane had been a cockpit. This play was originally performed at the Globe, 
 a circular woodeh building. § O. R. -within this Wooden O. 
 
184 THE KEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 For 'tis ytour ' thoughts that now must deck our kings ; 
 
 Carry them here and there ; jumping o'er times ; 
 
 Turning the accomplishment of many 'years, 
 
 Into an ' hour-glass : For the which supply, 
 
 Admit me 'Chorus to this history ; 
 
 Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray. 
 
 Gently to 'hear, kindly to 'judge, our play. bxu. 
 
 The Scene opens on the Presence Chamber of the Royal Palace 
 in London. King Henry has summoned a Council to receive and 
 reply to the French Ambassador. The young King is attended by 
 his brothers the Dukes of Gloucester and Bedford, and by his uncle 
 the Duke of Exeter. The Archbishop of Canterbury is the first to- 
 address the King : 
 
 Cant. Heaven and the angels 'guard your sacred throne, 
 
 And may you ' long become it ! 
 JS^. Hen. Sure, we thank you. 
 
 My lord Archbishop, pray you now proceed, 
 
 And justly and religiously unfold 
 
 ' Why the law Salique,* that they have in France, 
 
 Or should, or should 'not, 'bar us in our claim? 
 Cant. Theii hear me, gracious King : There is 'no bar 
 
 To make against your highness' claim to France, 
 
 But this, — which they produce from Pharamond,t — 
 
 " No 'woman shall succeed in Salique land." 
 JT. Hen. May I, with right and conscience, make this claim ? 
 Cant. The sin upon 'my head, dread sovereign ! 
 
 For in the Book of Numbers^ is it writ, — 
 
 When the son§ dies, let the inheritance 
 
 Descend unto the 'daughter. 
 H^. Hen. Call-in the Messengers sent from the Dauphin. 
 
 [Ex. Atten.. 
 
 Now are we 'well resolved ; and, by Heaven's help. 
 And yours, the noble sinews of our power, 
 France being ours, we '11 bend it to our awe. 
 Or break it all to pieces. 
 
 The Ambassador of France — with a train of Attendants bearing a. 
 heavily laden treasure-chest — enters the Council Chamber. 
 
 'Now are we 'well prepared to know the pleasure 
 
 Of our fair cousin Dauphin : for, we hear. 
 
 Your greeting is from ' him, — not from the King. 
 
 Amb. May 't please your majesty to give us leave 
 ' Freely to render what we have ia charge ? 
 
 jK". Hen. We are no ' tyrant, but a ' Christian King ; 
 
 • The old law of the Salic or Saltan Franks forbade succesBion through female de- 
 scent, t The semi-fabulous first King of France. t Numbers 27: viji.. 
 i O. R. man. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENKY V. 185 
 
 Therefore, with frauk and with tmcurbSd plaiimess, 
 ' Tell us the Dauphin's mind. 
 
 Amb. Thus, then, in few :* — 
 
 Your Highness, lately sending into France, 
 Did claim some certain 'dukedoms, in the right 
 Of your great predecessor. King Edward Third : 
 In 'answer of which claim, the Prince our master 
 Says, — that you savour too much of your 'youth ; 
 And bids you be advised, there 's nought in France 
 That can be with a nimble 'galliardf won ; 
 You cannot revel into dukedoms ' there. 
 He therefore sends you — meeter for your spirit, — 
 This ' tun of treasure ; and, in lieu of this. 
 Desires you, let the dukedoms that you claim 
 Hear no more of you. This the 'Dauphin speaks. 
 
 IT. Hen. ' "What treasure, uncle Exeter ? 
 
 -E'a-e. [tSe'cS] • • • Tennis-baUs, my liege ! 
 
 K. Hen. . . . We are glad the Dauphin is so 'pleasant with 
 us ; 
 His 'present, and your 'pains, we thank you for : 
 When we have matched our 'rackets to these balls. 
 We will, in France, by Heaven's graCe, play a setj 
 Shall strike his father's 'crown into the hazard. 
 We never valued this poor seat of ' England ; 
 But tell the Dauphin, — I will ' keep my state, 
 Be 'like a King, and show my sail of greatness. 
 When I do rouse me in 'my throne of 'France : 
 For I 'will rise there with so full a glory 
 That I will 'dazzle aU the eyes of France, 
 Yea, strike the Dauphin 'blind to 'look on us. 
 And tell the pleasant Prince that many a widow 
 Shall this his mock mock out of their dear ' husbands ; 
 Mock mothers from their 'sons ; mock 'castles down ; 
 And some are yet ungotten and unborn. 
 That shall have cause to 'curse the Dauphin's scorn. 
 But this lies all within the will of Heaven, 
 To whom I do 'appeal ; and in whose name, 
 Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming on. 
 So get you 'hence in 'peace ; . . . and tell the Dauphin, 
 His jest will savour but of 'shallow wit, 
 When thousands 'weep, more than did ' laugh at it. 
 Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well. [aSib. 
 The Duke of Exeter says to his royal nephew : 
 
 Exe. This was a 'merry message. 
 
 * Brief — in few words. t A courtly dance. X Game. 
 
186 THE reader's SHAKESPEA.RE. [Acta. 
 
 K. Hen. We liope to make the sender ' blush at it. 
 Therefore, let our proportions for these wars 
 Be soon collected ; and 'all things thought upon 
 That may, with reasonable swiftness, add 
 'More feathers to our wings ; for, Heaven before. 
 We '11 chide this Dauphin at his father's door. [Exeunt. 
 
 The Chorus again comes forward to narrate the circumstances 
 that precede the embarkation of the English forces : 
 
 Chorus. Now, all the 'youth of England are on fire. 
 And silken dalliance* in the wardrobe lies : 
 Now thrive the 'armourers ; and ' honour's thought 
 Eeigns solely in the breast of every man : 
 They sell the 'pasture now, to buy the ' horse ; — 
 Following the 'mirror of all Christian kings. 
 With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
 For now sits ' Expectation in the air ; 
 And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point. 
 With crowns imperial ; crowns, and coronets. 
 Promised to Harry and his followers. 
 The French, — advised by good intelligence 
 Of this most dreadful preparation, — 
 ' Shake in their fear ; and, with pale policy. 
 Seek to 'divertf the English purposes. 
 O England ! — model to thy ' inward greatness, 
 (Like little body with a mighty 'heart,) — 
 What mightst thou do, that honour 'would thee do. 
 Were 'all thy children kind and natural ! 
 But see thy fault ! France| hath in thee found out 
 A nest of 'hollow bosoms, which he fills 
 With treacherous crowns ;§ and three corrupted men, — 
 One, Kichard Earl of Cambridge ; and the second, 
 Henry Lord Scroop of Masham ; and the third, 
 Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland, — 
 Have, for the gilt|| of Prance, (O 'guilt indeed !) 
 Confirmed 'conspiracy with fearful France ; 
 And by ' their hands this gracelT of kings must 'die. 
 If hell and treason hold their promises. 
 The sum is paid ; the traitors are agreed ; 
 The King is set from London ; and the scene 
 Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton. 
 
 While the English forces for the invasion of France are concen- 
 trating at Southampton, the dramatist compels us to linger in 
 
 " Idleness. t Turn aside. t The King of France. § Coins stamped "with a 
 
 erown. I Golden money. IT Chief ornament. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY V. 187 
 
 London, where, on the street. Corporal Nym meets his promoted 
 friend Lieutenant Bardolph : 
 
 Hard. Well met, Corporal Nym. 
 Nym. Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. 
 Bard. What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? I 
 BXK will bestow a breakfast to 'make you friends ; and 
 
 we '11 be, all three, sworn brothers in France: 'let it 
 
 be so, good Corporal Nym. 
 Nym. Faith, I will live so long as I 'may, that 's the certain 
 
 of it ; and, when I cannot live any longer, I will 'die as 
 
 I may : that is my 'rest — that is the 'rendezvous* of it. 
 Sard. It is certain, Cjrporal, that he is 'married to Nell 
 
 Quickly : and, certainly, she did you wrong ; for you 
 
 'were troth-plight to her. 
 Nym. I cannot tell : things must be as they may : men 
 
 may 'sleep, and they 'may have their throats about 
 
 them at ' that time ; and some say knives have 'edges. 
 
 It 'must be as it 'may : Though patience be a ' tired 
 
 mare, yet she will 'plod. There must be 'conclu- 
 sions. . . . Well, I cannot tell. 
 Sard. Here 'comes Ancient Pistol — and his wife ! good 
 
 Corporal, be patient. 
 
 Pistol and the late Hostess Quickly enter : 
 
 How now, mine ' host Pistol ! 
 Pist. Base tike, call'st thou 'me host ? 
 
 Now, by this hand, I swear, I 'scorn the term ; 
 
 Nor shall my Nell keep — lodgers! [.Njmjrawsiiis sword. 
 
 JETostess. O well-a-day, if he be not drawn! r'ti's^T.^r'"' 
 
 Now we shall see wUful 'murder committed. 
 Sard. Good Lieutenant ! — good Corporal ! — offer nothing 
 
 here. 
 Nym. Psha! 
 Pist. Psha for thee, Iceland dog ! thou prick-eared cur of 
 
 Iceland ! 
 Hostess. Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up 
 
 thy sword. 
 Nym. Will you shogf off? I would have you 'solus.f 
 
 [SheathiDg his 9Word. 
 
 Sist. " Solus," egregious dog ? O viper vile ! 
 
 The " solus " in thy teeth, and in thy throat. 
 
 And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy ugly 'maw ; 
 
 And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth ! 
 
 For flashing fire will follow. 
 Nym. If you grow foul with 'me. Pistol, I will scour you 
 
 * End. t Move. t Alone. 
 
188 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 with my 'rapier, as I may, in fair terms : and that 's the 
 'humour of it! 
 I'ist. O braggart vUe, and fatal furious wight !* 
 
 hound of Crete, think'st thou my 'spouse to get ? 
 
 1 'have, and I will 'hold, the quondam'] Quickly, 
 
 For she 's the 'only she ; and — I'aitcajX 'there 's enough. 
 
 The Boy runs in hastily : 
 
 Jioy. Mine host Pistol ! you must come to my master ! — 
 and you, Hostess ! — he is very sick, and would to bed. — 
 Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and 
 do the office of a warming-pan. 
 
 Hard. Away, you rogue ! 
 
 Mistress Pistol sobs piteously : 
 
 Hostess. By my troth, he 'U yield the crow a pudding one 
 of these days ; the King has killed his heart. — Good 
 husband, come home presently. [Exeunt Ho.ie.3 uDd Boy. 
 
 Bardolph again tries to reconcile the now combative swordsmen ; 
 Hard. Come, 'shall I make you two friends ? We must to 
 
 Prance together : "Why should we keep knives to cut 
 
 one another's throats ? 
 JVynt. Pistol, you '11 pay me the eight shilHngs I won of 
 
 you at betting'? 
 y'ist. Ease is the slave that 'pays !* 
 
 iVyw. 'That now I 'will 'have: that 's the humour of it. 
 J^ist. As manhood shall 'compound : Push home! [Thejdraw. 
 
 Bardolph interferes. 
 Jiard. By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I '11 
 
 kill him ! by this sword, I will ! D^riws. 
 
 l^ist. Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course.* 
 
 A 'noble§ shalt thou have, and present pay; 
 
 And liquor likewise will I give to thee ; 
 
 I '11 live by 'Nym, and Nym shall live by 'me; 
 
 For I shall sutlei || be unto the camp. 
 
 And profits will accrue. Give me thy hand. 
 Nym. I shall have my noble? 
 Pist. In 'cash most justly paid. 
 Nym. Well, then, 'that 's the humour of 't! 
 
 They shake hands. The Hostess re-enters in great anxiety. 
 Host. O, come in, come in quickly to Sir John. Ah, poor 
 
 heart ! he is so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, 
 
 that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come 
 
 to him. 
 
 * An old stage quotation. t Former. \ Peace. 5 An old EngliBh gold coin 
 
 wortli about 68. 8d. II Tavern keeper. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENEY V. 189 
 
 Nym. The King hath run 'bad humours on the knight, 
 
 that 's the even of it. 
 Ji'ist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right ; 
 
 His heart is fracted* and corroborate.! cEjeuot 
 
 On the pier at Southampton we see King Henry with his soldiers 
 preparing to embark. His brothers, the Dukes of Bedford and 
 Gloster, are there, with his uncle the Duke of Exeter. The three 
 ■traitors — Grey, Scroop, and Cambridge — -whose crime the Chorus 
 has already made known to us, are also in attendance. — The King 
 prudently keeps them near, under pretence of asking their advice. 
 He says : 
 
 K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. 
 
 My Lord of Cambridge, — my kind Lord of Masham, — 
 And you, my gentle Knight, — give me 'your thoughts : 
 Think you not, that the powers we bear with us 
 Will 'cut their passage through the force of France? 
 
 Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man do his 'best. 
 
 -ff". Hen. I doubt not 'that; since we are well persuaded 
 We carry not a heart with us from hence, 
 That grows not in a fair consent with ours ; 
 Nor leave not one 'behind, that doth not 'wish 
 Success and conquest to attend on 'us. 
 
 Cambridge says : 
 Cam. Never was monarch ' better feared and loved. 
 
 Sir Thomas Grey adds : 
 Grey. Even those that were your father's 'enemies 
 
 Have steeped their galls in honey ; and do serve 'you 
 With hearts create^ of duty and of zeal. 
 JS^. Hen. We therefore have great cause of thankfulness ; 
 And shall forget the office of our 'hand. 
 Sooner than quittance! of desert and merit. 
 Uncle of Exeter, enlarge the man 
 That railed against our person : we consider 
 It was excess of 'vdne that set him on ; 
 And, on our 'more advice, we pardon him. 
 
 Scroop, Cambridge and Grey advise the King to show no clem- 
 ency, but to punish with Severity. Scroop says : 
 
 Scroop. That 's 'mercy, but too much 'security : 
 Let him be 'punished, sovereign ; lest example 
 Breed, by 'his sufferance, 'more of such a kind. 
 
 ^. Hen,. O, let us yet be 'merciful. 
 
 * Broken. t A nonsense word. tMadenp. § Recompense. 
 
190 THE header's SHAKESPEAKE. [Acta. 
 
 Cambridge 'replies : 
 
 Cam. So may your highness, and yet 'punish too. 
 Grey adds : 
 
 Grey. You show 'great mercy, if you give him ' life, 
 'After the taste of much correction. 
 
 K. Hen. Alas ! 'your too much love and care of me 
 Are heavy orisons* 'gainst this poor wretch ! 
 If 'little faults, proceeding on distemper,t 
 Shall not be winked at, how shall we 'stretch our eye 
 When 'capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested. 
 Appear before us ? We '11 'yet enlarge that man. 
 Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, — in their dear 
 
 care 
 And tender preservation of our person, — 
 Would have him 'punished. — And now to our ' French 
 
 causes : 
 You three, if I remember, are Commissioners ? 
 
 Gam. We are, my lord : 
 
 And you did bid us ask 'to-day for our commissions. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, Eichard Earl of Cambridge, there is 
 yours ;— 
 There yours. Lord Scroop of Masham ; — and, sir knigKt, 
 Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours : 
 ' Read them ; . . and know, I know your 'worthiness ! — 
 My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, 
 We will aboard 'to-night. — Why, how now, gentlemen ! 
 What see you in those 'papers, that you lose 
 So much complexion ? — Look ye, how they 'change ! 
 Their 'cheeks are paper.- — Why, what read you there, 
 That hath so cowarded and chased your blood 
 Out of appearance ? 
 
 Cambridge says : 
 
 Cam,. We 'confess our faults ; 
 
 And do submit us to your highness' 'mercy, 
 To which we all appeal. 
 
 K. Hen. The mercy, that 'was quickj in us but late. 
 By your 'own counsel is suppressed and ' killed : 
 You must not dare, for 'shame, to talk of mercy ! — 
 See you, my princes and my noble peers. 
 These English 'monsters ! My Lord of Cambridge 
 
 here, — 
 You know how apt our love was, to accord§ 
 To furnish him with all appertinents|| 
 
 * Weighty prayers. t Dissipation. X Alive. § Consent. S Requirements. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY V. 191 
 
 Belonging to his 'honour ; and this man 
 Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired 
 And sworn unto the practices of France, 
 To 'kill us, 'here in 'Hampton : — To the which 
 This Knight, (no 'less for bounty bound to us 
 Than Cambridge is,) hath 'likewise sworn. . . . But, O, 
 What shall I say to ' thee. Lord Scroop 1 thou cruel, 
 Ingratef ul, savage and ' inhuman creature ! 
 Thou, that didst bear the 'key of all my counsels ; 
 That knew'st the very bottom of my 'soul. 
 That almost mightst have 'coined me into gold ; — 
 May it be possible, that 'foreign hire 
 Could, out of ' thee, extract one 'spark of evil 
 That might annoy my 'finger ? 'T is so strange. 
 That, though the ' truth of it stands-off as gross 
 As black from white, my eye wiU scarcely see it. 
 O, how hast ' thou, with jealousy, infected 
 The sweetness of 'affiance ! Show men 'dutiful ? 
 Why, so didst thou : Seem they grave and learned ? 
 Why, so didst ' thou : Seem they religious 1 
 Why, so didst thou : Or are they spare in diet. 
 Free from gross passion, or of mirth or anger ; 
 Not working with the eye 'without the ear. 
 And but in sober* judgment trusting neither ? 
 Such and so finely boltedf didst ' thou seem : 
 And thus ' thy fall hath left a kind of ' blot, 
 To mark the ' f ull-fraughtf man and ' best indued. 
 With some 'suspicion. I will weep for 'thee; 
 For this revolt of ' thine, methinks, is like 
 'Another fall of man. — Their faults are open :§ 
 Arrest them to the answer of the ' law ; — 
 And Heaven acquit them of their practices ! 
 The Duke of Exeter advances to them. 
 JSxe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of Richard 
 
 Earl of Cambridge : 
 I arrest ' thee of high treason, by the name of Henry 
 
 Lord Scroop of Masham : 
 I arrest ' thee of high treason, by the name of Thomas 
 
 Grey, knight, of Northumberland. 
 
 All kneel while Lord Scroop says : 
 /Scroop. Our purposes Heaven ' justly hath discovered ; 
 And I repent my ' fault more than my 'death : 
 My 'fault, but 'not my body, pardon, sovereign ! 
 
 * O. R. purged, t Sifted, purified, t Possessed with all good qualities. § Evident. 
 
192 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 K. Hen. ' Heaven quit you in its mercy ! Hear your sen- 
 tence : — 
 You have conspired against our royal person, 
 Joined with an 'enemy proclaimed, and from his coffers 
 Received the golden 'earnest* of our death ; 
 Wherein you would have 'sold your King to 'slaughter, 
 His princes and his peers to 'servitude. 
 His subjects to 'oppression and contempt, 
 And his whole kingdom into 'desolation. 
 Touching! our person, seek we 'no revenge ; 
 But we our 'kingdom's safety must so tender, 
 (Whose ruin you three sought,) that to her 'laws 
 We do deliver you. Get you, therefore, hence. 
 Poor miserable wretches, to your death ! 
 The taste whereof. Heaven, of its mercy, give 
 You patience to endure, and true repentance 
 Of all your dearj offences. Bear them hence. 
 
 [The CoDsplratorB are led off guarded. 
 
 ' Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof 
 
 Shall be to you, as us, 'like§ glorious. 
 
 ' Cheerly to sea ; the signs of war advance ; 
 
 ' No king of England, if not king of ' France. [Exeunt. 
 
 The Scene is again in London — outside the Boar's Head Tavern 
 at Eastcheap. A mournful conversation is going on between Host- 
 ess Pistol and her husband ; with Nym, and Bardolph, and the little 
 Page. 
 
 Host. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to 
 
 Staines. 
 Pist. No ; for my manly heart doth 'yearn. — 
 
 Bardolph, be blithe : Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins ; — 
 
 Boy, bristle thy courage up ; — for Falstaff he is 'dead, 
 
 And we 'must yearn therefore. 
 
 Bardolph, in his grief, exclaims : 
 Bard. Would I were 'with him, wheresome'er he is, either 
 
 in heaven or in hell ! 
 To whom the Hostess replies — with a confused historical and 
 scriptural blending of " Arthur " and "Abraham :" 
 
 Host. Nay, sure, he 's not in 'hell : he 's in 'Arthur's bosom, if 
 'ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, 
 and went away an it had been any christomH 'child ; 'a 
 parted, even j ust between twelve and one, even at the 
 turning o' the tide : for, after I saw him fumble with 
 
 * Money paid to complete a bargain. t Conoerniog. X Grievous. {Equally, 
 U The white cloth put over a newly-baptized baby. 
 
Scene ill,] KING HENEY V. 193 
 
 the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his 
 fingers' ends, I knew there was but 'one way ! for his 
 nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green 
 fields. " How now, Sii' John ! " quoth I : " what, man ! 
 be a' good cheer." So 'a cried out " Heaven, Heaven, 
 Heaven ! " three or four times. Now I, to comfort 
 him, bid him, 'a should not think of Heaven f I hoped 
 there was no need to trouble himself with any 'such 
 thoughts 'yet. So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his 
 feet : I put my hand into the bed, and felt them, and 
 they were as cold as any stone ; then I felt to his knees, 
 and 'aU was as cold as any stone. 
 
 Nym. They say he cried-out of sack. 
 
 Most. Ay, that 'a did. 
 
 £ard. And of women. 
 
 Most. Nay, that 'a did not. 
 
 Jioy. Yes, that 'a did ; and said they were devils incarnate. 
 
 Most. 'A could never abide carnation ; 't was a colour he 
 never liked. 
 
 £oy. Do you not remember, 'a saw a flea stick upon Bar- 
 dolph's nose, and 'a said it was a black soul burning in 
 heU-fire ? 
 
 Hard. Well, the fuel is gone that 'maintained that fire : 
 ' that 's aU the riches I got in his service. — 
 
 Nym. Shall we shog ?* the King wiU be 'gone from South- 
 ampton. 
 
 Pist. Come, let 's away. — My love, give me thy lips. 
 Look to my chattels and my movables : 
 Let 'sense us rule ; the word is " Pitch and Pay ; " 
 Trust none ; 
 
 For oaths are 'straws, men's faiths are 'wafercakes. 
 And Hold-fast is the 'only dog, my duck. 
 Go, clear thy crystals. — -Toke-feUows in arms, 
 Let us to Prance ; like horse-leeches, my boys. 
 To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck ! [Eseuot. 
 
 Then, leaving the women-folk behind, all hurry off to join the 
 
 £ngUsh army. 
 
 The landing of the English army in France took place in August, 
 1415 ; and Harfleur was immediately invested. The boldness of 
 this invasion startled the Court of Charles the Sixth, (le bieu aime,) 
 who, with his brave son Lewis the Dauphin, assisted by D'Albret, 
 the Constable of France, was preparing a strong resistance to the 
 despised enemy. 
 
 * Move off. 
 
194 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 The Scene is in the French royal Palace ; where the King, the 
 Dauphin, the Constable, and the Duke of Burgundy are in anxious 
 consultation. The French King speaks : 
 
 Fr. King. Thus come the English with full power upon us ; 
 And 'more than carefully it us concerns 
 To answer 'royally in our defence. 
 
 Dan. Therefore, I say 't is meet we 'all go forth 
 To view the sick and feeble parts of Prance : 
 And let us do it with no show of 'fear: 
 No, with no more than if we heard that England 
 Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance : 
 For, my good liege, she is so 'idly kinged, 
 Her sceptre so fantastically borne 
 By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth. 
 That fear attends her not. 
 
 Con. O peace. Prince Dauphin ! 
 
 You are too much 'mistaken in this King : 
 For you shall find, his vanities forespent* 
 Were but the 'outside of the Eoman 'Brutus, 
 Covering 'discretion with a coat of 'folly. 
 
 Dati. Well, 't is 'not so, my Lord High Constable ; 
 But though we 'think it so, it is no matter: 
 In cases of defence, 't is best to weigh 
 The enemy 'more mighty than he 'seems : 
 So the 'proportions of defence are filled. 
 
 Fr. King. Think we King Harry 'strong ; 
 
 And, princes, look you strongly arm. to meet him. 
 For he is bred out of that bloody straiuf 
 That haunted us in our familiar paths : 
 Witness our too much memorable shame 
 When Cressy-battle fatally was struck. 
 And all our princes captived, by the hand 
 Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales ; 
 This is a 'stem of that great stock ; 
 Then let us ' fear his mightiness and power. 
 A Messenger enters. 
 
 Mess. Ambassadors from Harry King of England. 
 
 Fr. King. We '11 give them 'present audience. Go, and 
 bring them. ["'""e'r'ta'lrrr "* 
 
 You 'see, this chase is 'hotly followed, friends. 
 
 Dau. Turn head, and stop pursuit ; for 'coward dogs 
 
 Most spend their mouths,^ when, what they seem to 
 
 threaten 
 Runs far ' before them. Good my sovereign, 
 
 *Alrea(ly past. t Race. X Make a noise, bark 
 
Scene iT.] KING HENBY V. 195 
 
 Take-up the English 'short,* and let them know 
 Of 'what a monarchy you are the head : 
 Self-' love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
 As self-'neglecting. 
 
 Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and train. 
 
 Fr. King. From our brother England % 
 
 Exe. From him ; and thus he greets your majesty. 
 He wills — that you resign and lay apart 
 The ' borrowed glories, that, by gift of heaven. 
 By law of nature, and of nations, 'long 
 To him, and to his heirs ; namely, the crown ; 
 And sends you this most memorable line, ["'geMa??!?.""' 
 Willing you, overlook this pedigree : 
 And, — when you find him evenly derived 
 From his most famed of famous ancestors, 
 Edward the Third, — he ' bids you then resign 
 Tour crown and kingdom, indirectly held 
 From 'him — the native and true challenger. 
 
 Fr. King. Or else what follows ? 
 
 Exe. Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the crown 
 Even in your 'hearts, there will he 'rake for it : 
 Therefore in fiery tempest is he coming. 
 In thunder, and in earthquake, like a 'Jove. — 
 This is his claim, his threatening, and my message ; 
 Unless the 'Dauphin be in presence here, 
 To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 
 
 Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this further : 
 To-morrow shall you bear our full intent 
 Back to our brother England. 
 
 Dau. For the Dauphin, 
 
 I stand here 'for him: what to 'him from England? 
 
 Exe. Scorn and defiance ; 'slight regard, contempt, 
 And any thing that may not misbecome 
 The mighty sender, doth he prize 'you at. 
 Thus says my King : — an if your father's highness 
 Do not, in grant of all demands at large, 
 Sweeten the bitter mock 'you sent his majesty. 
 He 'U call you to so hot an answer of it. 
 That caves and hoUowf vaultages of France 
 Shall chide your trespass, and 'return your mock 
 In second accent of his ordnance. 
 
 Dau. Say : — if my father render ' fair return, 
 It is against 'my will; for 'I desire 
 Nothing but 'odds with England : to that end, 
 
 * Quickly. t O. R. womby 
 
196 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Aet 3. 
 
 (As matching to his youth and vanity,) 
 I 'did present him with the Paris balls. 
 
 JExe. He '11 make your Paris Louvre shake for it ! 
 And, be assured, you '11 find a difference, 
 (As we, his subjects, have in 'wonder found,) 
 Between the promise of his 'greener days. 
 And these he masters 'now. 
 
 JFr. King. ' To-morrow shall you know our mind at f ull. 
 A night is bat 'small breath and little pause, 
 To answer matters of this 'consequence. [Eioont. 
 
 We learn from history that Harfleur capitulated after a five 
 weeks' siege. — But we must adhere to the story as told by the Poet ; 
 on whose behalf you are again to suppose before you the Chorus, 
 describing this invasion of France : 
 
 (Jhor. Thus, with 'imagined wing, our swift scene flies 
 In motion of no ' less celerity 
 
 Than that of ' thought. ' Suppose, that you have 'seen 
 The well-appointed King at Hampton* pier 
 Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet 
 With silken streamers the young Phcebusf fanning : 
 Play with your ' fancies ; and in them behold. 
 Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing ; 
 Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give 
 To sounds confused ; behold the thread en sails. 
 Borne with the invisible and creeping wind. 
 Draw the huge vesselsf through the furrowed sea. 
 Breasting the lofty surge : O, do but ' think 
 You stand upon the rivage,§ and behold 
 A 'city on the inconstant billows dancing ; 
 For so 'appears this fleet majestical. 
 Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow ! 
 ' Grapple your minds to 'sternageH of this navy ; 
 And leave your England, as dead midnight, still. 
 Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women. 
 Or 'past, or not 'arrived to, pith and puissance : 
 For who is he, whose chin is but enriched 
 With 'one appearing hair, that will not follow 
 These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to Prance ? 
 Work, work your ' thoughts, and ' therein see a siege ; 
 Behold the ordnance on their carriages. 
 With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. 
 Suppose, the Ambassador from France comes back ; 
 Tells Harry — that the King doth offer him 
 
 * The folio reads — "at Douer " (Dover) — clearly a mistake. t The newly-risen 
 
 aun. to. R. bottoms. § Coast, shore. U steerage or stern. 
 
Scene 1] KING HENRY V. 197 
 
 Katharine his daughter ; and with her, to dowry, 
 
 Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. 
 
 The offer likes not : and the nimble gunner 
 
 With linstock* now the devilish cannon touches, . . . 
 
 And 'down goes all before them ! Still be kind, 
 
 And eke out our 'performance with your 'mind. (Eiit 
 
 Now before us are the walls of Harfleur, shattered by the batteries- 
 of the English cannon. In the midst of the turmoil, while the 
 soldiers are preparing their scaling-ladders, and piling fascines to- 
 reach the enemy, the English King is heard animating and cheer- 
 ing his excited troops : 
 
 K. Hen. Once 'more unto the breach, dear friends, once- 
 more ; 
 Or close the wall 'up, with our English dead ! 
 In 'peace, there 's nothing so becomes a man 
 As modest stillness and humility : 
 But, when the blast of 'war blows in our ears, 
 Then imitate the action of the 'tiger! 
 ' Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 Disguise fair Nature with hard-favoured ' Rage ; 
 Then lend the eye a ' terrible aspect ; 
 Let it pry through the portaget of the head. 
 Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it. 
 As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
 O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
 ' Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean ! 
 Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide. 
 Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
 To his full 'height ! On, on, you noblestj English, 
 Whose blood is fetched§ from 'fathers of war-proof! — 
 Fathers — that, like so many 'Alexanders. || 
 Have, in these parts, from mom till even fought, 
 -Ajid sheathed their swords for lack of argumeut: — 
 Dishonour not your 'mothers ! Be copy now 
 To men of 'grosser blood, and teach them 
 ' How to war ! And you, good yeomen. 
 Whose limbs were made in England, show us ' here 
 The 'mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
 That you are 'worth your breeding — which I doubt- 
 
 not. . . . 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, IT 
 'Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot ! 
 'Follow your spirit ; and, upon 'this charge, 
 Cry — " Heaven for Harry, England, and Saint George ! " 
 
 * The stock to which the match is fastened.- t Port holes. tO. R. noblish. 
 
 5 O. R fet. I Alexander the Great, King of Macedon, born 356 B. C, died 323 B. C. 
 1[ Leather ties. 
 
198 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Acta 
 
 This attack on the battlements of Harfleur is successful. The 
 Governor appears on the ramparts, bearing a flag of truce, while 
 Henry and the English leaders advance. The King inquires : 
 
 K. Hen. How 'yet resolves the Governor of the town 1 
 This is the latest parle we will admit : 
 Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves, 
 Or, (like to men proud of destruction,) 
 Defy us to our 'worst : for, as I am a soldier, 
 (A name that, in my thoughts, becomes me best,) 
 If I begin the battery once again, 
 I will not 'leave the half-achieved Harfleur, 
 Till in her ashes she lie 'buried. 
 What say you % Will you yield, and this 'avoid ? 
 Or, guilty in defence, be thus 'destroyed ? 
 
 Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end: 
 
 The Dauphin, whom of succours we entreated, 
 Eeturns us — that his powers are yet not ready 
 To 'raise so great a siege. Therefore, great King, 
 We yield our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy : 
 'Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours ; 
 For we no 'longer are defensible. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Open your gates. — Come, uncle Exeter, 
 Go you and enter Harfleur ; there remain. 
 And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French : 
 Use mercy to them 'all. For us, dear uncle, — 
 The winter coming on, and sickness growing 
 Upon our soldiers, — we '11 retire to Calais. 
 To-night, in ' Harfleur we will be your guest : 
 To-morrow, for the 'march are we addressed. [Hxeimt. 
 Amidst shouts of victory and triumphal sounds of martial music, 
 
 the young King of England and his train enter the gates of Harfleur. 
 
 After the surrender of Harfleur, the English King was marching 
 on to Calais ; but, on his way, he was intercepted, by the French, 
 at one of the bridges over the river Somme. 
 
 Two Officers of the invading army — Captain Gower, an English- 
 man, — and Captain Fluellen, a Welshman — are overheard convers- 
 ing before the English Camp. 
 
 Gow. How now. Captain Fluellen! come you from the 
 Bridge ? 
 
 Flu. I assure you there is f ery* excellent services committed 
 at the Fridge. 
 
 Gow. Is the Duke of Exeter safe ? 
 
 Flu. The Tuke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamem- 
 non ; and a man that I love and honour with my soal, 
 
 * The peculiarities of the Welsh utterance of English were, and, in many districts 
 still are, a shurp rising intonation, and the substitution of Breath-Consonants for 
 Voice-Oonsonants. In Somersetshire this peculiarity was, and is, strangely reversed. 
 
Scene Yi.] KING HENRY V. 199 
 
 and my heart, and my duty, and my life, and my living, 
 and my uttermost power : he is not (Heafen be praised 
 and plessed !) any hurt in the 'orld ; but 'keeps the 
 Pridge most valiantly, with excellent tiscipline. There 
 is an auncient Lieutenant there at the Pridge, — I think, 
 in my fery conscience, he is as faliant a man as Mark 
 Antony ; — and he is a man of no estimation in the 'orld ; 
 but I did see him do faliant service. 
 
 Gow. What do you 'call him ? 
 
 Flu. He is called^Auncient Pistol. 
 
 Gow. I know him not. 
 
 Flu. Here is the 'man. 
 
 Pistol enters. 
 
 Fist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours : 
 The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. 
 
 Flu. Ay, I praise Cot ; and I have 'merited some love at his 
 hands. 
 
 Fist. Bardolph, a soldier firm and sound of heart, 
 Of buxom* valour, hath, — by cruel fate. 
 And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel ; — 
 That goddess blind, 
 That stands upon the rolling restless stone — 
 
 Fl,u. Py your patience, Auncient Pistol. Fortune is 'painted 
 phnt, with a muffter afore her eyes, to signify to you 
 that Fortune 'is plint : And she is painted also with a 
 'wheel to signify to you, (which is the moral of it,) that 
 she is turning, and inconstant, and mutability, and f ari- 
 ation : and her foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical 
 stone, which rolls, and rolls, and rolls : — in good truth. 
 Fortune is an 'excellent moral. 
 
 Pist. Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him ; 
 For he hath stolen a pyx,t and ' hanged must be : 
 Let gallows gape for 'dog ; let 'man go free : 
 And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut 
 With edge of penny cord and vile reproach : 
 ' Speak, Captain, for his Hf e, and I will thee 'requite. 
 
 Flu. Auncient Pistol, I do 'partly unterstant your meaning. 
 
 Fist. Why then, 'rejoice therefore. 
 
 Flu. Certainly, Auncient, it is 'not a thing to rejoice at : 
 for if, look you, he were my 'prother, 'I would tesire 
 the Tuke to use his good pleasure, and 'put him to 
 executions ; for tiscipHnes ought to be used. 
 
 Fist. Die, and be hanged ! and figoj for thy friendship ! 
 
 Flu. It is well. 
 
 Fist. The fig of Spain ! 
 
 * Well-trained. t A box in wMch the consecrated wafer is kept. t A fig. 
 
200 THE KEADEK's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Flu. It is well. Fery koot. [Esupistoi. 
 
 Pistol, thus unable to save his friend Bardolph's life, bounces 
 out in high dudgeon vowing vengeance on all Welshmen in general, 
 and (as we shall afterwards hear) on Fluellen in particular. Gower 
 says : 
 
 Qow. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit 'rascal ! I remem- 
 ber him 'now : a braggart ! a cutpurse ! 
 
 Flu. I '11 assure you, 'a uttered as prave 'ords at the Pridge 
 as you shall see in a summer's tay. 
 
 Gow. Why, 't is a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then 
 
 ■ goes to the wars ; to grace himself, at his return into 
 
 London, under the form of a 'soldier. But you must 
 
 learn to 'know such slanders of the age, or else you 
 
 may be marvellously mistook. 
 
 Flu. I tell you what. Captain Cower ;— I do 'perceive he is 
 'not the man that he would kladly make show to the 
 'orld he is : if I tint a hole in his coat, I will tell him 
 my mint. ['hsSS'] Hark you, the King is coming ; and I 
 must speak with him. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloucester, and Soldiers. 
 Cot pless your majesty ! 
 
 K. Hen. How now, Muellen ! cam'st thou from the Bridge ? 
 
 Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The Tuke of Exeter is 
 'master of the Pridge : I can tell your majesty, the 
 Tuke is a prave man. 
 
 K. Hen. What men have 'you lost, Fluellen ? 
 
 Flu. The perdition of the 'athversary hath been fery kreat, 
 reasonable kreat : marry, for my part, I think the 
 ' Tuke hath lost 'nef er a man, . . . but one, — that is like 
 to be executed for ropping a church ; — one Pardolph, 
 if your majesty know the man : his face is all 
 pupukles,* and whelks,t and knops, and flames o' fire : 
 and his lips plows at his nose ; and ' it is like a 'coal of 
 fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes ret : but his nose 
 is executet, and his fire 's out. 
 
 A special flourish of trumpets indicates the approach of a Herald. 
 Montjoy enters. 
 
 Mont. You know me by my habit.j 
 
 K. Hen. Well then, I know thee : What shall I know 'of 
 thee? 
 
 Mont. My master's mind. — Thus says my King : — Say thou 
 to Harry of England — Though we seemed 'dead, 
 we did but 'sleep ; 'advantage is a better soldier than. 
 
 ^OarbnncleB. t Welts. :( Tabard ; a herald's coat. 
 
Scene vi.] KING HENKY V. 201 
 
 'rashness. Tell him we 'could have rebuked him at 
 Harfleur, but that we thought not good to ' bruise an 
 injury, till it were full 'ripe : 'now we speak upon our 
 'cue, and our voice is imperial : — England shall repent 
 his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. 
 Bid him, therefore, consider of his 'ransom ; which 
 must proportion the 'losses we have borne, the 'sub- 
 jects we have lost, the 'disgrace we have digested. For 
 our 'losses, his 'exchequer is too poor ; for the effusion 
 of our 'blood, the muster of his 'kingdom too faint a 
 number ; and for our 'disgrace, his 'own 'person, kneel- 
 ing at our feet, but a weak and worthless satisfaction. 
 To this, add — 'defiance : and tell him, for conclusion, 
 he hath betrayed his ' followers, whose 'condemnation 
 is pronounced. — So far my King and master ; so much 
 my office. 
 
 K. Hen. Thou dost thy office 'fairly. Turn thee back, 
 And tell thy King — I do not seek him 'now ; 
 But could be willing to march on to Calais 
 Without impeachment ;* for, to say the sooth, — 
 (Though 't is no 'wisdom to confess so much 
 Unto an enemy of craft and 'vantage,) 
 My people are with sickness much enfeebled. 
 My numbers lessened ; and those few I have, 
 Almost no better than so many ' French ; 
 Who, when they were in ' health, I tell thee. Herald, 
 I thought, upon 'one pair of English legs 
 Did march ' three Frenchmen. — "Yet, forgive me. Heaven, 
 That I do brag thus ! — This your air of France 
 Hath ' blown that vice in me ; and I must 'repent. — 
 Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am ; 
 My 'ransom is this frail and worthless trunk ; 
 My army, but a weak and sickly guard : 
 Yet, Heaven before,! tell him we 'will come on. 
 Though France himself, and such another neighbour. 
 Stand in our way. Bid thy master well advise : 
 If we 'may pass, we 'will ; if we be hindered. 
 We shall your tawny ground with your red blood ' 
 Discolour : and so, Mont joy, fare you well. 
 The 'sum of all our answer is but this : — 
 We would not 'seek a battle, as we 'are ; 
 Nor, as we are, we say we wUl not 'shun it. 
 
 Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness. [Eiu. 
 The Duke of Gloucester says : 
 
 Glou. I hope they will not come upon us 'now. 
 
 * Hindrance. t Being my guide. 
 
202 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 8. 
 
 K. Hen. . . . "We are in 'Heaven's hand, brother, not in 
 ' theu-s. — 
 March to the Bridge ; it now draws toward night : — 
 ' Beyond the river we '11 encamp ourselves ; 
 And on to-morrow . . . bid ' them march 'away ! [Exeunt. 
 
 While the English forces, greatly reduced by sickness and famine, 
 are slowly and cautiously marching towards Calais to return if pos- 
 sible to England, they suddenly encounter the French army strongly 
 drawn up on the plains of Azincour (or Agincourt ; ) and so posted 
 that the farther march of Henry is impossible, without venturing 
 another engagement. The joy of the French camp is excessive. — 
 A Messenger hastily addresses the leaders : 
 
 Mess. My Lord High Constable, the English lie within fif- 
 teen hundred paces of your tents. iexu. 
 
 Con. 'Would it were day ! — Alas, poor Harry of England ! 
 ' he longs not for the dawning, as 'we do. 
 
 Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of 
 England, to mope, with his fat-brained followers, so far 
 out of his knowledge ! 
 
 Con. If the EngHsh had any 'apprehension, they would run 
 away. 
 
 Orl. ' That they lack ; for if their heads had any ' intellectual 
 armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces. 
 
 Con. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures ; 
 their 'mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. 
 
 Orl. Foolish 'ours ! that run winking into the mouth of a 
 Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten 
 apples ! You may as well say, — that 's a valiant flea, 
 that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a ' lion. 
 
 Con. Just, just ; and the 'men do sympathise with the 'mas- 
 tiffs, in robustious and rough coming-on, leaving their 
 wits with their wives : and then, give them great meals 
 of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves, 
 and fight like devils. 
 
 Orl. Ay, but ' these English are shrewdly 'out of beef. 
 
 Con. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stom- 
 achs to 'eat, and none to fight. — Now is it time to arm : 
 Come, shall we about it '? 
 
 Orl. It is now ' two o'clock : but, let me see, — by ' ten. 
 
 We shall have 'each a ' hundred Englishmen. [Exeum 
 
 We are again addressed by the Chorus, who gives a vivid de- 
 scription of the rival forces of France and England on the eve of the 
 great battle. 
 
choeot.] king heney v. 203 
 
 Chor. ' Now entertain conjecture, of a time 
 
 When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, 
 
 Pni the wide vessel of the universe. 
 
 From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night. 
 
 The hum of 'either army stilly sounds, — 
 
 That the fixed sentinels almost receive 
 
 The secret 'whispers of each other's watch : 
 
 Five answers fire ; and, through their paly flames, 
 
 Each battle sees the other's umbered* face : 
 
 Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs. 
 
 Piercing the Night's dull ear ; and, from the tents. 
 
 The armourers, accomplishing! the knights. 
 
 With busy hammers closing rivets up. 
 
 Give dreadful note of preparation. — 
 
 Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul. 
 
 The confident and over-mirthf ul| ' French 
 
 Do the low-rated English play at dice ; 
 
 And chide the cripple tardy-gaited Night, 
 
 Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
 
 So tediously away. The poor condemned English, 
 
 Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
 
 Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
 
 The morning's danger ; and their gesture sad, 
 
 In wasted§ lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats, 
 
 Presenteth them unto the gazing moon — 
 
 So many horrid ghosts ! O, 'now, who wUl behold 
 
 The royal 'Captain of this ruined band 
 
 Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent ; 
 
 Let him cry, — " Praise and glory on his head ! " 
 
 For forth he goes, and visits all his host ; 
 
 Bids them " Good-morrow ! " with a modest smile. 
 
 And calls them— brothers, friends, and countrymen ! 
 
 Upon his royal face, there is no note 
 
 How 'dread an army hath enrounded him ; 
 
 Nor doth he dedicate one 'jot of colour 
 
 Unto the weary and all-watched night ; 
 
 But ' freshly looks, and overbears attaint,|| 
 
 With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ; 
 
 That every 'wretch, pining and pale 'before. 
 
 Beholding 'him, plucks 'comfort from his looks : — 
 
 A largessIT universal, (like the 'sun,) 
 
 His liberal eye doth give to 'every one. 
 
 Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all, 
 
 Behold, — as may unworthiness define, — 
 
 * Discoloured. t Preparing, accoutring. t O. R. lusty. § O. E. investing. 
 II Injurious thought. TF Gift, sign of approval. 
 
204 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 A little touch of Harry in the 'night : 
 
 And so our scene must to the 'battle fly — 
 
 The famous Agincourt ! ' Yet sit and see ; , 
 
 Minding ' true things by what their 'mockeries be. [Exit. 
 
 Now, in the night, we have before us the English Camp at Agin- 
 court, and we can hear the English King conversing with the various 
 Officers in attendance. 
 
 K. Hen. Gloucester, 't is true that we are in 'great danger ; 
 The greater therefore should our 'courage be. — 
 Good morrow, brother Bedford. — Now, by heaven, 
 There is some soul of 'goodness in things 'evU, 
 Would men observingly distil it out ; 
 For our bad neighbour makes us 'early stirrers, 
 "Which is both healthful, and good husbandry : 
 Besides, they are our 'outward consciences. 
 And preachers to us all ; admonishing — 
 That we should dress us fairly for our 'end : 
 Thus may we gather ' honey from the 'weed. 
 And make a moral of the ' Devil himself. — 
 
 Erpingham enters. 
 Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham ! 
 A good soft 'pillow, for that good white head, 
 Were better than a churlish ' turf of France. 
 
 Erp. Not so, my liege: 'this lodging likes me 'better. 
 Since I may say — "Now lie I, like a 'king.'''' 
 
 K. Hen. Lend me thy cloak. Sir 'Thomas. — Brothers both. 
 Commend me to the princes* in our camp ; 
 Do my good-morrow to them, and anon 
 Desire them all to 'my payilion. 
 
 GrlOU. We shall, my liege. [Exeunt GIost«r and Bedford. 
 
 Mrp. Shall ' I attend your grace ■? 
 
 K. Hen. No, good Sir Thomas : 
 
 Go, with my brothers, to my lords of England : 
 
 ' I, and my ' bosom, must debate awhile. 
 
 And then, I would no 'other company. 
 
 As Erpingham withdraws, Pistol enters. 
 
 Pist. Qui va la?^ 
 
 The disguised King replies in English : 
 J^. Hen. A friend. 
 Pist. ' Discuss unto me : Art thou 'officer ? 
 
 Or art thou base, common, and popular ? 
 K. Hen. I am ... a 'gentleman of a company. 
 
 * Nobles. t O. K. Che vous la t 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY V. 205 
 
 -Pist. Trail'st thou the puissant pike ? 
 
 JT. Hen. Even so. — Who are 'you ? 
 
 Pist. As 'good a gentleman as the ' emperor. 
 
 K. Hen. Then you are a ' better than the ' King ? 
 
 Pist. The King 's a bawcock,* and a heart of gold, 
 
 A lad of life, an imp of fame ; 
 
 Of parents good, of fist most valiant : 
 
 I kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings 
 
 I 'love the lovely buUy ! — What 's thy 'name ? 
 K. Hen. . . . Harry le JRoi. 
 
 Pist. Le Eoy ! a ' Cornish name : art thou of Cornish 'crew? 
 H. Hen. No, I am a ' Welshman. 
 Pist. Uh! Know'stthouriuellen? 
 K. Hen. Yes. 
 Pist. Tell him, — 1 11 knock his 'leek about his pate 
 
 Upon Saint Davy's day. 
 jK". Hen. Do not you wear your 'dagger in your cap that 
 
 day, lest he knock ' that about 'yours. 
 Pist. Art thou his 'friend? 
 H. Hen. And his ' kinsman too. 
 Pist. The figo for thee then. Bah ! My name is Pistol 
 
 caUed ! tE^it. 
 
 H. Hen. . . It sorts well with your fierceness. 
 
 As the King stands aside, Fluellen and Gower encounter in the 
 dark. 
 
 Gow. Captain FlueUen ! — 
 
 Flu. So ! so ! so ! — speak lower. — It is the kreatest atmir- 
 ation in the universal 'orld, when the true and auncient 
 prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept : if you 
 would take the pains but to examine the wars of Pompey 
 the Kreat, you shall fint, I warrant you, that there is 
 no tittle-tattle, nor pipple-papple, in ' Pompey's camp. 
 I warrant you, you shall fint the 'ceremonies of the 
 wars, and the 'cares of it, and the ' forms of it, and the 
 'sopriety of it, and the 'modesty of it, to be otherwise. 
 
 Gow. Why, the 'enemy is loud ; you hear ' him all night. 
 
 Flu. If the enemy is an ass, and a fool, and a prating cox- 
 comb, is it meet, think you, that 'we should also, look 
 you, pe an ass, and a fool, and a prating coxcomb ? — 
 in your own conscience, now ? 
 
 Gow. I 'will speak lower. 
 
 Flu. I pray you, and 'peseech you, that you will. LnlFtaS. 
 
 K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of fashion, there is 
 much care and 'valour in this Welshman. 
 
 * A fine fellow. 
 
206 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEAEE. l&eti. 
 
 The King again muffles his face in the borrowed cloak, when 
 three soldiers — ^John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Wil- 
 liams — are sauntering along. Court says : 
 
 Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the 'morning which 
 
 breaks yonder? 
 Bates. I think it be : but 'we have no great cause to 'desire 
 
 the approach of day. 
 
 Williams adds : 
 Will. We see yonder the ' beginning of the day, but I think 
 we shall never see the 'end of it. — Who goes there ? 
 
 The King advances and replies : 
 
 JS^. Hen. A friend. 
 
 Will. Under what 'captain serve you ? 
 
 K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. 
 
 Will. A good old commander, and a most kind gentleman : 
 I pray you, what thinks 'he of our estate ? 
 
 K. Sen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand — that look to 
 be washed 'off the nexl^ tide. 
 
 Bates. He hath not told his thought to the ' King ? 
 
 K. Hen. No ; nor it is not meet he 'should. For, (though 
 I speak it to 'you,) I think the Kipg is but a 'man, as 
 I am: — the violet smells to 'him as it doth to 'me; 
 the 'element shows to him, as it doth to me ; 'all his 
 senses have but 'human conditions. Therefore, when 
 'he sees reason of fears, (as 'we do,) 'his fears, out of 
 doubt, be of the same relish as 'ours are. Yet, in rea- 
 son, no man should possess ' him with any appearance 
 of fear, — lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his 
 army. 
 
 Bates. He may show what 'outward courage he will ; but I 
 believe, (as cold a night as 't is,) he could wish himself 
 in the Thames up to the neck ; — and so I would he 
 were, and I by him, at 'all adventures, — so we were 
 quit ' here. 
 
 K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak 'my conscience of the 
 King : ' I think he would not wish himself anywhere but 
 where he 'is. 
 Bates. Then I would he were here 'alone ; so should ' he 
 be sure to be 'ransomed, — and a many 'poor men's lives 
 'saved. 
 
 K. Hen. I dare say, you love him not so ill to wish him 
 here 'alone ; howsoever, you speak this to feel 'other 
 men's minds : Methinks ' I could not die 'anywhere so 
 
Scene i ] KING HENEY VI. 207 
 
 contented, as in the King's 'company, — his cause being 
 just and his quarrel honourable. 
 
 Will. That 's more than 'we know. 
 
 Bates. Aj, or more than we should 'seek after ; for we know 
 'enough, if we know we are the King's 'subjects : if 
 his cause be 'wrong, our 'obedience to the King wipes 
 the crime of it out of 'us. 
 
 Will. But, if the cause be 'not good, the King himself hath 
 a heavy reckoning to make, — when all those legs, and 
 arms, and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join to- 
 gether at the Latter Day, and cry all, " We died at . . . 
 such a place " : some swearing ; some crying for a 
 surgeon ; some, upon their wives left poor behind 
 them ; some, upon the debts they owe ; some, upon 
 their children rawly* left. I am afeared there are few 
 die 'well, that die in a ' battle ; for how can they 'char- 
 itably dispose of anything, when ' blood is their argu- 
 ment ?t Now, if these men do 'not die well, it wUl be 
 a 'black matter for the King that 'led them to it ; whom 
 to 'dis-obey, were against all proportion of 'subjection. 
 
 A". Hen. So, if a 'son, that is by his 'father sent about mer- 
 chandise, do sinfully miscarry, the 'imputation of his 
 wickedness, (by 'your rule,) 'should be imposed upon 
 his ' father : — But this is 'not so : the Eing is 'not bound 
 to answer the particular endings^ of his soldiers ; nor 
 the father of his son, nor the master of his servants ; 
 for they purpose not their 'death, when they purpose 
 their 'services. Every subject's 'duty is the ' King's ; but 
 every subject's 'soul is his 'own. Therefore, should 
 every 'soldier in the wars do as every 'sick man in his 
 ' bed, — wash every mote out of his conscience : — and 
 'dying so, death is to him 'advantage ; or 'not dying, 
 the time was 'blessedly lost, wherein 'such preparation 
 was gained. 
 
 Will. 'T is certain, every man that dies 'ill, the Ul is upon 
 
 • his 'own head ; the ' King is not to answer it. 
 
 Bates. I do not desire he should answer for 'me ; and yet 
 
 I determine to fight lustily for 'him. 
 -S". Men. I myself heard the King say, he would 'not be 
 
 ransomed. 
 
 William's interposes : 
 
 Will. Ay ! — he 'said so, to make 'us fight cheerfully : but 
 when our 'throats are 'cut, he 'may be ransomed, and 
 we ne'er the wiser. 
 
 * Without protection or preparation. t Subject of controversy. t Deaths. 
 
208 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 4. 
 
 K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word 'after. 
 Will. Ah ! you 11 pay him ' then ! That 's a perilous shot 
 
 out of an elder*-gun. You 'U never trust his word 
 
 'after ! Come, 't is a ' foolish saying ! 
 K. Hen. Your reproof is something too round :t I should 
 
 be 'angry with you, if the time were convenient. 
 'Will. Let it be a 'quarrel between us, if you ' live. 
 K. Hen. I 'embrace it. 
 Will. How shall I know thee again % 
 K. Hen. Give me any gagef of thine, and I will wear it in 
 
 my 'bonnet : then, if ever thou darest 'acknowledge it, 
 
 I 'will make it my quarrel. 
 Will. Here 's my 'glove ; give me another of thine. 
 
 K. Hen. There. [Exohanglng gloves. 
 
 Will. This will I also wear in 'my cap : if ever thou come 
 to me and say, after to-morrow, " This is 'my glove," by 
 this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear. 
 
 K. Hen. If ever I live to 'see it, I will 'challenge it. 
 
 Will. Thou darest as well be ' hanged ! 
 
 K: Hen. Well, I 'will do it, — though I take thee in the 
 ' King's company. 
 
 Will. ' Keep thy word : fare thee well. 
 Bates says : 
 
 Bates. Be 'friends, you English fools, be friends : we have 
 ' French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon. 
 Come ! come ! [Exeum sowicrs. 
 
 Afraid of an immediate rupture, Bates and Court prevail on their 
 comrade to retire. — The disguised leader is alone. 
 
 K. Hen. Upon the King ! 
 
 Let us our lives, our souls, our sins, lay on the King ! 
 
 ' We must bear all. O hard, O hard condition. 
 
 Twin-born with greatness ! what infinite heart s-ease 
 
 Must 'kings neglect, that 'private men 'enjoy ! 
 
 And what have 'kings, that privates have not 'too, 
 
 Save 'ceremony, — save general ceremony *? 
 
 And what 'art thou, thou idol Ceremony 1 
 
 Art thou aught else but place, degree, and 'form. 
 
 Creating awe and fear in 'other men ? 
 
 Wherein ' thou art ' less happy, being feared. 
 
 Than they in ' fearing. And what drink'st thou oft. 
 
 But poisoned ' flattery ? O, be 'sick, great Greatness, 
 
 And bid thy Ceremony give thee 'cure ! 
 
 Canst thou, when thou command'st the ' beggar's knee. 
 
 Command the ' health of it ? No, thou proud dream, 
 
 * Wooden — made from the elder-tree. t General. J Pledge for challenge. 
 
Scene iil.] KING HENRY V. 209 
 
 That play'st so subtly with a ' king's repose : 
 ' I am a king that find thee ; and I know 
 'T is not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
 The sword, the mace, the crown imperial. 
 The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
 That beats upon the high shore of this world, — 
 No ! not 'aU these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremony, 
 Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 
 Can sleep so soundly as the wretched ' Slave, 
 Who, with a body filled, and vacant mind, 
 Gets him to rest, crammed with 'distressful bread. 
 Sweats in the eye of Phoebus,* and all night 
 Sleeps in Elysium ;t and follows so the year 
 With profitable ' labour, to his grave : 
 And, but for ' Ceremony, such a wretch, — 
 Winding-up days with toil, and nights with sleep,— 
 Had the fore-hand and vantage of a ' King. 
 Old Sir Thomas Erpingham enters hastily : 
 
 JErp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence. 
 Seek through your 'camp to find you. 
 
 H^. Hen. Good old knight. 
 
 Collect them all together at 'my tent : 
 I '11 be before thee. cErft Frp. 
 
 . . . O God of battles ! 'steel my soldiers' hearts : 
 Possess them not with ' fear ; take from them now 
 The sense of 'reckoning, lest the opposed numbers 
 Pluck their hearts from them ! Not ' to-day, O Lord, — 
 O, 'not to-day, — think not upon the fault 
 My ' father made in compassing the crown ! 
 I Richard's body have interred anew ; 
 And on it have bestowed more contrite ' tears. 
 Than from it issued forced drops of ' blood ; 
 Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
 Who, twice a-day, their withered hands hold up 
 Toward heaven, to pardon blood ; ' More will I do . . . 
 
 The signal trumpet sounds : 
 The day, my friends, and all things stay for me ! v.ai. 
 
 As the King is entering his tent, he overhears the Earl of 'West- 
 moreland — doubtful of the fearful odds of a mere handful of wearied 
 English, contending against the confident and lately-recruited 
 French — exclaiming : 
 
 West. O that we 'now had here 
 
 But 'one ten thousand of those men in England, 
 That do no work to-day ! 
 
 • The sun. t The abode of happy souls. 
 
210 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 The undaunted indignant King advances : 
 K. Hen. What 's he that wishes so ? 
 
 My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin : 
 If we are marked to 'die, we are enow* 
 To do our country loss ; and if to 'live, 
 The fewer men the greater share of honour. 
 Heaven's will ! I pray thee, wish not 'one man more 
 By Jove, 'I am not covetous for 'gold. 
 Nor care I who doth ' feed upon my cost ; 
 It yearns me not if men my 'garments wear ; 
 Such 'outward things dwell not in 'my desires : 
 But if it be a sin to covet ' honour, 
 I am the most offending soul alive. 
 No, faith, my coz, wish not a 'man from England : 
 Eather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, 
 That he who hath no stomachf to this fight, 
 May straight 'depart ; his 'passport shall be made, 
 And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
 We would not 'die in that man's company 
 That fears his fellowship to die with 'us. 
 This day is called — the Feast of Crispian 4 
 He that 'outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 Will stand a-tip-toe when this day is named. 
 And rouse him at the 'name of Crispian. 
 He that shall live this day, and see old age, 
 WUl yearly, on the vigil, feast his neighbours. 
 And say — " To-morrow is Saint Crispian ! " 
 Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars. 
 And say — " These wounds I had on Crispin's day ! " 
 Old men forget ; yet shall not 'all forget. 
 But they '11 remember, with 'advantages. 
 What feats they did that day ! Then shaU 'our names, 
 Familiar in their mouths as household words, — 
 Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter, 
 Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, — 
 Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered : 
 This story shall the good-man teach his 'son ; 
 And Crispin Crispian shall 'ne'er go by. 
 From this day to the ending of the world. 
 But 'we in it shall be remembered, — 
 We f eWj we ' happy few, we band of ' brothers ! 
 For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me. 
 Shall ' be my brother ! be he ne'er so vile. 
 This day shall 'gentle his condition : 
 
 * Enough. t Inclination. X Crisplnus and Orispianus, the patron saints of 
 
 shoemakers, suffered martyrdom at Soissons, A. D. 287. 
 
Scene v.] KING HEUKY V. 211 
 
 And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, 
 Shall think themselves 'accurs'd they were not here ; 
 And hold their manhoods cheap, while 'any speaks 
 That fought with 'us upon Saint Crispin's day. 
 'All things are ready, if our 'minds be so. 
 You know your places : Heaven be with you all ! 
 The heraldic signal is heard : — Montjoy enters. 
 
 Mont. Once more I come to know of thee. King Harry, 
 If for thy ransom thou wilt 'now compound. 
 Before thy most assured 'overthrow 1 
 
 K. Sen. I pray thee, bear my former answer back : 
 
 Bid them 'achieve me, and ' then . . . 'sell my bones ! 
 Good heaven ! why should they mock poor fellows 
 
 thus? 
 Let me speak 'proudly: — tell the Constable 
 We are but warriors for the 'working-day ; 
 Our gayness, and our gilt, are all besmirched 
 With rainy marching in the painful field ; 
 There 's not a piece of ' feather* in our host — • 
 (Good argument, I hope, we will not ' fly — ) 
 And time hath worn us into slovenry : 
 But, by the mass, our 'hearts are in the trim ; 
 And my poor soldiers tell me, — yet ere night 
 They '11 be in ' fresher robes. Save thou thy labour ; 
 Come thou no 'more for ransom, gentle Herald : 
 They shall have 'none, I swear, but these my joints, — 
 Which wiU yield little, tell the Constable. [Exit mom. 
 
 Now, soldiers, march away : 
 And how ' Thou pleasest, Heaven, dispose the day ! :f,x. 
 
 The Battle of Agincourt is now fought : the historical date is 
 October 25, 1415. We learn the result by a hasty glance at the 
 French headquarters, where, in the midst of repeated alarums and 
 wild excitement, are assembled the Constable of France, Orleans 
 Bourbon, the Dauphin, and others. 
 
 Dau. Mort de ma vie ! all is 'confounded ! all ! 
 
 Reproach and everlasting shame 
 
 Sit mocking in our plumes. 
 Con. Why, all our ranks are broke ! 
 
 Dau. O perdurable! shame ! — let 's 'stab ourselves. . . . 
 
 Be these the wretches that we played at dice for ? 
 Orl. Is this the King we sent-to for his ransom % 
 Bour. Shame, and 'eternal shame ! nothing 'but shame ! 
 
 * Plumage shewing cowardice= the white feather. t Lasting. 
 
212 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 4. 
 
 Let 's die in honour ! Once moi'e to the field ! 
 
 Let us on ' heaps go oiFer up our lives. 
 Orl. We are enow, 'yet living in the field, 
 
 To 'smother-up the English in our throngs, 
 
 If any 'order might be thought upon. 
 Bour. The devil take order 'now ! I '11 to the ' throng : 
 
 Let life be short ; else, 'shame will be too 'long ! CExeant. 
 
 Before the victory of the despised English had been ascertained, 
 King Henry had ordered the slaughter of his prisoners : because, 
 having no men to spare from the battle, he had left the baggage of 
 Ijis troops under the guard of boys and servants. Some runaway 
 French soldiers have attacked and murdered these defenceless 
 camp-boys ; and, as Henry fears that his prisoners — who were 
 more numerous than his own soldiers — might be tempted to aid in 
 this plunder, he issues, but soon withdraws, the cruel order for their 
 immediate slaughter. 
 
 Captains Fluellen and Gower are heard in conversation on this 
 subject. 
 
 Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage ! 't is expressly 'against 
 the law of arms : 't is as arrant a piece of knaf ery, mark 
 you now, as can be offert : Li your conscience, now, is 
 it not? 
 
 G-ow. 'T is certain there 's not a boy left alive ; besides, 
 they have burned and carried away aU that was in the 
 King's tent ; wherefore the King, most worthily, hath 
 caused every soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 
 't is a gallant King ! 
 
 Flu. Ay ; he was porn at ' Monmouth, Captain Cower. 
 What call you the town's name where Alexander the 
 Pig was porn % 
 
 Gow. Alexander the 'Great? 
 
 Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, kreat? The pig, or the 
 kreat, or the mighty, or the huge, or the maknanimous, 
 are all 'one reckonings,— save the phrase is a little 
 variations. 
 
 Gow. I thiak, Alexander the Great was born in ' Macedon : 
 his father was called — Philip of Macedon, as I take it. 
 
 Flu. I think it 'is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I 
 tell you, Captain, — if you look in the maps of the 'orld, 
 I warrant you shall find, in the comparisons between 
 Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, 
 is poth alike. There is a rifer in Macedon ; and there 
 is also, moreover, a rifer at Monmouth : it is called 
 Wye at Monmouth : . . . but it is out of my prains 
 
Scene vii.] KING HENRY V. 213 
 
 what is the name of the 'other rifer ; but 't is all one, — 
 't is alike as my fingers is to my fingers — and there is 
 salmons in poth. If you mark 'Alexander's life well, 
 Harry of Monmouth's life is come after it indifierent 
 well ; for there is 'figures* in all things. Alexander, — 
 in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his 
 cholers, and his moods, and his displeasures, and his 
 indignations, — and also being a little intoxicates in his 
 prains, — did, in his ales and his angers, look you, kill 
 his pest friend, Clytus. 
 (jrow. 'Our King is not like him in 'that: 'he never killed 
 
 any of his friends. 
 JPlu. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales 
 out of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak 
 but in the fikures and comparisons of it : As Alexan- 
 der is kill his friend Clytus, being in his ales and his 
 cups ; so also Harry Monmouth, being in his 'right 
 wits and his koot judgments, turned away the fat 
 knight with the kreat pelly-doublet : he was full of 
 jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks : . . . I have 
 forgot his name. 
 Gow. Sir John Falstaff? 
 JF^lu. That is he : — I '11 tell you, there is 'koot men porn at 
 
 Monmouth. 
 Gow. Here comes his majesty. 
 
 King Henry, Warwick, Gloucester, Exeter, and others, enter at- 
 tended. 
 
 ^. Hen. I was not angry, since I came to France, 
 Until this instant. 'Take a trumpet. Herald ; 
 Eide thou unto the horsemen on yond' hill ; 
 Bid them come down, or voidf the field ; 
 If they '11 do neither, we wUl come to ' them, 
 And make them skirr,J as swift as stones from slings : — 
 Go, teU them so. 
 
 Exe. Here comes again the Herald of the ' French. 
 
 Glo. His eyes are humbler than they used to be. 
 Montjoy enters. 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! what means this, Herald ? 
 Oom'st thou 'again for ransom % 
 
 Mont. No, great King : 
 
 I come to thee for charitable licence. 
 That we may wander o'er this bloody field 
 To ' book our dead, and then to ' bury them ; 
 To sort our 'nobles from our 'common men ; 
 
 * Allegories. t Quit. X Scour, hasten. 
 
■214 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 [Act 4. 
 
 For many of our ' Princes — woe the while ! — 
 Lie drowned and soaked in mercenary blood ! 
 O, give us leave, great King, to view the field, 
 And here dispose our dead ! 
 
 jK. Hen. I tell thee, Herald, 
 
 I know not if the day be 'ours, or 'no ; 
 For yet a many of your horsemen peer 
 And gallop o'er the field. 
 
 Mont. The day is 'yours. 
 
 ^. Hen. Praised be Heaven, and not our strength, for it ! — 
 What is this Castle called, that stands hard by ? 
 
 Mont. They call it Agincourt. 
 
 K. Hen. Then call we this — the field of Agincoiu't, 
 Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. 
 Captain Fluellen advances : 
 
 Flu. Your grandfather, of famous memory, an 't please 
 your majesty ; and your kreat-uncle Edward the Plack 
 Prince of Wales, (as I have read in the Chronicles,) 
 fought a most prave pattle here in France. 
 
 K. Hen. They did, Fluellen. 
 
 Fin. Your majesty says fery true : If your majesties is re- 
 membered of it, the Welshmen did koot service in a 
 karden where leeks did krow, wearing leeks in their 
 Monmouth caps ; which your majesty know, to this 
 hour is an honourable padge of the service ; and I do 
 pelieve your 'majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek 
 upon Saint Tavy's tay. 
 
 H^. Hen. I wear it for a 'memorable ' honour ; 
 
 For ' I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 
 
 Flu. All the waters in the Wye cannot wash your majesty's 
 Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that : 
 Cot pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases His 
 Krace, — and your majesty too ! 
 
 K. Hen. 'Thanks, good my countryman. 
 
 Flu. I 'am you majesty's countryman, I care not who know 
 it : I will confess it to all the 'orld : I need not to be 
 ashamed of your majesty, praised be Cot, so long as 
 your majesty is an 'honest man. 
 
 K. Hen. Heaven 'keep me so! — 'Our herald go with 
 him. — 
 Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
 
 On ' both our parts. [Exeunt HeraWs. 
 
 As Montjoy and the English attendants withdraw, the King per- 
 ceives the soldier Williams — with whom he had exchanged angry 
 words on the preceding night. He says to Exeter : 
 
Scene vli.] KING HENKY V. 215 
 
 K. Hen. Call yonder fellow hither. 
 Ex. Soldier, thou must to the King. 
 
 Williams advances : 
 
 K. Hen. Soldier, why wearest thou that 'glove in thy cap ? 
 
 Will. An 't please your majesty, 't is the gage of one that 
 I should 'fight withal, if he be alive. 
 
 K. Hen. An Englishman ? 
 
 'Will. An 't please your majesty, a 'rascal — that swaggered 
 with me last night ; who if 'a live and ever dare to 
 'challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box 
 o' the ear : or if I can see 'my glove in his cap, — which 
 he swore, as he was a soldier, he would 'wear, if alive, 
 — I will strike it out soundly. 
 
 K. Hen. What think 'you, Captaiu Fluellen ? Is it fit this 
 soldier ' keep his oath % 
 
 Flu. He is a crafen and a fiUain 'else, an 't please your 
 majesty, in my conscience. 
 
 K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a 'gentleman of great sort, 
 — quite ' from the answer of ' his degree. 
 
 Flu. Though he be as koot a gentleman as the tevil is — as 
 Lucifer and Belzepup himself, — it is necessary, look 
 your krace, that he 'keep his vow and his oath. 
 
 [The King tnrng to the soldier. 
 
 K. Hen. Then ' keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the 
 fellow. 
 
 'Will. So I 'wUl, my liege, as I ' live ! 
 
 H. Hen. Whom servest thou under ? 
 
 Will. Under Captain Gower, my liege. 
 
 Flu. Cower is a 'koot captain, and is koot knowledge and 
 literatured in the wars. 
 
 K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier. 
 
 Will. I will, my liege. [Eiit. 
 
 K. Hen. Here, Pluellen ; wear ' thou this favour for me, and 
 stick it in thy 'cap. When Alengon and myself were 
 down together, I . . . plucked this glove from his helm : 
 if any man 'challenge this, he is a friend to 'Alen^on, 
 and an enemy to 'our person ; if thou encounter any 
 such, 'apprehend him, an thou dost love me. 
 
 FUi. Your krace does me as kreat honours as can be desired 
 in the hearts of his subjects : I would fain see the man, 
 that has but two legs, that shall find himself akkriefed 
 at this klove, that is all ; but I would fain see it once ! 
 and please Cot of his krace that I 'might see. 
 
 K. Hen. 'Knowest thou Gower 1 
 
216 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Flu. He is my tear frient, an 't please you. 
 
 K. Han. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent. 
 
 Flu. I will fetch him. nsxit. 
 
 Fluellen dutifully takes the glove — closely followed by the merry 
 King. 
 
 While Fluellen and Gower are in conversation, Williams, the 
 soldier, seeing his gage, goes angrily up to the Welsh Captain : 
 
 'Will. Sir, know you this glove ? 
 Flu. Know the klove ! I know the klove is a Move. 
 Will. 'I know ' this ; and thus I 'challenge it. [^S*f' 
 
 Flu. 'Sploot ! an arrant traitor as any is in the universal 
 
 'orld, or in Prance, or in Enklant ! 
 Gower angrily says : 
 Govi. How now, sir ! you villain ! 
 Will. Do you think I '11 be ' forsworn ? 
 Flu. Stand away. Captain Cower ; I will give treason his 
 
 payment into 'plows, I warrant you. 
 Will. I am 'no traitor ! 
 Flu. That 's a 'lie in thy throat. — I charge you, in his 
 
 majesty's name, apprehent him : he 's a frient of the 
 
 Tuke Alen9on's. 
 In the midst of the altercation, the King and the Noblemen in 
 attendance enter : 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! what 's the matter ? 
 
 Flu. My liege, her is a fiUain, and a traitor, that, look your 
 krace, has struck the klove, which your majesty is take 
 out of the helmet of Alenqon. 
 
 Will. My liege, this was 'my glove ; here is the ' fellow of 
 it : and he that I gave it to in change, promised to wear 
 it in his 'cap : ' I promised to strike him, if he did : I 
 met this man with my glove ' in his cap, . . and I have 
 been as good as my word ! 
 
 Flu. Your majesty hear now, (saving your majesty's man- 
 hood,) what an arrant, rascally, pekkarly, knafe it is : 
 I hope your majesty is pear me testimony and witness, 
 and will avouchment, that this is the klove of 'Alen90n, 
 that your 'majesty is kive me ; in your conscience, now. 
 
 H. Hen. Give 'me thy glove, soldier : look, here is the ' fel- 
 low of it. . . . 
 'T was ' I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike ; 
 And thou hast given me most bitter terms. 
 
 Flu. An please your majesty, let his 'neck answer for it, if 
 there is any martial law in the 'orld. 
 
 K. Hen. How canst thou make me 'satisfaction % 
 
Scene vili,] KING HENKY V. 217 
 
 Will. All 'offences, my liege, come from the ' heart : never 
 come any from 'mine that might offend your majesty. 
 
 jr. Sen. It was 'ourself thou didst abuse. 
 
 Will. Tour majesty came not 'like yourself: you appeared 
 to me but as a 'common man ; witness the night, your 
 garment, your lowliness : And what your highness suf- 
 fered under ' that shape, I beseech you take it for your 
 'own fault, and not mine : for had you been as I ' took 
 you for, I made 'no offence; therefore, I beseech your 
 highness, pardon me. 
 
 JT. Hen. Here, uncle Exeter, ' fill this glove with 'crowns. 
 And give it to this fellow. — Keep it, soldier. 
 And wear it for an ' honour in thy cap, 
 Till I 'do challenge it. — Give him the crowns : — 
 And, Captain, you must needs be friends with him. 
 
 Flu. By this tay and this light, the fellow has mettle 
 enough in his pelly. Hold, there is twelve 'pence for 
 you ; and I pray you to serve Heaven and keep you out 
 of prawls, and prabbles, and quarrels, and dissensions ; 
 and, I warrant you, it is the petter for you. 
 
 Will. I will none of 'your money. 
 
 Flu. It is with a koot will ; I can tell you, it will serve you 
 to ment your shoes : Come, wherefore should you be 
 sopashful? your shoes is not so 'koot: 't is a koot 
 shilling, I warrant you, — or I wUl 'change it. 
 The English Herald returns. 
 
 Her. Here is the number of the slaughtered ' French. 
 
 [Delivers a paper. 
 
 K. Hen. "Where is the number of our ' English dead ! 
 
 [Herald presents another paper. 
 
 Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, 
 None else of name ; and of all other men 
 But five and twenty. — O Heaven, Thy arm was here ; 
 And not to 'us, but to Thy arm 'alone. 
 Ascribe we aU ! Come, go we to the village : 
 And be it 'death, proclaimed throughout our host, 
 To ' boast of this, or take that praise from God, 
 Which is His only. 
 
 Flu. Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell how 
 many is killed ? 
 
 K. Hen. Yes, Captain ; but with this acknowledgment, 
 That'Godfought 'for us. 
 
 Fm. . . . Yes, my conscience, — He tit us kreat koot. 
 
 K. Hen. Do we aU holy rites : 
 
 Let there be sung Non nobis* and Te Deum.^ 
 
 * Not to U8 alone. t To Thee, O God. Thanksgiving hymns of the Church, 
 
218 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 The dead with charity enclosed in clay ; 
 
 We '11 then to ' Calais ; and to ' England then : 
 
 Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men. 
 
 [E.<eeuat, 
 
 The Chorus again advances, to call attention to some subse- 
 quent events : 
 
 Chor. Vouchsafe, to those that have not 'read the story, 
 That I may ' prompt them. Now we bear the King 
 Toward ' Calais : grant him there ; there being seen. 
 Heave him 'away, upon your winged thoughts, 
 'Athwart the sea. Behold the English beach 
 Pales-in* the flood with men, with wives, and boys, 
 Whose shouts and claps out- voice the deep-mouthed 
 
 sea. 
 Which like a mighty whifflerf 'fore the King, 
 Seems to prepare his way : so let him land. 
 And solemnly see him set-on to ' London. 
 So swift a pace hath thought, that even now 
 You may imagine him upon ' Blackheath : 
 Where that his lords desire him, to have borne 
 His bruised helmet and his bended sword 
 Before him through the city : he ' forbids it. 
 Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride ; 
 Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent. 
 Quite ' from himself, to ' God. But now behold 
 In the quick forge and working-house of 'thought, 
 How London doth pour-out her citizens ! 
 The mayor, and all his brethren, in best sort, — 
 Like to the Senators of antique Eome, 
 With the Plebeians swarming at their heels, — 
 Go forth and fetch ' their conquering Csesar in : 
 And now ' in London place him ; — and omit 
 All the occurrences, (whatever chanced,) 
 TiU Harry's back-return to conquered ' Prance : 
 There must we bring him ; and myself have played 
 The interim, by remembering you — 't is past. 
 Then brook 'abridgment ; and your eyes advance. 
 After your thoughts, straight back again to France, [ei. 
 
 The Scene is now in an English Court of Guard in France. Fluel- 
 len and Gower are in conversation. 
 
 Qov). Nay, that 's right, Pluellen ; but why wear you your 
 leek ' to-day ? Saint Davy's day is past. 
 
 * Hems in. t Forerunner or leader in a procession. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENBY V. 219 
 
 Flu. . . . There is occasions and causes why and wherefore 
 in 'all things : I will tell 'you, as my frient, Captain 
 Cower : — The rascally, scald,* beggarly, prakking knave. 
 Pistol, — which you and yourself and all the 'orld know 
 to be no petter than a fellow, look you now, of no 
 merits, — he is come to me, and prings me pread and 
 salt yesterday, look you, and pid me 'eat my 'leek: — it 
 was in a place where I could not preed no contentions 
 with him ; but I will be so pold as to 'wear it, in my 
 cap, till I see him once akain, and then, ... I will tell 
 him a little piece of my tesires. 
 
 Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. 
 
 Flu. 'T is no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks. 
 Pistol enters. 
 Cot pless you, Auncient Pistol ! you scurvy knafe, Cot 
 pless you ! 
 
 Fist. Ha ! art thou Bedlam 1 dost thou thirst, base Trojan, 
 To have 'me fold up Parca'sf fatal web ? 
 Hence ! I am qualmish at the smell of 'leek. 
 
 Flu. I peseech you heartily, scurvy knafe, at my tesires, 
 and my requests, and my petitions, to 'eat, look you, 
 this leek : pecause, look you, you do not love it ; nor 
 your affections, and your appetites, and your digestions 
 doo's not agree with it, I would ' tesire you to 'eat it. 
 
 Fist. Not for Cadwallader, and all his goats ! 
 
 Flu. . . . There is 'one koat for you. [strikes him. 
 
 "Will you be so koot, scald knafe, as eat it ? 
 
 Fist. Base Trojan, thou shalt die ! 
 
 Flu. You say fery true, scald knafe, when Cot's will is : I 
 will tesire 'you to 'live, in the meantime, and eat your 
 fictuals : come, there is 'sauce for it. [strikes mm igain.: You 
 called me, yesterday, 'mountain-squire; but I will make 
 'you, to-tay, a squire of ' low tegree. I pray you, fall- 
 to : if you can 'mock a leek, you can 'eat a leek, p'agam''"' 
 Gower interposes : 
 
 Gow. Enough, captain : you have astonished him. 
 
 Flu. I say, I will 'make him eat some 'part of my leek, or I 
 will peat his pate four tays. — Pite, I pray you ; it is 
 koot for your kreen wound and your ploody coxcomb. 
 
 Fist. 'Must I bite? 
 
 Flu. Yes, certainly ; and out of doubt, and out of question 
 too, and ambikuities. 
 
 Fist. By this leek, I will most horribly 'revenge ! I eat, . . . 
 and eke, J I swear — 
 
 * Scurvy. t Goddess of destiny, t Also. 
 
220 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Flu. Eat, I pray you : Will you have some 'more sauce to 
 your leek? there is not enough 'leek to 'swear by. 
 
 [Beats him heartily. 
 
 Pist. Quiet thy cudgel ! thou dost 'see I eat. 
 
 Flu. Much koot do you, scald knafe, heartily. Nay, pray 
 you, throw none away ; the skin is koot for your proken 
 coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks here- 
 after, I pray you, mock at them ! that is all. 
 
 Fist. Good! 
 
 Flu. Ay, leeks is koot : — Hold you, there is a croat to heal 
 your pate. 
 
 Fist. Me a groat ? 
 
 Flu. Yes, ferily and in truth, you shall ' take it ; or I have 
 'another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat. 
 
 Pist. I ' take thy groat ... in earnest of 'revenge ! 
 
 Flu. If I owe you anything, I will pay you in 'cutgels : 
 you shall be a 'woot-monger, and buy nothing of me 
 but cutgels. Cot be with you, and keep you, and heal 
 your pate. [Exit. 
 
 Pist. All hell shall stir for this ! 
 
 Gower says : 
 
 Gow. Go, go ; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave ! Will 
 you mock at an ancient tradition, — ' begun upon an 
 honourable respect, and 'worn as a memorable trophy 
 of pre-deceased valour, — and dare not avouch, in your 
 'deeds, any of your 'words % I have 'seen you gleeking* 
 and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You 
 thought, because he could not speak English in the 
 'native garb, he could not therefore handle an English 
 'cudgel : you find it 'otherwise ; and henceforth let a 
 Welsh 'correction teach you a good English 'condition. 
 Fare ye well. [Eiit. 
 
 Pist. . . . Doth Fortune play the huswifef with me now ? 
 News have I, that my Nell is dead in France. 
 Old I do wax ; and from my weary Hmbs 
 Honour is 'cudgelled. To England wiU I steal : . . . 
 And 'patches will I get unto these 'sears, 
 And swear I got them in the ' GaUia 'wars. [exh. 
 
 After the battle of Agincourt in 1415, Henry's return to England 
 was celebrated with great public rejoicings. Flushed with his suc- 
 cess, he returned to France at the head of a large army. The ter- 
 ror inspired by his name, and the dissensions of the French nobles, 
 prevented any formidable opposition to his claims ; and at length, 
 
 * Sneering. t Jilt. 
 
Scene u.] KING HENEY V. 221 
 
 the Treaty of Troyes was concluded (in 1420), by which the young 
 King of England was declared heir to the throne of France. 
 
 This treaty of peace is to be cemented with a bond of love — the 
 marriage of King Henry to the French princess Katharine. While 
 some formalities of the treaty are being arranged by the Nobles 
 on both sides, Henry attends to the wooing himself, by an inter- 
 view with the lady. 
 
 The Scene changes to an Apartment in the French King's palace 
 at Troyes in Champagne. 
 
 Enter on one side, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloucester, 
 Warwick, Westmoreland, and other Lords ; on the other, the 
 French King Charles the Sixth, Queen Isabel, the Princess Kath- 
 arine, and Ladies ; the Duke of Burgundy, and his train. King 
 Henry speaks : 
 
 K. Hen. ' Peace to this meeting, wherefore* we are met ! 
 Unto our brother France, — and to our sister, — 
 Health and fair time of day ! — ^joy and good wishes 
 To our most fair and princely cousia Katharine ! — 
 And, princes French, and peers, health to you all ! 
 
 Fr. King. Eight joyous are we to behold your face. 
 Most worthy brother England ; fairly met : — 
 So are 'you, princes English, every one. 
 
 Q,. Isa. ' So happy be the ' issue, brother England, 
 Of this good day and of this gracious meeting. 
 To change all griefs and quarrels into ' love. 
 
 K. Hen. To cry Amen to that, thus we appear. 
 
 Fr. King. I have but with a cursoraryf eye 
 
 O'erglanced the terms of peace : pleaseth your grace 
 To appoint some of your Council presently 
 To re-survey them ? we will, suddenly. 
 Pass our accept, and peremptory answer. 
 
 K. Hen. Brother, we shall. — Go, uncle Exeter, — 
 
 And brother Clarence, — and you, brother Gloucester, — 
 
 And take with you free power to ratify. 
 
 Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best 
 
 Shall see advantageable for our dignity. 
 
 Anything ' in, or 'out of, our demands ; 
 
 And we '11 consign^ thereto. Will 'you, fair sister. 
 
 Go with the princes, or stay here with us ■? 
 
 Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with ' them : 
 Haply, a 'woman's voice may do some good, 
 When articles, too nicely urged, be stood on. 
 
 K. Hen. Tet leave our cousin Katharine here with 'us: 
 ' She is our 'capital demand, comprised 
 Within the fore-rank of 'our articles. 
 
 * For whicli (peace). t Hasty, cursory. t Consent to sign. 
 
222 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Q. Isa. She hath good leave. cki. Fr. mug, etc 
 
 All withdraw — except Henry and Katharine, and her Gentlewoman. 
 
 K. Sen. . . . Pau- Katharine, and 'most fair ! 
 
 Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms, 
 
 Such as will enter at a ' lady's ear, 
 
 And plead his love-suit to 'Jier gentle heart ? 
 
 Kath. Your majeste sail mock at me ; I cannot speak your 
 England. 
 
 K. Hen. O fair Katharine ! if you will love me 'soundly 
 with your French 'heart, I will be glad to hear you 
 confess it ' brokenly, with your English ' tongue. . . . 
 Do you ' like me, Kate ? 
 
 Kath. J^ardonnez-moi, ... I cannot tell vat is — " like me." 
 
 K. Hen. An 'angel is like you, Kate — and you are like an 
 'angel ! 
 
 Hath. Que dit-il ? que Je suis semhlable a les anges f 
 
 H. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine ; and I must not blush 
 to 'affirm it. 
 
 Hath. vraiment ! vraiment! les langues des hommes 
 sont pleines de tromperies. 
 
 H. Hen. "What say you, fair one ? That the tongues of 
 men are full of deceits ? 
 
 Hath. Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits. 
 
 H. Hen. I' faith, Kate, I know no ways to 'mince it in love, 
 but 'directly to say " I love you ! " then, if you urge me 
 farther than to say, " Do you, in ' faith ? " I wear out 
 my suit. — Give me your answer ; i' faith, do ; and so 
 clap hands and a bargain : How say you, lady ? 
 
 Hath. Sauf voire honneur, . . . me understand veil. 
 
 H. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to 'verses, or to 'dance 
 for your sake, Kate, vchy, you undid me. If I could 
 win a lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle 
 with my armour on my back, (under the correction of 
 ' bragging be it spoken,) I should quickly win a wife. 
 But, Kate, I cannot look greenly,* nor gasp out my 
 eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation ; only 
 downright oaths, — which I never use till 'urged, nor 
 never ' break for urging. If thou canst love a fellow of 
 this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sun burn- 
 ing, — that never looks in his glass for love of anything 
 he sees ' there, — let thine 'eye be thy cook. I speak to 
 thee plain soldier : if thou canst 'love me for this, 'take 
 me ; if not, to say to thee that I shall 'die, is true, — 
 but for thy ' love, by my faith, no ; yet I love thee too ! 
 
 * Like a young lover. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENEY V. 223 
 
 And. while thou livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain 
 and uncoined* constancy; for he perforce 'must do 
 thee right, because he hath not the gift to woo in 'other 
 places ; for these fellows of infinite ' tongue, that can 
 'rhyme themselves into ladies' favours, they do always 
 'reason themselves out again. What ! a 'speaker is but 
 a 'prater ; a rhyme is but a ballad. A good leg will 
 fall ;t a straight back will stoop ; a black beard will 
 turn white ; a curled pate will grow bald ; a fair face 
 will wither ; a full eye will wax hollow : But a good 
 'heart, Kate, is the 'sun and the 'moon; or rather, the 
 sun, and 'not the moon ; — for it shines bright, and never 
 changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would 
 have 'such a one, take 'me ; and take 'me, take a 'sol- 
 dier ; take a 'soldier, take a ' King. And what sayest 
 thou then to my love ? Speak, my fair ! and fairly, I 
 pray thee! 
 
 Kath. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of Prance % 
 
 K. Hen. No ; it is not possible you should love the 'enemy 
 of Prance, Kate : but, in loving 'me, you should love 
 the 'friend of Prance ; for I love Prance so well that I 
 will not part with a 'village of it ; I will have it 'all 
 mine ! and, Kate, when Prance is mine and I am yours, 
 then 'yours is Prance '. . . and 'you are 'mine ! 
 
 Kath. I cannot tell vat is dat. 
 
 K. Hen. No, Kate ? I will tell thee in Prench ; which I am 
 sure will hang upon my tongue — like a new-married 
 wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be shook off. 
 Quatulfai — le possession — de France — -et quand vous 
 avez — le possession de moi, — let me see, what then? 
 Saint Denis be my speed ! — done, 'voire est France et 
 . . . vous etes 'mienne ! — It is as easy for me, Kate, to 
 conquer the 'kingdom as to speak so much 'more 
 Prench: I shall never move thee in Prench, unless it 
 be to 'laugh at me. But, Kate, dost thou understand 
 thus much ' English, — Canst thou love me % 
 
 Kath. ... I cannot tell. 
 
 K. Hen. Can any of your 'neighbours tell, Kate ? I '11 ask 
 'them. — Come, I 'know thou lovest me : and at night, 
 when you come into your closet, you 'U question your 
 gentlewoman about me ; and I know, Kate, you will to 
 her 'dispraise those parts in me that you love with 
 your heart : but, good Kate, mock me 'mercifully ; the 
 rather, gentle princess, because I love thee 'cruelly. 
 
 * Unalloyed, pure, true. t Fall away, shrink. 
 
224 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 What sayest thou, my fair flower-de-luce 1 How 
 'answer you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon 
 tres chere et divine deesse? 
 
 Kath. Your majest'e 'ave 'fausse French enough to deceive 
 de most sage demoiselle dat is en France. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French ! By mine honour, 
 in true English, I love thee, Kate : by which honour, I 
 dare not swear ' thou lovest 'me ; yet my ' blood begins 
 to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor 
 and untempering effect of my 'visage. But I was 
 'created with a stubborn 'outside, with an aspect of 
 iron, that, when I come to 'woo ladies, I 'fright them. 
 But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall 
 appear : my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer-up 
 of beauty, can do no 'more spoil upon my face : thou 
 hast me, ' if thou hast me, at the worst ; and thou shalt 
 wear me, ' if thou wear me, better and better : — And 
 therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, 'will you 'have 
 me ■? Put off your maiden blushes ; avouch the 
 thoughts of your heart with the looks of an 'empress ; 
 take me by the hand, and say " Harry of England, I 
 am thine : " which word thou shalt no sooner bless 
 mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud, " England is 
 ' thine, ' Ireland is thine, ' France is thine, . . . and 
 Henry Plantagenet is thine ; " — who, though I speak 
 it before his face, if he be not ' fellow with the best 
 'king, thou shalt find the best king of good 'fellows. 
 Come, your answer in broken music, — for thy voice 'is 
 music, and thy English broken ; therefore, — Queen of 
 all Katharines, — break thy mind to me in broken 
 English,— 'Wilt thou 'have me? 
 
 Kath. Dat is, as it sail please le roi mon pere. 
 
 K. Hen. Nay, it will please him 'well, Kate ; it 'shall please 
 him, Kate. 
 
 Kath. Den, it sail also content 'me. 
 
 K. Hen. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you — my 
 Queen ! 
 
 Kath. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! 
 
 K. Hen. Then I will kiss your 'lips, Kate. 
 
 Kalh. O ! dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of 
 Prance. 
 
 K. Hen. O Kate, nice customs court'sy* to great 'kings. 
 We are the 'makers of manners, Kate ; therefore, pa- 
 tiently, and yielding, — yielding — yielding ! ["^i,";"*] Ah ! 
 
 * Yield homage. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENBT V. 225 
 
 You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate ! there is more 
 eloquence in a sugar touch of ' them, than in the tongues 
 of the French council ; and ' they should sooner per- 
 suade Harry of England, than a general petition of 
 'monarchs. Here comes your father. 
 The French King and Queen re-enter, with all the other lords. 
 
 £ur. My royal cousin, teach you our princess English ? 
 
 jE". Hen. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how per- 
 fectly I 'love her; — and that is 'good English. — Shall 
 Kate be my wife ? 
 
 Fr. IKing. So please you. Take her, fair son ; 
 Then the contending kingly opposites 
 Of France and England, — whose very 'shores look pale 
 "With envy of each other's happiness, — 
 May 'cease their hatred ; and this dear conjunction 
 Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord 
 In their sweet bosoms ; that never War advance 
 His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. 
 
 jBT. Sen. Now, welcome Kate ; and bear me witness all, 
 That here I take her as my sovereign Queen. — 
 Prepare we for our marriage : — on which day, 
 My Lord of Burgundy, we 'U take 'your oath, 
 And all the 'peers, for 'surety of our league. 
 Then shall I swear to ' Kate, and 'you to 'me ; 
 And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be ! [Exeunt. 
 
 The Chorus again advances with an Epilogue. 
 Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen. 
 
 Our bending author hath pursued the story ; 
 In little room confining mighty men, 
 
 Mangling, by starts, the full course of their glory. 
 Small time ; but, 'in that small, most greatly lived 
 
 This star of England : Fortune made his sword ; 
 By which the world's best garden he achieved. 
 
 And of it left his son imperial lord : — 
 Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crowned King 
 
 Of France and England, did this king succeed ; 
 Whose state so many had the managing, 
 
 That they 'lost Prance, and made his England bleed : 
 "Which oft* our stage hath shown ; and, for their sake, 
 In your fair minds let this acceptance ' take. ceih 
 
 End or King Henry the Fifth. 
 
 * The three plays of Henry VI were popular before Shakespeare began to write. 
 
Ki:^rG HENRY VI. 
 
 PARTS I, II, AND III. 
 
 These Three Historical Plays are here condensed into One 
 Reading : chiefly because their original authorship is doubtful, and 
 because Shakespeare's share was only that of adapter or reviser : 
 they having, however, been used by him as introductory to his own 
 Series. It will be observed that, in Meres' list of 1598,* no men- 
 tion is made of these plays : although, at that date, they were very 
 popular performances. Probably it was then known that, with 
 Shakespeare, they wanted originality — being, in fact, merely tran- 
 scripts, (though with valuable additions and emendations,) of some 
 previous anonymous compositions. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Of the First Part, nothing has been clearly ascertained ; and it 
 seems hopeless now to learn when or by whom it was originally 
 composed. It may, however, have been used as a kind of dra- 
 matic patchwork for the " prentice hand " of our yet unknown 
 author. Shakespeare's first poem (" Venus and Adonis,'*) was not 
 printed till 1593 : and this, (the earliest play with which his name 
 is associated,) bears little internal evidence of his genius, either in 
 sentiment or style : being a confused series of English and French 
 military incidents ; balancing, almost alternately, success and de- 
 feat ; containing little discrimination of character ; and aiming at 
 no well-defined catastrophe. 
 
 The dramatic portraiture of Joan of Arc is as unworthy of the 
 Maid of Orleans, as it is of the Bard of Avon : the dramatist does 
 not indeed vituperate so coarsely as some of the old historians ; 
 but he has largely adopted their views, by depreciating the fame, 
 and sullying the good name, of this high-minded and patriotic 
 peasant girl. For these reasons, the character of " La Pucelle " 
 has been wholly eliminated from this Condensation. 
 
 The First Part of King Henry the Sixth, though ascertained to 
 have been performed in 1589, was not printed till in the folio of 
 1623 ; where it was admitted by the Editors, — probably because it 
 had been recognized as a necessary introduction to the Second and 
 Third Parts ; and perhaps, because a few alterations, amendments, 
 or additions may have been made in it by Shakespeare himself. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 The Second Part, — known to have been performed in 1591 — was 
 first printed in 1594, with the following title : " The First Part of 
 the Contention of the Twoo famous Houses of Yorke and Lancas- 
 ter, with the Deathe of the good Duke Humphrie, and the Banish- 
 ment and Deathe of the Duke of Suffolke, and the Tragical ende of 
 the proude Cardinall of Winchester, with the notable Rebellion of 
 Jacke Cade, and the Duke of Yorke's first Claime unto the Crowne." 
 
 * See page 8. 
 
KING HENKY VI. 
 
 227 
 
 PART III. 
 
 The Second Part of the " Contention," now printed as the Third 
 Part of Henry the Sixth, appeared in 1595 (but, like the preceding 
 play, without the author's name) — entitled " The True Tragedie of 
 Richard Duke of Yorke, and the Death of good King Henrie the 
 Sixt, with the whole Contention betweene the two Houses of Lan- 
 caster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted by the Right Hon- 
 ourable the Earl of Pembrooke his servants." 
 
 It appears probable that these Two Parts of the " Contention " 
 were originally written, either separately or conjointly, by two 
 subordinate authors, Robert Greene and George Peele. They were ' 
 subsequently revised and rewritten by Shakespeare, and therefore 
 admitted by the Editors of the folio (1623) into their collection. The 
 First Part was retained, apparently because Shakespeare had used 
 it as introductory to his version of the two later plays ; while these, 
 being a continuation of the story, — and known to have been re- 
 written, augmented and improved by him, — followed as the Second 
 and Third Parts. 
 
 As copies of these Two " Contentions " are in existence, we can 
 compare these original forms — often feeble, injudicious, and un- 
 rhythmical — with the vigorous, poetical, and polished improvements 
 of Shakespeare. — Briefly, the account stands thus : — In the Second 
 and Third Parts of King Henry VI, there are, altogether, 6043 lines r 
 of these, about 1770 lines are found in the " Contentions " unchanged, 
 and are therefore the composition of the earlier dramatist : 2373 old 
 lines are retained, but with variations, corrections, and improve- 
 ments ; and 1899 new lines are added : — these improved and new 
 lines are therefore Shakespeare's.* 
 
 The Principal Characters retained in this Triad of Condensa- 
 tions are : 
 
 King Henry the Sixth. 
 Edwaed Prince of Wales, Ms Son. 
 
 Humphrey Duke or Gloster, 
 Uncle to the King and Lord 
 Protector. 
 
 Duke op Bedford, Uncle to the 
 King, and Regent of France. 
 
 Thomas Beaufort, Duke or Exe- 
 ter, Oreat-uncle to the King. 
 
 Henry Beaufort, Great-^ncle to 
 the King, Bishop of Winchester, 
 and afterwards Cardinal. 
 
 John Beaufort, Earl, afterwards 
 Duke of Somerset. 
 
 Lord Clifford. 
 
 Young Clifford, his Son. 
 
 ElCHARD PlANTAGENET, DUKE OP 
 
 York. 
 
 Edward, Earl of Ma/rch, '] 
 afterwards King Ed- 
 ward IV. 
 
 George, afterwards 
 Duke of Clarence. 
 
 KiCHARD, afterwards \ Sons. 
 Duke of Gloster and 
 King Richard III. 
 
 Edmund, Earl of Rut- 
 land. J 
 
 Earl of Suffolk, afterwards 
 Duke. 
 
 Duke of Norfolk. 
 
 Earl of Salisbury. 
 
 Earl of Warwick, 7ms Son, after- 
 wards known as King-maker. 
 
 Lord Say. 
 
 * At the end of the Third Part of this Condensation a Scene is reprinted, from the 
 First Part of the " Contention," (i59i,) which will give the Reader some idea of the 
 original comnosition. as well as of the imnrovements introduced by Shakespeare. 
 
228 
 
 THE EEADEK S SHAKESPEAEE. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Heney Eakl or Richmond, a 
 youth, afterwards King Senry 
 
 rii. 
 
 SiE William Stanley. 
 Sir Hdmphkey Staefoed. 
 Teenon, of the White Rose or Tork 
 
 Town Clebk of Ohatliam. 
 
 Cade's 
 followers. 
 
 Maegaeilt, daughter to Reignier, 
 King of Sicily, afterwards 
 Queen of Henry the Sixth. 
 
 Eleanok, Duchess of Glostee, 
 wife of the Lord Protector. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Geay, after- 
 wards Queen of Edwa/rd IV. 
 
 Jack Cade, an Irish demagogue. 
 Oeoege Bevis, ~| 
 
 .John Holland, | 
 
 Dick the Butohee, )■ 
 Smith the Weavee, | 
 Michael, J 
 
 The Time of the Action of these Three Plays extends from the 
 Death of King Henry V in 1422, to the Death of King Henry VI in 
 1471 ; thus developing the progress of the Wars with France, and 
 of the Great Civil War in England. 
 
 The Scene is in various parts of England and of France. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, Attendants, Her- 
 alds, Citizens, Soldiers, Messen- 
 gers, &e. 
 
 The Scene opens on the funeral ceremonies of the late King, 
 Henry V— who,— leaving the throne to his mfant son, now only 
 nine months old,— is about to be interred in Westminster Abbey. 
 The royal corpse has been lying in state, attended by the Dukes of 
 Gloster, Bedford, and Exeter, the Karl of W^arwick, the Bishop of 
 Winchester, and others. As soon as the solemn dirges of " earth 
 to earth and dust to dust " have ceased rolling through " the long- 
 drawn aisles and fretted vaults " of the splendid Cathedral, the 
 Duke of Bedford, -uncle to the baby King, and now regent of 
 France, — thus speaks: 
 
 Bed. Hung be the ' heavens with black ! yield day to night ! 
 'Comets, — importing 'change of times and states, — 
 Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ; 
 And, with them, scourge the bad revolting stars 
 That have consented unto Henry's death ! 
 Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long ! 
 England ne'er lost a King of so much worth. 
 
 Gloster, the Lord Protector, adds : 
 Glo. England ne'er ' had a King until his time. 
 Virtue he had, deserving to command : 
 What should I say ? his deeds exceed 'all speech ; 
 He ne'er lift up his hand but conqueror. 
 
 The Duke of Exeter, grand-uncle to the new King, says : 
 JSxe. ' We mourn in ' black : why mourn we not in ' blood ? 
 Henry is dead, and never shall revive : 
 Upon a wooden coffin we attend ; 
 
Scene 1.] KING HENRY VI PAET I. 229 
 
 And Death's dishonourable victory 
 
 We with our stately presence glorify. 
 The crafty Henry Beaufort, another great-uncle, Bishop of Win- 
 chester (who is afterwards appointed Cardinal,) is desirous to ex- 
 press his sentiments : 
 
 Win. He was a king blessed of the ' King of kings. 
 
 Unto the French, the dreadful Judgment-day 
 
 ' So dreadful wiU not be as was his sight. 
 
 The Church's prayers made him so prosperous. 
 The Duke of Gloster irreverently interposes : 
 Glo. The Church! where is it?— 
 
 None do 'you like but an 'effeminate prince, 
 
 Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe. 
 Win. Gloster, whate'er we ' like, thou art Protector, 
 
 And ' lookest to command the Prince and realm. 
 
 Thy 'wife is proud ; she holdeth thee in awe, 
 
 More than Heaven, or religious churchmen, may. 
 Glo. Name not 'religion ; for thou lov'st the ' flesh. 
 
 And ne'er throughout the year to church ' thou go'st. 
 
 Except it be — to pray 'against thy foes. 
 Jied. Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace ! 
 
 Let 's to the altar. — Heralds, wait on us. — 
 
 Instead of gold, we '11 offer up our 'arms. 
 
 Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate ! 
 
 Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils ! 
 
 Combat with adverse planets in the heavens ! 
 In the midst of these unseemly jars during the funeral solemni- 
 ties, unhappy intelligence arrives from France : where Lord Tal- 
 bot, loved by his own soldiers and feared by the French, is in chief 
 command. — A State Messenger hastily enters : 
 
 Mess. My honourable lords, health to you aU ! 
 
 ' Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, 
 
 Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture ; 
 
 Guienne, Eheims, Orleans, Paris, are aU. lost ! 
 Sed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse 1 
 
 Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns 
 
 WUl make him 'burst his lead, and 'rise from death. 
 Exe. ' How were they lost ? what ' treachery was used ? 
 Mess. ' No treachery ; but want of men and money. 
 Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, 
 
 These tidings would call forth their flowing tides. 
 Bedford impatiently interrupts : 
 JBed. ' Me they concern ; Eegent I am of France. — 
 
 Give me my 'steeled coat. I '11 ' fight for France. — 
 
230 THE reader's SHiKESPEiRE. [Act 1. 
 
 Away with these disgraceful 'wailing robes ! 
 
 'Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes, 
 
 To weep their intermissive miseries. 
 
 Another Messenger, with despatches, enters : 
 Mess. Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance. 
 
 Prance is revolted from the English quite ; 
 
 The Dauphin Charles is now crowned king in Rheims : 
 
 Orleans, Eeignier, Alen^on, take his part. 
 Glos. The Dauphin now crowned king? all fly to him ? 
 
 Bedford, if ' thou be slack, ' I '11 fight it out. 
 JBed. Gloster, why 'doubt'st thou of my forwardness ? 
 
 An army have I mustered in my 'thoughts, 
 
 Wherewith already Prance is overrun. 
 Another Messenger enters : 
 Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your laments, 
 
 I must inform you of a dismal fight. 
 
 Wherein Lord Talbot was ta'en prisoner. 
 Bed. His ransom there is none 'but 'I shall pay. 
 
 I '11 hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne ; 
 
 His 'crown shall be the ransom of my friend ; 
 
 Parewell, my masters ! To my task wUl I ; 
 
 Bonfires in Prance forthwith I am to make. 
 
 To keep our great Saint George's feast withal. 
 
 Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take. 
 
 Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake, [eiu. 
 The Protector Gloster says : 
 Glo. I '11 to the Tower, with all the haste I can. 
 
 And then I will proclaim young Henry king. cE^it- 
 
 Exeter adds : 
 JExe. To 'Eltham will I, where the young king is. 
 
 Being ordained his special governor ; 
 
 And, for his safety, 'there I '11 best devise. ceih. 
 
 Who is this in priestly apparel, sardonically smiling as he slowly 
 follows ? It is Henry Beaufort, the wily Bishop of Winchester. 
 
 Win. ' Each hath his place and function to attend : 
 ' I am left out ; for me nothing remains. 
 But long I will not be Jack-'out-of-office : 
 The King from Eltham I intend to steal, 
 And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. [ejh 
 
 For the purpose of connecting after-events with the early days 
 of King Henry's long reign, we now proceed to the precincts of 
 
Act 2, Scene iv.] KING HfiSKY VI PART I. 231 
 
 one of the Inns of Court — the Gardens of the Temple — where we 
 overhear a dispute between Richard Plantagenet and the Earl of 
 Somerset — representing the future rival Houses of York and Lan- 
 caster. This paltry altercation led to the disastrous Wars of the 
 Roses ; which, for thirty years, impoverished and decimated the 
 people of England, antagonized her soldiers and her peaceful citi- 
 zens, almost annihilated her ancient nobility, and sacrificed eighty 
 Princes of the rival royal families. " What great events from little 
 causes spring !" 
 
 The subject of the original dispute — which soon centralized into 
 a personal quarrel — appears to have been — Whether the son of a 
 father found guilty of high treason, was legally justified in claim- 
 ing his father's personal title of nobility ? 
 
 The Scene is the Temple Garden in London. 
 
 Enter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk, and Warwick ; Richard 
 Plantagenet and Vernon. Plantagenet speaks : 
 
 Plan. . . . Great lords and gentlemen, what means this 'si- 
 lence ? 
 
 Dare no man answer, in a case of ' truth 1 
 Suf. Within the Temple-' Hall we were too loud ; 
 
 The ' Garden here is more convenient. 
 Plan. Then, Suffolk, say if I 'maintained the truth 1 
 
 Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in 'error ? 
 Suf. 'Faith, I have been a ' truant in the law. 
 
 And never yet could frame my will to it ; 
 
 And, therefore, frame the 'law unto my will. 
 Som. Judge 'you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us. 
 War. . . . Between two ' hawks, which flies the higher pitch ; 
 
 Between two ' horses, which doth bear him best ; 
 
 Between two 'girls, which hath the merriest eye — 
 
 I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment ; 
 
 But, in these nice sharp quillets* of the 'law, 
 
 Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 
 The Yorkest Plantagenet resumes : 
 Plan. Tut, tut ! here is a 'mannerly forbearance ! 
 
 Since you are tongued-tied, and so loath to 'speak, 
 
 In dumb 'significantsf proclaim your thoughts. — 
 
 Let him that is a true-born gentleman. 
 
 If he suppose that ' I have pleaded ' truth. 
 
 From off this briar pluck a 'white rose with 'me. 
 The Lancastrian Somerset replies : 
 Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, 
 
 But dare 'maintain the partyj of the truth, 
 
 Pluck a 'red rose from off this thorn with 'me. 
 Warwick again speaks : 
 War. 'I love no colours ; and — without all colour 
 
 * Subtleties. t Sigus, indications. t Cause^ side. 
 
232 THE EEADEB's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Of base insinuating flattery — 
 
 I pluck this 'white rose, with Plantagenet. 
 
 Suf. ' I pluck this 'red rose, with young Somerset, 
 And say, withal, I think he held the right. 
 Vernon interrupts : 
 
 Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more. 
 Till you conclude — that he, upon whose side 
 The 'fewest roses are cropped from the tree. 
 Shall yield the other in the 'right opinion. 
 
 /Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected ; 
 If ' I have fewest, I subscribe in 'silence. 
 
 I'lan. And I. 
 
 Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, 
 I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here — 
 Giving 'my verdict on the 'white rose side. 
 
 Somerset bitterly retorts : 
 Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off; 
 
 Lest, bleeding, you do paint the 'white rose 'red, 
 And fall on 'my side so, against your will. 
 Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion ' bleed, 
 Opinion shall be 'surgeon to my hurt. 
 And 'keep me on the side where still I am. 
 
 All advance to choose their roses — the majority white ones, 
 which are waved in triumph. Richard Plantagenet says : 
 
 Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your 'argument '? 
 8om. Here, in my 'scabbard ! meditating that 
 
 Shall dye your 'white rose in a ' bloody red. 
 Flan. Meantime, your 'cheeks do counterfeit 'our roses ; 
 
 For 'pale they look with fear — as witnessing 
 
 The truth on 'our side. 
 Som. No, Plantagenet, 
 
 'T is not for ' fear, but 'anger, — that ' thy cheeks 
 
 ' Blush, for pure shame, to counterfeit 'our roses ; 
 
 And yet thy tongue will not 'confess thy error. 
 Plan. Hath not thy rose a 'canker, Somerset ? 
 Som. Hath not ' thy rose a ' thorn, Plantagenet % 
 Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, — to maintain his truth. 
 
 Whiles thy consuming canker eats his ' falsehood ! 
 Som. Well, I '11 find 'friends to wear my 'bleeding roses, 
 
 That shall maintain what ' I have said is ' true, — 
 
 Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen ! 
 Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, 
 
 I scorn 'thee and thy 'faction, peevish boy ! 
 
Scene Iv.] KING HENRY VI PAKT I. 233 
 
 Siif. Turn not thy scorn 'this way, Plantagenet. 
 
 Plan. Proud Poole, I 'will ! and scorn both him and ' thee. 
 
 Suffolk angrily interposes : 
 Siif. I '11 turn 'my part thereof into thy ' throat ! 
 Som. Away, away, good William de la Poole ! 
 
 We 'grace the yeoman by 'conversing with him. 
 War. Now, by Heaven's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset; 
 
 His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence. 
 
 Third son to the Third Edward, King of England. 
 
 Spring crestless 'yeomen from so 'deep a root ? 
 Flan. He bears him on the place's privilege,* 
 
 Or 'durst not, for his craven heart, say thus ! 
 Som. By Him that made me, I '11 'maintain my words 
 
 On any plot of ground in Christendom. 
 
 Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, 
 
 For treason 'executed in our late King's days ? 
 
 And, by 'his treason, stand'st not 'thou attainted, 
 
 Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry % 
 Plan. My father was 'attached,! but not attainted. 
 
 Condemned to 'die for treason, but no traitor ; 
 
 And that I '11 prove, on better men than Somerset ! 
 
 I '11 note you in my book of memory. 
 
 To 'scourge you for this apprehension !t 
 
 Look to it well, and say you are well warned. 
 Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still ; 
 
 And know us, by these colours, for thy foes. 
 iHuf. Go forward, and be choked with thy ambition ! 
 
 And so farewell — until I meet thee 'next ! [Esu. 
 
 Som. Have with thee, Poole. — Farewell, ambitious 
 
 Richard. cExit. 
 
 Somerset goes away, followed by Suffolk, and the Partisans of 
 the Red Rose. Warwick says to Plantagenet : 
 
 War. This blot, that they object against your House, 
 Shall be wiped out in the next Parliament ; 
 And if thou be not then created ' York, 
 ' I will not live to be accounted ' Warwick. 
 And here I prophesy : — This brawl to-day. 
 Grown to this faction, in the Temple Garden, 
 Shall send, between the Red rose and the White, 
 A ' thousand souls to death and deadly night. [Exeimt. 
 
 In this Parliament fassembled not in London, but at Leicester) 
 the young King, a boy only in his fifth year, presided. 
 
 * Right of sanctuary — where swords should not be drawn. tAccused. X Opinion. 
 
234 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 As it is impossible for the theatre to provide a suitable represent- 
 ative for every stage of the King's adolescence (and as his reign 
 extended over nearly fifty years,) our readers must, in mercantile 
 language, " strike an average," and picture his present ideal repre- 
 sentative as a young man — mild, inoffensive, and religious ; adorn- 
 ing the sceptre, rather than wielding it. 
 
 In this great assembly, the angry feelings that had existed be- 
 tween Duke Humphrey of Gloster and the Bishop of Winchester 
 are openly manifested. — Humphrey of Gloster, — popularly known 
 as the " good " Duke Humphrey, on account of his mild exercise 
 of royal authority, — is Regent of England. His open, but un- 
 guarded temper has hitherto been sorely tested by the arrogant 
 Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester — one of the legitimated 
 children of old John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. It had been 
 vainly thought by his royal relatives, that his obscure birth and 
 religious profession would be sufficient obstacles to a high political 
 career. 
 
 In the midst of public business, Gloster offers to present a Bill 
 for consideration : the Bishop angrily snatches it from him and 
 tears it to pieces. 
 
 Win. Com'st thou, with deep-premediated lines, 
 With written pamphlets studiously devised 1 
 Humphrey of Gloster, if thou 'canst accuse. 
 Do it without ' invention, — suddenly. 
 
 Glo. Presumptuous priest ! 
 
 Think not, — although in writing I preferred* 
 The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, — 
 That therefore I have ' forged ; or am not able 
 ' Verbatim! to rehearse the method of my pen : 
 No, prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness. 
 That very 'infants prattle of thy pride ; 
 Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, 
 The ' King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt 
 From envious malice of thy swelling heart. 
 
 Win. Gloster, I do defy thee. — Lords, vouchsafe 
 To give me hearing what I shall reply ; 
 And he shall know I am as good — 
 
 (rlo. As good ! 
 
 Thou bastard of my grandfather ! 
 
 Win. Ay, lordly sir ! for what are 'you, I pray. 
 But one imperious in another's throne 1 
 
 Glo. What ! Am I not Protector, saucy priest ? 
 
 Win. And am not I a Prelate of the Church ? 
 
 Glo. Yes ! — as an outlaw in a castle keeps, 
 And useth it to patronagej his theft. 
 
 Win. Unreverent Gloster ! 
 
 * Brought forward. t Word for word. t To protect by authority. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENBY VI — PAET I. 235 
 
 Glo. ' Thou art reverent, 
 
 Touching thy 'spiritual function, — not thy 'life. 
 Win. 'Borne shall remedy this. 
 War. Roam 'thither, then. 
 
 The young King interposes : 
 
 King. Uncles of Gloster and of Winchester, 
 The special watchmen of our English weal, 
 ' I would prevail, — if 'prayers might prevail, — 
 To 'join your hearts in love and amity. 
 Who should be pitiful, if 'you be not? 
 Or who should study to prefer a 'peace. 
 If holy Churchmen take delight in ' broils ? 
 
 War. Yield, my lord Protector ; — yield, Winchester ; 
 Except you mean, with obstinate repulse, 
 To 'slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. 
 
 Win. ' He shall submit, or I will 'never yield. 
 
 Glo. Compassion on the King 'commands me stoop : Here, 
 
 Winchester, I offer thee my hand . . . 
 King. . . . Fie, Uncle Beaufort ! I have heard you preach 
 That 'maUoe was a great and grievous 'sin. ; 
 And will not you 'maintain the thing you teach % 
 
 Win. . . Well, Duke of Gloster, I will 'yield to thee ; 
 Love for ' thy love, and hand for hand, I give. 
 
 Glo. [Aside.] Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart. — 
 See here, my friends and loving countrymen. 
 This token ["'&""] serveth for a flag of truce 
 Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers. 
 So help me Heaven, as I dissemble not. 
 
 Win. [Aside: So help 'me Heaven, as I ' intend it not ! 
 
 King. O loving uncle, and kind Duke of Gloster, 
 How joyful am I made by this accord 1* — 
 
 A hollow reconciliation being thus effected, Warwick, with Salis- 
 bury and Richard Plantagenet, advances — bearing a petition that 
 the claim of the latter to the dukedom of York may be established. 
 Warwick says : 
 
 War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, 
 Which, in the right of Richard Plantagenet, 
 We do exhibit to your majesty. 
 
 Glo. Well urged, my lord of Warwick ; — for, sweet prince. 
 You have great reason to do Richard right. 
 
 King. Stoop now, and set your knee against my foot ; 
 And, in reguerdont of that duty done, 
 I gird thee with the valiant §word of York : 
 
 * O. R. contract. t Reward. 
 
236 THE KEADBe's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 1. 
 
 Else, Bichard, like a true Plantagenet, — 
 
 And rise created princely ' Duke of York. 
 The Lord Protector Gloster speaks : 
 Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty 
 
 To cross the seas, and to be crowned in ' France. 
 King. When Gloster says the word, King Henry goes ; 
 
 For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. 
 Glo. Your ships already are in readiness. P^'ex^u^SI'"' 
 
 In the meantime, Charles the Dauphin has, under the auspices of 
 the Maid of Orleans, been crowned at Rheims, (as Charles Jthe 
 Seventh, King of France,) and anointed with the holy oil said to 
 have been brought by a pigeon from Heaven. — A little later, (in 
 1431,) the young King of England is brought over to Paris, where he 
 is also crowned and anointed, and acknowledged King of France, — 
 by all the vassals who lived within the English provinces in that 
 country. After an insipid display of state, (poor when compared 
 with the coronation of Charles at Rheims), the feeble-minded but 
 amiable King Henry returns to England. 
 
 The Scene is a Room of State in the Palace in London. The 
 young King has assembled his Court to welcome the return of the 
 Earl of Suffolk, who had been sent to France to negotiate a mar- 
 riage with Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Reignier, titular but land- 
 less King of Sicily. 
 
 The Earl of Suffolk thus addresses the King : 
 
 Suf. As, by your high imperial majesty, 
 
 I had in charge, at my depart for France, 
 
 To 'marry Princess Margaret for your grace ; 
 
 So, in the famous ancient city. Tours, 
 
 In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, 
 
 I have 'performed my task, and was espoused : 
 
 And humbly now, upon my bended knee. 
 
 In sight of England and her lordly peers. 
 
 Deliver-up my title in the Queen 
 
 To your most gracious hands, that are the 'substance 
 
 Of that great shadow I did represent : — ■ 
 
 The happiest gift that ever Marquess gave. 
 
 The fairest Queen that ever King received. 
 
 K. Sen. Suffolk, arise. — Welcome, Queen Margaret. 
 O Lord ! that lend'st me life. 
 Lend me a ' heart replete with thankfulness ; 
 For Thou hast given me, in this beauteous face, 
 A world of earthly blessings to my soul. 
 If sympathy of 'love unite our thoughts. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENBY VI PART II. 237 
 
 Q. Mar. Great King of England, and my gracious lord, 
 The mutual conference that my 'mind hath had. 
 By day, by night ; v/aking, and in my dreams ; 
 In courtly company, or at my beads, 
 With you mine alderliefest* sovereign, 
 Makes me the bolder to salute my King 
 With ruder terms ; such as my wit affords. 
 And over-joy of heart doth minister. 
 
 JT. Men. Her sight did ravish ; but her grace in speech, 
 Makes me, from wondering, fall to 'weeping joys. 
 Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love ! 
 
 All. Long live Queen Margaret, England's happiness ! [Fionrisii. 
 
 The contract of marriage is then read aloud by the Lord Pro- 
 tector Gloster ; but, when he comes to the clauses containing the 
 cession of the duchies of Maine and Anjou to the bride's father 
 Reig^ier (the poor titular King of Sicily), suppressed indignation de- 
 prives him of utterance ; and his secret enemy, the Bishop of Win- 
 chester (by whose advice Suffolk had acted) concludes the reading 
 in his stead. Then the King speaks : 
 
 £'. Sen. They please us 'well. — Lord Marquess, bow thy 
 knee: 
 We here create thee the first ' Duke of Suffolk. — 
 We thank you, lords, for this great favour done, 
 In entertainment to my princely Queen. 
 Come, let us in ; and with all speed provide 
 To see her 'coronation be performed. K'.SYsiS'. 
 
 The King, Queen, and Courtiers withdraw. Then the Protector 
 Gloster indignantly rises and addresses the Lords of the Council. 
 
 Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, 
 
 To 'you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, — 
 'Your grief, the 'common grief of all the land. 
 What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth. 
 His valour, coin, and people, in the wars 
 To conquer France, his true inheritance 1 
 And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, 
 To ' keep, by policy, what Henry got ? 
 Have you, ourselves,| Somerset, Buckingham, 
 Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, 
 Received deep scars in France and Normandy, 
 That France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe ? 
 And shall these labours, and these honours, 'die ? 
 Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, 
 ' Your deeds of war, and all 'our counsel, die ? 
 
 *All-dearest. t O. B. yourselves. 
 
238 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 peers of England ! 'shameful is this league. 
 Fatal this marriage ! cancelling your fame ; 
 Blotting your names from books of memory ; 
 Razing the characters of your renown ; 
 Defacing monuments of 'conquered France, — 
 Undoing 'all, as all had never been ! 
 
 Car. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse ? 
 For France, 't is 'ours ; and we will ' keep it still. 
 
 Glo. Ay, uncle ; we 'will keep it, — if we 'can ; 
 But now it is impossible we should. 
 Suifolk (the new-made Duke, that rules the roast,) 
 Hath given the Duchies of Anjou, and Maine, 
 Unto the poor King Eeignier, — whose large style 
 Agrees not with the leanness of his 'purse. 
 
 Sul. Now, by the death of Him that died for all. 
 These counties were the 'keys of Normandy. — 
 But wherefore 'weeps Warwick, my valiant son ? 
 
 War. For grief, that they are 'past recovery ; 
 For, were there hope to conquer them again, 
 My 'sword should shed hot 'blood, mine eyes 'no tears. 
 Anjou, and Maine? myself did win them 'both; 
 Those 'provinces these arms of mine did conquer : 
 And are the 'cities, that I got with 'wounds, 
 Delivered-up again with peaceful 'words ? 
 
 York. Suffolk has dimmed the honour of this isle ! 
 France should have torn and rent my very ' heart. 
 Before 'I would have yielded to this league. 
 
 1 never read but England's Kings have had 
 Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wives ; 
 But 'our King Henry gives away his 'own, 
 
 To match with her that brings 'no 'vantages. 
 Glo. A proper 'jest, — and never heard before ! 
 
 She should have ' stayed in France, and 'starved in 
 France, 
 
 Before — 
 
 The Cardinal again rises : 
 Gar. Nephew of Gloster, now you grow too hot : 
 
 It was the 'pleasure of my lord the King. 
 Glo. Uncle of Winchester, ... I know your mind : 
 
 'T is not my 'speeches that you do mislike. 
 
 But 't is my 'presence that doth trouble you. 
 
 Rancour 'wiU out : Proud prelate, in thy face 
 
 1 see thy lury. If I longer stay, 
 
 We shall begin our 'ancient bickerings. — 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY VI PART II. 239 
 
 Lordings, farewell ; and say, when I am gone, 
 I prophesied — France will be 'lost ere long. [Exit. 
 
 Car. So, there goes our Protector in a rage. — 
 'T is known to you he is mine enemy ; 
 Nay, more, an enemy unto you 'all, 
 And no great friend, I fear me, to the King. 
 Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, 
 And heir-apparent to the English crown : 
 Look to it, lords ! be wise, and circumspect. 
 What though the common people favour him, 
 Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice — 
 
 " Heaven long preserve the Good Duke Humphrey !''... 
 I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss. 
 He will be found a 'dangerous Protector. [Eih. 
 
 As the Cardinal withdraws, the Duke of Buckingham rises : 
 Buck. Why should he then protect our 'sovereign, 
 He being of age to govern of himself ? — 
 Cousin of Somerset, join you with 'me. 
 And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, 
 We '11 quickly hoise* Duke Humphrey from his seat. 
 
 [Exisimt Buckingham and Somerset. 
 
 The lords, hostile to the Protector, leave the Council : The Earl 
 of Salisbury, his son Lord Warwick, and the Duke of York remain. 
 Salisbury says : 
 
 Sal. Pride went ' before, ambition ' follows him. 
 
 These lords do labour for their 'own preferment ; 
 
 Behoves it 'us to labour for the 'realm. 
 
 ' I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloster 
 
 Did bear him like a noble 'gentleman: 
 
 Oft have I seen the haughty ' Cardinal, 
 
 (More like a 'soldier than a man o' the Church,) — 
 
 As stout and proud, as he were lord of all, 
 
 Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. — 
 
 Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, 
 
 'Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping,! 
 
 Have won the greatest favovu- of the Commons, 
 
 Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey ; 
 
 And, brother York, ' thy acts in Ireland, 
 
 And those in France, when regent for our King, 
 
 Have made thee feared and honoured of the people. 
 
 Join we together, for th« public good, 
 
 (In what we can,) to bridle and suppress 
 
 The pride of Suffolk, and the Cardinal. 
 
 War. So Heaven help Warwick, as he 'loves the land. 
 And common profit of his country. 
 
 * Heave. t Hospitality. 
 
240 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 York. And so says York, [Aside,] for he hath greatest cause. 
 
 [Ex. S. and W. 
 
 Salisbury and his son withdraw. The crafty Duke of York Is 
 alone. 
 
 York. Anjou and Maine both given to the French ! 
 Cold news for 'me ; for I had hope of ' France, 
 Even as I have of fertile ' England's soU. 
 A day will come when York shall claim the 'crown ; 
 For ' that 's the golden mark I seek to hit. 
 Then, York, be still a while, till time do serve : 
 Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep : 
 ' Soon will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. 
 With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed ; 
 And in my standard bear the arms of ' York, 
 To grapple with the house of ' Lancaster ; 
 And, force perforce, I '11 make ' him 'yield the crown. 
 Whose bookish rule hath puUed fair England down. [Exh. 
 
 The evident incapacity of the young King to grapple with formi- 
 dable state affairs, excites the ambition not only of the Duke, but 
 of the Duchess of Gloster. Instigated by a dream, she privately 
 proceeds to employ necromancy, and the agency of evil spirits, to 
 compass the King's death. 
 
 The young Queen Margaret soon discovers her husband's weak 
 disposition, and her consequent humiliation as Queen Consort ; for, 
 in a very short time after her marriage, she is heard expostulating 
 with her secret lover, the late ambassador : 
 
 Q. Mar. My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the 'guise, 
 Is this the ' fashion, in the Court of England 1 
 Is this the 'government of Britain's isle, 
 And this the 'royalty of Albion's King 1 
 What ! shall King Henry be a 'pupil still. 
 Under the surly Gloster's governance 1 
 Am I a 'Queen, in title and in style. 
 And must be made a subject to a 'Duke? 
 I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours 
 Thou rann'st a tilt in honour of my love, 
 And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, 
 I thought King Henry had resembled ' thee ; 
 But all 'his mind is bent to 'holiness. . . . 
 I would, the College of the Cardinals 
 Would choose him ' Pope, and carry him to Rome, 
 And set the ' triple crown upon his head : 
 That were a state fit for his Holiness ! 
 
Act 3, Scene i.] KING HENBY VI I>AET 11. 241 
 
 Suf. Madam, be patient ; as I was the cause 
 Your highness came to England, so will I 
 ' In England work your grace's full content. 
 
 Q. Mar. Beside the haught Protector, have we Beaufort 
 The imperious churchman ; Somerset, Buckingham, 
 And grumbling York : and not the ' least of these 
 But can do more in England than the ' King ! 
 
 Suf. And he of these that can do 'most of all. 
 
 Cannot do 'more in England than the ' Nevils. 
 
 Q. Mar. Not all these ' lords do vex me half so much. 
 As that proud 'dame, the Lord Protector's wife : 
 She 'sweeps it through the Court with troops of ladies, 
 More like an 'empress than Duke Humphrey's wife. 
 Strangers in Court do take her for the 'Queen : 
 Shall I not live to be 'avenged on her 1 
 
 Suf. Madam, myself have limed a bush for her ; 
 And placed a quire of such enticing birds. 
 That she will light to listen to the lays : 
 So, let her rest : And, madam, list to me ; 
 Although we fancy not the 'Cardinal, 
 Yet must we 'join with him, and with the lords, 
 Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. 
 So, one by one, we '11 weed them 'all at last. 
 And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. [Exeum. 
 
 Although the ruin of the Duke of Gloster had long been deter- 
 mined on by the Cardinal and his faction, the Protector was first 
 humiliated in the punishment of his ambitious Duchess, who was 
 found guilty of sorcery and witchcraft. There had been seized in 
 her possession a waxen figure of the King, which, being melted be- 
 fore a slow fire, would magically cause the living prototype to waste 
 by slow degrees. After this disgrace and banishment of the Duchess, 
 the Duke's enemies proceed against himself. He is now formally 
 summoned to appear before a Parliament, held not in London, 
 which was supposed to be friendly to him, but at Bury.* In this 
 Parliament, held within the Abbey there, the King, surrounded by 
 his nobles, addresses the deceitful Queen : 
 
 K. Sen. I muse, my Lord of Gloster is not 'come : 
 'T is not his wont to be the ' hindmost man, 
 Whate'er occasion keeps him from us 'now. 
 Queen Margaret replies: 
 
 Q. Mar. Can you not 'see ? or will you 'not observe 
 The strangeness of his altered countenance ? 
 With what a majesty he bears himself ; 
 How insolent of late he is become. 
 How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? 
 
 ' Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk. 
 
242 THE EEADEE'S SHAKESPEAKE. [Act a 
 
 By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ; 
 
 And, when he please to make commotion, 
 
 'T is to be feared they all will follow him. 
 
 Now 't is the Spring, and weeds are 'shallow-rooted ; 
 
 Suffer them 'now, and they '11 o'ergrow the garden, 
 
 And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. 
 
 My Lords of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, 
 
 ' Reprove my allegation, if you can. 
 
 The courtly Suffolk replies : 
 
 Suf. Well hath your highness seen into this Duke ; 
 And had I ' first been put to speak my mind, 
 I think, I should have told your 'grace's tale. 
 ' Smooth runs the water where the brook is 'deep, 
 And in his 'simple show he harbours ' treason. 
 The fox barks 'not, when he would steal the lamb : 
 No, no, my sovereign ; Gloster is a man 
 Unsoimded yet, and full of deep deceit. 
 The King rises : 
 
 K. Hen. My lords, at once : The' care you have of 'us, 4 
 To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot. 
 Is worthy praise ; but shall I speak 'my conscience ? 
 Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent 
 From 'meaning treason to our royal person, 
 As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove. 
 The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given 
 To 'dream on evil, or to work my downfall. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah ! what 's more dangerous than this fond affi- 
 ance'? 
 Seems he a 'dove ^ his feathers are but ' borrowed ; 
 Is he a 'lamb 1 his skin is surely 'lent him ; 
 Take heed, my lord ; the welfare of us 'all 
 Hangs on the cutting-short that fraudful man ! 
 At this instant Gloster himself enters : 
 
 Glo. All happiness unto my lord the King ! 
 
 Pardon, my liege, that I have stayed so long. 
 Suffolk haughtily rises : 
 
 iSuf. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too 'soon. 
 Unless thou wert more 'loyal than thou ait: 
 I do arrest thee of high treason here. 
 
 Glo. Treason ! Who can accuse me 1 wherein am I guilty ? 
 The purest spring is not so free from taint,* 
 As I am clear from treason to my sovereign. 
 
 Suf. It serves you 'well, my lord, to say so much ; 
 
 • O. B. mudde. 
 
Scene!.] KING HBNBY VI— PAET II. 243 
 
 But mighty crimes are laid unto your charge. 
 I do arrest you in his Highness' name ; 
 And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal 
 To keep, until your further time of trial. 
 The tender-hearted King speaks : 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle of Gloster, 't is my special hope. 
 That you 'will clear yourself frord all suspects ; 
 My conscience tells me you are 'innocent. 
 
 Qlo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous. 
 Foul subornation is predominant, 
 And equity exiled your highness' land. 
 I know, their complot is to have my ' life ; 
 ' Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice. 
 And ' Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ; 
 Sharp 'Buckingham unburdens, with his tongue, 
 The envious load that lies upon his ' heart ; 
 And dogged ' York, that reaches at the moon. 
 Whose overweening arm I have plucked back. 
 By ' false accuse doth level at my life : 
 And 'you, my Sovereign Lady, with the rest. 
 Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ; 
 And, with your best endeavour, have stirred up 
 My liefest* Hege to be mine 'enemy. 
 I shall not 'want false witness to condemn me : 
 The ancient proverb will be well effected, — 
 A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort addresses the King : 
 
 Car. My hege, his railing is intolerable. 
 
 If those that care to keep your royal person 
 From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage, 
 Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, 
 'T will make them 'cool in zeal unto your grace. 
 
 Buck. Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner. 
 
 Car. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure. [''%k.°'' 
 
 Gloster is at once removed in custody. The King says, with 
 emotion, as he is about to leave the Abbey : 
 
 K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best, 
 Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. 
 The Queen says : 
 Q. Mar. "What ! will your highness ' leave the Parliament ? 
 K. Hen. Ay, Margaret, for my heart is drowned with 
 grief . . . 
 Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face ' I see 
 
 * Dearest. 
 
244 THE eeadee's SHAKESPBAEE. [Act 3. 
 
 The map of honour, truth, and loyalty. 
 His fortunes I will weep ; and, 'twixt each groan, 
 Say — " Who 's a traitor, 'Gloster he is none." cei". 
 
 As soon as the King has withdrawn, the death of Gloster is 
 hastily determined The triumphant Cardinal Beaufort says : 
 
 Gar. That he should 'die is worthy policy, 
 But yet we want a 'colour for his death. 
 'T is meet he be condemned by course of ' law. 
 Suffolk interrupts : 
 
 Suf. But, in 'my mind that were 'no policy : 
 The King will labour still to 'save his life ; 
 The commons haply 'rise to save his life ; 
 O, do not stand on quUlets,* ' how to slay him : 
 Be it by gins, by snares, by subtUty, 
 Sleeping, or waking, 't is no 'matter how. 
 Seeing the deed is meritorious, 
 And to preserve my sovereign from his foe. 
 Say but the word, and ' I will be his priest. 
 
 Car. But ' I would have him 'dead, my Lord of Suffolk, 
 Ere 'you can take due 'orders for a priest. 
 Say, you consent, and censuref 'well the deed. 
 And ' I "11 provide his executioner. 
 A Messenger enters : 
 
 Mens. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain. 
 To signify the rebels there are 'up, 
 And put the Englishmen unto the sword. 
 Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime. 
 The Cardinal says : 
 
 Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop ! 
 My Lord of York, try what your ' fortune is. 
 The uncivil kernsf of Ireland are in arms, 
 And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : 
 To Ireland will 'you lead a band of men. 
 And try your hap 'against the Irishmen ? 
 
 York. I will, my lord, — so please his 'majesty. 
 Suffolk says : 
 
 Suf. Why, 'our authority is 'his consent. 
 
 And what 'we do establish, he 'confirms : 
 Then, noble York, ' take thou this task in hand. 
 
 York. I am content. Provide me soldiers, lords, 
 
 Whiles I take order for mine 'own affairs. [Exeunt r,»ra8. 
 All withdraw except the crafty Duke of York. 
 
 York. Well, nobles, well ; 't is politicly done, 
 
 * Quibbles. tApprove. J Common foot-soldiere. 
 
Scene ii.] KINO HENRY VI — PAET II. 245 
 
 To send me packing with a host of men : 
 
 I fear me, you but warm the starved snake, 
 
 Which, cherished in your breasts, will 'sting your ' hearts. 
 
 'T was men I 'lacked, and you will 'give them me. — • 
 
 Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, 
 
 I will stir up in 'England some black storm ; 
 
 And, for a 'minister of my intent, 
 
 I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, 
 
 John Cade of Ashford, 
 
 To make commotion, as full weU he can, 
 
 Under the title of John Mortimer. 
 
 This fellow ' here shall be my substitute ; 
 
 For that John Mortimer, who now is dead. 
 
 In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble : 
 
 By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, 
 
 How they affect the House and claim of York. 
 
 Why, ' then from Ireland come I with my strength, 
 
 And 'reap the harvest which that rascal sowed ; 
 
 For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be. 
 
 And Henry put apart, the crown* for me ! (Exeunt. 
 
 Preparations are made for the trial of the Duke of Gloster, now 
 in the custody of Cardinal Beaufort ; but they are checked by in- 
 telligence of the Duke's sudden death. The King swoons. The 
 tumultuous noise of the crowds thronging to the Abbey is heard. 
 The commons press to the door, as Warwick enters to confirm and 
 extend the intelligence. 
 
 War. It is reported, mighty sovereign. 
 
 That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is 'murdered — - 
 By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means. 
 The commons, like an angry hive of bees 
 That want their 'leader, scatter up and down. 
 And care not 'whom they sting in his revenge. 
 
 -S". Sen. That he is 'dead, good Warwick, 't is too true : 
 But ' how he died, Heaven knows, not Henry. 
 Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse. 
 And comment 'then upon his sudden death. 
 
 \Varwick goes into the inner room, and Salisbury retires to the 
 commons at the door. The King continues : 
 
 S^. Hen. O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts ! 
 My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul 
 Some 'violent hands 'were laid on Humphi-ey's life. 
 If my suspectf be false, forgive me, Heaven, 
 For judgment only doth belong to 'Thee. 
 
 » O. K. next. t Suspicion. 
 
246 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 The doors of the inner chamber are thrown open, and Gloster is 
 discovered dead in his bed ; Warwick speaks : 
 
 TV((r. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body. — 
 See, how the blood is settled in his 'face. 
 Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,* 
 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless : 
 But see, ' his face is black, and ' full of blood ; 
 His eye-balls further out than when he lived, 
 Staring full ghastly, like a 'strangled man : 
 His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with strug- 
 gling; 
 His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped 
 And 'tugged for life, and was by 'strength subdued. 
 Look, on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking ; 
 His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged. 
 Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. 
 It cannot be but he was 'murdered here ! 
 The ' least of all these signs were probable. 
 ^A^a^wick at once openly accuses the Duke of Suffolk as an accom- 
 plice, at least, in the murder ; and a challenge is given for trial by 
 combat. The King approvingly says : 
 
 -K. Hen. What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? 
 'Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel 'just ; 
 And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with ' in-j ustice is corrupted. [Exeunt. 
 
 Before the hostile peers can proceed with their duel, the Com- 
 mons clamorously demand the impeachment of Suffolk on other 
 grounds : — that he had usurped the power of the crown, being aided 
 by the Queen, who encouraged him in his ambition, and returned 
 his attachment as her lover. The ever-clement King, anxious to 
 save his life, banishes him from England. After the sentence, the 
 Queen intercedes for him to the King : 
 
 Q. Mar. O Henry, let me 'plead for gentle Suffolk. 
 
 JT. Hen. ' Un-gentle Queen, to call him 'gentle Suffolk. 
 No more, I say ; if thou dost plead for ' him. 
 Thou wUt but add increase unto my wrath. 
 Had I but 'said, I would have kept my word ; 
 But when I 'swear, it is irrevocable. — - 
 If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found 
 On any ground that 'I am ruler of. 
 The 'world shall not be ransom for thy life. — 
 Come, Warwick, come ; good Warwick, go with me ; 
 I have great matters to impart to thee. P wfrK"'' 
 
 All withdraw but the Queen and Suffolk. 
 
 *.The body of one wko had died a natural death . 
 
Scene ill.] KING HENRY IV PABT II. 247 
 
 Q. Mar. Mischance and sorrow go along with you ! 
 
 Heart's discontent, and sour affliction, 
 
 Be playfellows to keep you company ! 
 •Suf. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations, 
 
 And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. 
 Q. Mar. Fie, coward 'woman, and soft-hearted wretch! 
 
 Hast ' thou not spirit to curse thine 'enemies ? 
 Suf. A 'plague upon them ! wherefore should I 'curse 
 them! 
 
 Would curses 'kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, 
 
 I would invent as bitter-searching terms. 
 
 With fuU as many signs of 'deadly hate, 
 
 As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave ! 
 
 My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ; 
 
 Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ; 
 
 My hair be fixed on end, as one distract ; 
 
 And even 'now my burdened heart would ' break, 
 
 Should I 'not curse them ! . . . Poison be their drink ! 
 
 Gall, 'worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! 
 
 Their sweetest shade, a grove of 'cypress trees ! 
 
 Their chiefest prospect, murdering basUisks !* 
 
 Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings 1 
 
 Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss. 
 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! [emum. 
 
 We have seen the last of the Duke of SufTolk. His banishment 
 (in 1450) was closely followed by his death : he was intercepted 
 on his way to France ; his head was struck off, and his body thrown 
 into the sea. 
 
 From this time the government was greatly influenced by the 
 Earl of Warwick, known, from subsequent events, as the King- 
 maker. 
 
 We also turn, for the last time, to Cardinal Beaufort, who sur- 
 vived his nephew, the late Lord Protector, only a few weeks. Feel- 
 ing the approach of death, he sends for the King ; who, attended 
 by the Earl of Warwick, now stands by the death-bed. 
 
 A'. Men. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy 
 sovereign. 
 
 Car. If thou be'st Death, I '11 give thee England's ' treasure. 
 Enough to purchase such 'another island, 
 So thou wilt let me ' live, . . and feel no pain. 
 
 A". JETen. Ah ! what a sign it is of 'evil Hfe, 
 
 Where 'death's approach is seen so terrible ! 
 
 • Crested serpents. 
 
248 THE EBADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 War. Beaufort ! . . it is thy 'sovereign speaks to thee. 
 Cm: . . . Bring me unto my trial when you wUl. 
 
 Died he not in his ' bed ? where 'should he die ? 
 
 Can I make men live, whether they will or no ? . - . 
 
 ! torture me no more ! . .1 will 'confess. — 
 Alive again ? then 'show me where he is : 
 
 1 '11 give a thousand pound to look upon him. . . . 
 He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. — 
 Comb down his hail- : look ! look ! it stands upright, 
 Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! — 
 Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
 Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 
 
 IT. Heii. O Thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 
 Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
 O, beat-away the busy meddling Tiend, 
 That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul ; 
 And from his bosom purge this black despair ! 
 
 War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin. 
 
 Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. 
 
 K. Hen. Peace to his 'soul, if God's good pleasure be. 
 Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss. 
 Hold-up thy hand, — make 'signal of thy hope. . . 
 He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive him ! 
 
 War. So bad a 'death argues a monstrous ' life. 
 
 K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners 'all. — 
 Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close. 
 And let us all to meditation.* [Exeuut. 
 
 We now turn to the Kentish insurrection headed by Jack Cade, 
 an Irishman by birth, who had been at first in the pay of the Duke 
 of York ; but who now, assuming the name of Mortimer, pretends 
 that he is a scion of the royal family. Cade excites the men of 
 Kent, to the number of about twenty thousand, to join his standard ; 
 and he is now at Blackheath, near London — followed by George 
 Bevis, John Holland, and a crowd of upstart boors. George says : 
 
 Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a ' lath : 
 
 they have been up these two days. 
 John. 'They have the more need to sleep 'now, then. 
 6reo. I tell thee. Jack Cade, the clothier, means to dress 
 
 the 'commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap 
 
 upon it. 
 John. So he had need, for 't is threadbare. Well, I say, it 
 
 was never 'merry world in England, since 'gentlemen 
 
 came up. The nobility think scorn to go in leather 
 
 aprons. 
 
Scene li.] KING HENEY VI PAKT II. 249 
 
 Geo. Nay, more ; the King's ' Council are no good work- 
 men. 
 
 John. True ; and yet it is said, " Labour in thy vocation : " 
 which is as much to say as, — " Let the magistrates be 
 'labouring men;" and therefore should 'we be magis- 
 trates. 
 
 Geo. Thou hast hit it ; for there 's no better sign of a 
 brave mind than a hard 'hand. 
 
 John. Hurra ! I see them ! I see them ! There 's Best's 
 son, the tanner of Wingham ! — and Dick the butcher! 
 — and Smith the weaver, — and here 's Jack Cade him- 
 self ! Hurra ! hurra ! 
 Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the butcher, Smith the weaver, and 
 
 others in great number. 
 
 Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our supposed father, — 
 
 Dick. CAside.] Or rather, of stealing a cade* of herrings. 
 
 Cade. — inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and 
 princes, — Command silence. 
 
 All. Silence ! silence ! — Hurra ! — Silence ! 
 
 Cade. My father was a Mortimer, — 
 
 Dick. [Aside ] He was an honest bricklayer. 
 
 Cade. My mother a Plantagenet, — 
 
 Dick. [ABide] I knew her well ; she was a washerwoman.! 
 
 Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies, — 
 
 Dick. [A.ide ] She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold 
 'many laces. 
 
 Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. Be brave 
 then ; for your Captain is brave, and vows reformation. 
 There shall be, in England, 'seven halfpenny loaves 
 sold for a 'penny ; the 'three-hooped pot shall have ' ten 
 hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small-beer. 
 All the realm shall be in 'common ; and in Cheapside 
 shall my palfrey go to grass. And, when I am King 
 (as King I 'will be), — 
 
 All. Heaven save your majesty ! 
 
 Cade. I thank you, good people : — there shall be no 
 'money ; all shall eat and drink on 'my score ; and I 
 wUl apparel them all in 'one livery — ^that they may 
 agree like brothers, and worship 'me their lord. 
 
 Dick. The first thing we do, let 's kill all the lawyers. 
 
 Cade. Nay, that I 'mean to do. Is not this a lamentable 
 thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be 
 made 'parchment ? that parchment, being scribbled 
 o'er, should 'undo a man ? ' Some say, the ' bee stings ; 
 
 • Half a barrel. t O. E. midwife. 
 
250 THE reader's SHAKBSPEAEE. [Act 4. 
 
 but 'I say, 't is the bee's 'wax ; for I did but 'seal once 
 to a thing, — and I was never mine own man since. 
 How now, who 's there ? 
 
 A poor Scrivener is dragged in : 
 
 Smith. The Clerk of Chatham ! Ah ! he can write, and read, 
 and cast accounts. We took him setting of boys' 
 copies. 
 
 Cade. Here 's a villain ! 
 
 Smith. H' as a book in his pocket, with red letters in 't. 
 
 Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer. I am sorry for 't ! Un- 
 less 'I find him guilty, he shall not die. — Come hither, 
 sirrah, I must examine thee. What is thy name 1 
 
 Clerk. Emmanuel. 
 
 Cade. Dost thou use to 'write thy name ? or hast thou a 
 'mark to thyself, like an honest plain -dealing man? 
 
 Clerk. Sir, I thank heaven, I have been so well brought 
 up, that I can 'write my name. 
 
 A II. He hath confessed. Away with him ! He 's a villain 
 and a traitor ! Away with him, ' I say : hang him — with 
 his pen and ink-horn about his neck. [Emum some with the cierk. 
 Michael enters : 
 
 Mich. Where 's our general 1 
 
 Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. 
 
 Mich. Ply, fly, fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford is hard by, 
 with the King's forces. 
 
 Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I '11 ' fell thee down. He 
 shall be encountered with a man as good as himself : 
 he is but a knight, is 'a ? Well, to equal him, I will 
 make 'myself a knight presently. [Kneeu : — Rise up ' Sir 
 John Mortimer. Now have at him ! 
 
 Sir Humphrey Stafford marches-in with a body of soldiers, and 
 at once addresses Cade's followers : 
 
 Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, 
 Marked for the gallows, lay your weapons down ; 
 Home to your cottages, forsake this groom : 
 The king is merciful, if you retire ; 
 But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, 
 If you go forward : therefore yield, or die. 
 
 Cade takes no notice of Stafford, but addresses his rabble : 
 Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not : 
 It is to 'you, good people, that I speak, 
 O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to 'reign ; 
 For I am 'rightful heir unto the crown. 
 
Scene il.] KING HENRY VI PAKT II. 251 
 
 8taf. Villain ! thy father was a plasterer ; 
 
 And thou thyself a shearman, — art thou not 1 
 
 Cade. And Adam . . . was a 'gardener ! 
 
 Staf. Ay ! And what of that ? 
 
 Cadt. Marry, this : — Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, 
 Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, — did he not? 
 
 Staf. Ay, sir. 
 
 Cade. By her he had ' two children at one birth. 
 
 Staf. That 's false. 
 
 Cade. Ay, there 's the question ! but ' I say, 't is ' true. 
 The elder of them, being put to nurse. 
 Was, by a beggar-woman, stolen away ; 
 And, ignorant of his birth and parentage. 
 Became a bricklayer when he came to age. 
 His son am I : deny it, if you can. 
 
 Dick. Nay, 't is too true ; therefore, he shall be King. 
 
 Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house ; and 
 the bricks are alive at this day to testify it : therefore, 
 deny it not. 
 
 Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words ? 
 
 All. Ay, marry, will we ; therefore get ye gone ! 
 
 Staff. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this. 
 
 Cade. [Aside.] He lies, for I invented it myself . — Goto, sirrah: 
 Tell the King from me, that, for his father's sake, 
 Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span- 
 counter* for French crowns, I am content he shall 
 'reign ; but I 'U be ' Protector over him. And, further- 
 more, I '11 have the Lord Say's head, for selling the 
 dukedom of Maine ; for thereby is ' England maimed, 
 and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds 
 it up. Fellow kings, I teU you this — that Lord Say 
 can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor. 
 
 Staf. O gross and miserable ignorance ! 
 
 Cade. Nay, answer, if you can : the Frenchmen are our 
 'enemies ; go to then, I ask but this : — can he that 
 speaks with the tongue of an 'enemy be a 'good coun- 
 sellor, or not ? 
 
 All. No, no ; and therefore we '11 have his head. 
 
 Staf. WeU, seeing 'gentle words wOl not prevail, 
 Assail them with the army of the King. 
 Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ; 
 And you that be the King's friends, follow 'me. 
 
 [ExeuDt Stafford and Soldiers- 
 Cade shouts out : 
 
 Cade. And you that love the commons, follow 'me! — 
 
 * A game resembling chuck-farthing. 
 
252 THE KEADBK's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 We will not leave 'one lord, one gentleman : 
 Spare none but such as go in 'clouted shoon, 
 For they are thrifty honest men, and such 
 As would (but that they dare not) take 'our parts. 
 
 Dick. They are all in order, and march ' toward us ! 
 
 Gade. But then are 'we in order, when we are most 'out of 
 order. Come : march ! forward ! [Eseum. 
 
 In the series of skirmishes that follow, Stafford is slain, and the 
 King's forces are routed. Cade and his followers are therefore 
 enabled to enter London— where we find him striking his flag-staff 
 on London Stone. 
 
 Cade. Now is Mortimer ' lord of this city. And here, sit- 
 ting upon London Stone, I charge and command, that, 
 at the city's cost, the conduit run nothing but 'claret- 
 wine this first year of our reign. And now, hencefor- 
 ward, it shall be treason for any that calls me other 
 than ' Lord Mortimer. 
 
 A Soldier runs in shouting " Jack Cade ! Jack Cade ! " He is at 
 once knocked down. 
 
 Smith. H'm ! If this fellow be 'wise, he '11 never call you 
 Jack Cade more : I think, he hath a very fair warning. 
 
 Dick. My lord, there 's an army gathered together in 
 Smithfield. 
 
 Cade. Come then, let 's go 'fight with them. But first, go 
 and set London Bridge on fire, and, if you can, burn 
 down the Tower too. Pull down the Savoy; others 
 to the Inns of Court : down with them all ! Away ! 
 burn all the 'records of the realm : 'my mouth shall be 
 the Parliament of England ; and henceforward all things 
 shall be in common. 
 
 A Messenger runs in. 
 
 Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here 's the Lord Say, which 
 sold the towns in France. 
 
 Lord Say is dragged in as a prisoner. 
 
 Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ' ten times. — Ah, 
 thou Say,* thou serge, — nay, thou 'bucki-am lord I 
 Now art thou within point-blank of 'our jurisdiction 
 regal. What canst thou answer to 'my majesty, for 
 giving up of Normandy ? Be it known unto thee by 
 these presence, — even the presence of 'Lord Morti- 
 mer, — that ' I am the besom that must sweep the Court 
 clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitor- 
 ously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY VI — PART II. 253 
 
 grammar-school : and, whereas, before, our forefathers 
 had no other books but the score* and the tally,! thou 
 hast caused 'printingj to be used ; and, contrary to the 
 King, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a paper- 
 mill. It will be proved to thy face, that thou hast men 
 about thee that usually talk of a noun, and a verb — 
 and such 'abominable words, as no Christian ear can 
 endure to hear. Thou hast appointed Justices of 
 Peace, to call 'poor men before them, about matters 
 they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast 
 put them in prison ; and because they could not read, 
 thou hast hanged them ! 
 
 Lord Say replies to these charges : 
 
 Say. You men of Kent, — 
 
 Dick. What say you of Kent ? 
 
 Say. Nothing but this: 't is bona terra, mala gens.% 
 
 Cade. Away with him ! away with him ! he speaks ' Latin. 
 
 Say. ' Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. 
 ' I sold not Maine, ' I lost not Normandy ; 
 Tet, to recover them, would lose my 'life. 
 Justice, with mercy, have I always done ; 
 Prayers and tears ' have moved me ; 'gifts could never. 
 When have I aught exacted at your hands, 
 But to maintain the King, the realm, and you ? 
 And, — seeing ' Ignorance is the curse of God, 
 ' Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, — 
 Unless you be possessed with 'devUish spirits, 
 Ton cannot but 'forbear to murder me. 
 O, let me 'live! 
 
 Cade. [Aside.: I feel remorse in myself with his words ; but 
 I '11 ' bridle it : he shall die, an it be but for pleading 
 so well for his life. — Away with him ! he has a familiar|| 
 under his tongue. Go, take him away, I say, and 
 strike off his head presently ; and then break into his 
 son-in-law's house, and strike off 'his head, and bring 
 them 'both upon two poles hither. [^"LoJdTlj.] The 
 proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on 
 his shoulders, unless he pay 'me 'tribute. Up Pish 
 Street! down Saint Magnus' Corner! kUl and knock 
 down! throw them into the Thames !—['' CeDV™;?"''" ] 
 Ah ! what noise is this I hear '\ Dare any be so bold to 
 sound retreat or parley, when I command them ' kill ? 
 Buckingham and old Lord Clifford enter with Forces. 
 
 Buck. Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King 
 
 * Marked list of debts. t Notched sticks for reckoning. t Shakespeare's chro- 
 nology is here at fault. Cade's rebellion was in 145U, and the first book printed in 
 England appeared in 1471. ^ Good lands, bad lads. n An attendant spirit. 
 
254 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Unto the commons whom thou hast misled ; 
 And here pronounce free 'pardon, to all them 
 That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. 
 
 Clif. What say ye, countrymen ? will ye relent, 
 And yield to 'mercy, whilst 't is offered you ? 
 Or let a rabble lead you to your 'deaths ? — 
 "Who loves the King, and will 'embrace his pardon. 
 Fling up his cap, and e&y — God save his majesty ! 
 
 All. God save the king! God save the king ! 
 
 Cade. "What ! you base peasants, do ye believe him ? wiU 
 you needs be hanged with your pardons about your 
 necks % "You are all recreants, and dastards, and de- 
 light to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break 
 your backs with burdens, and take your houses over 
 your heads : for me, I will make shift for 'one ; and 
 so, — a curse light upon you all ! 
 
 All. "We '11 follow Cade ! we '11 follow Cade ! 
 
 Clif. Is Cade the son of our Fifth King Harry f 
 
 "Will 'he conduct you through the heart of Prance, 
 And make the meanest of you Earls and Dukes ? 
 Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to ; 
 Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, — 
 Unless by 'robbing of your friends and us. 
 To France, to France ! and 'get what you have lost : 
 Spare England, for it is your native coast. 
 Henry hath money, you are strong and manly : 
 Heaven on 'our side, doubt not of victory. 
 
 All. A Clifford ! a Clifford ! we '11 foUow the King and 
 Clifford. 
 
 Cade. "Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro, as this 
 multitude ? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them 
 to an hundred mischiefs. ... I see them lay their heads 
 together to surprise me ; my sword, make way for me ! 
 for here is no staying !— Have through the very midst 
 of you ! and honour be witness, that no want of reso- 
 lution in 'me, but only my ' followers' base and igno- 
 minious treasons, makes me — betake me to my heels. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Buckingham exclaims : 
 Buck. What ! is he fled ? go some, and follow him ; 
 And he, that brings his head unto the King, 
 Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.— 
 Follow me, soldiers : we'll devise a mean 
 To reconcile you 'all unto the King. [Exeimt 
 
Act 5, Scene i.] KING HENE¥ VI PAET II. 255 
 
 Shortly after, Cade was killed by a country gentleman of Sussex, 
 named Iden, in whose garden he had trespassed, seeking for food 
 and shelter. 
 
 The rejoicings of the Royalists, at the death of Cade and the dis- 
 persion of his followers, are interrupted by intelligence of the hos- 
 tile return from Ireland of the Duke of York himself; who now de- 
 termines to enforce his claim to the crown with an army of ten 
 thousand men. The birth of a son to King Henry, — thus prolong- 
 ing the succession in the House of Lancaster, — arouses the dormant 
 supporters of the House of York. ^A^ith partisan bitterness, party 
 emblems are renewed. The Lancastrians still adopt the symbol of 
 the Red Rose — the Yorkists of the White. Recent events hasten 
 the contest between these rival Houses. The murder of the good 
 Duke Humphrey — the banishment of Suffolk — the insurrection of 
 Cade — the advancement of Somerset — the imperiousness of the 
 Queen — the unwelcome birth of her son — and, above all, the inca- 
 pacity of the King — pave the way for the Duke of York to force the 
 sceptre from King Henry's feeble hands. 
 
 The Duke is now close to the King's encampment near Black- 
 heath. 
 
 Yorh. From Ireland thus comes York, to claim his 'right. 
 Ring, bells, aloud ; burn, bonfires, clear and bright. 
 To entertain great England's lavyful king. 
 Let ' them 'obey, that know not how to 'rule. 
 This hand was made to handle nought but 'gold : 
 I cannot give due 'action to my words, 
 Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it. 
 A 'sceptre shall it have, have I a sword,* 
 On which I '11 toss the flower-de-lucej of Prance. ; [Esu. 
 
 Such are the circumstances, historical as well as dramatic, that 
 preceded the Battle of St. Albans, fought in 1455 — the first of an 
 unhappy series. These Wars of the Roses were signalized by twelve 
 successive dreadful engagements. 
 
 Amidst the wild tumult of this battle, Warwick is heard calling for 
 the leader of King Henry's army. 
 
 War. Clifford of Cumberland, 't is Warwick calls : 
 And if thou dost not 'hide thee from my sword, J 
 Now, — when the angry trumpet sounds alarum. 
 And dead men's ci'ies do fill the empty air, — 
 Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me ! 
 Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland ! 
 Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms ! [Exit. 
 
 Lord Clifford hastens to obey the call, but he suddenly encounters 
 the great rebel leader, the Duke of York himself. 
 
 Glif. Of one or both of us the time is come. . . . 
 
 What seest thou in me, York ? why dost thou pause ? 
 
 *0. B. soul. t A bulbous iris— the fleur-de-llg, a French emblem of authority, 
 
 t O. R. from the bear. 
 
256 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 York. With thy brave bearing should I be in love, 
 
 But that thou art so fast mine 'enemy 
 Clif. Nor should 'thy prowess want praise and esteem, 
 
 But that 't is shown ignobly, and in treason. 
 York. So let it help me 'now against thy sword. 
 
 As I in justice and true right express it. 
 Clif. My soul and body on the action both ! — 
 York. A dreadful lay ! Address thee instantly. 
 
 They fight, — old Lord CUfford falls and dies. 
 Thus war hath given ' thee peace, for thou art stUl. — 
 Peace with his 'soul, Heaven, if it be thy will ! [Exit. 
 
 As the Duke of York is hastening to another part of the field, 
 Young Clifford, ignorant of his father's death, enters : 
 Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout : 
 Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds 
 "Where it should 'guard. O War! thou son of hell, 
 Whom angry heavens do make their minister, 
 Throw, in the frozen bosoms of 'our part. 
 Hot coals of vengeance ! — Let no soldier fly : 
 He that is truly dedicate to war. 
 Hath no 'self-love ; nor he that loves ' himself 
 Hath not essentially, but by 'circumstance, 
 The name of valour. — 
 
 Young Clifford now sees his father's body : 
 
 O, let the vile world end. 
 And the premised* flames of the Last Day 
 Knit earth and heaven together ! 
 ' Now let the general trumpet blow his blast — 
 Particularities and petty sounds 
 To cease ! — Wast thou ordained, dear father. 
 To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve! 
 The silver livery of advised^ age ; 
 And, in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus 
 To die in ruffian battle ? — Even at this sight. 
 My heart is turned to 'stone : and while 't is mine, 
 It 'shall be stony. York not our 'old men spares ; 
 No more will I their ' babes : tears virginal 
 Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ; 
 And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, 
 Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. 
 Henceforth I will not have to do with 'pity : 
 Meet I an ' infant of the house of York, 
 In cruelty will I seek out my fame. 
 
 * Sent before their time. t Obtain. t Experienced. 
 
Act 1, Scene i.] KING HENEY VI — PART III. 257 
 
 Come, thou 'new ruin of old Clifford's house : [Vhc'Sfd"/ 
 
 As did ^neas old Anchises bear, 
 
 So bear I ' thee upon my manly shoulders : 
 
 But then ^neas bare a ' living load, — 
 
 Nothing so heavy as ' these woes of mine ! c^^"- 
 
 ^While Young Clifford is taking away his father's body, the crook- 
 back Richard of the White Rose, and Somerset, the earliest leader 
 of the Red Rose faction, are fighting. Somerset is killed. The 
 Yorkists are victorious. The defeated King Henry, with his Queen, 
 Young Clifford, and their partisans, are compelled to take flight. 
 
 Amidst the military jubilations of victory, the Duke of York, his 
 son Richard Plantagenet, the Earl of Salisbury and his son Lord 
 Warwick, enter triumphantly.— York says : 
 
 York. I know our safety is to follow them ; 
 For, as I hear, the King is fled to London, 
 To call a present court of parliament : 
 Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth. — 
 What says Lord "Warwick % shall we after them V 
 
 War. After them ? nay, ' before them, if we can. 
 Now, by my faith, lords, 't was a glorious day : 
 Saint AJban's battle, won by famous York, 
 Shall be eternized in all age to come. — 
 Sound, drums and trumpets ! — and to London all ; 
 And more such days as these to us befall ! [emuhi. 
 
 The Duke of York having gained this Battle of St. Albans, hastens 
 to London, where he hopes not only to dethrone King Henry, but 
 to secure the crown for himself, — as lineal descendant from the 
 Duke of Clarence, third son of Edward the Third. To this claim he 
 was urged by the Earl of Warwick, a warrior of undoubted bravery 
 and a statesman of proved sagacity. 
 
 The Scene is in London — the Hall of Parliament. This body had 
 been summoned by King Henry and his Queen : but, by secret 
 means, some soldiers of the Duke of York's party have made a for- 
 cible entrance into the House : and they are immediately followed 
 by the Duke of York himself, accompanied by his sons Edward and 
 Richard, and by many of the Yorkist leaders, — all wearing white 
 roses in their hats. After some confusion, Warwick urges the Duke 
 at once to take possession of the regal chair which had been pre- 
 pared for King Henry : 
 
 War. Victorious Prince of York, 
 
 Before I see ' thee seated in that throne 
 Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, 
 I vow, by Heaven, these eyes shall never close. 
 This is the 'palace of the fearful King, — 
 
258 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 And this the regal 'seat : possess it ' York ; 
 For this is 'thine, and 'not King Henry's heirs'. 
 
 Warwick leads the Duke of York to the throne, and he assumes 
 the royal seat. 
 
 A sudden flourish of trumpets excites new disquietude ; for King 
 Henry enters, attended by young Lord Clifford, Northumberland, 
 Westmoreland, Exeter, and others; wearing red roses in their 
 hats. The King, advancing, stops short : 
 
 K. Sen. . . My lords, look where the sturdy 'rebel sits, 
 Even in the Chair of State ! Belike, he means, 
 (Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer,) 
 'To aspire unto the 'crown, and reign as 'King. — 
 Thou factious Duke of York, 'descend my throne. 
 And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet : 
 I am thy 'sovereign. 
 
 York. No ! ' I am ' thine ! 
 
 K. Hen. What ' title hast thou, traitor, to the crown % 
 Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York ; 
 Thy grandfather, Eoger Mortimer, Earl of March. 
 I am the 'son of the Fifth Henry, — 
 Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop. 
 
 War. Talk not of France, sith* thou hast ' lost it all. 
 
 K. Hen. The lord 'Protector lost it, and not I: 
 
 When I was crowned, I was but nine months old. 
 The crook-backed Richard interrupts : 
 
 Rich. You are old enough 'now, and 'yet, methinks, you lose. 
 Father, tear off the crown from the usurper's head ; 
 Or 'fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. — 
 Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will ' fly. 
 
 Yorh. Son, peace ! 
 
 K. Hen. Peace 'thou, proud York, and give me leave to 
 speak. 
 Think'st thou, that I will ' leave my kingly throne. 
 Wherein my grandsire and my father sat '? 
 No ! first shall war unpeople this my realm ; 
 Ay, and their colours (often borne in France, 
 And now in England to our heart's great sorrow,) 
 Shall be my 'winding-sheet ! 
 
 Warwick advances ; 
 
 War. Henry of Lancaster, 'resign thy crown. 
 Do 'right unto this princely Duke of York, 
 Or I will fill the House with armed men. 
 And, o'er the Chair of State, where now he sits. 
 Write-up his title with 'usurping blood. 
 
 * SiDCe. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY VI PAKT III. 25& 
 
 He gives the signal, and Soldiers enter. The alarmed King 
 speaks : 
 
 K. Hen. My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word : — 
 Let me, for this my 'life-time, reign as king. 
 York replies : 
 
 Yorh. Confirm the crown to 'me, and to mine 'heirs, 
 And thou shalt reign in quiet, while thou liv'st. 
 
 K. Hen. I am content : Richard Plantagenet, 
 Enjoy the kingdom 'after my decease. 
 Clifford exclaims : 
 
 Glif. What wrong is this unto the Prince your son ! 
 Base, fearful, and despairing Henry ! 
 How hast thou injured both thyself and us ! — 
 Come, cousin, let us tell the ' Queen these news. — 
 In dreadful war may'st thou be overcome ; 
 Or live in peace, abandoned, and despised ! ["noX^mV 
 The King dejectedly says : 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, Warwick ! Warwick ! 
 
 War. Why should you sigh, my lord ? 
 
 K. Hen. Not for 'myself. Lord Warwick, but my 'son, 
 Whom I unnaturally shall dis-inherit. 
 But be it as it may ; — I here 'entail 
 The crown to ' thee, and to thine heirs for ever ; 
 Conditionally, that here thou take an oath 
 To cease this civil war ; and, whilst I live, 
 To honour 'me as King and sovereign ; 
 And neither by treason, nor hostility, 
 To seek to put me down, and reign thyself. 
 York replies : 
 
 York. This oath I willing take, and will perform. 
 
 As York descends from the throne, Warwick exclaims : 
 
 War. Long live King Henry ! — Plantagenet, embrace him. 
 
 K. Hen. And long live ' thou, and these thy forward sons !: 
 
 Queen Margaret enters with the young Prince of Wales. King: 
 Henry advances to meet them. 
 
 IT. Hen. Be patient, gentle Queen ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Who 'can be patient under such extremes ? 
 AJi, wretched man ! would I had died unwed, 
 Seeing thou 'st proved so 'unnatural a father ! 
 Hath he 'deserved to lose his birthright thus ? 
 Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, 
 Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,. 
 
260 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Eather than made that savage Duke thine heir, 
 
 And 'dis-inherited thine only son ! 
 g". Hen. Pardon me, Margaret; — pardon me, sweet son: — 
 
 The Earl of Warwick, and the Duke, 'enforced me. 
 ^. Mar. Enforced thee ! art thou King, and wilt be forced? 
 
 I 'shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch ! 
 
 Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me ! 
 
 But thou pref err'st thy ' life, before thine ' honour : 
 
 And seeing thou dost, I here 'divorce myself, — 
 
 Until that Act of Parliament be repealed, 
 
 Whereby 'my son is 'dis-inherited. 
 J{^. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, stay, and hear me speak. 
 ■§. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already : get thee gone ! 
 
 Come, son, away ! we may not linger thus. [Exeuat. 
 
 The hollow compromise is soon ended : Queen Margaret rejects 
 it, because it interferes with the rights of her son Prince Edward ; 
 and the Brother and Sons of the Duke of York are equally desirous 
 that, for their own prospective advantage, it should at once be in- 
 fringed. The Duke, for a time, excuses himself: 
 
 York. I took an 'oath that he should quietly reign. 
 His son Edward replies : 
 
 J^ldw. But, for a ' kingdom, 'any oath may be broken : 
 'I 'd break a 'thousand oaths to reign one 'year. 
 His other son, the plausible Richard, adds : 
 
 Jtich. An oath is of no moment, — being not took 
 Before a true and lawful magistrate, 
 That hath authority o'er him that swears : 
 Henry had none, but did 'usurp the place: 
 Then, seeing 't was he that 'made you to depose. 
 Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous : 
 Therefore, to arms ! And, father, do but think 
 How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ; 
 Within whose circuit is Elysium, 
 And all that 'poets feign of bliss and joy. 
 Why do we 'linger thus ? 'I cannot rest. 
 Until the White Rose that I wear, be dyed 
 Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart ! 
 
 Yorh. Richard, enough : I 'will be King, or die ! — [emuhi. 
 
 No sooner has this resolution been taken, than the Duke learns 
 that the ever-vigilant Queen Margaret is proceeding to besiege his 
 own castle : and at once he resolves to anticipate her attack. In 
 the engagement that follows, the Duke's youngest son — the Earl of 
 Rutland, a boy twelve years of age — is taken prisoner by the fierce 
 
Scene Iv.] KING HENBY VI PART III. 261 
 
 Lord Clifford : who, notwithstanding the youth's supplications for 
 mercy, savagely and inhumanly puts him to death. 
 
 The result of this battle (at \A/'akefield Green in Yorkshire — fought 
 on December 24, 1460,) — was in favour of Queen Margaret. 
 
 Avoiding the danger and confusion of the battle, the defeated 
 Duke of York is alone. 
 
 York. The army of the ' Queen hath got the field : 
 My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ; 
 My sons — Heaven knows, what hath bechanced to them L 
 But ' this I know, — they have demeaned themselves 
 Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 
 Three times did Richard make a lane* to me, 
 And thrice cried, — " Courage, father ! fight it out ! " 
 And full as oft came ' Edward to my side, 
 With purple faulchion, painted to the hUt : 
 And when the ' hardiest warriors did retire, 
 Eichard cried, — " Charge ! and give no foot of ground ! 
 "A crown ! a crown, or else a glorious tomb ! 
 A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! " 
 
 Approaching alarums are heard. 
 Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do 'pursue ; 
 And I am faint, and cannot fiy their fury ; 
 The sands are numbered that make up my life : 
 Here must I stay, and here my life must end. 
 
 He suddenly sees Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, the 
 young Prince, and Soldiers, advancing towards him : Northumber- 
 land calls : 
 
 North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. 
 
 Clifford adds : 
 Glif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm. 
 
 With downright payment, showed unto my ' father. 
 
 Clifford is about to kill the Duke, when the Queen interposes : 
 Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifibrd ! for a thousand causes 
 I would 'prolong awhile the traitor's life. — 
 Seize him, Northumberland ! 
 The Soldiers lay hands on York, who struggles, but is at last taken 
 prisoner. 
 
 York. So triumph ' thieves upon their conquered booty ; 
 So ' true men yield, with 'robbers so o'ermatched. 
 Queen Margaret speaks : 
 
 Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifi'ord and Northumberland, 
 Come, make him stand upon this 'molehill here. 
 That raughtf at 'mountains with his outstretched arms. — 
 
 * Clear a path, t Reached. 
 
262 THE EEADEK's SHAKESPEAEE. [Aotl. 
 
 What ! was it 'you, that would be England's King ? 
 
 Was 't you that revelled in our Parliament, 
 
 And made a preachment of your high descent ? 
 
 Where are your mess of 'sons to back you 'now 1 
 
 The wanton Edward, and the lusty George ? 
 
 And where 's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 
 
 Dicky, your boy ; that, with his grumbling voice. 
 
 Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ? . . . 
 
 Or with the rest, where is your darling ' Rutland 1 . . . 
 
 Xiook, York : I stained this napkin with his blood : 
 
 And if thine eyes can 'water for his death, 
 
 I give thee this, to 'dry thy cheeks withal. 
 
 Alas, poor York ! but that I hate thee 'deadly, 
 
 I should lament thy miserable state. 
 
 I pr'ythee, grieve, — to make 'me merry, York ! 
 
 What ! hath thy fiery heart so parched thine eyes 
 
 That 'not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ? 
 
 Why art thou 'patient, man 1 thou shouldst be 'mad ; 
 
 And I, to 'make thee mad, do mock thee thus. 
 
 Stamp, rave, and fret, that ' I may sing and dance ! . . . 
 
 Thou wouldst be 'fee'd, I see, to make me sport ; 
 
 York cannot speak, unless he wear a 'crown. — 
 
 A crown for York ! — and, lords, bow low to him. — 
 She puts a paper crown on his head : 
 
 Ay, marry, sir, now looks he ' like a King ! 
 
 Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair. 
 
 And this is he was his adopted heir. . . . 
 
 ' Off with the crown ; and, with the crown, his ' head ! 
 Clifford eagerly advances : 
 <JUf. That is 'my oiSce, for my father's sake. 
 ^. Mar. Nay, stay ; let 's hear the orisons he makes. 
 
 The captive Duke of York now speaks : 
 Tork. . . . She-wolf of France, — but 'worse than wolves of 
 Prance ; — 
 
 Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth ! 
 
 I would assay, proud Queen, to make thee ' blush ! 
 
 Thy father bears the ' type of King of Naples, 
 
 Yet not so wealthy as an English 'yeoman. 
 
 Hath that poor monarch taught thee to ' insult ? 
 
 It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud Queen ; 
 
 Unless the adage must be verified,— 
 
 That ' beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. 
 
 'T is ' beauty, that doth oft make women proud ; 
 
Act 2, Scene ii.] KING HENEY VI PAET III. 263 
 
 But Heaven knows ' thy share thereof is small : 
 'T is 'virtue, that doth make them most admired ; 
 The 'contrary doth make thee wondered at : 
 'T is 'government, that makes them seem divine ; 
 The 'want thereof makes thee 'abominable: 
 Thou art as opposite to every good, 
 As the Antipodes are unto us. . . . 
 O 'tiger's heart, wrapped in a 'woman's hide ! 
 How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the 'child, 
 To bid the ' father wipe his eyes withal ? 
 ' Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ; 
 'Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. 
 Bidd'st thou me 'rage ? why, now thou ' hast thy wish : 
 Wouldst have me 'weep ■? why, 'now thou hast thy will. . . 
 These tears are my sweet Eutland's obsequies. 
 And every drop cries — " Vengeance for his death," 
 'Gainst ' thee, fell Clifford, . . . and ' thee, false French- 
 woman ! 
 
 Clifford, enraged, rushes on the defenceless Duke : 
 Clif. Here 's for my oath ; here 's for my father's death ! [ ^S' 
 
 The " she-wolf of France " inhumanly repeats the blow. 
 Q. Mar. And here 's to 'right our gentle-hearted King. [ t'S.' 
 
 The dying York can only ejaculate : 
 York. Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God ! 
 
 My soul flies through these wounds, to seek out ' Thee. 
 
 [Dies 
 
 Q. Mar. Off with his head ! and set it on York gates : 
 
 So York may overlook the ' town of York. [Exeunt. 
 
 In consequence of this murder, the Duke's eldest son Edward 
 succeeds to the title, and determines to maintain his claim to the 
 crown. 
 
 Queen Margaret is meanwhile approaching the city of York, lead- 
 ing along her passive husband, and her son Prince Edward ; at- 
 tended by young Lord Clifford and Northumberland. Pointing to 
 the summit of the gates, she addresses King Henry : 
 
 Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. 
 Yonder 's the head of that arch-enemy, 
 That sought to be encompassed with your crown : 
 Doth not the object 'cheer your heart, my lord? 
 
 IC. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer ' them that fear their wrack : 
 To see this sight it irks my very soul. — 
 Withhold revenge, dear heaven ! 't is not 'my fault ; 
 Nor 'wittingly have I infringed my vow. 
 
264 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Young Lord Clifford says : 
 Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity, 
 
 And harmful pity, must be laid aside. 
 
 To whom do 'lions cast their gentle looks? 
 
 Not to the beasts that would 'usurp their den. 
 
 Whose hand is that the forest 'bear doth 'lick? 
 
 Not his that 'spoils her young before her face. 
 
 Ambitious York did level at thy crown ; 
 
 ' Thou smiling, while ' he knit his angry brows : 
 
 He, but a 'Duke, would have his son a 'King, 
 
 And 'raise his issue, like a loving sire ; 
 
 Thou, being King, blessed with a goodly son. 
 
 Didst yield consent to 'dis-inherit him. 
 
 Were it not pity that this goodly boy 
 
 Should lose his birthright by his ' father's fault ; 
 
 And, long hereafter, say unto 'his child, — 
 
 "AVhat my great-grandfather and grandsire 'got, 
 
 My careless ' father fondly gave 'away ?" 
 K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford played the orator, 
 
 ' Inferring arguments of mighty force. 
 
 But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear 
 
 That things ill-got had ever ' bad success ? 
 
 I '11 leave my son my virtuous 'deeds behind ; 
 
 And 'would my father had left me no more ! 
 
 For, all the rest is held at such a rate 
 
 As brings a thousand-fold more 'care to ' keep, 
 
 Than 'in possession any jot of 'pleasure. 
 
 A Messenger enters hastily. 
 Mesa. Royal commanders, be in readiness : 
 For, with a band of thirty thousand men. 
 Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York ; 
 And in the towns, as they do march along, 
 Proclaims him King, and many fly to him. 
 Prepare* your battle, for they are at hand ! 
 
 Clifford says : 
 Clif. I would, your highness would 'depart the field : 
 The Queen hath best success when you are 'absent. 
 
 Queen Margaret adds : 
 §. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. 
 K. Hen. Why, that 's 'my fortune too ; therefore I '11 'stay. 
 North. Be it with resolution then to ' fight. 
 Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords. 
 And ' hearten those that fight in your defence. 
 
 * O. H. Darraigne. 
 
Scene v.] KING HENRY VI PART III. 265 
 
 Unsheathe your sword, good father : cry, " Saint 
 George ! " CKxeunt. 
 
 The student of history will observe that the Dramatist passes over 
 two important engagements — the battle at Mortimer's Cross, and a 
 second battle at St. Albans ; in order to concentrate our attention 
 on the more important encounter near Towton in Yorkshire — on 
 Palm Sunday, 1461. We linger, in imagination, on the outskirts 
 of the field, which, from a little hillock, we may survey, whilst we 
 listen to the monologue of the King : 
 
 K. Hen. This battle fares like to the 'morning's war, 
 When dying 'clouds contend with growing 'light; 
 What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
 Can call it neither perfect day nor night. 
 Now sways it ' this way, — like a mighty sea 
 Forced by the tide to combat with the wind : 
 Now sways it ' that way, — like the selfsame sea 
 Forced to 'retire by fury of the wind : 
 Sometime, the 'flood prevails ; and then, the 'wind ; 
 Now, one the better ; then, another best ; 
 ' Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast : 
 So is the equal poise of this fell war. — • 
 Here, on this molehill, will I sit me down . . . 
 To whom ' Heaven will, there be the victory ! 
 For Margaret my Queen, and Clifford too. 
 Have chid me ' from the battle ; swearing, both. 
 They prosper best of all when I am ' thence. 
 'Would I were 'dead ! if Heaven's good will were so ; 
 For what is in this world but grief and woe ? 
 O Heaven ! methinks, it were a ' happy life, 
 To be no better than a homely 'swain ; 
 To sit upon a hill, as I do now ; 
 To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, — 
 Thereby, to see the 'minutes how they run ; 
 How many make the ' hoiir full complete ; 
 How many hoiirs bring about the 'day ; 
 How many days will finish up the 'year ; 
 How many years a mortal man may live : 
 When this is known, then to 'divide the times : 
 So many hoiirs must I tend my flock ; 
 So many hoiirs must I take my rest ; 
 So many hoiirs must I contemplate ; 
 So many hoiirs must I sport myself : — 
 So, minutes, hoiirs, days, aye, months, and years, 
 (Passed-over to the end they were created,) 
 
266 THE EEADEh's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Would bring 'white hairs unto a quiet grave. 
 
 Ah, what a life were ' this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! 
 
 Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade 
 
 To 'shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
 
 Than doth a rich-embroidered canopy 
 
 To 'kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? 
 
 O, yes, it doth ; a ' thousand-fold it doth. 
 
 And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely 'curds, 
 
 His cold thin 'drink out of his leather bottle. 
 
 His wonted 'sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 
 
 (All which secure and sweetly 'he enjoys,) 
 
 Is far beyond a 'prince's delicates,^ — 
 
 ' His viands sparkling in a 'golden cup, 
 
 His body couched upon a curious* bed, 
 
 When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. 
 
 The King's sympathies are aroused by two evidences of the hor- 
 rors of war. A young lad drags-in the corpse of a man whom he has 
 slain — when he discovers that he has killed his father ! And a 
 father, who has mortally wounded his son, rushes in with the man- 
 gled body in his arms. Both break forth into wild lamentations. 
 The sorrow-stricken King continues his monody : 
 
 Woe above woe ! grief more t'nan 'common. grief ! 
 
 O, that 'my death would stay these ruthful deeds ! 
 
 O, pity, pity ! gentle Heaven, pity ! — 
 
 The Red Rose, and the White, are on his face, 
 
 The fatal colours of our striving Houses : 
 
 The one his purple blood right- well resembles ; 
 
 The other his pale cheeks, methinks, present : 
 
 Wither 'one rose, and let the other ' flourish ! 
 
 If you 'contend, a thousand lives must wither. 
 
 Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, 
 
 jHere sits a King more wof ul than you are ! 
 
 ^Suddenly alarums are heard, and, shortly after, a retreat is 
 : sounded. Queen Margaret's troops are defeated, and the weak- 
 minded King is hurried away to Scotland. The Yorkists, led by 
 . Prince Jidward, have gained the victory — and thirty-six thousand 
 <dead are lying around. The conquerors enter, headed by the three 
 .surviving sons of the old Duke of York — Princes Edward, George, 
 .^nd , the hunchback Richard: with Warwick, the King-maker. 
 ^.Fipding on the field the corpse of Lord Clifford, Warwick triumph- 
 . antly says : 
 
 'War. i QS^.y^ith the traitor's head. 
 
 And, pgar it in the place your ' father's stands. 
 . And now to London with triumphant march, 
 , There .tq.^e crowned as England's royal king. 
 
 * Anxious, full of care. 
 
Act 3, Scene ii.] KING HENBY IV — PART III. 267 
 
 From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to ' Prance, 
 And ask the Lady Bona for thy Queen. 
 Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be ; 
 For on thy shoulder do I build my seat ; 
 And never will I undertake the thing 
 Wherein thy counsel and consent are wanting.— 
 Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloster ; — 
 And George, of Clarence ; — Warwick, as ourself. 
 Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. 
 Now to London, Lords, 
 
 To see these honours in possession. [Eseaot. 
 
 After this battle of Towton, in 1461, King Henry and Queen Mar- 
 garet found refuge in Scotland ; and, taking advantage of their 
 absence, the citizens of London soon placed Prince Edward of York 
 on the throne, under the title of King Edward the Fourth. The 
 Scots promised slight assistance to the royal fugitives ; and then 
 the Queen proceeded to France to solicit more effectual help. Re- 
 turning to England, the Battle of Hexham (in Northumberland) was 
 fought (in May, 1464). The victory again belonged to the Yorkists ; 
 and Queen Margaret and her son. Prince Edward (then a boy ten 
 years of age) returned to France : thence she proceeded to her 
 father's Court, where she lived for several years in privacy and re- 
 tirement. 
 
 While the Earl of Warwick is on his mission to secure the Lady 
 Bona of Savoy (sister to the crafty King Louis the Eleventh of 
 France,) as bride to the young monarch of England ; we return to 
 the Palace in London — where we find King Edward in conversation 
 with the beautiful Lady Elizabeth Woodville, or Grey. This lady 
 is a widow, and now waits on the young King to supplicate him 
 on behalf of her children's property. The Dukes of Clarence and 
 Gloster are standing near, listening to the interview of the amorous 
 King and his fair petitioner : 
 
 K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field 
 This lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain. 
 His lands then seized-on by the conqueror : 
 Her suit is now, to 'repossess those lands, — 
 Widow, we will consider of your suit, 
 And come some other time to know our mind. 
 
 L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook 'delay: 
 May it please your highness to resolve me 'now, 
 And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me. 
 Gloster whispers to Clarence : 
 
 Glo. Ay, widow % then I '11 warrant you aU your lands. 
 An if what pleases ' him shall pleasure 'you. 
 
 K. Edw. . . . How 'many children hast thou, widow! teU 
 
268 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Zi. Gh-ey. Three, my most gracious lord. 
 
 K. JEdw. 'T were pity, they should lose their father's lands. 
 
 X. Grey. 'Be pitiful, dread lord, and 'grant it then. 
 
 K. JEdw. Lords, give us leave : I '11 try this vridow's wit. — 
 
 Now tell me, madam, do you 'love your children? 
 Jj. Grrey. Ay, full as dearly as I love 'myself. 
 K. Edvi. And would you not do much, to do them good % 
 L. Ghrey. To do ' them good ' I would sustain some ' harm. 
 K. Edw. Then, 'get your husband's lands to do them good. 
 L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. 
 K. Edw. ... I '11 tell you ' how these lands are to be got. 
 L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your Highness' service. 
 K. Edw. ' What service wilt thou do me, if I give them % 
 L. Grey. What you 'command, — -that 'rests in me to do. 
 E. Edw. But you will take 'exceptions to my boon ? 
 L. Grey. No, gracious lord, — except I 'cannot do it. 
 K. Edw. Ay ! but thou 'canst do what I mean to ask. 
 -L. Grey. Whythen,! 'willdowhatyourgracecommands. . . . 
 
 Why stops my lord ? shall I not ' hear my task ? 
 E. Edvi. An 'easy task : — 't is but to love a king. 
 Zi. Grey. That 's soon performed, because I am a 'subject. 
 E. Edw. Why 'then, thy husband's lands I 'freely give 
 
 thee. 
 i. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks ! 
 E. Edw. Nay, staj^ thee, stay : thou dost not understand I 
 
 ' What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get 1 
 E. Grey. My love till 'death, my humble thanks, my prayers : 
 
 That love which virtue begs, and virtue grants. 
 E. Edio. No, by my troth, I did not mean 'such love. 
 X. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I ' thought you did. 
 E. Edw. Why, then thou shalt 'not have thy husband's 
 
 lands. 
 X. Grey. Why, then mine ' honesty shall be my dower ! 
 E. Edw. Therein thou 'wrong'st thy children mightily. 
 L. Grey. Herein your ' highness wrongs both them and me. 
 
 But, mighty lord, this 'merry inclination 
 
 Accords not with the sadness* of my suit ; 
 
 Please you dismiss me, either with Ay or No. 
 E. Edio. Aj, — if ' thou wilt say Ay to 'my request ; 
 
 No, — if thou dost say No to my demand. 
 i. Grey. Then, No, my lord. My suit is at an end. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth is retiring, but the young King follows her, and, 
 after a more satisfactory appeal, returns to the standers-by : 
 
Scene U.] KING HENRY VI — PABT III. 269 
 
 K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. 
 
 You'd think it strange if I should marry her "? 
 Glar. To whom, my lord ? 
 
 K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself. 
 
 Glo. That would be ' ten days' wonder at the least. 
 Glar. That 's a day longer than a wonder lasts. 
 K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell you both. 
 
 Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. 
 Enter a Nobleman. 
 
 Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken. 
 And brought your prisoner to your palace-gate. 
 
 K. Edw. See that he be conveyed unto the Tower : — 
 Widow, go you along. — Lords, use her honourably. 
 
 CP.xeuQt all bat Uloster. 
 
 Glo. Ay! Edward 'will use women 'honourably ! 
 Would he were 'wasted, marrow, bones, and all, 
 That from this match no hopeful branch may spring. 
 To 'cross me from the golden time I look for ! 
 And yet, between my soul's desii'e and me, 
 Are Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, 
 To take ' their rooms, ere ' I can place myself : — 
 A cold premeditation for my purpose ! 
 Why then, I do but 'dream on sovereignty ; 
 Flattering me with ' impossibilities ! — 
 My eye 's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much. 
 Unless my hand and strength could 'equal them. 
 Well, say there is 'no kingdom then for Richard, 
 What 'other pleasure can the world afford % 
 I '11 deck my body in gay ornaments, 
 And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks — 
 O miserable thought ! Love has forsworn me ! 
 And, for I 'should not deal in her soft laws. 
 She did corrupt frail Nature, with some bribe. 
 To shrink mine 'arm up, like a withered shrub : 
 To make an envious mountain on my ' back. 
 Where sits deformity to mock my body ; 
 To shape my ' legs of an unequal, size ; 
 To 'dis-proportion me in 'every part. 
 And am I then a man to be 'beloved? 
 
 monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought ! 
 Then, since this earth affords no joy to 'me 
 But to command, to check, to o'erbear such 
 As are of better person than myseK, 
 
 1 '11 make 'my heaven to dream upon the 'crown ! 
 
270 THE BBADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 And from this torment I will ' free myself, 
 
 Or 'hew my way out with a 'bloody axe. 
 
 Why, I can smile, — and 'murder while I smile ; 
 
 And cry, Content ! to that which 'grieves my heart ; 
 
 And wet my cheeks with 'artificial tears. 
 
 And frame my face to all occasions. 
 
 Can I do this, and cannot get a 'crown 1 
 
 Tut ! were it further off, I '11 'pluck it down. [Hjit. 
 
 After a very brief wooing, the young King is immediately mar- 
 ried to the fair widow. 
 
 The Earl of Warwick is meanwjiile on his royal mission to the 
 court of King Lewis in Paris. Notwithstanding the opposition of 
 Queen Margaret, the English proposals are favourably received : and 
 the French King at once orders the Articles of Marriage to be 
 drawn up. In the midst of these proceedings, letters arrive, an- 
 nouncing the marriage of the English King : war is immediately 
 declared. 
 
 While preparations, assisted by the incensed Earl of Warwick, 
 are being made in France, the Scene changes, to King Edward's 
 Palace in London : Gloster and Clarence are again in conversation : 
 
 Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think 'you 
 Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey ? 
 Hath not our brother made a 'worthy choice ? 
 
 Clar. Alas ! you know, 't is far from hence to Prance : 
 How could he stay till "Warwick made return 1 
 Forbear awhile our talk : here comes the King. 
 I mind to tell him 'plainly what I think. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Edward, attended by Pembroke, Stafford, 
 and Hastings. 
 
 Jl. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our 
 choice. 
 That you stand pensive, as 'half malcontent? 
 Clar. ... As well as Lewis of France, or the Earl of 
 
 "Warwick. 
 K. Edxo. Suppose they take offence without a 'cause. 
 
 They are ' but Lewis and "Warwick : ' I am ' Edward, — 
 ' Your king and "Warwick's, — and must have my will. 
 Gloster says : 
 Qlo. And you 'shall have your will, ' because our King ; 
 
 Yet, 'hasty marriage seldom proveth well. 
 K. Edw. Yea, brother Richard ! are 'you. offended too ? 
 Glo. Not I : 
 
 No, Heaven forbid, that I should 'wish ' them severed, 
 
Scene i.] KING HENKY VI PART III. 271 
 
 Whom ' Heaven hath joined together ; ay, and 't were 
 pity 
 
 To 'sunder them that 'yoke so well together. 
 ^. JEdw. Setting your scorns, and your mislike, aside, 
 
 Tell me some 'reason why the lady Grey 
 
 Should 'not become my wife, and England's queen. — 
 
 Speak, Clarence, what you ' think. 
 Glar. Then this is 'mine opinion, — that King Lewis 
 
 Becomes your 'enemy — for 'mocking him 
 
 About the marriage of the Lady Bona. 
 Glo. And Warwick, 'doing what you gave in charge, 
 
 Is now dishonoured by this homely* marriage. 
 K. Mdw. England is safe, if true within itself % 
 Glar. Yes ; but the safer, when 't is 'backed with France. 
 
 Lord Hastings interposes : 
 Sast. 'T is better 'using Prance, than ' trusting Prance. 
 Let us be backed by heaven, and by the seas. 
 Which heaven hath given for fence impregnable ; 
 And, with ' their helps alone, defend ourselves : 
 In ' them, and in 'ourselves, our safety lies. 
 
 A Messenger enters : 
 jK". Edw. Now, messenger, what letters, or what news. 
 
 Prom Prance ? 
 Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters, — and few words ; 
 
 But such as I, without your special pardon. 
 
 Dare not relate. 
 K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore be brief. 
 Mess. Warwick, incensed against your majesty. 
 
 E'en more than Lady Bona or Queen Margaret, 
 
 Dismissed me with these words : — 
 
 " Tell him from me, that he hath done me 'wrong. 
 
 And therefore I '11 'un-crown him ere 't be long." 
 E. Edw. Ha ! durst the traitor breathe out so proud 
 words ? 
 
 Well, I will 'arm me, being thus forewarned : 
 
 But say, is Warwick ' friends with Margaret % 
 Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign : they 're 'so Unked in friend- 
 ship, 
 
 That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's 
 daughter. 
 
 At this unexpected intelligence, Clarence discloses his secret 
 resolution : 
 
 Glar. Now, brother King, farewell, and sit you fast. 
 
272 THE KEADEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 For I will hence to Warwick's 'other daughter ; 
 
 That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage 
 
 I may not prove inferior to 'yourself. — 
 
 Tou that love me and Warwick, follow me. [f I'd si": 
 
 Clarence hastily withdraws, followed by Somerset. 
 K. Edw. I rather would have ' foes than hollow friends ; 
 
 Now, brother Eichard, will 'you stand by us ? 
 Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. 
 K. Edw. Hastings, will you % And Montague, will you ? 
 
 Why, so ; then am I sure of victory. 
 
 Now therefore let us hence ; and lose no hour. 
 
 Till we 'meet Warwick with his foreign power. [Evoum. 
 
 King Edward instantly orders his army to take the field. Warwick, 
 on landing with his French and other forces, is joined by the Duke 
 of Clarence and the Earl of Somerset. A sudden night-attack is 
 made on the tent of King Edward, and he, being taken prisoner, is 
 placed under the custody of the Archbishop of York : while Henry 
 is released from the Tower, and, by the influence of Warwick, again 
 seated on the regal throne. 
 
 Warwick's successes justify his title of King-maker. To 
 strengthen his position, his eldest daughter is married to the Duke 
 of Clarence : and his second daughter, the Lady Anne, to young 
 Prince Edward, son of King Henry the Sixth. In gratitude, Henry 
 appoints Warwick and Clarence joint Protectors of the English 
 crown. 
 
 The imprisonment of young King Edward the Fourth by the 
 Archbishop of York is of no long continuance. Assisted by his 
 brother the Duke of Gloster, he escapes to Flanders, whence he 
 soon returns aided by a number of foreign soldiers. He is now 
 joined by his second brother, the Duke of Clarence, who, notwith- 
 standing his late marriage, turns against Warwick. 
 
 Another great battle ensues, at Barnet near London, (in April, 
 1471 ;) in which King Edward is victorious, — and Warwick the King- 
 maker is slain. 
 
 Even at the time of Warwick's death, assistance is at hand. 
 Queen Margaret, with her bride-groom son, has landed (King Henry 
 being again a prisoner in the Tower) and she is supported by 
 Somerset, Oxford, and a few other noblemen who still adhere to 
 the waning fortunes of the House of Lancaster. 
 
 On the plain near Tewkesbury, in her tent, the unsubdued Queen 
 Margaret, with her son Prince Edward, addresses Somerset, Oxford, 
 and others. 
 
 Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and 'wail their loss, 
 But cheerly seek how to 'redress their harms. 
 Say, Warwick 'was our anchor ; what of that ? 
 
Scenes iv and v.] KING HENRY VI — PABT III. 273 
 
 And Montague our topmast ; what of him ? 
 
 Why, is not Oxford here 'another anchor 1 
 
 And Somerset another goodly mast 1 
 
 And, though unskUful, why not Ned and I 
 
 Por once allowed the skilful pilot's charge '? 
 
 ' We will not from the helm, to sit and weep. 
 
 Bub keep our course, though the rough wind say no, 
 
 As good to 'chide the waves, as speak them ' fair. 
 
 And what is Edward but a ruthless sea ? 
 
 What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit ? 
 
 And Richard, but a rugged fatal rock? 
 
 All these the enemies to our poor bark. 
 
 Say, you can swim ; alas ! 't is but a while : 
 
 Tread on the sand ; why, there you quickly sink : 
 
 Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you off, 
 
 Or else you famish. Would you fly from 'iis ? 
 
 There is no hoped-for mercy with the brothers. 
 
 More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and i ocks. 
 
 Why, courage, then ! what cannot be 'avoided, 
 
 'T were childish weakness to 'lament, or fear. 
 
 Therefore, no more but this : — Henry, your sovereign, 
 
 Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurped, 
 
 His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain. 
 
 His statutes cancelled, and his treasure spent ; 
 
 And yonder is the 'wolf that 'makes this spoO. 
 
 'You fight in 'justice : then, in heaven's name, lords, 
 
 Be valiant, and give 'signal to the fight! [Eseum. 
 
 This battle of Tewkesbury — fought on May 4th, 1471 — resulted in 
 the total defeat of the Lancastrians. Queen Margaret and her son 
 are taken prisoners, and brought before young King Edward, who 
 is accompanied by the Dukes of Clarence and Gloster. The young 
 King speaks : 
 
 IT. Edw. Now, here a 'period of tumultuous broils. 
 Away with Somerset and Oxford straight : 
 Off with their heads ! P"- "Jar"*!"""- 
 
 Bring forth Prince Edward: let us hear 'him speak. 
 
 fThe Priuc ' is led iu guarded. 
 
 Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make 
 For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects. 
 And 'all the trouble thou hast turned me to ? 
 Prince. Speak like a 'subject, proud ambitioui York ! 
 Suppose, that I am now my ' father's mouth : — 
 Resign thy chair, and, where ' I stand, kneel ' thou ; 
 Whilst I propose the selfsame words to ' thee, 
 Which, traitor, ' thou wouldst have 'me answer to. 
 
274 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 K. JEdw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue. 
 Clur. Untutored lad, thou art too malapert. 
 Prince. I know my duty : 'you are all 'un-dutiful. 
 
 Lascivious Edward, — and thou perjured George, — 
 
 And ' thou mis-shapen Dick, — I tell ye all, 
 
 I am your ' better, traitors as ye are ; 
 
 And 'thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. 
 
 The Prince is instantly stabbed by King Edward, Gloster, and 
 Clarence. Queen Margaret is also about to be slain by Gloster, 
 but the King interferes and saves her. Gloster then hastens away, 
 whispering : 
 
 Gl.o. Clarence, excuse me to the King, my brother. 
 I '11 hence to London, on a 'serious matter : 
 Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. 
 
 Clar. What? what? 
 
 Glo. The Tower ! the Tower ! cexu. 
 
 Queen Margaret — recovering from her swoon at beholding her 
 
 son's unexpected slaughter — exclaims : 
 
 Q. Mar. O Ned ! sweet Ned ! speak to thy mother, boy : 
 
 Canst thou 'not speak? — O traitors! murderers ! 
 
 Butchers and villains ! bloody cannibals ! 
 
 How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped ! 
 
 'You have no children, butchers ! if you had, 
 
 The thought of them would sure have stirred remorse. 
 TT. Edw. Away with her ! go, bear her hence 'perforce. 
 Q. Mor. Nay, never bear me ' hence, despatch me ' here : 
 
 ' Here sheathe thy sword — I '11 pardon thee 'my death. 
 
 What ! wilt thou not ? — -then, Clarence, do it ' thou. 
 Clar. By Heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. 
 Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do ! sweet Clarence, do ' thou 
 
 doit! 
 Clar. Didst thou not hear me 'swear I would not do it ? 
 Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to 'for-swear thyself : 
 
 'T was sin ' before, but now 't is 'charity. 
 
 W^hat ! wUt thou not ? Where is that hideous butcher, 
 
 Hard-favoured Richard ? Richard, where art ' thou ? 
 
 Thou art not here : murder is thy 'alms-deed ; 
 
 Petitioners for blood ' thou ne'er putt'st back. 
 IC. JEdw. Away, I say ! I charge ye, bear her hence. 
 Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince ! 
 
 CRxit, guarded. 
 
 The frantic Queen is forcibly removed. 
 K. Edw. Clarence, where 's Richard gone ? 
 Clar. To London, all in post ; and, as I guess. 
 To make a ' bloody supper in the Tower. 
 
Scene VI.] KING HENRY VI — PAST HI. 275 
 
 K. JEdw. He 's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. 
 Now march we hence : discharge the common sort 
 With pay and thanks, and let 's away to London. [Exeunt. 
 
 The Scene now before us is a Room in the Tower, where we see 
 King Henry seated, a book in his hand, and the Lieutenant attend- 
 ing. Intelligence of the battle and of its melancholy consequences 
 has just reached the royal prisoner, when the Duke of Gloster un- 
 ceremoniously enters : 
 
 Glo. Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard ? 
 K. Sen. Ay, my good lord : my 'lord, I should say rather : 
 
 'T is sin to flatter ; therefore, 'not good lord. 
 Qlo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves : we must confer. 
 
 The obsequious Lieutenant withdraws. 
 S^. Sen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf. 
 
 What scene of death hath Roscius* 'now to act ? 
 Glo. Suspicion always haunts the 'guilty mind: 
 
 The ' thief doth fear each bush an 'officer. 
 IC. Hen. The ' bird, that hath been already limed. 
 
 With trembling wings, misdoubteth every bush ; 
 
 And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird. 
 
 Have now the fatal object in my eye. 
 
 Where 'my poor young was limed, was caught, and 
 killed. 
 Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,! 
 
 That taught his son the office of a 'fowl? 
 
 And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drowned. 
 JS^. Sen. Ah, kill me with thy 'weapon, not with words! 
 
 My breast can better brook thy 'dagger's point 
 
 Than can my ears that tragic history. 
 
 But wherefore dost thou come ? is 't for 'my life ? 
 Glo. Think'st thou I am an 'executioner 1 
 K. Sen. If murdering ' innocents be executing. 
 
 Why, then thou 'art an executioner. 
 Glo. Thy 'son I killed for his presumption. 
 K. Sen. Hadst 'thou been killed, when flrst thou didst 
 presume. 
 
 Thou hadst not lived to kiU a son of 'mine. 
 
 And thus I prophesy, — that many a thousand. 
 
 Who now mistrust no parcel of 'my fear. 
 
 And many an old man's sigh, and widow's groan. 
 
 And many an orphan's water-standing eye, — 
 
 Men for then- sons', wives for their husbands'. 
 
 And orphans for their parents' timeless death, — 
 
 * The great Boman actor— died about 60 years B. C. t Keferring to the story of 
 
 Dsedalus and Icarus. 
 
276 THE RBADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. 
 The owl shrieked at thy birth, — an evil sign ! 
 The night-crow cried, — foreboding* luckless time ! 
 Dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees ; 
 The raven rooked her on the chimney's top, 
 And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
 Thy mother felt 'more than a mother's pain. 
 And yet brought forth ' less than a mother's hope ; 
 Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born, 
 To signify, thou cam'st to ' bite the world : 
 And, if the rest be true which I have heard. 
 Thou cam'st — 
 Glo. I '11 hear no more ; — die, prophet, in thy speech : 
 For this, amongst the rest, was I 'ordained. 
 
 The enraged Richard furiously stabs the defenceless King.f 
 
 K. Sen. Ay, and for much more slaughter 'after this. 
 
 ! Heaven forgive my sins, and pardon thee. cfies. 
 (xlo. What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
 
 ' Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have 'mounted. 
 See, how my 'sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 
 
 0, may such 'purple tears be always shed 
 
 From those that 'wish the downfall of our House ! — • 
 
 If any spark of life be yet remaining, 
 
 Down, down to hell ; and say ' I sent thee thither : [^'JjaiS!'" 
 
 1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 
 Indeed, 't is true, what Henry told me of ; 
 For I have often heard my mother say. 
 When I came in the world, the women cried, 
 
 " Good heaven bless us, he is born with teeth ! " 
 And so I was ; which plainly signified 
 That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. 
 Then, since the ' heavens have shaped my ' body so, 
 Let 'hell make crook'd my 'mind to answer it. 
 
 1 have no brother, I am ' like no brother ; 
 
 And this word Love, — which greybeards call divine, — 
 
 Be resident in men like one another. 
 
 And not in 'me : — I am 'myself 'alone. — 
 
 Clarence, beware : thou keep'st me from the light ; 
 
 But I wUl sort a pitchy day for ' thee : 
 
 For I will buzz abroad such prophecies. 
 
 That Edward shall be fearful of his life ; 
 
 And then, to purge his fear, I '11 be 'thy death. — 
 
 King Henry, and the Prince his son, are gone : 
 
 * O. R. aboding. t Tlie death of King Henry VI -was on May 22a, 1471. 
 
Scene vil.] KING HENKY VI PART III. 277 
 
 Clarence, ' thy turn is next, and then the 'rest ; 
 
 Counting myself but bad, till'I be 'best. — 
 
 I 'U throw thy body in another room, 
 
 And triumph, Henry, in ' thy day of doom.* [ri.e'bodj'; 
 
 King Edward the Fourth is now the undisputed possessor of the 
 English throne ; and his Queen — formerly the Lady Elizabeth 
 Grey — has lately presented him with a son, the unfortunate Edward 
 the Fifth of future history. The happy father says : 
 
 K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne, 
 ' Ee-purchased with the blood of enemies. 
 Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. — 
 And now what rests, but that we spend the time 
 With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows. 
 Such as befits the pleasure of the Court ? 
 Sound, drums and trumpets ! — farewell, sour annoy ! 
 For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Ewunt. 
 
 End of King Henet the Sixth. 
 
 EEPEINTS. 
 
 From the First Part of the " Contention betwixt the Two Famous Houses of York© 
 and Lancaster,''— as printed in 1594. 
 
 Enter King and Salsbury, and then the Curtaines be drawne, and 
 the Cardinall is discouered in his bed, rauing and staring as if he 
 were madde : 
 
 Car. Oh death, if thou wUt let me Hue but one whole yeare, 
 lie giue thee as much gold as wUl purchase such 
 another Hand. 
 Kin. O see my Lord of Salsbury how he is troubled. 
 
 Lord Cardinall, remember Christ must saue thy soule.. 
 Car. "Why died.he not in his bed? 
 
 What would you haue me to do then ? 
 
 Can I make men liue whether they will or no % 
 
 Sirra, go fetch me the strong poison which the Pothi- 
 
 cary sent me. 
 Oh see where Duke Humphreys ghoast doth stand. 
 And stares me in the face. Looke, looke, coame downe 
 
 his haire, 
 So now hees gone againe : Oh, oh, oh. 
 Sal. See how the panges of death doth gripe his heart. 
 Kin. Lord Cardinall, if thou diest assured of heauenly 
 blisse, 
 Hold vp thy hand and make some signe to vs. 
 The Cardinall dies. 
 
 * For a reprint of this Speech, see the following page : (p. 278). 
 
278 THE READEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Reprints. 
 
 Oh see he dies, *and makes no signe at all. 
 
 Oh God forgiue his soule. 
 Sal. So bad an ende did neuer none behold, 
 
 But as his death, so was his life in all. 
 Kin. Forbeare to iudge, good Salsbury forbeare, 
 
 For God will iudge vs all. 
 
 Go take him hence, and see his funerals be performde. 
 
 From the Second Part of the " Contention " — " The True Tragedle of Richard Duke 
 of 'Xorke and the good King Henrie the Sixt "— ag printed in 1595. 
 
 Glo. What ■? will the aspiring bloud of Lancaster 
 
 Sinke into the ground, I had thought it would haue 
 
 mounted, 
 See how my sword weepes for the poore kings death. 
 Now maie such purple teares be alwaies shed. 
 For such as seeke the downefall of our house. 
 If anie sparke of life remaine in thee, \_Stab him againe. 
 Downe, downe to hell, and saie I sent thee thither. 
 I that haue neither pittie, loue nor feare. 
 Indeed twas true that Henry told me of. 
 For I haue often heard my mother saie. 
 That I came into the world with my legs forward, 
 And had I not reason thinke you to make hast. 
 And seeke their ruines that vsurpt our rights ? 
 The women wept and the midwife cride, 
 
 lesus ble^se vs, he is borne with teeth. 
 And so I was indeed, which plainelie signifide. 
 That I should snarle and bite, and plaie the dogge. 
 Then since Heauen hath made my bodie so, 
 
 Let hell make crookt my mind to answere it. 
 
 1 had no father, I am like no father, 
 
 I haue no brothers, I am like no brothers. 
 
 And this word Loue which greybeards tearme diuine, 
 
 Be resident in men like one another. 
 
 And not in me, I am my selfe alone. 
 
 Clarence beware, thou keptst me from the light. 
 
 But I will sort a pitchie dale for thee. 
 
 For I will buz abroad such prophesies. 
 
 As Edward shall be fearefull of his life, 
 
 And then to purge his feare. He be thy death. 
 
 Henry and his sonne are gone, thou Clarence next, 
 
 And by one and one I will dispatch the rest. 
 
 Counting my selfe but bad, till I be best. 
 
 He drag thy bodie in another roome. 
 
 And triumph Henry in thy daie of doome. \_Exit. 
 
KING HICH^RD III. 
 
 The Tragedy of Richard the Third may be considered Shake- 
 speare's first original Enghsh historical play, although it owes much 
 of its dramatic colouring to the older play of The True Tragedy of 
 Richard Duke of York, which was printed in 1595, and which 
 Shakespeare embodied in the Third Part of King Henry the Sixth. 
 
 Shakespeare's Richard the Third was first printed in 1597, with 
 the following title : — " The Tragedy of King Richard the Third : con- 
 taining — His treacherous Plots against his brother Clarence : the 
 pitiful murther of his innocent Nephewes : his tyrannicall vsurpation : 
 ivith the whole course of his detested life, and most deserued death. 
 As it hath been lately acted by the Right Honourable the Lord 
 Chamberlain his Servants." In the folio of 1623, it is called "The 
 Tragedy of Richard the Third, with the Landing of Earle Richmond, 
 and the Battell at Bosworth Field." 
 
 The Tragedy was for a long time very popular on the stage ; 
 but now — as an acted drama — it is not directly taken from the poet's 
 text, but is a compilation chiefly from the Third Part of King Henry 
 the Sixth — very effectively selected and augmented by CoUey Gib- 
 ber (in 1700,) and since then adopted by nearly all our eminent act- 
 ors. In the earlier years of the performance of Gibber's version, 
 the greater part of the First Act was suppressed by the dramatic 
 licenser, on the plea that the murder of the imprisoned King Henry 
 might suggest to the English malcontents a similar fate either for 
 William, the King over the laud, or for James, the King over the 
 ■water. As soon as the fear of assassination ceased, the restriction 
 was withdrawn, and the sword of every modern Roscius still " weeps 
 for the poor King's death." 
 
 In the Tragedy of Richard III, historical facts have been fre- 
 quently blended with tradition — a very fruitful source of error. Un- 
 der the lynx-eyed jealousy of the Tudor-queen Elizabeth, it was 
 policy to paint this hero of thc-House of York in the darkest colours ; 
 not only to prove the poet's attachment to the political principles of 
 the Lancastrian race, but to compliment the succeeding dynasty of 
 the Tudors ; by presenting, under the appearance of Virtue in op- 
 position to Vice, a fair if not a plausible claim to public estimation ; 
 in having delivered a suffering nation from a tyrannical monster, to 
 make way for the accession of King Henry the Seventh. There is, 
 here, therefore, " no scandal against Queen Elizabeth." 
 
 The Dramatis Personae retained in this Gondensation are : 
 
280 
 
 THE KEADER S SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 King Edwakd the Foubth. 
 Edward, Prince of ~| 
 
 Wales, afterwa/rds 
 
 King Edward V, 
 KiCHABD, Duke of 
 
 York, J 
 
 Sons to 
 the King. 
 
 of^ 
 
 Brothers 
 to the 
 
 Geokge, Duke 
 
 Clarence. 
 EicHARD, Duke of \ 
 
 Oloster, afterwards 
 King Bicliard III, J 
 
 Heket, Earl of Richmond, after- 
 wards King Henry VII. 
 
 Dtjke or Buckingham. 
 
 Duke of Nokpolk. 
 
 Eakl of Sueeet, Ms Son. 
 
 Earl Kitees, Brotlier to Queen 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Marquis of Dorset and Lord 
 Grey, Sons to Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Earl of Oxford. 
 
 LoED Hastings. 
 Lord Stanley. 
 
 SiK BiCHAED EaTCLIFF. 
 
 Sir James Tyrrel. 
 
 Sir William Catesbt. 
 
 Sir Bobert Brakenbuby, Lieu- 
 tenant of the Tower. 
 
 Tbessel and Bebkeley, attend- 
 ing on Lady Anne. 
 
 Lord Mayor of London. 
 
 Elizabeth, widow of Sir John 
 Qrey, but now Queen to King 
 Edward IV. 
 
 Margaret, Widow of King Henry 
 VI. 
 
 Duchess op York, Mother to King 
 Edward IV. 
 
 Lady Anne, Widow of Edwa/rd 
 Prince of Wales, (afterwards 
 married to King Richard III.) 
 
 Lwds and other Attendants; a 
 Pursuiiiant, Citizens, Messen- 
 gers, Soldiers, &c. 
 
 The Time of the entire Play extends from the murder of King^ 
 Henry VI, in 1471, to the accession of Henry VII, in 1485 : the in- 
 tervening reigns were those of Edward IV, (died 1483,) and Edward 
 V, (murdered in the same year). The reign of King Richard III be- 
 gan in 1483 and was terminated by his death, in 1485, at the Battle 
 of Bosworth-field. 
 
 The Scene of the Action is wholly in England. 
 
 We have before us a Street (in London) in which the Duke [of 
 Gloster is moodily walking, while waiting the arrest of his brother, 
 the Duke of Clarence, who is to be led this way. 
 
 Glo. Now is the ' Winter of our dis-content 
 
 Made glorious ' Summer by this sun of York ; 
 And all the clouds, that loured upon our House, 
 In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
 Now are 'our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; 
 Our bruised 'arms hung up for monuments ; 
 Our stern 'alarums changed to 'merry meetings. 
 Our dreadful 'marches to 'delighful measures. 
 Grim-visaged War hath smoothed his wrinkled front ; 
 And now, — instead of mounting barbed steeds 
 To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — 
 He capers nimbly, in a lady's chamber, 
 To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
 
Scene i.] KING EICHAED III. 281 
 
 But I, that am not shaped for 'sportive tricks, 
 Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ; 
 I, that am 'rudely stamped, and want love's majesty 
 To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ; 
 I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, 
 Cheated of feature by dissemblmg Nature, 
 Deformed, unfinished, sent ' before my time 
 Into this breathing world, — scarce ' half made-up ; 
 And that so lamely and unfashionable, 
 That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them ; 
 Why, I, in this weak piping time of 'peace. 
 Have no delight to pass away the time, — 
 Unless to see my shadow in the sun 
 And descant on mine own deformity: 
 And therefore, since I cannot prove a 'lover, 
 I am determined to prove a 'villain. 
 Plots have I laid, by prophecies, and dreams. 
 To set my brother Claren6e, and the King, 
 In deadly hate the one against the other : 
 And, if King Edward be as true and just 
 As 'I am subtle, false and treacherous. 
 This day should Clarence closely be mewed-up, 
 About a prophecy ; which says — that " G " 
 Of Edward's heirs the 'murderer shall be. — 
 Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! Here Clarence 
 comes. 
 
 The Duke of Clarence is brought in guarded ; attended by 
 Brakenbury, the Lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 Brother, good day : What means this 'armed guard 
 
 That waits upon your grace ? 
 Clar. His majesty, 
 
 Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed 
 
 This conduct, to convey me to the ' Tower. 
 Glo. Upon what 'cause 1 
 
 Clar. Because my name is ' George. 
 
 Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of 'yours ; 
 
 He should, for 'that, commit your 'godfathers. 
 
 But what 's the 'matter, Clarence 1 May I know? 
 Clar. Yea, Richard, when ' I know ; for, I protest, 
 
 As ' yet I do not : but, as I can learn, 
 
 He hearkens after prophecies and dreams ; 
 
 And says, a Wizard told him — that, by " G " 
 
 His issue disinherited should be. 
 
 This, as I learn, and such Uke toys as these. 
 
282 THE EEADEK's SHAKESPEAEE. [Aotl. 
 
 Have moved his highness to 'commit me now. 
 
 Glo. Why, this it is when men are ruled by 'women. — 
 'Tis not the 'King that sends you to the Tower ; 
 My Lady Grey his 'wife, Clarence — 't is she 
 That tempts him to this harsh extremity. 
 ' "We are not safe, Clarence ; we are not 'safe. 
 Brakenbury advances : 
 
 Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me ; 
 His majesty hath straitly given in charge 
 That 'no man shall have 'private conference. 
 Of what degree soever, with his brother. 
 
 G-lo. Even so ? An 't please your worship, Brakenbury, 
 You may 'partake of anything we say : 
 We speak no 'treason, man;^we say, the King 
 Is wise and virtuous ; and his noble Queen 
 W^ell struck in years ; fair, and not 'over-jealous ; — 
 We say that ' Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, 
 A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a 'passing-pleasing tongue ; 
 And the Queen's ' kindred are made 'gentlefolks : 
 How say you, sir % can you deny all this % 
 
 Brak. With this, my lord, myself have naught to do. 
 I do 'beseech your grace to pardon me ; 
 'Forbear your conference with the noble Duke. 
 
 Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. 
 
 Glo. We are the Queen's 'abjects, and 'must obey. 
 Well, your imprisonment shall not be long ; 
 ' I will deliver you, or else lie* ' for you : 
 Meantime, have patience, brother. 
 
 Clar. I must, perforce. Farewell, [a^d Sk! 
 
 Glo. . . . Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. 
 Simple, plain Clarence ! I do ' love thee so, 
 That I will shortly send thy soul to 'heaven, — 
 If heaven will ' take the present at our hands. 
 King Edward cannot live ; but must not die 
 Till 'George be packed with post-horse up to heaven. 
 I '11 in, to urge his hatred 'more to Clarence, 
 With ' lies well steeled with weighty 'arguments ; 
 And, if I 'fail not in my deep intent, 
 Clarence hath not 'another day to live : 
 Which done. Heaven take King Edward to its mercy. 
 And leave the world for 'me to bustle in ! 
 For, then, I '11 marry Warwick's youngest daughter. 
 What though I killed her husband, and her father ? 
 The readiest way to make the wench amends, 
 
 * Be imprisoned. 
 
Scene u.] KING BICHABD in. 283 
 
 Is, to ' become her husband and her father. . . . 
 But yet I run 'before my horse to market : 
 Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives, and reigns ; 
 When they are 'gone, — ' then must I count my gains ! 
 
 The next Scene brings before us another Street in London. Lady 
 Anne, the widow of Prince Edward, is now following in the fiineral 
 procession of the lately murdered King Henry the Sixth. 
 
 The corpse of King Henry the Sixth is borne in an open coffin, at- 
 tended by Gentlemen with halberds to guard it — among them Tres- 
 sell and Berkeley ; Lady Anne being the chief mourner. 
 
 The Duke of Gloster contemptuously surveys, at a distance, the 
 mournful procession. Lady Anne speaks : 
 
 Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load, — 
 Whilst I awhile obsequiously* lament 
 The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. 
 Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood ! 
 Be 't lawful that I invocate thy 'ghost, 
 To hear the lamentations of poor Anne. 
 O, cursed be the hand that made these wounds If 
 Cursed the 'heart, that had the heart to do it ! 
 If ever he have 'wife, let her be made 
 As miserable by the death of ' him, 
 As ' I am made by my poor lord, and thee ! 
 Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load. 
 Gloster advances : 
 
 Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. 
 
 Anne. What black magician conjures-up this fiend ? 
 
 Glo. Villains, set-down the corse ; or, by Saint Paul, 
 I '11 'make a corse of him that disobeys ! 
 
 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. 
 
 Glo. Unmannered dog ! stand 'thou, when 'I command : 
 Advance thy halberd higher than my breast. 
 Or, by Saint Paul, I 'U strike thee to my foot. 
 And 'spurn upon thee, ' beggar, for thy boldness. 
 
 [The Beai era set dowu the colt.n. 
 
 Anne. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
 Thou hadst but power o'er his 'mortal body. 
 His 'soul thou canst not hurt 4 therefore, be gone ! 
 
 Glo. Sweet saint ! for charity, be not so curst. 
 
 Anne. Foul devil ! for heaven's sake, hence, and trouble us 
 not! 
 If thou delight to 'view thy heinous deeds. 
 Behold this 'pattern§ of thy butcheries. 
 No 'beast so fierce but knows 'some touch of pity. 
 
 * With funeral obsecjmes. t O, E. boles. t O. K. have § Example. 
 
284 THE KEADER's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Glo. But ' I know none — and therefore am 'no beast. 
 Anne. O wonderful, when 'devils tell the ' truth ! 
 Glo. 'More wonderful, when 'angels are so 'angry. — 
 
 Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, 
 
 Of these 'supposed crimes, to give me leave. 
 
 By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 
 Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make 
 
 'No excuse current, but to 'hang thyself. 
 Glo. By 'such despair, I should accuse ' myself. 
 Anne. And, by despairing only, stand excused, 
 
 For doing 'worthy vengeance on thyself. 
 
 That didst 'un-worthy slaughter upon others. 
 
 Didst ' thou not kill this King ? 
 Glo. I grant ye. 
 
 Anne. O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous ! 
 Glo. The fitter for the King of Heaven that hath him. 
 Anne. He is 'in heaven, where 'thou shalt never come. 
 Glo. Let him thank 'me, that holp to 'send him thither ; 
 
 For he was fitter for ' that place than earth. 
 Anne. And thou unfit for 'any place but 'hell. 
 Glo. But, gentle Lady Anne, 
 
 Is not the 'causer of these timeless deaths 
 
 As blameful as the 'executioner ? 
 Anne. 'Thou wast the cause, and most accursed 'efi'ect. 
 Glo. Your 'beauty was the cause of that effect ; 
 
 Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep 
 
 To undertake the death of all the 'world, — 
 
 So I might live one 'hour in your sweet bosom. 
 Anne. If I thought 'that, I tell thee, homicide. 
 
 These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks ! 
 Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's 'wrack ; 
 
 You should not ' blemish it, if ' I stood by : 
 
 As all the world is cherished* by the sun, 
 
 So I by 'that ; it is my 'day, my 'life! 
 Anne. Black 'night o'ershade thy day, and 'death thy life! 
 Glo. Curse not 'thyself, fair creature ; 'thou art 'both. 
 Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee ! 
 Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, 
 
 To be revenged on him that ' loveth you. 
 Anne. It is a quarrel just and 'reasonable. 
 
 To be revenged on him that slew my husband. 
 Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, 
 
 Did it — to help thee to a ' better husband. 
 Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. 
 
 * O. R. cheered. 
 
Scene ii] KING RICHARD III. 285 
 
 Glo. He lives, that ' loves thee better than ' he could. 
 
 Anne. Name him. 
 
 Glo. Plantagenet. 
 
 Anne. Why, that was he. 
 
 G-lo. The self-same 'name, but one of better 'nature. 
 
 Anne. Where is he ? 
 
 Glo. Here : . . . Why dost thou spit at me ? 
 
 Anne. Out of my sight ! thoa dost infect mine eyes. 
 
 Glo. ' Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected 'mine. 
 
 An7ie. 'Would they were 'basilisks,* to strike thee 'dead ! 
 
 Glo. ' I would they were, that I might die at 'once ; 
 For now they kUl me with a ' living death. 
 I never 'sued, to friend nor enemy ; 
 ' My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words ; 
 But, now thy ' beauty is proposed my fee, 
 My proud 'heart sues, and 'prompts my tongue to 
 
 speak. — 
 Teach not thy lips such 'scorn ; for they were made 
 For 'kissing, lady, not for such 'contempt. 
 If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 
 Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ; 
 Which, if thou please to hide in this true breast. 
 And let the soul forth that adoreth ' thee, 
 I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, 
 And humbly beg ' that death upon my knee. . . . 
 
 C^he tiesitatiDgly takes the sword. 
 
 Nay, do not pause ; for I 'did kill King Henry, — 
 But, 't was thy beauty, lady, that provoked me. 
 Nay, now despatch ; 't was I that stabbed young Ed- 
 ward, — 
 But, 't was thy heavenly face that set me on ! [^thllwOTdl' 
 Take-up the sword again, — or take-up 'me ! 
 
 Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I 'wish thy death, 
 I will not be thy 'executioner. 
 
 Glo. Then bid me kiU 'myself, and I will do it. 
 
 Anne. I have already. 
 
 Glo. Tush ! that was in thy 'rage : 
 
 Speak it again ; and, even with the 'word. 
 This hand, which, ' for thy love, did ' kill thy love, 
 Shall, for thy love, kUl a far ' truer love ; — 
 To 'both their deaths shalt thou be accessory. 
 
 Anne. I would I knew thy 'heart! 
 
 Glo. 'T is figured in my ' tongue. 
 
 Anne. I fear me, both are 'false. 
 
 Glo. Then never man was ' true. 
 
 * tabled serpents. 
 
286 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEAEE. [Actl. 
 
 Anne. . . . Well, well, put-up your sword. 
 Glo. Say, then, my peace is made ? 
 Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter. 
 Glo. But shall I live in ' hope 1 
 Anne. 'All men, I hope, live so. 
 Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. — 
 
 Look, how my ring encompasseth thy 'finger, 
 Even so thy breast encloseth my poor ' heart ; 
 Wear 'both of them, for both of them are 'thine ! 
 And if thy poor devoted suppliant may 
 But beg 'one favour at thy gracious hand, 
 Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever : — 
 That it may please thee leave these 'sad designs 
 To him that hath 'most cause to be a mourner. 
 And presently repair to Crosby Place ; 
 Where, after I have solemnly interred. 
 At Chertsey monastery, this noble king, 
 And wet his grave with my repentant tears, 
 I will, with all expedient* duty, see 'you : . . 
 For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, 
 Grant me this boon ? 
 Anne. With all my heart ; and much it joys me too. 
 
 To see you are become so penitent. 
 Glo. Bid me farewell? 
 
 Anne. 'T is more than you deserve ; 
 
 But, since you teach me how to ' flatter you. 
 Imagine I have 'said farewell already. [EiiitLadyA.,etc. 
 
 Lady Anne, Tressel, and Berkeley return to the funeral proces- 
 sion. Gloster hastily turns to the Officers who had before inter- 
 posed : 
 
 Glo. Sirs, take up the corse. 
 
 Gent. Towards 'Chertsey, noble lord? 
 
 Glo. No ! — to ' Whitefriars ; there attend 'my coming. 
 
 [All withdraw but Oloater. 
 
 Was ever woman in this humour 'woo'd ? 
 
 Was ever woman in this humour 'won ? 
 
 I '11 ' have her ! — but I will not ' keep her long. 
 
 What ! I, that killed her husband, and his father, 
 
 To take ' her, in her heart's extremest hate ; 
 
 With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes. 
 
 The bleeding witness of my hatred ' by ; 
 
 With heaven, her conscience, and these bars 'against 
 
 me ? 
 And I no friends to ' back my suit withal, 
 But the plain 'devil and dissembling looks, 
 
 * Expeditious. 
 
Scene iil.] KING EICHAKD HI. 287 
 
 And yet to 'win her, — all the world to nothing ! 
 
 And will she yet abase her eyes on 'me ? 
 
 On me, whose 'all not equals Edward's 'moiety ! 
 
 On me, that halt and am mis-shapen thus ? 
 
 My dukedom to a beggarly denier,* 
 
 I do 'mistake my person all this while : 
 
 Upon my life 'she finds, — although ' I cannot, — 
 
 Myself to be a marvellous-'proper man. 
 
 I '11 be at charges for a looking-glass ; 
 
 And entertain a score or two of tailors 
 
 To study fashions to 'adorn my body : 
 
 Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
 
 I will 'maintain it with some little cost. 
 
 But first, I '11 turn yon fellow to his grave ; 
 
 And then, . . . return lamenting to my love. — 
 
 Shine out, fair sun, 'till I have bought a glass. 
 
 That I may 'see my 'shadow as I pass. [exh. 
 
 We precede the Duke of Gloster to the Palace, where we see 
 Elizabeth the Queen Consort, accompanied by her brother, Lord 
 Rivers, and her sons by her first husband, — Lords Dorset and Grey. 
 Lord Rivers addresses his sister : 
 
 Jiiu. Have patience, madam : there 's no doubt his majestyf 
 Will soon 'recover his accustomed health. 
 
 Q. liJliz. If he were 'dead, what would betide on 'me ? 
 
 Grey. The heayens have blessed you with a goodly 'son. 
 To be your comforter when 'he is gone. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Oh, he is young ; and his minority 
 Is put unto the trust of Eichard Gloster — 
 A man that loves not 'me, nor 'none of you 
 
 Gloster, Hastings, and Dorset enter. 
 
 Olo. They do me 'wrong, and I will not endure 't ! 
 Who are they that complain unto the King, 
 That I, forsooth, am stem, and love them not % 
 Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair. 
 Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog. 
 Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
 I must be held a 'rancorous 'enemy ! 
 Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm. 
 But thus his simple truth must be 'abused 
 By sUken, sly, insinuating Jacks ?J 
 
 Riv. To whom, in all this presence, speaks your grace ? 
 
 * A small Frencll coin equal to the twelfth part of a sou^a petty coin given to 
 beggars. f King Edward IV. t Knaves. In some games of cards the Knaves 
 
 are still caUed Jacks, 
 
288 THE READEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Glo. To 'thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. 
 
 When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong? 
 Or thee ? Or thee ? Or 'any of your faction ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you 'mistake the matter. 
 The King, of his own royal disposition. 
 Hath sent for you ; that thereby he may gather 
 The 'ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. 
 
 Glo. I cannot tell : the world is grown so bad. 
 
 That 'wrens may* prey where 'eagles dare not 'perch : 
 Since every ' Jack became a 'gentleman. 
 There 's many a 'gentle person made a Jack. 
 
 'Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning, brother 
 Gloster ; 
 You envy 'my advancement and my ' friends' : 
 Heaven grant we never may have need of 'you ! 
 
 Glo. Meantime, Heaven grants that 'we have need of 'you : 
 Our brother is imprisoned by your means. 
 
 Q,. Eliz. By Him that raised me to this careful height, 
 I never did incense his majesty 
 Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been 
 An earnest advocate to plead ' for him. 
 My lord, you do me shameful injury! 
 
 Glo. You may deny that you were 'not the cause 
 Of my Lord ' Hastings' late imprisonment ? 
 The Queen's brother interposes : 
 
 Riv. She may, my lord ; for — 
 
 Glo. She may, Lord Rivers ! why, who ' knows not that she 
 may? 
 She may do 'more, sir, than denying that : — 
 She may help 'you to many fair preferments ; 
 And then deny her aiding hand therein. 
 And lay those honours on 'your ' high 'deserts. 
 What 'may she not ? She may, yea, marry, may she, — 
 
 Riv. What, marry, may she ? 
 
 Glo. What, marry, may she ? marry with a King, 
 A bachelor, a ' handsome stripling too : 
 I wis, your grandam had a 'worser match. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My Lord of Gloster, I have too long borne 
 Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs : 
 By heaven ! I will acquaint his majesty 
 With those gross taunts I often have endured. 
 I had rather be a country 'servant-maid 
 Than a great Queen, with this condition, — 
 To be thus taunted, scorned, and stormed at : 
 
Scene iii.] KING RICHAED HI. 289 
 
 Small 'joy have I in being England's 'Queen. — 
 Queen Margaret, who has entered unperceived, mutters : 
 Q. Mar. And ' lessened be that small, Heaven, I beseech 
 
 thee ! CSbe advances. 
 
 Thy honour, state, and seat are due to 'me. — 
 O gentle* villain, do not turn away ! 
 
 Glo. Foul wrinkled 'witch, what mak'st thou in my sight ? 
 Wert thou not banished ? — aye, on pain of death ? 
 
 Q. Mar. I was ; but find more 'pain in ' banishment. 
 Than 'death can yield me here by my 'abode. 
 A husband and a son 'thou ow'st to me ; — 
 And ' thou a kingdom ; — 'all of you allegiance ! 
 
 Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee, 
 
 When thou didst crown his warlike brows with 'paper. 
 His curses, — then from bitterness of soul 
 Denounced against thee, — are 'all fallen upon thee ! 
 
 Q. Mar. ' Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven ? 
 Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to 'my quick curses ! . . . 
 If not by 'war, by 'surfeitf die your King ! 
 [Em^bM™] Edward ' thy son, who now is Prince of Wales, 
 For Edward 'my son, who 'was Prince of Wales, 
 Die in his youth, by like untimely violence ! 
 Thyself a Queen, for me that 'was a Queen, 
 Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self ! 
 And see 'another, as I see ' thee now, 
 Decked in ' thy rights, as thou art stalled in 'mine ! 
 Long die thy ' happy days ' before thy death ; 
 And, after many 'lengthened hours of grief. 
 Die, — 'neither mother, wife, nor England's queen ! — 
 
 Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful withered hag ! 
 
 Q. Mar. And leave-out 'thee? Stay, dog, for thou 'shalt 
 hear me. 
 If heaven have any grievous plague in store, 
 ' Exceeding those that I can 'wish upon thee, 
 0, let them keep it tUl thy sins be 'ripe ! 
 No sleep close-up that deadly eye of thine ! 
 Thou 'rag of honour ! thou detested — 
 
 Glo. Margaret! 
 
 Q. Mar. O, let me make the 'period to my curse ! 
 
 Glo. 'T is done by 'me, and ends in — " Margaret ! " 
 Queen Elizabeth interrupts : 
 
 Q. SJliz. Thus have you breathed your curse against 'your- 
 self. [To Q. .Mar. 
 
 * High-born, royal. t Gluttony, luxurious excess. 
 
290 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act!. 
 
 Q. Mar. Poor painted Queen, vain flourish of 'my fortune ! 
 The time will come when thou shalt wish for 'me 
 To 'help thee curse that poisonous bunch-backed toad. 
 
 Hastings and Buckingham advance : 
 JTast. False-boding woman, 'end thy frantic curse. 
 Buck. Peace, peace ! for 'shame, if not for charity. 
 Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to 'me : 
 ' My charity is 'outrage, ' life my shame ! 
 O princely Buckingham, I '11 kiss thy hand, 
 In sign of league and amity with ' thee : 
 ' Thy garments are not spotted with our blood. 
 Nor thou within the compass of my curse. 
 
 Buckingham, take 'heed of yonder 'dog! 
 
 Look, when he fawns, he ' bites ; and 'when he bites. 
 His venom-tooth will rankle to the death ! 
 Have naught to do with him, beware of him ! 
 Gloster sneeringly asks : 
 
 Qlo. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham ? 
 
 Suck. Nothing that I 'respect, my gracious lord. 
 
 Q. Mar. "What ! dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel ? 
 O, but remember this another day, 
 When he shall split ' thy very heart with sorrow ; 
 And say — poor Margaret was a prophetess ! :E«it. 
 
 As Queen Margaret withdraws, Catesby enters and addresses 
 Queen Elizabeth : 
 
 Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you, — 
 And for your grace, — and you, my noble lords. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go with me ? 
 
 Riv. We wait upon your grace. [Ex. Queen, etc. 
 
 All follow the Queen but Gloster : 
 
 Glo. I 'do the wrong, and first begin to ' brawl. 
 The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, 
 
 1 lay unto the grievous charge of 'others. 
 Clarence, whom I, indeed, have cast in darkness, 
 I do beweep to 'many simple gulls ; 
 
 Namely, to Hastings, Stanley, Buckingham ; 
 
 And say, — it is the Queen and her allies 
 
 That stir the King against the Duke my brother. 
 
 But then I sigh ; and, with a piece of Scripture, 
 
 With old odd ends stolen forth of Holy Writ, 
 
 I seem a 'saint, when most I play the 'devil ! [Exit. 
 
 In the meantime Gloster, to clear away all obstructions to the 
 throne, resolves on the immediate death of his elder brother, the 
 Duke of Clarence— who is now a prisoner in the Tower. 
 
Scene iv.] KING EIOHAED III. 291 
 
 The Lieutenant, Sir Robert Brakenbury, has just entered the 
 prison-chamber : 
 
 JBrak. Why looks your grace so 'heavily to-day? 
 
 Vlar. O, I have passed a miserable night ! 
 
 So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,* 
 That, as I am a Christian-faithful man, 
 I would not spend 'another such a night. 
 Though 't were to buy a 'world of happy days, — 
 So full of dismal terror was the time ! 
 
 Jirak. ' "What was your dream, my lord ? I pray you, tell me. 
 
 Clar. Methought, that I had ' broken from the Tower, 
 And was embarked to cross to Burgundy ; 
 And, in my company, my brother Gloster, 
 "Who, from my cabin, tempted me to walk 
 Upon the hatches : thence we looked toward England, 
 And cited up a thousand fearful times, — 
 During the wars of York and Lancaster, — 
 That had befallen us. As we paced along 
 Upon the giddy ' footing of the hatches, 
 Methought, that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling. 
 Struck 'me, (that sought to stay him,) overboard, 
 Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
 O heaven ! methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
 What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears ! 
 What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
 Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
 A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon ; 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl. 
 Inestimable stones, unvaluedf jewels, — 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea : 
 Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and, in those holes 
 Where 'eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, — 
 As 't were in 'scorn of eyes, — reflecting 'gems, 
 That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 
 And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 
 
 Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death. 
 To gaze upon these secrets of the deep % 
 
 Clar. Methought I ' had ; and often did I strive 
 To 'yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
 KeptJ-'in my soul, and would not let it forth. 
 To find the empty vast, and wandering air ; 
 But 'smothered it within my panting bulk. 
 Which almost ' burst to belch it in the sea. 
 
 Brak. 'Awaked you not in this sore agony % 
 
 ' O. R. So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, t Beyond value. tO. B. Stop'd. 
 
292 THE KEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Clar. O, no ! my dream was lengthened 'after life ; 
 
 ! then began the tempest to my 'soul ! 
 
 1 passed, methought, the melancholy flood,* 
 With that grimf ferryman^ whom poets write of. 
 Unto the kingdom of perpetual Night. 
 
 The first that there did greet my stranger-soul, 
 Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; 
 Who cried aloud, "What scourge, for 'perjury, 
 Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence? " 
 And so ... he vanished : Then came wandering by 
 A Shadow, like an angel, with bright hair 
 Dabbled in blood ; and he 'shrieked out aloud, 
 " Clarence is come, — false, fleeting,§ perjured Clar- 
 ence — 
 That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury ; — 
 Seize on him. Furies ! take him to 'your torments ! " 
 With that methought, a ' legion of foul Fiends 
 Environed me, and howled into mine ears 
 Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 
 I trembling waked ; and, (for a season after,) 
 Could not believe but that I 'was in hell, — 
 Such ' terrible impression made my 'dream. 
 
 Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted 'you ; 
 ' I am afraid, methinks, to hear you ' tell it. 
 
 Clar. O Brakenbury, I have 'done those things 
 (Which now bear evidence against my soul,) 
 For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me ! — 
 O heaven ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
 Yet execute thy wrath on 'me alone ; 
 O, spare my guiltless 'wife, and my poor 'children ! — 
 Keeper, I pr'ythee, sit by me awhile ; 
 My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. 
 
 JBrah. I will, my lord ; Heaven give your grace good rest ! — 
 
 [Ciareijce sleeps. 
 
 Sorrow breaks seasons ; and 'reposing hours 
 
 Make the night morning, and the noon-tide night, [kxh. 
 
 Poor Clarence's dream was ominous of his doom. Brakenbury was 
 commanded, by royal warrant, to deliver the custody of the Duke 
 to hired assassins : this fraternal obstacle was, therefore, soon re- 
 moved ; dramatically, by the sword — historically, by drowning in a 
 butt of Malmsey — (in 1477). 
 
 The Scene changes to a Room of the Palace in London. 
 King Edward is led in sick ; Queen Elizabeth, Dorset, Rivers, 
 Hastings, Buckingham, Grey, and others are in the presence. 
 
 ' The Styx, a river of hell. t O. R. sour. X Charon, the ferryman of hell. 
 
 § Wavering, changing aides. 
 
Act a, Scene i.] KINa BICHARD HI. 293 
 
 K. JEdw. Why, so ! Now have I done a good day's work : — 
 You peers, 'continue this united league : 
 And then in peace my soul shall part to heaven, 
 Since I have made my ' friends at peace on 'earth. 
 Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand ; 
 Dissemble not your hatred, — swear your ' love. 
 
 Riv. By heaven ! my heart is purged from grudging ' hate ; 
 And, 'with my hand, I seal my true heart's love. 
 
 Hast. So thrive I, "as I truly swear the ' like ! 
 
 K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal ' thou this league 
 With thy embracements to my 'wife's allies. 
 And make me happy in your unity. 
 
 Buck. May I meet 'hate where I expect most 'love. 
 When I am cold in zeal to 'you or 'yours. 
 
 K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, 
 Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. 
 There wanteth now our brother Gloster here. 
 To make the blessed 'period of this peace. 
 
 Buck. And, in good time, here 'comes the noble Duke. 
 Gloster enters. 
 
 Grlo. Good morrow to my sovereign King, and Queen ; 
 And, princely peers, a happy time of day ! 
 
 K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have 'spent the day. 
 Brother, we have done deeds of charity ; 
 Made 'peace of 'enmity, fair 'love of 'hate. 
 Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 
 
 Qlo. A ' blessed labour, my most sovereign liege. — 
 Amongst this princely heap, if any here, 
 (By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,) 
 Hold 'me a ' foe ; if I, unwittingly, 
 Have aught committed that is hardly* borne 
 By any in this presence, — I desire 
 To 'reconcile me to his friendly peace : 
 'Tis 'death to me to be at 'enmity ; 
 I 'hate it, and desire aU good men's 'love. — 
 First, madam, I entreat true peace of 'you ; 
 Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
 If ever 'any grudge were lodged between us ; — 
 Of you, Lord Rivers, — you, Lord Grey ; — ^indeed, of 
 
 'all. 
 I do not know that Englishman alive 
 With whom 'my soul is any 'Jot at odds 
 More than the infant that is born to-night : — 
 I thank my God for my hiimility. 
 
 * Injuriously. 
 
294 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. (Act 2. 
 
 Q. JSliz. A ' holy day shall this be kept hereafter : — 
 
 I ■jrould to heaven 'all strifes were well compounded. — 
 My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness 
 To take our brother Clarence to your grace. 
 
 Grlo. . . . Why, madam, have I offered love for ' this, — 
 To be so 'flouted in this royal presence ? 
 Who knows not that the noble Duke is 'dead? C^Zt" 
 You do him injury to scorn his corse. 
 
 -ff". -EWio. Is Clarence dead 1 The order was 'reversed. 
 
 Glo. But he, poor man, by your ' first order died ; 
 Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, 
 That came too lag to see him ' buried. 
 
 The King almost swoons : 
 IT. Edw. Ah ! for my ' brother not a man would speak, — 
 Nor I, ungracious, speak unto 'myself 
 For him, poor soul ! Come, help me to my closet. 
 
 Alas, poor Clarence ! [Exeunt King, Queen, etc. 
 
 Glo. This is the fruit of rashness ! — Marked you not 
 How that the guUty kindred of the Queen 
 Looked pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death ? 
 O, ' they did urge it 'still unto the King ! 
 Heaven will 'revenge it. — But come, let us in. 
 To comfort Edward with our company. 
 
 Suck. We wait upon your grace. [Bxeum- 
 
 The Scene changes to another Apartment in the Palace. The 
 intelligence of Clarence's death is fatal to the sickly King — whose 
 son becomes inheritor to the throne. The widowed Queen Eliza- 
 beth, attended by Lords Rivers and Dorset, hastens to inform the 
 old Duchess of York : 
 
 Q. Eliz. 0, 'who shall hinder me to wail and weep ? 
 Edward, — my lord, your son, our King, — is dead ! 
 Was never widow had so dear a loss ! 
 
 Duch. Was never 'mother had so dear a loss ! 
 
 Pour all your tears ; 'I am your sorrow's 'nurse. 
 And I will 'pamper it with lamentations. 
 
 Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, 
 
 Of the young Prince your 'son : send straight for him ; 
 Let him be 'crowned ; in him your comfort ' lives : 
 Drown desperate sorrow in 'dead Edward's grave, 
 And plant your joys in 'living Edward's throne. 
 
 Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, Ratcliff, and others 
 enter. Gloster speaks : 
 
 Glo. Sister, have comfort : 'all of us have cause 
 
Scene ii.] KENG RICHARD III. _ 295 
 
 To wail the dimming of our shining star ; 
 
 But none can 'cure their harms by 'wailing them. — 
 
 Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy ! 
 
 I did not 'see your grace : — I crave your blessing. 
 
 Duch. Heaven bless thee ; and put meekness in thy mind. 
 Love, charity, obedience, and true duty ! 
 
 Glo. Amen ! [Aside.j And make me die a 'good old man ! — 
 That is the butt-end of a 'mother's blessing : 
 I marvel that her 'grace did leave it out. 
 Buckingham advances. 
 
 Buck. You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, 
 That bear this mutual heavy load of 'moan, 
 Now cheer each other in each other's 'love: 
 Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, 
 Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be fetched 
 Hither to London, to be 'crowned our King. 
 
 Grlo. Then be it so ; and go we to determine 
 
 Who they shall be that straight shall 'post to Ludlow. 
 
 Madam, — and you, my mother, — will 'you go 
 
 To give your censures* in this business? [ex. Queen. etc. 
 
 The grief of the royal ladies keeps them silent. All retire, except 
 Buckingham and Gloster : 
 
 Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, 
 
 For heaven's sake, let not 'us two stay at home ; 
 
 For, by the way, I '11 sortf occasion. 
 
 To part the Queen's proud kindred from the Prince. 
 Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory. 
 
 My oracle, my prophet ! — My dear cousin, 
 
 I, as a child, will go by thy direction. 
 
 Towards Ludlow then, for we '11 'not stay behind, [^""nt. 
 
 Edward the Fourth — whose unexpected death took place in 1483 — 
 left two sons, Edward Prince of Wales, now in his twelfth year, 
 (who now becomes King under the title of Edward the Fifth ;) and 
 the little prattler, Richard Duke of York, in his ninth year. The 
 Duke of Gloster has been appointed, by the late King, Lord Pro- 
 tector or Regent. One of his first acts is, to remove the young 
 King from Ludlow to London ; taking care to have his most active 
 friends — Lord Rivers, his maternal uncle, Sir Richard Grey, and 
 Sir Thomas Vaughan — arrested on the way. 
 
 Before us is a Street in London : all is excitement : trumpets are 
 sounding, banners waving : the royal procession approaches ; it 
 comprises the young King, the Dukes of Gloster and Buckingham, 
 Catesby, and others. Buckingham and Gloster are in advance : 
 
 * Judgments, opinions. t Arrange. 
 
296 . THE reader's SHAKESPEABE. [Acts. 
 
 Such. Welcotae, sweet Prince, to London. 
 
 Glo. Welcome, dear cousin ! 
 
 The weary way hath made you melancholy ? 
 
 Prince. No, uncle ; but our crosses* 'on the way 
 Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy: 
 I want 'more uncles here to welcome me. 
 
 Glo. Sweet Prince, those uncles were too dangerous : 
 Your grace attended to their sugared 'words. 
 But looked not on the poison of their ' hearts : 
 Heaven keep you 'from them, and from 'such false 
 friends ! 
 
 Prince. Heaven keep me from false ' friends ! but ' they were 
 'none. 
 I thought, my mother, and my brother York, 
 Would long ere this have met us on the way. 
 Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, 
 Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ? 
 
 Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal 'self. 
 If ' I may counsel you, some day or two 
 Your highness shall repose you at the ' Tower. 
 
 Prince. I do not ' like the 'Tower, of any place. 
 ' Did Julius Csesar buUd that place, my lord ■? 
 
 Buck. He did, my gracious lord, ' begin that place ; 
 It is recorded so, my gracious lord. 
 
 Prince. But say, my lord, it were 'not registered, 
 Methinks the truth should live from age to age. 
 
 Glo. [Aside.: So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live long. 
 
 Prince. That Julius Csesar was a famous man ; 
 With what his valour did enrich his 'wit. 
 His wit set-downt to make his valour live : 
 Death makes no conquest of ' this conqueror ; 
 For 'now he lives — in fame, though not in life. 
 
 Glo. [Aside.: Short Summers lightly have a forward Spring. 
 
 Buch. Now, in good time, here 'comes the Duke of York. 
 The boyish Duke of York enters, attended by Lord Hastings : 
 
 Prince. Richard of York ! how fares our loving brother ? 
 
 York. Well, my 'dread lord ; so 'must I call you 'now. 
 
 Prince. Ay, brother, — to 'our grief, as it is 'yours. 
 Gloster advances : 
 
 Glo. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York ? 
 
 York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord. 
 You said, — that idle weeds are fast in growth : 
 The Prince my brother hath outgrown 'me far, 
 And therefore is ' he idle ? 
 
 * Misfortunes. f Csesar is said to have invented a system of stenography. 
 
Scene i.] KING BICHAKD III. 297 
 
 Glo. O, my fair cousin, I 'must not say so. 
 
 York. I pray you, uncle, ^give me this dagger. 
 
 Glo. My dagger, little cousin ? with all my heart. 
 
 Prince. A beggar, brother ? 
 
 York. Of my Hnd uncle, that I ' know will give. 
 
 Grlo. A 'greater gift than that I 'II give my cousin. 
 
 York. A 'greater gift ! O, that 's the 'sword to it. 
 
 Glo. What ! would you have my weapon, little lord ? 
 
 York. I would, — that I might thank you as you 'call me. 
 
 Qlo. How? 
 
 York. Little. 
 
 The young King interrupts : 
 
 Prince. My Lord of York will stiU be cross in talk : 
 
 I hope your grace knows how to 'bear with him. 
 York. You mean, to 'bear me, not to bear 'with me: 
 
 Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ; 
 
 Because that I am little, like an ape, 
 
 He thinks that you should . . . bear me on your 'shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 Gloster, deeply feeling these gibes, turns to the young King : 
 Glo. My lord, will 't please you pass along ! 
 Myself and my good cousin Buckingham • 
 Will to your mother, to entreat of her 
 To 'meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. 
 York. What ! will you go unto the ' Tower, my lord ? 
 Prince. My Lord Protector needs will have it so. 
 York. I shall not sleep in 'quiet at the Tower. 
 Glo. Why, what should you fear % 
 York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost : 
 
 My grandam told me he was 'murdered there. 
 Prince. I fear no uncles 'dead. 
 Glo. Nor none that ' live, I hope. 
 Prince. An if they 'live, I hope I need not fear: 
 But come, my lord ; and, with a heavy heart, 
 Thinking on 'them, go I unto the Tower. [^"iiTifSr 
 Buckingham says : 
 Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York 
 Was not 'incited,* by his subtle mother, 
 To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ? 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt : O, 't is a parlousf boy ; 
 Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable :% 
 He 's all the 'mother's from the top to toe. 
 Buck. Well, let them rest. — 
 
 * 0. B. inoensSa. t Perilous, dangerouB. X Intelligent 
 
298 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Gloster moodily retires. Buckingham continues : 
 Come hither, Catesby. 
 
 What think'st thou ? Is it not an easy matter 
 
 To make William Lord Hastings of 'our mind ? 
 Gate. He, for his father's sake, so loves the Prince, 
 
 That he will not be won to aught 'against him. 
 Buck. What think'st thou, then, of 'Stanley? will not 'he? 
 Gate. He will do, all in all, as Hastings doth. 
 Suck. Go, gentle Catesby, and 'sound thou Lord Hastings, 
 
 How he doth stand affected to 'our purpose : 
 
 If thou dost iind him tractable to 'us, 
 
 Encourage him, and show him all our reason ; 
 
 And give us 'notice of his inclination. 
 
 .Gloster advances : 
 
 Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep ? 
 
 Gate. You shall, my lord. 
 
 Glo. At Crosby Place, there shall you find us ' both. [cfteaW- 
 
 Suck. Now my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive 
 Lord Hastings will 'not yield to our coraplots? 
 
 Glo. Chop off his head, man ! — somewhat we 'will do : — - 
 And, look, when 'I am King, claim thou of me 
 The earldom of Hereford, and all the movables 
 Whereof the King my brother stood possessed. 
 
 Suck. I '11 'claim that promise at your grace's hand. 
 
 Glo. And look to have it 'yielded, with all kindness. [Exeunt. 
 
 In the morning, another " obstacle " is to be speedily removed. A 
 Council is held in an Apartment of the Tower. Lord Hastings is 
 the earliest to take his seat : there are grouped around him Bucking- 
 ham, Stanley, the Bishop of Ely, Hastings, Ratcliff, Lovel, and 
 others. Hastings speaks : 
 
 Hast. 'Now, noble Peers: The cause why we are met 
 Is, to determine of the 'coronation. 
 
 The wily partisan Buckingham asks : 
 Suck. Who knows the Lord 'Protector's mind herein ? 
 
 Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 
 JTast. I have not sounded him, nor he delivered 
 
 His gracious pleasure any way therein : 
 
 But 'you, my noble lords, may name the time ; 
 
 And, in the Duke's ' behalf, I '11 give 'my voice. 
 £Ily. In happy time, here comes the Duke 'himself. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 Glo. My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. 
 
Scene iv.] KING RICHAKD III. 299 
 
 Buckingham says : 
 Back. Had not you come upon your cue, my lord, 
 
 William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part, — 
 I mean, your 'voice, — for 'crowning of the King. 
 Glo. Than my Lord Hastings no man might be ' bolder ; 
 His lordship 'knows me well, and 'loves me well. — - 
 CousLu of Buckingham, a word with you. 
 
 The Lord Protector and Buckingham leave the chamber : Hast- 
 ings says : 
 
 Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day ; 
 I think there 's ne'er a man in Christendom 
 That can less ' hide his love, or hate, than he ; 
 For, by his ' face, straight shall you know his ' heart. 
 Gloster and Buckingham return. The Protector speaks : 
 
 Glo. I pray you all, teU me what ' they deserve 
 That do conspire my death with devUish plots 
 Of cursfed witchcraft, and that have 'prevailed 
 Upon my body with their hellish charms % 
 Hastings replies : 
 
 Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord. 
 Makes 'me most forward in this noble presence 
 To doom the offenders, whosoe'er they be : — 
 I say, my lord, they have deserved their 'death. 
 
 Glo. Then be your eyes the 'witness of their ill : 
 See ' how I am bewitched ; behold mine arm 
 Is, like a blasted sapling, withered up : 
 And this is Edward's 'wife, that 'monstrous witch, — 
 Consorted with that wicked Shore, — 't is ' they 
 That by their witchcraft have thus injured* me. 
 
 Hast. ' If they have done this deed, my gracious lord, — 
 
 Glo. If ! thou protector of these loathsome hags. 
 Tallest thou me of " if s " 1 Thou art a traitor : 
 Off with his head ! Now, by Saint Paul, I swear 
 T will not dine until I 'see the same. 
 Lovel and RatcUff, ' look that it be done : 
 The rest, that love me, rise and foUow me. 
 
 CExeaat all but Uastiogs, 
 Eatcliff, and Lovel. 
 
 Hastings exclaims : 
 Hast. Woe, woe for ' England ! not a whit for 'me. 
 O Margaret, Margaret ! now thy heavy curse 
 Is ' lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head ! 
 Mat. Despatch, my lord ; the Duke would be at dinner. 
 Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men, 
 
 • O. R. markka. 
 
300 THE BEADEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Which we more hunt-for than the grace of God ! 
 
 ' Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, 
 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast — 
 
 Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
 liOV. Come, come, despatch ; 't is bootless to exclaim. 
 Hast. O bloody Richard ! — miserable England ! 
 
 I prophesy the f earf ul'st time to ' thee, 
 
 That ever wretched age hath looked upon. 
 
 Come, lead me to the block ; bear him my head : . . . 
 
 ' They smile, — at 'me who shortly shall be dead !* [Exeum. 
 
 After the execution of Hastings, there was no concealment that 
 Gloster aimed at the crown. It was publicly urged, by his creature 
 the Duke of Buckingham, that Edward the Fourth had been previ- 
 ously married ; and therefore that the young King, and his brother 
 the Duke of York, were illegitimate. The wily Duke of Bucking- 
 ham is easily induced to become Gloster's agent in sounding the 
 Citizens of London. 
 
 The Scene is now in the court of Baynard's Castle, where Gloster 
 awaits the arrival of his smooth-tongued advocate : 
 
 Glo. How now, how now ? what say the citizens ? 
 
 Touched you my right as claimant for the crown ? 
 
 Suck. I did ; laid open all your victories : 
 Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace. 
 Your bounty, virtue, fair humility ; 
 Indeed, left nothing ' fitting for the purpose 
 Untouched or slightly handled, in discourse : 
 And when mine oratory grew toward an end, 
 I bade those that did love their country's good 
 Cry " God save Richard, England's royal king ! " 
 
 Glo. And did they so ? 
 
 Suck. No, so Heaven help me ! they spake not a 'word ; 
 But, like dumb statues or funbreathing stones, 
 Stared each on other, and looked deadly pale : 
 Which when I saw, I reprehended them ; 
 And asked the Mayor, — What meant this wilful silence ? 
 His answer was; — The people were not wont 
 To be spoke-to, unless by the ' Recorder. J 
 Then ' he was urged to tell my tale again, 
 " Thus saith the ' Duke, thus hath the Duke inferred ;" 
 But nothing spake in warrant from 'himself. 
 When he had done, some followers of mine own. 
 At lower end of the hall, hurled up their caps, 
 
 * Lord Hastings was executed on June 13, 1483. t O. B. statuas or breathing stones. 
 % A judicial of&cer. 
 
Scene vii.] KING BICHARD III. 301 
 
 And some ' ten voices cried, " God save King Richard ! " 
 
 And thus I took the 'vantage of those few, 
 
 " ThanksJ gentle citizens and friends," quoth I ; 
 
 " This 'general applause and cheering shout 
 
 Ai-gue your wisdom and your love to Richard : " 
 
 And even here brake off, and came away. 
 
 Glo. What tongueless blocks were they ! would they not 
 speak ? 
 "Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come ? 
 
 Suck. The Mayor is here at hand : pretend* some fear ; 
 Be not you spoke-with, but by mighty suit : 
 And look you get a Prayer-book in your hand, 
 And stand betwixt two Churchmen, good my lord. 
 For on that ground I '11 make a holy descant : 
 And be not 'easily won to our request. 
 
 Glo. I go ; and if you plead as well for ' them 
 As I can say nay to thee for 'myself, 
 No doubt we '11 bring it to a ' happy issue. [eiu aioster. 
 
 The Lord Mayor and Citizens enter. Strong arguments — known 
 best by those conversant with the changes in political and munici- 
 pal life — must have been presented to the Lord Mayor ; for we now 
 find him, notwithstanding his lately declared unwillingness, wait- 
 ing on the candidate King, to solicit him, in the name of the city 
 authorities, to accept the crown. The crafty Lord Protector at first 
 declines ; Buckingham then advances to join in the solicitation : 
 
 Buck. Welcome, my lord : I dance attendance here ; 
 
 I think the Duke will 'not be spoke withal. 
 Catesby enters from the Castle. 
 
 Here comes his servant : how now, Catesby, 
 
 What says your lord to my request ? 
 Cate. My lord, he doth entreat your grace 
 
 To visit him ' to-morrow, or next day : 
 
 He is 'within, with two right reverend Fathers, 
 
 Divinely bent to meditation ; 
 
 And in no 'worldly suit would he be moved 
 
 To draw him from his holy exercise. 
 Stick. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke ; 
 
 Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen, 
 
 Are come to have some conference with his grace. [SI 
 
 Ah, my lord Mayor, 'this prince is not an 'Edward ! 
 
 ' He is not lolliog on an idle bed. 
 
 But meditating with two deep divines ; 
 
 Happy were England, would this gracious Prince 
 
 Take on himself the sovereignty thereof. 
 
 * O. R. intend. 
 
302 THE readee's SHAEESPEAEE. [Act 3. 
 
 Gloster appears on a gallery above, between two Bishops. The 
 Lord Mayor says : 
 
 May. See, where he stands between two clergymen ! 
 
 Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince. 
 The wily Gloster descends : 
 
 Glo. I do beseech your grace to pardon me, 
 Who, earnest in the service of my 'church, 
 Neglect the visitation of my ' friends. — 
 I do suspect I have done some 'offence 
 That seems disgracious in the city's eyes ? 
 
 Buck. You have, my lord: 'Would.it might please your 
 grace. 
 At our entreaties, to 'amend that fault ! 
 
 Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a 'Christian land % 
 
 Buck. Know then, it 'is your fault that you resign 
 The sceptred office of your ancestors, 
 To the corruption of a ' blemished stock : 
 Which to re-cure, we heartily solicit 
 Tour gracious self to take on you the charge. 
 And ' kingly government, of this your land — 
 Your right of birth, your empery,* your own. 
 
 The obsequious Lord Mayor adds : 
 
 May. Do, good my lord ; your Citizens 'entreat you. 
 The servile Catesby says : 
 
 Cate. O, 'make them joyful ; 'grant their lawful suit ! 
 
 Glo. Alas ! why would you 'heap these cares on 'me ? 
 I am 'unfit for state and majesty : — 
 I do beseech you, take it not amiss ; 
 I 'cannot, nor I 'will not, yield to you. 
 
 Buck. If you refuse it, — as, in love and zeal, 
 
 Loath to depose the child, your brother's son, 
 As well we know your tenderness of heart ; 
 Yet, whether you accept our suit or no. 
 Your brother's son shall 'never reign our King ; 
 But we will plant some 'other in the throne, 
 To the disgrace and downfall of your House : 
 And, in this resolution, here we leave you. — 
 Come, Citizens : Zounds, I '11 entreat no more ! 
 
 Glo. 0, do not swear, my Lord of Buckingham. [a'ay". ewV. 
 Buckingham, the Lord Mayor, and Citizens withdraw. The crafty 
 
 Catesby knows his cue : 
 
 Gate. Call them again, sweet prince, 'accept their suit. 
 If you 'deny them, all the ' land will rue it. 
 
 * Empire, royal possession. 
 
Scene vii.] Eiua RICHAED IH. 303 
 
 Glo. Will you enforce me to a -world of cares % 
 
 Call them again. \J^SfJ„ ] I am not made of stone,* 
 But 'penetrable to your kind entreaties, 
 Albeit against my conscience and my soul. 
 
 Re-enter Buckingham and Catesby, the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, 
 
 &c. 
 
 Cousin of Buckingham, — and sage, grave men ; — 
 Since you 'will buckle fortune on my back. 
 To bear her burden, whether I will or no, 
 I must have patience to 'endure the load : 
 But if black scandal, or foul-faced reproach, 
 Attend the 'sequel of your imposition. 
 Tour mere 'enforcement shall acquittance 'me : 
 For Heaven doth know, and you may partly see. 
 How far ' I am from the desire of this. 
 
 May. Heaven bless your grace ! we see it, and will 'say it. 
 
 Glo. In saying so, you shall but say the ' truth. 
 
 Buckingham eagerly interposes : 
 
 Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title : 
 
 Long live King Richard, England's worthy King ! 
 
 May. and Cit. Amen, amen. 
 
 Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be 'crowned ? 
 
 Qlo. Even when you please, since you 'will have it so. 
 
 Buck. ' To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace : 
 And so most joyfully we take our leave. 
 
 Glo. Come, let us to our holy task again. — 
 
 Farewell, good cousin ;^farewell, gentle friends. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Gloster. 
 
 Glo.^ Why, now, my golden dream is 'out ! 
 
 Ambition, like an early friend, throws back 
 My curtains with an eager hand, o'erjoyed 
 To tell me what I 'dreamt is ' true ! A crown ! 
 Thou bright reward of ever- daring minds, 
 O, how thy awful glory ' fills my soul ! 
 Nor can the 'means that got thee dim thy lustre ; 
 For, not men's ' love, ' fear pays thee adoration. 
 And fame not more survives from good than 'evil deeds. 
 The aspiring youth that ' fired the Ephesian dome 
 Outlives in fame the pious fool that 'raised it. 
 Conscience, lie still ! 'more lives must yet be drained : 
 Crowns 'got with blood, must be with blood 'main- 
 tained. [Exit. 
 
 * O, R. stones. t The following speech is introduced from Colley Cibher's version. 
 
304 THE EEADEb's SHAKESPEABE. [Act*. 
 
 Richard Duke of Gloucester was thus placed on the throne, on 
 the 25th of June, 1483, under the title of Richard the Third. His 
 wife, the Lady Anne, was at the same time crowned Queen. 
 
 We have now before us the new King, seated on the throne. 
 Buckingham, whose assistance had been mainly instrumental in 
 placing him there ; Catesby, a most subservient courtier, and many 
 others, are in the presence ; but all — save one — are hastily dis- 
 missed. 
 
 K. Rich. Stand all apart. — Cousin of Buckingham, — 
 
 Suck. My gracious sovereign ? 
 
 K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice 
 And thy assistance, is King Richard 'seated : 
 But shall we wear these glories for a 'day % 
 Or shall they 'last, and we 'rejoice in them? 
 
 Buck. Still live they, and for 'ever let them last ! 
 
 K. Rich. Ah ! Buckingham ! novr do I play the touch,* 
 To try if thou be current gold, indeed : — 
 Young Edward ' lives : — ' Think now what I would 
 speak. 
 
 Ruck. Say on, my loving lord. 
 
 jfiT. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be ' King. 
 
 Buck. Why, so you 'are, my thrice renowned liege. 
 
 K. Rich. Ha ! 'am I King ? 't is so :— But 'Edward 'lives 
 
 Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull : 
 Shall I be 'plain ? — I wish the bastards 'dead ; 
 And I would have it 'suddenly performed. 
 What say'st thou 'now ? 'speak suddenly ; be brief. 
 
 Ruck. Your grace may do your pleasure. 
 
 R^. Rich. Tut, tut ! thou art all ' ice ; thy kindness ' freezes : 
 Say, have I thy 'consent that they shall die ? 
 
 Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord, 
 Before I 'positively speak herein : 
 I will resolve your grace ' immediately. [bih. 
 
 K. Rich. ... I will converse with ' h'on-witted fools 
 And unrespectivef boys : none are for 'me 
 That look into me with 'considerate eyes : 
 High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. 
 No more shall 'he be neighbour to my counsels: 
 Hath he so long held out with me untired. 
 And stops he 'now for breath"? — Well, be it so. [fS?" 
 How now. Lord Stanley, what 's the news'? 
 
 Stan. My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset 's fled 
 To Richmond. 
 
 * Touchstone. t Inconsiderate. 
 
Scene ii.] KING KICHAED III. 305 
 
 K. Rich. . . Come hither, Catesby ! Rumour it abroad 
 That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick ; 
 I will take order for her keeping close. [Exit cmesby. 
 
 I must be married to my brother's daughter. 
 Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. — 
 
 Tyrrel enters. 
 Is thy name Tyrrel ? 
 
 Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. 
 
 K. Rich. Art thou, 'indeed? 
 
 Tyr. ' Prove me, my gracious sovereign. 
 
 K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to 'kill a friend of mine? 
 
 Tyr. Ay, my lord ; but I had rather kill two 'enemies. 
 
 .fiT". Rich. Why, there thou hast it ! two 'deep enemies, 
 Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, 
 Are they that I would have thee deal upon : — 
 Tyrrel, ... I mean those Princes in the Tower. 
 
 Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them. 
 And soon I '11 'rid you from the fear of them. 
 
 IK. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music ! Hark, come hither, 
 Tyrrel : 
 Go, by this token : — Rise, and lend thine ear : [WM.pen. 
 There is no more but so : — say it is 'done, 
 And I will ' love thee, and 'prefer* thee for it. 
 
 Tyr. 'T is 'done, my gracious lord. 
 
 JK. Rich. . . . Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep ? 
 
 Tyr. Ye shall, my lord. [Esit. 
 
 Buckingham returns : 
 
 Suck. My lord, I have considered in my mind 
 The late request that you did sound me in. 
 
 m. Rich. WeU, let that pass. ' Dorset is fied to Richmond. 
 
 Ruck. I hear that news, my lord. 
 
 Rl. Rich. Stanley, he is your 'wife's son : — well, look to it. 
 
 Ruck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise. 
 
 For which your honour and your faith are pawned ; — 
 The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables 
 Which you have promised that I shall possess. 
 
 JK. Rich. Stanley, ' look to your wife ! if 'she convey 
 Letters to Richmond, 'you shall answer it. 
 
 Ruck. What says your highness to my just request ? 
 
 K. Rich. ... As I remember, Henry the Sixth 
 Did prophesy that Richmond should be ' king, 
 When Richmond was a little peevish boy. 
 A king 1 — perhaps, — 
 
306 THE KEADEe's SHAKfcSPEAEE. [keti. 
 
 Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind 
 
 Of what you promised me. 
 K. Rich. Well, . . . What 's o'clock ? 
 
 Buck. Upon the stroke of ten. 
 K.Rich. Well, 'let it strike. 
 
 Buck. 'Whylet it strike? 
 
 K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack,* thou keep'st the 
 stroke 
 
 Betwixt thybegging and my meditation : 
 
 I am not in the 'giving vein to-day. 
 Buck. Why, then, resolve me whether you 'will or no. 
 jBT". Rich. 'Thou ' troublest me ; I am not in the 'vein ! 
 
 Richard angrily leaves the chamber. Buckingham stands in 
 amazement. 
 Buck. Is it even so ? rewards he my true service 
 
 With such contempt ? made I him king for ' this ! 
 
 O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone 
 
 To Brecknock, while my fearful head is 'on ! [Exit. 
 
 Young King Edward, and his brother the Duke of York, are in the 
 meantime murdered in the Tower by Tyrrel and his associates : 
 then Tyrrel hastens to the Palace to meet King Richard. 
 
 Tyr. All health, my sovereign liege ! 
 
 K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel, 'am I happy in thy news ? . . . 
 Tyr. If to have 'done the thing you gave in charge 
 
 Beget your happiness, 'be happy then, — 
 
 For it is done ! 
 K. Rich. But didst thou 'see them dead ? 
 
 Tyr. I did, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. And ' buried, gentle Tyrrel ? 
 
 Tyr. The Chaplain of the Tower hath buried them ; 
 
 But 'where, to say the truth, I do not know. 
 K. Rich. Gome to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after-supper. 
 
 When thou shalt tell the 'process of their death. 
 
 Meantime, but think ' how I may do thee good. 
 
 And be ' inheritor of thy desire. Farewell till then. 
 
 [E3xlt Tyrrel. 
 
 The son of Clarence have I pent up close ; 
 His daughter have I meanly matched in marriage ; 
 The sons of Edward sleep in Abram's bosom. 
 And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. 
 Now, (for I know the Breton Richmond aims 
 At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, 
 
 * Jack o' the clock, an automaton figure that struck the hours. 
 
'1 King kichaed iit. S07 
 
 And, 'by that knot, looks proudly on the crown,) 
 
 To 'her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. 
 Catesby enters hastily. 
 
 How now, Catesby 1 
 
 Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly? 
 Gate. ' Bad news, my lord : ' Ely is fled to Richmond ; 
 
 And Buckingham, backed with the hardy Welshmen, 
 
 Is in the field, and still his power increaaeth. 
 IT. JRich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near 
 
 Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. 
 
 Come, — I have learned that fearful 'commenting 
 
 Is leaden servitor* to dull 'delay ; 
 
 Delay leads impotent and snail-paced ' beggary : 
 
 Then fiery 'Expedition be 'my wing, 
 
 Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 
 
 Come, muster men : 'my counsel is my 'shield ; 
 
 We must be brief when ' traitors brave the field. [Exeunt. 
 
 These repeated mentions of the Earl of Richmond inform us that 
 a new claimant for the crown has appeared. This young Earl — 
 Henry the Seventh of subsequent history — was descended, on the 
 mother's side, from John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster ; and, on the 
 father's, he was grandson of Sir Owen Tudor, and of Katharine of 
 France, widow of Henry the Fifth. To combine these Lancastrian 
 claims with those of the House of York, it had been proposed that 
 he should marry Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of Edward the 
 Fourth. With this same princess, King Richard — on the death of 
 his wife, the easily deceived lady Anne, who very conveniently left 
 him a widower^ — also seeks an alliance, although she is his niece. 
 
 While Richard is making hasty levies, the Queen Dowager, the 
 mother of the murdered Princes ; and the Duchess of York, the 
 mother of King Richard, alarmed at the death of so many of their 
 kindred, await his coming, in the neighbourhood of St. Paul's. 
 Queen Elizabeth exclaims : 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, my young princes ! ah, my unblown flowers ! 
 
 If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, 
 
 Hover about me with your airy wings, 
 
 And hear your mother's lamentation ! 
 Duch. So many miseries have crazed 'my voice, 
 
 That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. 
 
 Why should calamity be full of 'words % 
 Q. Eliz. Let them have scope : though what they do im- 
 part 
 
 Help nothing else, yet do they ease the 'heart. 
 Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me; — 
 
 I hear his drum : — be 'copious in exclaims. 
 
 * Dull or stupid attendant. 
 
308 THE READEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 King Richard enters, at the head of his train, with drums and 
 trumpets. 
 
 K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition ? 
 His mother advances to reply : 
 
 Duoh. O, she that 'might have intercepted thee, 
 
 From 'all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done ! 
 Queen Elizabeth adds : 
 
 Q. JEliz. Hide'st thou that forehead with a golden crown ? 
 
 Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children'? 
 JDuch. Thou toad ! thou toad ! where is thy brother Clar- 
 ence'? 
 
 And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ■? 
 Q. MHz. Where is the gentle Rivers ? Vaughan ? Grey ? 
 Duch. Where is kind Hastings % 
 K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! 
 
 Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
 
 Rail on the 'Lord's 'anointed: strike, I say! [Ai™ums! 
 
 Either be patient, and entreat me fair. 
 
 Or, with the clamorous report of war, 
 
 Thus wUl I 'drown your exclamations. 
 Duch. Art thou 'my 'son ? 
 K. Rich. Ay, I thank Heaven, my father, and yourself. 
 
 Madam, I have a ' touch of 'your condition,* 
 
 Which cannot brook the accent of 'reproof. 
 Duch. O, let me speak ! I wiU be 'mild and 'gentle. 
 £^. Rich. And 'brief, good mother ; for I am in haste. 
 Duch. Art thou 'so hasty ■? ' I have stayed for ' thee, 
 
 Heaven knows, in torment and in agony. 
 JS'. Rich. And came I not at last to 'comfort you 1 
 Duch. No, by the holy rood,^ thou know'st it well, 
 
 Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my ' hell ! 
 
 A grievous burthen was thy ' birth to me ; 
 
 Tetchy and wayward was thy 'infancy; 
 
 Thy 'school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; 
 
 Thy prime of 'manhood daring, bold, and venturous ; 
 
 Thy 'age confirmed, proud, subtle, bloody, treacherous : 
 
 What 'comfortable ' hour canst thou now name, 
 
 That ever graced me in ' thy company ? 
 K. Rich. If I be so 'dis-gracious in your sight. 
 
 Let me march on, and 'not offend you, madam. 
 
 Strike up the drum ! 
 Duch. I pr'ythee, 'hear me speak. 
 
 K. Rich. You speak too bitterly. 
 
 * A small portion of your dispoBltion. t The Gross — an image of the crucifixion. 
 
Scene Iv.] KING EICHARD III. 309 
 
 Duch. Hear me a 'word : 
 
 For I shall never speak to thee 'again. 
 K. Rich. So ! 
 Duch. Either thou 'It die, by God's just ordinance, 
 
 Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ; 
 
 Or ' I, with grief and extreme age shall perish : 
 
 Therefore take with thee my most heavy 'curse ! 
 
 ' My prayers on the 'adverse party fight ; 
 
 And there the little souls of Edward's children 
 
 Whisper the Spirits of thine enemies. 
 
 And promise ' them success and victory ! 
 
 Bloody thou 'art! bloody wiU be thy 'end! 
 
 Shame serves* thy 'life, and doth thy 'death attend. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth speaks : 
 Q,. JEliz. Though far more 'cause, yet much less 'spirit to 
 curse 
 
 Abides in me ; I say Amen to all. [Going. 
 
 K. Rich. Stay, madam ; I must speak a word with 'you. 
 Q. MHz. I have no more sons for thee to murder. 
 K. Rich. You have a daughter called Elizabeth — 
 Q,. Eliz. And must 'she die for this % O, let her live ! 
 E. Rich. You speak as if that ' I had slain my cousius. 
 
 All unavoided is the doom of destiny. 
 
 Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise. 
 
 As I intend more 'good to you and yours 
 
 Than ever you or yours were by me 'wronged ! 
 Q. Eliz. What good is covered with the face of heaven. 
 
 To be 'dis-covered, that 'can do 'me good? 
 K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle lady. 
 Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads ? 
 E. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of honour, — 
 
 The high 'imperial type of this earth's glory. 
 Q. Eliz. 'Flatter my sorrows with report of it: 
 
 Tell me. What state, what dignity, what honour, 
 
 Canst ' thou demisef to any chUd of 'mine ? 
 K. Rich. Even aU I 'have ; yea, and 'myself and all ; 
 
 So, in the LetheJ of thy angry soul, 
 
 Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs 
 
 Which, thou 'supposest, ' I have done to thee. 
 Q. Eliz. Be brief ; lest that the 'process of thy kindness 
 
 Last longer telling than thy kindness' 'date. 
 K. Rich. Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. 
 
 And do intend to make her Queen of England. 
 Q. Eliz. How canst ' thou woo her ? 
 
 •Accompanies, t Grant or devolve as a right, t Tlie river of Forgetftdness (in hell.) 
 
310 THE header's SHAEESPEAEE. [Act*. 
 
 K. Rich. That would I learn of 'you, 
 
 As one being best acquainted with her humour. 
 
 Q,. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, • 
 A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engraven 
 " Edward, and York ; " then haply will she 'weep : 
 Therefore present to her a handkerchief 
 Stained purple with her brothers' blood. 
 And bid her 'dry her weeping eyes withal. 
 If this inducement move her not to love, 
 Send her a 'story of thy noble deeds ; 
 Tell her — thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, 
 Her uncle Rivers ; yea, and, for her sake, • 
 Made'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. 
 
 K. Rich. You 'mock me, madam ! this is 'not the way 
 To win your daughter. 
 
 Q. Eliz. There 's no other way ; 
 
 Unless thou couldst put-on some other 'shape. 
 
 K. Rich. Look, what is 'done cannot be now 'amended : 
 If I did take the kingdom from your 'sons. 
 To make amends, I '11 give it to your 'daughter. 
 I cannot make you what amends I 'would. 
 Therefore accept such kindness as I 'can : 
 And when this arm of mine shall have chastised 
 The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham, 
 Bound with triumphant garlands will I come, 
 And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's throne. 
 In her, consists 'my happiness and thine ; 
 Therefore, dear mother, — I 'must call you so — 
 Be the attorney of my love to her : 
 Plead what I 'will be, not what I 'have been ; 
 Not my deserts, but what I 'will deserve : 
 Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell. CEiiLbeTh." 
 . . . Relenting fool ! and shallow, changing woman ! 
 
 Enter Ratcliff ; Catesby following. 
 How now, Ratcliff ! What news ? 
 
 Rat. My gracious sovereign, on the western coast 
 Rides a puissant navy. To the shore 
 Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends ; 
 'T is thought that Richmond is their admiral ; 
 And there they hull,* expecting but the aid 
 Of Buckingham to welcome them 'ashore. 
 
 K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Nor- 
 folk:— 
 Ratcliff, thyself, — or Catesby ; where is he 1 
 
 ♦Float about. 
 
Scene Iv.] KING RICHARD III. 311 
 
 Gate. Here, my good lord. 
 
 K. Mich. Ply, Oatesby, to the Duke, and bid him levy straight 
 
 The greatest strength and power that he can make, 
 
 And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. cEiitcateabj. 
 
 Stanley enters. 
 
 Stanley, what news with you 1 
 Stan. None 'good, my lord, to please you with the hearing ; 
 
 Nor none so bad, but it may 'well be told. 
 K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle ? neither good nor bad ? 
 
 Once more, what news ? 
 Stan. Richmond is on the seas. 
 
 K. JRlch. There let him sink, and be the seas on ' him ! 
 
 White-livered runagate,* what doth he there ? 
 Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by 'guess. 
 K. Rich. Well, 'as you guess 1 
 Stan. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, 
 
 He makes for England, here to claim the 'crown. 
 S^. Rich. Is the chair 'empty ? is the sword unswayed ? 
 
 Is the King dead ? the empire unpossessed ? 
 
 What heir of York is there alive but 'we ? 
 
 And who is England's King but great York's heir ? 
 
 Then, tell me, what makes ' he upon the seas ? 
 Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. 
 K. Rich. You 'cannot 'guess wherefore the Welshman comes ■? 
 
 Thou wUt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. 
 Stan. No, mighty liege ; therefore mistrust me not. 
 K. Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat him ' back ? 
 
 Where are thy tenants, and thy followers ? 
 
 Are they not 'now upon the western shore. 
 
 Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships % 
 Stan. No, my good lord, 'my friends are in the ' North. 
 K. Rich. Cold friends to ' Richard ! What do they in the 
 ' North, 
 
 When they should serve their sovereign in the 'West ? 
 Stan. They have not been commanded, sire, to move : 
 
 Please it your majesty to give me leave, 
 
 I '11 muster-up my friends, and meet your grace. 
 
 Where, and what time, your majesty shall please. 
 K. Rich. Ay, ay, 'thou wouldst be gone to 'join with Rich- 
 mond? 
 
 I wiU not 'trust you, sir. 
 Stan. Most mighty sovereign. 
 
 You have no 'cause to hold my friendship 'doubtful : 
 
 I never 'was, nor never 'will be, false. 
 
 * Cowardly renegade. 
 
312 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 K. Rich. . . . Go, muster men. But, hear you ; — lea.ve 
 behind 
 Tour 'son, George Stanley : look your ' heart be firm. 
 Or else his ' head's assurance is but frail. 
 
 Stan. So deal with 'him, as I prove true to 'you. [Exit 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham — 
 
 K. Rich. Out on you, owls ! nothing but songs of death ? 
 
 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty 
 
 Is, — that by sudden floods and fall of waters, 
 Buckingham's army is dispersed and scattered ; 
 And he himself wandered away alone, — 
 No man knows whither. 
 
 K. Rich. O, I cry thee mercy ! 
 
 Hath any well-advised friend proclaimed 
 ' Reward to him that brings the traitor ' in ? 
 
 Mess. Such proclamation ' hath been made, my liege. 
 
 Re-enter Catesby. 
 Oate. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is 'taken ! — 
 S^. Rich. Off with his head ! So much for Buckingham !* 
 Gate. That is the 'best news: but the Earl of Richmond 
 
 Is with a mighty power landed at Milford. 
 K.Rich. Away towards ' Salisbury ! While we 'reason here, 
 A royal battle might be won and lost : — 
 Some one take order Buckingham be brought 
 To ' Salisbury ; the rest march on with 'me. [ excudS!' 
 
 The shifting Scene now presents to view an open plain near 
 Salisbury. Buckingham, in the custody of the Sheriff and Offi- 
 cers, is led to execution ; 
 
 Ruck. WUl not King Richard let me speak with him ? 
 
 Sher. No, my good lord ; therefore be patient. 
 
 Ruck. This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not ? 
 
 Sher. It is my lord. 
 
 Ruck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my ' body's 'doomsday. 
 This is the day that, in King Edward's time, 
 I wished might fall on me, when I was found 
 False to his children, or his 'wife's allies : 
 This is the day wherein I 'wished to faU 
 By the false faith of him I trusted most : 
 This, this All-Souls' day to 'my fearful soul 
 Is the determined respite of my wrongs : — 
 That high AH- Seer whom I dallied with, 
 
 * This line iB from Gibber's version. 
 
Act 5, Scene ii.] KING KICHAED III. 313 
 
 Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head, 
 And given in 'earnest what I begged in 'jest. 
 Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men 
 To turn their 'own points on their masters' bosoms. 
 Now Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck, — 
 " When he," quoth she, " shall split thy heart with sor- 
 row. 
 Remember, Margaret was a prophetess." — 
 Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame ; 
 Wrong hath ' but wrong, and blame the 'due of blame. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Men's minds are now turned to the new claimant for the crown 
 — Henry Earl of Richmond, the only surviving Prince of the 
 Lancastrian line. The Princess Elizabeth, eldest daughter of 
 King Edward IV, had a nearer claim to the throne in the order 
 of succession : and, to strengthen the interests of both, a marriage 
 was proposed. — The vigilant King Richard had himself determined 
 to wed his niece : and, to frustrate this intention, the Earl of Rich- 
 mond has, with a large armament, invaded England. 
 
 The Scene is now near Tamworth in Leicestershire. The young 
 Earl, — attended by Oxford, Blunt, and a few others, — thus ad- 
 dresses his forces : 
 
 Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, 
 Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny ; 
 Thus far, into the bowels of the land. 
 Have we marched-on without impediment ; 
 And here receive we, from our father Stanley, 
 Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
 The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,* 
 That spoiled your summer fields and fruitful vines, 
 Isf now even in the 'centre of this isle, — 
 Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn : 
 From Tamworth thither, is but 'one day's march. 
 In Heaven's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, 
 To reap the harvest of perpetual 'peace. 
 By this 'one bloody trial of sharp 'war. 
 
 Serb. I doubt not but ' his frie'nds will turn to 'us. 
 
 Blunt. He hath 'no friends but what are friends for ' fear. 
 
 Richm. All for 'our vantage. Then, in Heaven's name, 
 march : 
 True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings. 
 Kings it makes 'gods, and meaner creatures kings. 
 
 [ExeaDt, 
 
 •King Ricliard's armorial ensign was a boar. \ O. B. lies. 
 
314 THE EEADEE's SHAEESPEAKE. [Aof6. 
 
 A very short interval brings us to the field of Redmore, within 
 three miles of the town of Market- Bosworth, in Leicestershire. 
 The hostile encampments face each other. On one side, we see 
 King Richard, attended by the Duke of Norfolk, the Earl of Surrey, 
 and others: 
 
 K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth 
 field.— 
 Up with 'my tent ! Here will I lie to-night ; 
 But where to-morrow ? WeU, all 's one for that. 
 Who hath descried the 'number of the traitors ? 
 
 Nor. Six or seven thousand is their 'utmost power. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, our battalia ' treble that account : 
 
 Besides, the 'King's 'name is a tower of strength. 
 
 Which they, upon the adverse party, want. — 
 
 Let us survey the vantage of the 'ground ; — 
 
 Call for some men of sound direction :* — 
 
 Let 's want no discipline, make no delay ; 
 
 For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Enter, on the other side of Bosworth Field, the Earl of Rich- 
 mond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and others. Richmond 
 speaks: 
 
 Richm. The weary sun hath made a 'golden set. 
 And, by the bright track of his fiery car. 
 Gives token of a goodly day ' to-morrow. — 
 Limit each leader to his several charge, 
 And part in just proportion our small power. — 
 Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know? 
 
 Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much, 
 His regiment lies, half a mile at least, 
 South from the mighty power of the King. 
 
 Richm. Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come, gentle- 
 men. 
 Let us 'consult upon to-morrow's business : 
 In to my tent ; the air is raw and cold. [taSSeuJr 
 
 Re-enter, from his tent. King Richard, Norfolk, Ratcliff, Catesby, 
 and others. 
 
 K. Rich. What is 't o'clock? 
 
 Gate. It s supper-time, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. I will not sup to-night. — Give me some ink and 
 paper. 
 
 What, is my beaver easier than it was ? 
 
 And all my armour laid into my tent ? 
 Cate. It is, my liege ; all things in readiness. 
 K. Rich. Good Norfolk, ' hie thee to thy charge ; 
 
 * Judgment : ability to commaud. 
 
'scene iii.] KING RICHAED III. 315 
 
 Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. 
 
 Stir with the 'lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. — [I',',. 
 
 Catesby ! send out a pursuivant-at-arms 
 
 To Stanley's regiment ; bid him bring his power 
 
 'Before sun -rising, — lest his son George fall 
 
 Into the blind cave of eternal night. — [ca'Jeibr. 
 
 Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. . . . 
 
 I have not that alacrity of spirit. 
 
 Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. 
 
 Bid my guard watch ; leave me, Eatcliff : 
 
 About the mid of night, come to my tent 
 
 And help to arm me. — Leave me 'now, I say. ["' au'.""'' 
 
 We are again at Richmond's tent. Stanley addresses Richmond — 
 Lords, and others attending. 
 
 Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! v 
 Michm. AU comfort that the dark night can afford, 
 
 Be thine. How fares our loving 'mother ? 
 Stan. I, by attorney,* 'bless thee from thy mother. 
 
 Who prays continually for ' Richmond's good. 
 
 Prepare thy battle early in the morning ; 
 
 With best advantage I '11 'deceive the time. 
 
 And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms : 
 
 Once more, adieu ! Be valiant, and speed well ! 
 Hichm. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment : 
 
 I '11 strive, with troubled thoughts, to sleep awhile,! 
 
 Lest leaden slumber peisej me down ' to-morrow, 
 
 When I should mount with wings of victory ! 
 
 Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. 
 
 [Ex. all but Rich. 
 
 O Thou, whose captain I account myself, 
 
 Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
 
 Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, 
 
 That we may praise Thee in the victory ! 
 
 To Thee I do commend my watchful soul. 
 
 Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes : 
 
 Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me stiU ! [sieeps. 
 
 The Ghost of Prince Edward, son to Henry VI, rises between 
 the two Tents. 
 
 Ghost of P. E. [To Eiohard.] Let me sit heavy on ' thy soul to- 
 morrow ! 
 Think, how thou stabb'dst me in my prime of youth 
 At Tewksbury : — despair, therefore, and die ! — 
 [To Richmond.] Be checrf ul, Richmond ; for the wronged 
 souls 
 
 " Special appointment, deputation. t O. E. to take a nap. t Weigli down. 
 
316 THE EEADEK's SHAKESPEAKE. [Act 5. 
 
 Of butchered princes fight in thy behalf : 
 King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts ' thee. 
 
 The Ghost of Henry VI rises. 
 Ghost of K. H. [To Eiohord.] Think on the Tower, and me : — 
 despair and die ! 
 Harry the Sixth bids 'thee despair and die ! — 
 
 [ToHioiwioncu Virtuous and holy, be 'thou conqueror! 
 Harry, that prophesied thou 'shouldst be king. 
 Doth comfort thee in sleep : live ' thou, and flourish ! 
 
 The Ghost of Clarence rises. 
 Ghost of O. [To Eichai-a.: Let 'me sit heavy on thy soul to-mor- 
 row ! 
 Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death ! 
 To-morrow, in the battle, think on 'me : — Despair and 
 die!— 
 
 (ToEiohmond.] Thou offsprlng of the house of Lancaster, 
 The wronged heirs of York do pray for ' thee : 
 Good angels guard thy battle ! live, and flourish ! 
 
 The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise. 
 Ghosts. [To Eichardo Dream on thy cousins smothered in the 
 Tower : 
 Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die ! — 
 
 [To Eiohmondo Sleep, Richmond ; sleep in peace, and wake 
 
 in joy ! 
 Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy ! 
 Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish ! 
 
 The Ghost of Queen Anne rises. 
 Ghost of Q. A. [To Eiobardj Rlchard, thy wife, — that wretched 
 Anne thy wife, — 
 Now bids thee in the battle think on me, 
 And fall thy edgeless sword : — Despair, and die ! — 
 
 [To Eiohmond.: Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a 'quiet sleep ; 
 Dream of success and happy victory ! 
 The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out of his dream. 
 
 K. Rich. Give me another horse ! — Bind up my wounds! — 
 Have mercy. Heaven ! — Soft ! I did but 'dream. — 
 O coward 'conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! — 
 The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight. 
 Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 
Scene iii.] KING EICHAED III. 317 
 
 What do I fear? Myself ? There 's none else by : 
 Richard 'loves Richard; that is, I am I. 
 Is there a murderer here ? No ; — Yes, ' I am : 
 Then ' fly. What, from 'myself ? Great reason why, — 
 Lest I revenge myself 'upon myself. . . . 
 My conscience hath a ' thousand several tongues, 
 And 'every tongue brings in a several tale. 
 And every ' tale condemns me for a 'villain. 
 I shall despair ! There is no creature 'loves me ; 
 And if I die, no soul shall 'pity me : 
 Nay, wherefore 'should they, since that I myself 
 Find ' in myself no pity to myself ? — Who is there ■? 
 Ratcliff re-enters. 
 
 Rat. Ratcliff, my lord. The early viUage-cock 
 Hath twice done salutation to the morn ; 
 Tour friends are up, and buckle-on their armour. 
 
 -fir. Mich. O Ratcliff, I have dreamed a fearful dream ! 
 Methought the souls of all that I had murdered 
 Game to my tent; and every one did threat 
 To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. 
 
 Mat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of 'shadows. 
 
 JK. Mich. Ratcliff, I fear ! I fear ! — shadows to-night 
 Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, 
 Than can the 'substance of ten-' thousand soldiers. 
 Armed aU in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. . . . 
 It is not yet near day. . . Come, go with me ; 
 Under our tents I '11 play the eaves-dropper. 
 To hear if any mean to shrink from me. [Eieunt. 
 
 Richmond awakes, as Oxford and other Officers enter his tent. 
 
 Lords. Good morrow, Richmond ! Have you slept, my 
 lord! 
 
 Michm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams ! 
 Methought 'their souls, whose bodies Richard mur- 
 dered, 
 Came to my tent, and cried, " On ! victory ! "— 
 How far into the morning is it, lords ? 
 
 Lords. Upon the stroke of four. 
 
 Michm. Why, then 't is time to arm and give direction. — 
 More than I 'have said, loving countrymen, 
 The leisure and enforcement of the time 
 Forbids to dwell on : yet remember this, — 
 God, and our good cause, fight upon our side ; 
 Then, in the name of Heaven and all our rights. 
 
318 THE KEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Advance your standards, draw your willing swords[! 
 
 For me, the 'ransom of my bold attempt 
 
 Shall be — this cold corpse on the earth's cold face ; 
 
 But, if I ' thrive, the 'gain of my attempt 
 
 The ' least of you shall share his part thereof. 
 
 Sound drums and trumpets boldly, cheerfully ; 
 
 Heaven, and Saint George ! Richmond, and victory ! 
 
 [R;xeuDt. 
 
 The night having passed, and its visions being dispelled, we 
 return to King Richard ; who is visiting the tents, and anxious for 
 the battle : he inquires : 
 
 K. Mich. Who saw the sun to-day ? 
 
 Rat. Not I, my lord. 
 
 S^. Mich. Then he 'disdains to shine ; for, by the book,* 
 He should have braved the east an hour ago : 
 A ' black day will it be to somebody. — 
 Not shine ' to-day ! Why, what is that to 'me 
 More than to ' Richmond ? for the selfsame heaven 
 That frowns on 'me, looks sadly upon ' him. 
 Norfolk, with a paper in his hand, enters. 
 
 Nor. Arm, arm, my lord ; the foe vaunts in the field. 
 
 ^. Mich. Come, bustle, bustle ; — caparison my horse. — 
 Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power : 
 ' I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain ; 
 Our archers m. the midst. — What think'st thou, Nor- 
 folk? 
 
 Nor. A 'good direction, warlike sovereign. — 
 
 This paper found I on my tent this morning. [ailrSu. 
 
 JS^. Mich. [Reads.j " Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, 
 For Dickon thy master is bought and sold." 
 A thing devised by the enemy. — 
 Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge : 
 Let not our babbling 'dreams afiright our souls : 
 'Conscience is but a word that 'cowards use, 
 Devised at first to keep the strong in awe : 
 Our strong 'arms be 'our conscience, 'swords our law. 
 Remember 'whom you are to cope withal ; — 
 A throng! of vagabonds, rascals, runaways : 
 A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants, 
 Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth 
 To desperate ventures and assured destruction. 
 Let 's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again ; 
 Lash hence these overweening rags of France ! 
 If we 'be conquered, let 'men conquer us, 
 
 * Almanac, calendar. t O. R. sort. 
 
Scene iv.] KING RIOHAED III. 319 
 
 And not these bastard Bretons ; whom our fathers 
 Have in their 'own land beaten. [a?a"Sr.] Hark ! their 
 
 drum. — 
 Fight, 'gentlemen of England ! Fight, bold 'yeomen! — 
 Draw, 'archers, draw your arrows to the head ! — 
 Spur 'your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ! 
 Amaze the welkin* with 'your broken staves ! [jSk^sk. 
 What says Lord Stanley ? 'will he bring his power 1 
 
 Mess. My lord, he doth 'deny to come. 
 
 IT. Rich. Off with his son George's head ! 
 
 Nor. My lord, the enemy is past the marsh : 
 'After the battle let George Stanley die. 
 
 K. Rich. A 'thousand hearts are great within my bosom: 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George, 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
 Upon them ! ' Victory sits on 'our helms. [Exeunt 
 
 In another part of the field Catesby is heard : 
 
 (Jate. Rescue ! my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue ! 
 The King enacts 'more wonders than a man. 
 Daring an 'oppositef to every danger : 
 His horse is slain, and all on ' foot he fights. 
 Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. 
 King Richard rushes in : 
 
 K. Rich. A horse ! a horse ! my ' kingdom for a horse ! 
 
 Cate. Withdraw, my lord ; I '11 ' help you to a horse. 
 
 H^. Rich. Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast. 
 And I will stand the ' hazard of the die : 
 I think there be 'six Richmonds in the field ; 
 Five have I slain to-day, instead of ' him. 
 A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse. [Eicunt. 
 
 Alarum. Enter Richard and Richmond ; they fight. Richard is 
 slain. t Retreat and flourish. Re-enter Richmond, Stanley bear- 
 ing the crown, with divers other Lords. 
 
 Richm. Heaven, and your arms, be praised! The day is 
 
 ours ! 
 Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. 
 
 Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty 
 
 Have I plucked off, to grace ' thy brows withal : 
 
 Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. 
 Richm. Great God of heaven, say Thou Amen to all ! . . . 
 
 But tell me now, is young George Stanley living 1 
 
 * Sky. t Venturing an opposition. t Richard was slain on a field caUed 
 
 Redmore (near Market-Bosworth in Leicestershire) A.iigTist 21, 1485. 
 
320 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town ; 
 
 Richm. Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled, 
 That in submission will return to us : 
 We will unite the White Eose and the Red : 
 Smile, heaven, smile upon this fair conjunction ! — 
 England hath long been mad, and scarred 'herself ; 
 The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, 
 The father rashly slaughtered his own son, 
 The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire : 
 O, 'now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,* 
 (The true succeeders of 'each royal house,) 
 Enrich the time to come with 'prosperous days ! — 
 Let ' them not live to taste this land's increase. 
 That would, with treason, wound this fair land's peace! 
 Now civil wounds are stopped ! ' Peace lives again : — 
 That she may 'long live here. Heaven say — Amen ! 
 
 End op King Riohabd III. 
 
 * This marriage, combining the claimB of York and Lancaster, and commencing 
 the Tudor dynasty, terminated the Great Civil War and three hundred and thirty 
 years of Plantagenet sway. 
 
KllS^a HE^RY VIII. 
 
 The play of Henry the Eighth, supposed to have been written 
 either before the death of Queen Elizabeth (in 1603) or shortly after 
 the accession of King James the First — although not published un- 
 til 1623, was apparently very popular during the close of Shakes- 
 peare's career. A previous play on the same subject by Samuel 
 Rowley, and bearing the quaint title of "When you see me, you 
 know me," had been published in 1605 ; and about 1613, Shakes- 
 peare's play was first produced under the title of " All is True : " 
 during its performance, the old Globe theatre was burnt down." In 
 the following Spring, however, a new theatre was built, and re- 
 opened with this play, now re-named Henry the Eighth. Row- 
 ley's play was chiefly comedy; Shakespeare's is dignified and 
 religious ; " Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe." The 
 panegyrics on the dead Queen and the living King (who hated each 
 other) support the opinion that the pla-y may have been performed 
 at an earlier date, and revived in 1613, with costly decorations, and 
 a new Prologue and Epilogue. — This composition closes the series 
 of Shakespeare's English Historical Plays. 
 
 This play is so far unlike others of the series, that it owes noth- 
 ing to any dramatic predecessor, but everything to the Poet's knowl- 
 edge of the past : it introduces a great many passages (almost ver- 
 bally repeated,) from the " Chronicles " of Holinshed — from Caven- 
 dish's " Life of Wolsey " — and from Fox's " Acts and Monuments 
 of Christian Martyrs." 
 
 The fall of ^A^olsey was undoubtedly due to his opposition to the 
 King's marriage with Anne BuUen,' but Shakespeare ascribes the 
 circumstance to the accidental enclosure of a letter, (on the subject 
 of the divorce from Queen Katharine,) which, intended for the Pope, 
 had been inadvertently placed in a packet to the King. This in- 
 cident does not in fact belong to Wolsey ; but to one of his con- 
 temporaries, Ruthal, Bishop of Durham, who, by a similar mistake, 
 forwarded to Wolsey a schedule of all his private wealth. 
 
 The character of Queen Katharine is beautifully, yet royally, de- 
 picted : and the reference to her young daughter — the " bloody " 
 Mary of history — is simple and touching. The Queen is introduced 
 as taking an active part in State affairs — thus paving the way, as it 
 were, for the resentment of the Cardinal. Her trial is distinguished 
 by her noble, womanly, wifely, and forcible objections to her Eng- 
 lish Court of Justice ; and her downfall is dignified by a calm confi- 
 dence of right, and by the unwavering support of a truly Christian 
 spirit. 
 
 The character of her rival. Queen Anne BuUen,'' is also favourably 
 depicted — a perfect pattern of that " excelling nature," in whose 
 eyes (a later poet" curiously says) " Gospel light first dawned." 
 
 It must be remembered that this play may have been written dur- 
 
 a The old " Globe " theatre — a circular, thatclied, wooden building — was burnt to 
 tlie ground in July, 1613, 6Nowu8uallyprintedBoleyn. c Thomas Gray (1716-1771). 
 
322 
 
 THE EEADEK 8 SHAKESPEAEE. 
 
 [Prologue 
 
 ing the reign of Queen Elizabeth ; and it required much courage 
 as well as great delicacy, on Shakespeare's part, to bring on the 
 stage, however modified or relieved, the moral deformities of her 
 "uxorious" father, and the easy impressibility of her beautiful 
 mother. The dramatic portraiture of the King is not, however, 
 strictly favourable ; his harshness, tyranny, and impetuosity are 
 suppressed; he is rather the " bluff King Hal," endowed with ap- 
 parent good nature and general integrity ; and to these character- 
 istics — so different from the degrading qualities usually assigned to 
 him — Shakespeare, in his first title to the play, (" All is True," ) 
 publicly expresses his belief in the historical fidelity of the incidents 
 and characters. 
 
 The Dramatis Personae retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 to 
 
 GKTrFiTH, Oentleman-usher 
 
 Queen Katharine. 
 Gaktee King-at-Aems. 
 SnEVETOB to the Duke of Buek- 
 
 ingliam. 
 Bkandon, and «. 8ergeant-at 
 
 Arms. 
 Porter, and his Man. 
 
 Queen Kathaeine, Wife to King 
 
 King Henet the Eighth. 
 
 Caedinal Wolset. 
 
 Cakdinal Campeius. 
 
 Captjcius, AmbaHsador from the 
 Emperor Charles V. 
 
 Ceanmee, Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury. 
 
 Duke of Noefolk. 
 
 Duke of Suffolk. 
 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 Eael of Sueeey. 
 
 LoED Chambeblain. 
 
 Gaedinee, Bishop of Winchester. 
 
 LoED Sands. 
 
 SiE Heney Guildfokd. 
 
 SiK Thomas Lovell. 
 
 SiE Nicholas Vaux. 
 
 Ceomwell, Secretary to Wolsey. 
 
 The Time occupies about twelve years : commencing in the 
 twelfth year of King Henry's reign, — shortly after the gorgeous 
 spectacular displays of pomp between King Henry and Francis I of 
 France, at the meeting known as the Field of the Cloth of Gold (in 
 1520) — to the christening of the Princess Elizabeth in 1533. 
 
 The Scene is chiefly in London and Westminster ; once, at Kim- 
 bolton (in Huntingtonshire). 
 
 Anne Bullen, her Maid of 
 Honour {afterwards Queeii.) 
 
 An Old Lady, Friend to Anne 
 Bullen. 
 
 Patience, Waiting-woman to 
 Queen Katharine. 
 
 PEOLOGUE.° 
 
 I come no more to make you 'laugh: things now 
 That bear a weighty and a serious brow. 
 Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, — 
 Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, — 
 We 'now present. Those that can pity, here 
 May, if they think it well, let fall a tear ; 
 
 a Supposed to have been written by Ben Jousou. 
 
Prologue.] KING HENRY VIII. 32S 
 
 The subject will deserve it Such as give 
 
 Their money out of hope they may ' believe, 
 
 May here find ' Truth too. Those that come to see 
 
 Only a show or two, and so agree 
 
 The play may pass, if they be still and willing, 
 
 I '11 undertake, may see away their shilling 
 
 'Richly in two short hours. Only they 
 
 That come to hear a merry, boisterous play, — 
 
 A noise of targets, — or to see a fellow 
 
 In a long motley coat, guarded with yeUow, — 
 
 Will be deceived ; for, gentle hearers, know. 
 
 To rank our chosen Truth with such a show 
 
 As fool and fight is,— beside forfeiting 
 
 Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring. 
 
 To shew that " All is true " we now intend, — 
 
 Will leave us never an understanding friend. 
 
 Therefore, for goodness' sake, and, as you are knowni 
 
 The first and happiest hearers of the town, 
 
 Be sad, as we would make ye : Think, ye 'see 
 
 The very persons of our noble story, 
 
 As they were living ; think, you see them 'great. 
 
 And followed with the general throng and sweat 
 
 Of thousand friends : then, in a moment, see 
 
 How soon this 'mightiness meets 'misery ! 
 
 And if you 'can be merry ' then, I '11 say — 
 
 A man may 'weep upon his 'wedding-day. 
 
 Henry the Seventh died in 1509, and his only surviving son,. 
 Henry the Eighth, then succeeded : for the elder son, Arthur, had 
 died seven years before, shortly after his marriage to the Princess 
 Katharine of Spain. 
 
 The events of the first twelve years of this reign are not brought 
 forward in Shakespeare's play : The principal of these are — The 
 marriage of the young King to the Princess Katharine, the widow 
 of his deceased brother Arthur, and daughter to Ferdinand of Spain : 
 — The invasion of France ; — The Battle of the Spurs : — The victory 
 over the Scots at Flodden : — The marriage of Lewis the Twelfth of 
 France to Henry's sister, the Princess Mary : three months after- 
 ward, the death of that Prince, and the consequent accession of 
 Francis the First; — and, four years later, the election of Charles, 
 King of Spain, to be Emperor of Germany. Both these potentates 
 (Lewis and Charles) courted the favour of the young King of Eng- 
 land, and of his chief minister and adviser, Cardinal Wolsey — a 
 man who had, from a humble rank in life (reputed to have been the 
 son of a butcher in Ipswich) risen to the highest dignities in Church 
 and State. The meeting between the Kings of France and Eng- 
 land (known in history as "the Field of the Cloth of Gold") took 
 
324 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPBAKE. [Aotl. 
 
 place in 1520 ; and its magnificent pageantry is the subject of the 
 opening Scene — an Antechamber in the King's Palace in London. 
 There we overhear a conversation between the Dukes of Bucking- 
 ham and Norfolk : two of Cardinal Wolsey's most powerful and 
 "bitter enemies : 
 
 Sack. Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done 
 Since last we saw in Prance ? 
 
 JVbr. I thank your grace, — 
 
 Healthful ; and, ever since, a ' fresh admirer 
 Of what I saw there. 
 
 Buck. An untimely ague 
 
 Stayed 'me a prisoner in my chamber, when 
 Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, 
 Met in the Vale of Ardres." 
 
 JSfor. Then you lost 
 
 The view of earthly glory : men might say. 
 Till this time. Pomp was 'single, but now 'married 
 To one above itself. The two great Kings, 
 Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst. 
 As presence did present them. 
 
 Buck. Who did guide ? — 
 
 I mean, who set the body and the limbs 
 Of this great sport together % 
 
 JNfor. All this was ordered by the good discretion 
 Of the right reverend Cardinal of York. 
 
 Buck. The devil speed him ! No man's pie is freed 
 Prom ' his ambitious finger. "What had ' he 
 To do in these fierce' vanities ? 
 
 Nor. Surely, sir, 
 
 There 's in him stuff that 'puts him to these ends. 
 Por, being not propped by 'ancestry, gives note, 
 The force of his own merit makes his way ; 
 A gift that ' Heaven gives for him, which buys 
 A place next to the King. 
 
 Buck. I cannot tell 
 
 ' What Heaven hath given him ; let some graver eye 
 
 Pierce into that ; but I can see his 'pride 
 
 Peep through each part of him: whence has he 'that? 
 
 JSfor. Like it your grace. 
 
 The State takes notice of the private difference 
 Betwixt you and the Cardinal. I advise you 
 (And take it from a heart that wishes towards you 
 Honour and plenteous safety) — that you read 
 The Cardinal's 'malice, and his 'potency. 
 Together ; to consider further, that 
 
 a O. R. Andren (in Picardy\ & Proud (fier). 
 
Scene!.] KING HENEY VIII. 325 
 
 What his high hatred 'would effect, wants not 
 A minister in his 'power. ' You know his nature, 
 That he 's revengeful ; and ' I know his sword 
 Hath a sharp edge : it 's long, and 't may be said, 
 It reaches far ; and where 't will 'not extend, 
 Thither he 'darts it. Bosom-up my counsel, — 
 You '11 find it wholesome. Lo, where 'comes that rock^ 
 That I advise your shunning. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey passes in procession — the purse borne before 
 him, certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with papers. The 
 Cardinal in his passage fixes his eye on Buckingham, and Buck- 
 ingham on him, both full of disdain. The angry Cardinal inquires 
 of his Secretary: 
 
 Wol. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor ? ha ! 
 
 Where 's his examination ? 
 1 iSecr. Here, so please you. 
 
 Wol. Is he in 'person ready ? 
 
 1 jSeor. Ay, please your grace. 
 
 Wol. Well, we shall then know 'more ; and Buckingham 
 
 Shall lessen this big look. 
 
 The Cardinal and his Train withdraw. Buckingham says bit- 
 terly : 
 
 BuoJc. This butcher's cur is venom-mouthed, and I 
 
 Have not the power to 'muzzle him ; therefore best 
 
 Not 'wake him in his slumber. I read in 's looks 
 
 Matter against me ; and his eye reviled 
 
 Me, as his 'abject object : at this instant. 
 
 He bores" me with some 'trick. He 's gone to the 
 King ;— 
 
 I '11 f oUow, and 'out-stare him ! 
 .Nor. Stay, my lord. 
 
 And let your reason, with your choler, question 
 
 What 't is you go about. 
 :Buok. 'I'll to the King; 
 
 And, from a mouth of honour, quite cry down 
 
 This Ipswich fellow's ' insolence ! 
 Nor. Be advised ; 
 
 Heat not a furnace for your foe, so hot 
 
 That it do singe 'yourself. 
 Buck. ... I am thankful to you, and I '11 go along 
 
 By your prescription ; but this top-proud fellow 
 
 Is both corrupt and treasonous. 
 Nor. Say not, treasonous. 
 
326 THE reader's SHAKESPE4RE. [Act 1. 
 
 JBuck. To the ' King I '11 say 't ; and make my vouch as 
 strong 
 As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, — 
 For he is subtle, and as 'prone to mischief 
 As able to 'perform it, — ■ 
 Only to show his pomp as well in France 
 As here at home, — suggests" the King, our master. 
 To this last costly treaty, — this interview, 
 That swallowed so much treasure. Charles the Empe- 
 ror, 
 Under pretence to see the Queen, his aunt, — 
 For 't was, indeed, his colour ;' but he came 
 To whisper Wolsey, — here makes visitation. 
 Deals with our Cardinal, (as I trow, with gold) 
 That he would please to alter the King's course. 
 And 'break the peace with France. Let the King- 
 know — 
 As soon he shall, by me — that thus the Cardinal 
 Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases. 
 And for his own advantage. 
 
 Nor. I am sorry 
 
 To hear this of him ; and could wish he were 
 Something mistaken in 't. 
 
 liuck. No, not a syllable. 
 
 I do 'pronounce him in that very shape 
 He shall appear in 'proof. 
 
 Brandon, an Officer of the Palace, attended by a Sergeant-at- 
 Arms and Soldiers, enters. 
 
 Bran. My lord the Duke of Buckingham, I here 
 
 Arrest thee of high treason, in the name 
 
 Of our most sovereign King. 
 Buck. Lo you, my lord. 
 
 The net has ' fallen upon me ! I shall 'perish. 
 
 Under device and practice." 
 Bran. I am sorry 
 
 To see you ta'en from liberty. 'T is his Highness' 
 pleasure. 
 
 You shall to the Tower. 
 Buck. It will help me nothing 
 
 To plead mine ' innocence ; for that dye is on me 
 
 Which makes my whit'st part 'black. The will of 
 Heaven 
 
 Be done, in this and all things. — I obey. — 
 
 a Excites. 6 Pretence. c Artifice. 
 
SceneiL] KING HENRY VIII. 327 
 
 Bran. Here is a warrant from 
 
 The King to attach Lord Montacute ;— and the bodies 
 Of the Duke's confessor, John de la Court — 
 One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,— 
 
 Huclc. So, so ! These are the ' limbs o' the plot. 
 
 Bran. A monk o' the Chartreux — Nicholas Hopkins. 
 
 Buck. My ' Surveyor is false ! the o'er-great Cardinal 
 
 Hath showed him gold. My life is spanned" already : 
 
 I am the 'shadow of poor Buckingham, — 
 
 "Whose figure even this sudden' cloud puts out, 
 
 By darkening my clear sun. — -My lord, farewell. [Exeunt. 
 
 The next Scene is the Council-chamber. Enter King Henry, 
 leaning on the Cardinal's shoulder, attended by the Nobles : the 
 Cardinal places himself under the King's feet on his right side. 
 The King addresses him : 
 
 ^. Heii. My life itself, and the best ' heart of it. 
 
 Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the level 
 Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks 
 To you that choked it. — Let be called before us 
 That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person 
 I '11 hear him his confessions justify ; 
 And, point by point, the treasons of his master 
 He shall 'again relate. 
 A noise within, crying, "Room for the Queen!" The Queen 
 
 enters, ushered by the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk: she kneels. 
 
 The King rises from his state and takes her up. 
 
 Q. Kath. Nay, we must ' longer kneel : I am a suitor. 
 
 K. Hen. Arise, and take place by us : — 'half your suit 
 Never nartJe to us : you have half our 'power : 
 The 'other moiety, ere you ask, is 'given ; 
 ' Repeat your will, — and take it. 
 
 Q. Kath. Thank your majesty. I am solicited, — not by a 
 few, — 
 And those of true condition,- — that your subjects 
 Are in great grievance. There have been ' Commissions 
 Sent down among 'em, which have flawed the heart 
 Of all their loyalties : wherein, although. 
 My good lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches 
 Most bitterly on 'you, as putter-on 
 Of these exactions, yet the King our master, — 
 Whose honour Heaven shield from soU! — even 'he es- 
 capes not 
 Language unmannerly ; yea, such which breaks 
 
 a Measui'ed, determined. & 0. E. instant. 
 
328 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 The sides of loyalty, and almost appears 
 In loud 'rebellion 'gainst their sore ' taxation. 
 
 K. Hen. How ? Taxation ? 
 
 ' Wherein ? and 'what taxation ? — My lord Cardinal, 
 You that are blamed for it alike with 'us, 
 ' Know you of this taxation 1 
 
 Wol. Please you, sir, 
 
 I know but of a 'single part, in aught 
 Pertains to the State ; and front but in that file" 
 Where 'others tell steps 'with me. 
 The Queen says : 
 
 Q. Kath. No, my lord. 
 
 You 'know no more than others. These exactions are 
 Most pestilent to the ' hearing ; and to ' bear 'em. 
 The ' back is sacrifice to the 'load. They say. 
 They are 'devised by 'you ; or else you suffer 
 Too hard an exclamation. 
 
 The King says : 
 
 K. Hen. Still, ' exaction ! 
 
 The nature of it % In what kind, let 's know. 
 Is this exaction? 
 
 Q. Kath. I am much too venturous, but 
 
 Under your promised 'pardon. The subjects' grief 
 Comes through 'Commissions, — which compel from 
 
 each 
 The 'sixth part of his substance, to be levied 
 Without delay ; and the 'pretence for this 
 Is named — -your wars in Prance. This makes bold 
 
 mouths : * 
 
 Tongues 'spit their duties out, and cold 'hearts freeze 
 Allegiance in them : their 'curses now 
 Live where their 'prayers did. I would, your highness 
 Would give it 'quick consideration ; for 
 There is no 'primer business. 
 
 K. Hen. By my life, this is against our pleasure ! 
 
 Wolsey rises : 
 
 Wol. And for 'me, 
 
 I have no further gone in this, than by 
 A 'single voice ; and ' that not passed me, but 
 By learned approbation of the ' judges. If I am 
 Traduced by ignorant tongues, — which neither know 
 My faculties nor person, yet will be 
 The 'chronicles of my doing, — let me say 
 
 a Am only first in that list. 
 
Scene ii.] KINS HENKT VIII. 329 
 
 'T is but the fate of 'place," and the rough brake 
 That virtue 'must go through. If we stand 'still, 
 In ' fear our motion will be mocked or carped at. 
 We should take 'root here where we sit, — or sit 
 State-'statues only. 
 
 The King replies : 
 
 K. Hen. Things done 'well. 
 
 And with a 'care, 'exempt themselves from fear ; 
 Things done 'without example, in their issue 
 'Are to be feared. Have you a 'precedent 
 Of this " Commission " ? I believe, not any. 
 We must not rend oiu- subjects from our 'laws. 
 And hurt them at our 'wUl.'' ' Sixth part of each ? 
 A trembling contribution ! Why, we take 
 Prom every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber ; 
 And, though we leave it with a 'root, thus hacked, 
 The air wiU drink the sap. ... To every county. 
 Where this is questioned, send our letters, with 
 Free pardon to each man that has 'denied 
 The force of this Commission. Pray, look to 't ; 
 I put it to 'your care, Lord Cardinal. 
 
 Wolsey takes his Secretary aside : 
 Wol. A word with you. 
 
 Let there be letters writ to every shire. 
 Of the King's grace and pardon. Let it be noised, 
 That, through 'our intercession, this revokement 
 And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you 
 ' Further in the proceeding. [Exit secretary. 
 
 Buckingham's Surveyor is led forward. The Queen says : 
 Q. Kath. I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham 
 
 Is run in your displeasure. 
 K. Sen. It grieves many : 
 
 The gentleman is learned ; a most rare speaker ; 
 To 'nature none more bound ; his ' training such 
 That he may furnish and ' instruct great teachers. 
 And never seek for aid out of 'himself. 
 You shall hear — this was his gentleman in trust — 
 Things to strike honour sad. — Bid him recount 
 The fore-receited practices ; whereof 
 We cannot ' feel too ' little, ' hear too 'much. 
 
 The Cardinal says to the Surveyor : 
 
 Wol. Stand forth ; and, with bold spuit, relate what you, 
 
 a High position. & O. K. and stick them in our will. 
 
330 THE EEADEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Most like a careful subject, have collected 
 
 Out of the Duke of Buckingham. Speak freely. 
 Surv. First, it was asual with him, — every day 
 
 It would infect his speech, — that, if the King 
 
 Should without issue 'die, he '11 carry it so 
 
 To make the sceptre ' his. And then he menaced 
 
 ' Revenge upon the ' Cardinal. • 
 Wol. To your high 'person 
 
 His will is most 'malignant ; and it stretches 
 
 ' Beyond you — to your ' friends. 
 
 The Queen interrupts ; 
 Q. Kath. My learn'd lord Cardinal, 
 
 Deliver all with 'charity. 
 K. Hen. Speak on : 
 
 How 'grounded he his title to the crown, 
 
 Upon our f aU ? 
 Surv. He was brought to this 
 
 By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. 
 K. Hen. What was that Hopkins ? 
 Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar, 
 
 His C6nfessor : who fed him every minute 
 
 With words of 'sovereignty. 
 
 The indignant Queen again interrupts : 
 Q. Kath. . . If I know you well, 
 
 You were the 'Duke's Surveyor, and lost your office 
 
 On the complaint o' the tenants. Take good heed 
 
 You charge not, in your spleen, a 'noble person. 
 
 And spoil your nobler 'soul ! I say, take heed. 
 Surv. On my soul, I '11 speak but 'truth. 
 
 I told my lord the Duke, — by the Devil's illusions 
 
 The Monk ' might be deceived ; and that 't was danger- 
 ous 
 
 To ruminate on this. He answered, " Tush ! 
 
 It can do 'me no damage ; " adding further. 
 
 That, had the King in his ' last sickness failed. 
 
 The Cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads 
 
 Should have gone off. 
 K. Hen. Ha ! what, so rank 1 Ah, ha ! 
 
 There's 'mischief in this man. — Canst thou say 'fur- 
 ther? 
 Sun. I can, my liege. — Being at Greenwich, — 
 
 After your highness had reproved the Duke 
 
 About Sir William Blomer, — 
 K. Hen. I remember ! 
 
Scene iv.] KING HEISBT VIII. 331 
 
 Surv. " If," quoth he, " ' I for this had been committed, 
 I 'd have played the part my father 'meant to act 
 Upon the usurper ' Richard ; and put my knife in him." 
 
 IT. Hen. A 'giant traitor ! 
 
 To sheathe his knife in 'us ? He is 'attached;" 
 Call him to present 'trial : if he may 
 Find mercy in the ' law, 't is his ; if none, 
 Let him not seek 't of 'us. By day and night, 
 Lord Cardinal, he 's traitor to the ' height ! [Exeunt. 
 
 The Scene now changes to the Palace of Cardinal Wolsey in 
 York Place, — a residence even superior to that of royalty for luxuri- 
 ous splendour, and in which the butcher's son was the lordly ruler, 
 with noble men and ladies waiting as his servants. The seat of 
 honour has been reserved for the Cardinal, and a magnificent ban- 
 quet for his guests. Merry music is heard, as Anne BuUen and 
 divers Lords and Ladies enter ; they are courteously received by 
 the Cardinal's Chamberlain, Sir Henry Guildford. 
 
 Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace 
 Salutes ye all : This night he dedicates 
 To fair content — and you. None here he hopes, 
 In all this noble bevy, has brought with her 
 ' One care abroad ; he would have 'all as merry. 
 As far 's good company, good wine, good welcome. 
 Can make good people. 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and Sir Thomas Lovell 
 enter. 
 
 O, my lords, you are tardy ; 
 
 The very ' thought of this fair company 
 
 Clapped wings to 'me. 
 Zi. Cham. 'Tou are 'young. Sir Harry Guildford. 
 Sands. . . . They are a sweet society of fair ones ! 
 Lov. O, that your lordship were but now Confessor 
 
 To one or two of these ! 
 Sands. I would I were ; 
 
 They should find 'easy penance. 
 JL. Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit ? — Sir Harry, 
 
 Place you ' that side ; ' I '11 take the charge of ' this : 
 
 His grace is entering. — Nay, you must not-'freeze ; 
 
 ' Two women placed together makes 'cold weather : — 
 
 My Lord Sands, 'you are one will keep them waking ; 
 
 Pray, sit ' between these ladies. 
 Sands. By my faith. 
 
 And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet ladies : 
 
 a Seized by authority. 
 
332 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Lord Sands seats himself between Anne BuUen and another lady. 
 
 If I chance to talk a little 'wild, forgive me ; 
 
 I had it from my ' father. 
 Anne. Was he 'mad, sir ? 
 
 /Sands. . . . O ! 'very mad, 'exceeding mad ! in ' love too ; 
 
 But he would ' bite none : just as I do now, 
 
 He would ' kiss you — twenty with a breath ! [kusm her. 
 
 Amid the strains of stately music, Cardinal Wolsey enters, at- 
 tended, and takes his seat under a canopy of state at a table reserved 
 for himself alone. 
 
 Wol. You are welcome, my fair guests : That noble lady, 
 
 Or gentleman, that is not ' freely merry. 
 
 Is not my friend. This, to 'confirm my welcome ; 
 
 And to you all, good health. tDriuns 
 
 Sands. Your grace is noble : — 
 
 Let 'me have such a bowl may 'hold my thanks, 
 
 And save me so much talking. 
 Wol. My Lord Sands, 
 
 I am beholden to you : cheer your neighbours. — 
 
 Ladies, you are not 'merry : — Gentlemen, 
 
 "Whose fault is this? 
 Sands. The red wine first must rise 
 
 In their fair cheeks, my lord ; ' then, we shall have 'em 
 
 Talk 'us to 'silence. 
 Drums and trumpets heard. Chambers" discharged. 
 
 Wol. What 's that? What 'warlike voice? 
 
 And to what 'end is this ? — Nay, ladies, fear not ; 
 By all the laws of war, 'you 're privileged. 
 A Servant enters. 
 
 Serv. A noble troop of 'strangers, 
 
 So they seem ; they 've left their barge, and landed. 
 And hither make, — as great ambassadors 
 From foreign princes. 
 
 Wol. Good Lord Chamberlain, 
 
 Go, give them welcome ; 'you can speak the French 
 
 tongue ; 
 And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them 
 Into our presence, — where this 'heaven of beauty 
 Shall shine at full upon them. — Some attend him. — 
 
 [Exit the Lord Chamberlain at ended. 
 
 All the guests rise, and the banquet tables are removed. Haut- 
 boys. Enter the King and others, as Masquers, habited like shep- 
 herds. They pass directly before the Cardinal, and gracefully salute 
 him. 
 
 a Small cannon standing erect charged with powder only. 
 
Scene iy.] KING HENEY VIII. 333 
 
 A noble company ! What are their pleasures ? 
 
 L. Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they prayed 
 To tell your grace : — that, having heard, by fame, 
 Of this so noble and so fair assembly 
 This night to meet here, they could do no less. 
 Out of the great respect they bear to beauty. 
 But leave their flocks ; and, under your fair conduct, 
 Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat 
 An hour of revels with 'em. 
 
 Wol. Tell them. Lord Chamberlain, 
 
 They 've done my poor house grace ; for which I pay 
 
 them 
 A thousand thanks, and pray them take their pleasures. 
 
 Then each Shepherd chooses a lady for his partner in the dance. 
 The King selects Anne Bullen. 
 
 K. Hen. The fairest hand I ever touched ! O Beauty, 
 
 Till now I never knew thee ! [Music. D»noe. 
 
 As the dance proceeds, the wily Cardinal addresses the Lord 
 Chamberlain : 
 
 Wol. Pray, tell them thus much from 'me :— 
 
 There should be 'one amongst them, by his person 
 More worthy this place than myself ; to whom, 
 (If I but knew him,) with my love and duty 
 I would 'surrender it. 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain goes to the Masquers, makes inquiry, and 
 returns. 
 
 L. Cham. Such a one, they all confess. 
 
 There 'is, indeed ; which they would have your 'grace 
 
 Find out, and he will take it. 
 Wol. Let me see, then. — 
 
 By all your good leaves, gentlemen, 'here I '11 make 
 
 My 'royal choice. 
 
 The King unmasking, says : 
 K. Hen. Ye have found him. Cardinal. . . 
 
 Tou hold a fail- assembly ; you do well, lord : 
 
 Tou are a Churchman ; or, I '11 tell you. Cardinal, 
 
 I should judge 'now unhappily. 
 Wol. I am glad your grace is grown so pleasant. 
 H. Hen. My Lord Chamberlain, 
 
 Pr'ythee, come hither : — What fair lady 's that ? 
 L. Cham. An 't please your grace. Sir Thomas BuUen's 
 
 daughter 
 K. Hen. By Heaven, she is a dainty one ! ... Sweetheart, 
 
334 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 I were unmannerly, to take you out, 
 And not to 'kiss you. — A health, gentlemen ! 
 Let it go round. Sir, is the banquet ready ? 
 Lead-in your ladies, every one. — Sweet partner, 
 I must not yet forsake you. — Let 's be merry, 
 Good my Lord Cardinal : I 've half a dozen healths 
 To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure 
 To lead them once again ; and then let 's dream 
 Who 's ' best in favour. — Let the music sound." 
 
 [Exeunt, with trumpets. 
 
 In consequence of the Surveyor's testimony against the Duke of 
 Buckingham, the King issues a warrant for his trial. This trial is 
 not introduced by the dramatist ; but we learn its result from the 
 conversation between two Gentlemen meeting in the Street near 
 Westminster Hall : 
 
 1 Qent. Whither away so fast ? 
 
 2 Gent. E'en to the Hall, — to hear what shall become 
 
 Of the great Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 1 Gent. I '11 save you 
 
 That labour, sir. All 's now done, — but the ceremony 
 Of bringing-back the prisoner. 
 
 2 Gent. ' Is he found guilty ? 
 
 1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon 't. 
 
 2 Ge7it. I am sorry for 't. 
 
 1 Gent. So are a number more. 
 
 2 Gent. Certainly, the Cardinal is the end' of this. 
 
 1 Ge?it. This is noted. 
 
 And generally ; — Whoever the King favours, 
 The Cardinal instantly will find employment, 
 And far enough from Court too. 
 
 2 Gent. All the Commons 
 
 Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience. 
 Wish him ten fathom deep : this ' Duke as much 
 They love and dote on ; call him ' bounteous Bucking- 
 ham, 
 The mirror of all courtesy, — 
 1 Gent. Stay there, sir. 
 
 And 'see the noble ruined man you speak of. 
 The sad procession enters, with Buckingham from his arraign- 
 ment ; officers beside him ; the axe with the edge towards him ; 
 accompanied by -Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, and Sir 
 William Sands. As the crowds press around, the noble prisoner 
 turns to address them : 
 
 aO. R. knock it. b Chief propeller. 
 
SceEei.] KING HENET VIII. 335 
 
 Buck. All good people, — 
 
 You that thus far have come to pity me, — 
 Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me ! 
 I have, this day, received a traitor's judgment, 
 And by that name must die ; yet. Heaven bear witness, 
 And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me. 
 Even as the axe falls, if I be not ' faithful. 
 The ' law I bear no malice for my death ; 
 It has done, on the premises, but ' justice : 
 But those that 'sought it ... I could wish more Chris- 
 tians : 
 Be what they will, I heartily ' forgive them : 
 Yet let them look they glory not in mischief, 
 Nor build' their evils on the graves of great men ; 
 For 'then, my guiltless blood must cry 'against them. 
 For 'further life in this world I ne'er 'hope. 
 Nor will I 'sue ; — although the King have 'mercies 
 More than I dare make 'faults. You few that loved 
 
 me. 
 And dare be bold to 'weep for Buckingham, 
 His noble friends and fellows, — 'whom to leave 
 Is 'only bitter to him, only dying, — 
 Go with me, like good angels, to my end ; 
 And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me. 
 Make of your prayers one sweet 'sacrifice. 
 And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on ! lead on ! 
 The Chief Officer in charge of the prisoner says : 
 
 JLov. I do beseech your grace, for charity. 
 If ever any 'malice in your heart 
 Were hid 'gainst 'me, now to ' forgive me frankly. 
 
 Suck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you. 
 As I would ' be forgiven : I forgive 'all. 
 There cannot be those numberless offences 
 'Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with : no black 
 
 envy" 
 Shall make my grave. Commend me to his grace : 
 And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him. 
 You met him ' half in heaven. My vows and prayers 
 'Yet are the King's ; and, tUl my soul forsake, 
 Shall cry for ' blessings on him. May he live 
 Longer than I have time to ' tell his years ! 
 Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be ! 
 And, when old Time shall lead him to his end. 
 Goodness, and he, fill up 'one monument ! 
 
 a Malice. 
 
336 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Vaux. See the barge be ready, 
 
 And fit it with such furniture as suits 
 The greatness of his person. 
 
 Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, 
 
 Let it alone ; my state 'now will but mock me. 
 When I 'came thither, I was Lord High Constable, 
 And Duke of Buckingham ; 'now, poor Edward Bohun : 
 My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, 
 ' Without a trial fell : I ' had my trial. 
 And, must needs say, a noble one ; which makes 'me 
 A little happier than my wretched ' father : 
 Yet thus far we are 'one in fortunes,- — both 
 Fell by our 'servants, by those men we loved most ! . . . 
 Heaven has an end in 'all : Yet, you that hear me, 
 This from a dying man receive as certain : — 
 Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, 
 Be sure you be not loose :" Those you make friends 
 And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
 The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
 Like water from ye ; never found again 
 But where they mean to 'sink ye. All good people. 
 Pray for me ! I must now forsake ye : the last hour 
 Of my long weary life is come upon me. 
 Farewell : And when you would say something sad, 
 Speak how ' I fell. — I have done ; and heaven forgive 
 
 me ! [Kxeunt Duke and Train. 
 
 The Duke and the Officers in charge move slowly on ; and the 
 Two Gentlemen who had been previously conversing, are again in 
 the now silent street. 
 
 1 Gent. O, this is full of pity. — Sir, it calls, 
 
 I fear, too many curses on ' their heads 
 That were the 'authors. 
 
 2 Gent. If the Duke be 'guUtless, 
 
 'T is full of woe : yet I can give you inkling 
 
 Of an 'ensuing evil, if it fall, 
 
 Greater than this. Did you not lately hear 
 
 A buzzing of a 'separation 
 
 Between the King and Katharine 1 
 
 1 Gent. I did, and deemed it slander. 
 
 2 Gent But that slander, sir, 
 
 Is found a ' truth now. Either the Cardinal, 
 
 Or some about him near, has, out of malice 
 
 To the good Queen, possessed the King with scruples 
 
 That wiU undo her : To confirm this too, 
 
 a Free of speech. 
 
Scene li.] KING HENEY Till. 337 
 
 Cardinal Campeius is arrived and lately ; 
 And all think, for this business. 
 
 1 Gent. ' 'T is the Cardinal ; 
 
 And merely to revenge him on the Emperor, 
 
 For not bestowing on him, at his asking. 
 
 The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purposed. 
 
 2 Gent. I think you have hit the mark : but is 't not cruel, 
 
 That 'she should feel the smart of this ? The Cardinal 
 ' "Will have his will, and she must f aU ! 
 1 Gent. 'Tis woful! 
 
 "We are too open ' here to argue this ; 
 Let 's ' think, in 'private, more. [emum 
 
 We have now before us an Antechamber in the Palace. The 
 Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk meet the Lord Chamberlain : 
 
 Cham. Good day to both your graces. 
 
 Syf. How is the King employed ? 
 
 Cham. I left him 'private ; 
 
 Full of sad thoughts and troubles. 
 
 iVor. "What 's the 'cause 1 
 
 Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife 
 Has crept too near his conscience. 
 
 Siif. No ; — his conscience 
 
 Has crept too near another 'lady. 
 
 Jf^or. 'T is so. 
 
 This is the Cardinal's doing, the ' King-Cardinal : 
 That blind priest, like the eldest son of Fortune, 
 Turns what he list. The King will 'know him one day. 
 
 Suf. 'Pray heaven, he do : he 'U never know ' himself else. 
 
 JVor. How ' holily he works in all his business ! 
 
 And with what zeal ! for now he has cracked the league 
 Between us and the Emperor, the Queen's great- 
 nephew : 
 He dives into the ' King's 'soul ; and there scatters 
 Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience. 
 Fears, and despairs, — and aU these for his 'marriage : 
 And, out of aU these, to 'restore the King, 
 He counsels a 'divorce ; a loss of ' her. 
 That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
 About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; 
 Of her that loves him with that excellence 
 That 'angels love good men with ; even of her 
 That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, 
 "Will 'bless the King : — and is not this coui;se pious? 
 
338 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEiEE. [Act 2. 
 
 Cham. Heaven keep 'me from such counsel ! All that dare 
 
 Look into these affairs, see this main end, — 
 
 The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open 
 
 The King's eyes, that so long have slept upon 
 
 This bold bad man. 
 Suf. And free us from his slavery ! 
 
 Nor. We had need pray. 
 
 And heartily, for our deliverance ; 
 
 Or this imperious man will work us 'all" 
 
 Prom 'princes into 'pages. 
 Suf. For me, my lords, 
 
 I love him not, nor fear him ; there 's my creed. 
 
 As I am made without him, so I '11 stand. 
 Nor. Let 's in ; and with some other business put the King 
 
 From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon 
 him. — 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain withdraws, and Norfolk opens a folding 
 door. The King is discovered sitting, and reading pensively : 
 
 Suf. How sad he looks : sure, he is much afflicted. 
 
 K. Hen. Who is there % Ha ! 
 
 Nor. 'Pray heaven, he be not angry. 
 
 K. Hen. Who 's there, I say % How dare you thrust your- 
 selves 
 Into my private meditations ? Who am I % Ha ! 
 
 Nor. A gracious King, that pardons all offences 
 
 Malice ne'er 'meant : our breach of duty this way 
 Is business of estate ; in which we come 
 To know your royal pleasure. 
 
 K. Hen. Ye are too bold. 
 
 Go to ! I '11 make ye know your ' times of business : 
 Is this an hour for ' temporal affairs % Ha ! — 
 
 The two Cardinals, Wolsey and Campeius, enter : 
 
 Who 's there ! — My good lord Cardinal ? O, my Wol- 
 sey, 
 
 The quiet of my wounded conscience ! 
 
 Thou art a cure 'fit for a King. — [to campeius.i You 're wel- 
 come, 
 
 Most learned Reverend Sir, into our kingdom ; 
 
 Use 'us, and 'it: — Wowoisoj-.] My good lord, have great 
 care 
 
 I be not found a ' talker. 
 Wol. Sir, you 'cannot. — 
 
 a Wolsey is reported to have liad nine noblemen in Ills train of attendants. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY VIII. 33d> 
 
 I would, your grace would give us but an hour 
 Of 'private conference. 
 JS-. Hen. K"/?:;.] We are busy. Go! [.iffiw. 
 
 Wolsey continues : 
 Wol. Tour grace has given a precedent of wisdom 
 Above 'aU princes, in committing freely 
 Your scruple to the voice of ' Christendom. 
 Who can be angry 'now? what envy reach you? 
 The Spaniard, tied by blood to aid the Queen, 
 Must 'now confess, if he have any goodness, 
 The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 
 (I mean the 'learned ones,) in Christian kingdoms. 
 Have their free voices given ; — Rome, the nurse of judg- 
 ment, 
 Invited by your noble self, hath sent 
 One general tongue unto us, — this good man. 
 This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius ; 
 Whom, once more, I present unto your highness. 
 K. Hen. And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome,. 
 And thank the Holy Conclave for their loves : 
 They have sent me such a man I would have 'wished 
 for. 
 
 Cardinal Campeius speaks : 
 
 Gam. To your highness' hand 
 
 I tender my commission ; by whose virtue — 
 The Court of Rome commanding — you, my Lord 
 Cardinal of York, are joined with me, their servant. 
 In the unpartial judging of this business. 
 
 K. Hen. Two 'equal men. The Queen shall be acquainted 
 Forthwith for 'what you come. — Where's Gardiner ? — 
 
 Wol. I know, your majesty has always loved her 
 So dear in heart, 'not to deny her ' that 
 A woman of ' less place might ask by ' law, — 
 Scholars,, allowed freely to argue for her. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, and the ' best she shall have ; and my favour 
 To him that 'does best : Heaven forbid else ! — Cardinal,. 
 Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary : 
 I find him a ' fit fellow. 
 
 The Cardinal obeys, and returns with Gardiner. 
 
 'Wol. Give me your hand ; much joy and favour to you : 
 Tou are the King's 'now. 
 
 Gard. But to be commanded 
 
 For ever by your 'grace, whose hand has raised me. 
 
340 THE headeb's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act a. 
 
 -ff". Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. [The? oonTerse apan. 
 
 Deliver this with modesty to the Queen. — [Exit Gardiner. 
 The most convenient place that I can think of, 
 For such receipt of learning, is Black friars : 
 There ye shall meet about this vyeighty business : — 
 My Wolsey, see it furnished : — O my lord ! 
 Would it not grieve an able man, to leave 
 So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience ! — 
 O ! 't is a tender place ! — and I 'must leave her ! [emuqi. 
 
 That merry entertainment in Cardinal Wolsey's palace, where 
 the King met, for the first time, the beautiful Anne Bullen, is about 
 to be followed by a suit for his divorce from Queen Katharine, that 
 the fair Anne may be installed in her place. But the Cardinal, al- 
 though willing to gratify his royal master, has other views for a dif- 
 ferent successor. The Courtiers have not been unobservant, as we 
 Icnow, of the King's new attachment. 
 
 An old lady of the Palace, and Anne Bullen, are overheard con- 
 versing on the Queen's misfortunes : 
 
 A.nne. Not for ' that neither : ' here's the pang that pinches : — 
 His highness having lived so long with her, and she 
 So good a lady, that no tongue could ever 
 Pronounce dishonour of her, — by my life. 
 She never knew harm-doing ! — O, now, after 
 So many courses of the sun enthroned, 
 To give her the avaunt !" it is a pity 
 Would move a monster. Verily, 
 I swear, 't is better to be ' lowly born. 
 And range with 'humble livers, in 'content. 
 Than to be perked-up in a 'glistering grief, 
 And wear a 'golden sorrow ! By my troth, 
 ' I would not be a Queen. 
 
 Old JL. Beshrew me ! ' I would ; and so would 'you. 
 For all this spice of your ' hypocrisy ; 
 Yea, troth, and troth ! — You would not be a ' Queen ? 
 
 Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven ! 
 
 Old L. 'T is strange ! a threepence bowed would hire 'me, 
 Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you. 
 What think you of a ' Duchess ? have you limbs 
 To bear 'that load of title? 
 
 Anne. How you talk ! 
 
 I swear again, I would not be a Queen 
 For all the 'world. 
 
 Old L. In faith, then, I myself 
 
 a Heuce ! begone ! (a divorce). 
 
Scene iJi.] KING HENRY Vin. 341 
 
 Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'longed 
 No more to the Crown 'but that. Lo, who comes 
 here? 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain enters : 
 
 Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What were it worth, to 
 know 
 The secret of your conference ? 
 
 Anne. My good lord, 
 
 Our 'mistress' sorrows we were pitying. 
 
 Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming 
 The action of good women. There is hope 
 All will be well. 
 
 Anne. Now, I pray Heaven, Amen ! 
 
 Cham.. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings 
 Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, 
 Perceive I speak sincerely, the King's Majesty 
 Does purpose honour to you, no less flowing 
 Than Marchioness of Pembroke ; to which title 
 A thousand pound a year, annual support. 
 Out of his grace he adds. 
 
 Anne. ... I do not know 
 
 ' What kind of my obedience I should tender ; 
 'More than my 'all, is nothing ; prayers, and wishes 
 Are all I can ' return. 'Beseech your lordship, 
 Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience. 
 As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness ; 
 Whose health and royalty I pray for. 
 
 Cham,. Lady, 
 
 I shall not fail to 'improve the fair conceit 
 The King hath of you. — I '11 to him, now. 
 And say, I spoke with you. 
 
 Anne. My honoured lord ! 
 
 [Exit Lord Chatuberla n. 
 
 Old L. Why, this it is ! See ! see ! 
 
 ' I have been begging sixteen years in Court, 
 
 And 'yet a courtier ' beggarly ; and you, O fate ! 
 
 A very ' fresh-fish here, have your mouth filled 
 
 Before you open it ! How tastes it % Is it bitter ? no. 
 
 There was a lady once, — 't is an 'old story, — 
 
 That would not be a Queen ! no, that would she not, 
 
 For all the mud in Egypt : — have you heard it ? 
 
 Anne. Come, you are pleasant ! 
 
 Old L. With 'your theme, I could 
 
 O'ermount the lark. The ' Marchioness of Pembroke ! 
 
342 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 
 
 A thousand pounds a year, — for pure 'respect ! 
 No 'other obligation ! By my life, 
 That promises 'more thousands : Honour's ' train 
 Is longer than his ' fore-skirt. By this time, say, 
 Are you not stronger than you were ? 
 
 -Anne. Good lady, 
 
 Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy. 
 And leave 'me out on 't. 'Would I had no being, 
 If this elate my blood a jot : it faints me. 
 To think what follows. 
 The Queen is comfortless, and we forgetful 
 In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver 
 What here you 've heard, to 'her. 
 
 ■OldZ. What do you think me? 
 
 Pie ! fie ! No, no ! Mum. CExeuut. 
 
 The next Scene is that in which, twenty years after the fact, the 
 question of the legahty of the King's marriage with his brother's 
 widow Katharine, is to be tried before a commission appointed by 
 the Court of Rome." Pope Clement the Seventh wished to keep on 
 good terms with the Emperor Charles the Fifth, Queen Katharine's 
 nephew, as well as with the wayward King of England. Cardinal 
 Wolsey, who was in favour of a divorce, wished that the King 
 should marry the sister of Francis King of France ; and the Pope 
 sent over, as a. check on the English Cardinal, Cardinal Campeggio 
 <or, as the name is latinized, Campeius) with special directions not 
 to bring the question to a speedy issue. 
 
 The following stage directions (from the folio of 1623) will assist 
 us in learning the extent of dramatic display in Shakespeare's day : 
 
 " Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short 
 silver wands ; next them, two Scribes, in the habite of Doktors ; 
 after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone ; after him, the 
 Bishops of Lincolne, Ely, Rochester, and S. Asaph : next them, 
 with some small distance, follows a Gentleman bearing the Purse, 
 with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat : then two Priests, bear- 
 ing each a silver crosse ; then a Gentleman-Vsher bareheaded, ac- 
 companyed with a Sergeant-at-Armes, bearing a Silver Mace ; then 
 two Gentlemen bearing two great Silver Pillers : after them, side 
 Ijy side, the two Cardinals. Two Noblemen with the Sword and 
 Mace. The King takes place under the Cloth of State ; the two 
 Cardinalls sit under him as Judges. The Queene takes place some 
 distance from the King. The Bishops place themselues on each 
 side the Court, in manner of a Consistory; below them the 
 Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attend- 
 ants stand in conuenient order about the stage." 
 
 The trial is opened with all due formality. The King and Queen 
 are both cited to appear by the Crier : 
 
 Crier. Henry King of England, come into the Court. 
 
 a This extraordinary trial court commenced its proceediuga at Black Friars' Hall, 
 •ou May 31, 1629. 
 
Sceuelv.] KING HENRY VIII. 343 
 
 K. Hen. Here. 
 
 Crier. Katharine Queen of England, come into the Court. 
 
 The Queen makes no answer; she rises from her chair, and then, 
 in perplexity, goes to the King, and kneels at his feet. 
 
 Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice, 
 And to bestow your 'pity on me ; for 
 I am a most-poor 'woman, and a 'stranger. 
 Born out of your dominions ; having here 
 No judge 'indifferent," nor no more assurance 
 Of 'equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir. 
 In what have I offended you ? What cause 
 Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure. 
 That ' thus you should proceed — to put me off. 
 And take your good grace from me 'i Heaven witness, 
 I 've been to you a true and humble wife, 
 At all times to your will conformable : 
 Ever in fear to kindle your dislike ; 
 Tea, subject to your countenance ; glad or sorry, 
 As I saw ' it inclined. Sir, call to mind 
 That I have been your wife, in this obedience, 
 Upward of twenty years. If, in the course 
 And process of this time, you can report, — 
 And 'prove it too, — against mine honour aught, 
 My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty 
 Against your sacred person, in God's name 
 ' Turn me away ; and let the f oul'st contempt 
 Shut door upon me, — and 'so give me up 
 To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir. 
 The King, your fg,ther, was reputed for 
 A prince most prudent, of an excellent 
 And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand, 
 ' My father. King of Spain, was reckoned one 
 The wisest prince that there had reigned, by many 
 A year before : — It is not to be questioned 
 That ' they had gathered a wise council to them 
 Of every realm, that did debate this business, — 
 Who deemed our marriage 'lawful. Wherefore, I 
 
 humbly 
 Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may 
 Be, by my friends in Spain, advised ; whose counsel 
 I will' implore. If not, i' the name of God, 
 ' Your pleasure be fulfilled ! 
 
 Wolsey rises : 
 
 Wol. You have here, lady, — 
 
 a Impartial. 
 
344 THE BEADEE's SHAKESPBAEE. [Act 2. 
 
 And of your choice — these reverend ' Fathers ; men 
 
 Of singular integrity and learning, 
 
 To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless 
 
 That longer you defer" the Court ; as well 
 
 For your 'own quiet, as to rectify 
 
 What is 'un-settled in the ' King. 
 Campeius adds : 
 Cam. His grace 
 
 Hath spoken well, and justly : therefore, madam, 
 
 'T is fit this Eoyal Session do 'proceed ; 
 
 And that, without delay, their arguments 
 
 Be 'now produced and heard. 
 Q. Kath. Lord Cardinal — 
 
 Campeius rises : 
 
 To 'you I speak. 
 
 Wolsey rises : 
 
 "Wol. Tour pleasure, madam ? 
 
 Q. Kath. Sir, I am about to weep ; but, thinking that 
 
 We are a Queen, (or long have dreamed so) — certain 
 The daughter of a King, — my drops of ' tears 
 I '11 turn to sparks of 'fire. 
 
 Wol. Be 'patient yet. 
 
 Q. Kath. I will, when 'you are ' humble ; nay, ' before. 
 Or Heaven will punish me. I do believe. 
 Induced by potent circumstances, that 
 You are mine 'enemy ; and make my challenge' 
 You shall not be my 'judge. For it is 'you 
 Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me. 
 Which Heaven's dew quench. — .Therefore, I say again, 
 I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul 
 'Refuse, you for my judge ; — whom, yet once more, 
 I hold my most malicious ' foe, and think not 
 At aU a friend to ' truth. 
 
 Wol. Madam ! . . . you do me wrong : 
 
 I have 'no spleen against you ; nor injustice 
 
 For you, or any : how far I ' have proceeded, 
 
 Or how far further 'shall, is warranted 
 
 By a Commission from the Consistory, — 
 
 Yea, the 'whole Consistory of Rome. You charge me. 
 
 That ' I have blown this coal : I do 'deny it. 
 
 The King is present : if it be known to him. 
 
 That I 'gainsay my deed, how may he wound. 
 
 And worthily, my ' falsehood ! yea, as much 
 
 As 'you have done my ' truth. If he know 
 
 aO.B. desire. 6 Legal objection. 
 
Scene iv.] KING HENRY VIII. 345 
 
 That I am free of your 'report, he knows, 
 I am not of your 'wrong. Therefore in ' him 
 It lies to cure me ; and the cure is, to 
 'Eemove these thoughts from you. I do beseech 
 You, gracious madam, to 'un -think your speaking. 
 And to say so no more. 
 Q. Kath. My lord, my lord, 
 
 I am a 'simple woman, much too weak 
 To oppose your 'cunning. ' You are meek, and humble- 
 
 'mouthed ; 
 You sign your place and calling, in full 'seeming. 
 With meekness and humility ; but your ' heart 
 Is crammed with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. 
 I must tell you. 
 
 You tender more your person's ' honour, than 
 Your high profession 'spiritual : that 'again 
 I do refuse you for my judge ; and here. 
 Before you all, appeal unto the ' Pope, 
 To bring my whole cause 'fore his HoUness, 
 And to be judged by ' him. 
 
 She curtsies to the King, and offers to depart, when the King 
 directs : 
 
 K. Sen. Call her again. 
 
 Crier. Katharine Queen of England, come into the Court. 
 Griffith, one of her Attendants, says : 
 
 Grif. Madam, yoii are called back. 
 
 Q. Kath. What need you 'note it % pray you, keep your 
 way: 
 When 'you are called, return. . . . Now the Lord help, 
 They vex me past my patience ! Pray you, pass on ! — 
 I will 'not tarry ; no, nor ever more 
 Upon this business my appearance make 
 In any of their Courts. 
 
 [The Queen, Griffith, and her other AlLeadauts withdraw 
 
 The King cannot withhold admiration of her spirit : 
 K. Sen. Go thy ways, Kate : 
 
 That man i' the world who shall report he has 
 A ' better wife, let him in 'nought be trusted. 
 For speaking ' false in ' that. Thou art alone, 
 The 'Queen of earthly Queens. 
 
 The Cardinal rises : 
 Wol. Most gracious sir. 
 
 In humblest manner I require your highness, 
 That it shall please you to declare, in hearing 
 
346 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Of all these ears, — for where I am robbed and bound, 
 There must I be unloosed,— whether ever I 
 Did broach this business to your highness, or 
 Laid any scruple in your way, which might 
 Induce you to the question on 't '? 
 K. Hen. My Lord Cardinal, 
 
 I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour, 
 I ' free you from 't. You are not to be taught 
 That you have many enemies, that know not 
 ' Why they are so, but, like to village curs. 
 Bark when their fellows do : by some of these 
 The Queen is put in anger. You are excused : 
 But will you be 'more justified? you ever 
 Have wished the 'sleeping of this business ; never 
 Desired it to be stirred ; but oft have hindered it. 
 My conscience first received a tenderness. 
 Scruple, and doubt, on certain speeches uttered 
 By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador. 
 Prove but our marriage ' lawful, by my life 
 And kingly dignity, we are contented 
 To wear our mortal state-to-come with 'her, 
 Katharine our Queen. 
 
 Cardinal Campeius says : 
 
 Gam. So please your highness. 
 
 The Queen being absent, 't is a needful fitness 
 That we 'adjourn this Court till further day : 
 Meanwhile ; must be an earnest motion 
 Made to the Queen, to call ' back the appeal 
 She intends unto his Holiness. 
 
 All rise to depart. The King mutters : 
 
 K. Hen. [Aside.] I may perceive. 
 
 These Cardinals trifle with me : I abhor 
 This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. — 
 My learned well-beloved servant, Cranmer, 
 Pr'ythee, return : with ' thy approach, I know. 
 My comfort comes along. — Break up the Court. 
 
 CExeu"t ID processloD 
 a.i tbe; eotered. 
 
 The two Cardinals now endeavour, privately, to induce the Queen 
 to consent to their jurisdiction, and withdraw her appeal. She is 
 in her palace at Bridewell, near London, surrounded by her women. 
 
 Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench : my soul grows sad with 
 troubles ; 
 Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst. Leave working. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENRY VIII. 347 
 
 Song. 
 
 Orpheus, with his lute, made trees, 
 And the mountain,-tops that freeze, 
 
 Mow them,selves, when he did sing : 
 To his music, plants and. flowers 
 Eoer sprung y as sun and showers 
 
 There had made a lasting spring. 
 
 Everything that heard him play. 
 Even the billows of the sea, 
 
 Hung their heads and then lay by. 
 In sweet music is such art ; 
 Killing care, and grief of heart. 
 
 Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. 
 
 A Gentleman enters : 
 
 Gent. An 't please your grace, the two great Cardinals 
 Wait in the presence. 
 
 Q. Kath. Would they 'speak with me % 
 
 Gent. They willed me 'say so, madam. 
 
 ^. Kaih. Pray their graces 
 
 To come near. [Exit Genu What can be their business 
 With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour ? 
 I do not 'like their coming, now I think on 't. 
 They 'should be good men ; their affairs as righteous : 
 But "All hoods make not 'monks." 
 
 Wolsey and Campeius enter : 
 
 Wol. Peace to your highness ! 
 
 Q. Kath. Tour graces find me here 'part of a housevdfe : 
 I would be 'all, against the worst may happen. — 
 What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords ? 
 
 Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw 
 Into your 'private chamber, we shall give you 
 The ' full cause of our coming. 
 
 Q. Kath. Speak it ' here. 
 
 There 's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience. 
 Deserves a 'corner : 'Would all 'other women 
 Could speak this with as free a soul as I do ! — 
 Out with it boldly ! truth loves 'open dealing. 
 
 Vol. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, Regina Sereiiis- 
 sima, — 
 
 Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin : 
 
 I am not such a truant since my coming, 
 
 As 'not to know the language I have lived in : 
 
348 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Pray, speak in 'English. Here are some will thank 
 you, 
 
 If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake : 
 
 The willing'st sin I ever yet committed, 
 
 May be 'absolved in English. 
 Wol. Noble lady, 
 
 I am sorry my integrity should breed 
 
 So deep 'suspicion, where all 'faith was meant. 
 
 We come not by the way of 'accusation, 
 
 To ' taint that honour every good tongue ' blesses ; 
 
 Nor to betray you 'any way to sorrow ; 
 
 You have too much, good lady ; — but to know 
 
 How you stand minded in the weighty difference 
 
 Between the King and you. 
 Gam. Most honoured madam. 
 
 My Lord of York, — out of his noble nature, 
 
 Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, 
 
 His service and his counsel. 
 Q. math. [Aside.] To betray me ! — ■ 
 
 My lords, I thank you both, for your good wills ; 
 
 Ye 'speak ' like honest men, — pray God, ye 'prove so ! 
 
 For her sake that I ' have been, — for I feel 
 
 the ' last fit of my greatness, — -good your graces. 
 
 Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause ; 
 
 Alas ! I am a woman, . . . friendless, hopeless ! 
 Wol. Madam, you wrong the King's love with these fears : 
 
 Your hopes and friends are ' infinite. 
 Q. Kath. In England? 
 
 But little for my 'profit. Can you think, lords, 
 
 That 'any Englishman 'dare give me counsel? 
 
 Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, — 
 
 And 'live a subject? Nay, forsooth! 'My friends, — 
 
 They that my 'trust must grow to,— live not 'here : 
 
 They are, as all my other comforts, far — far hence. 
 
 In mine 'own country, lords. 
 
 Campeius says : 
 Cam. I would, your grace 
 
 Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. 
 Q. Kath. How, sir? 
 
 Cam,. Put your 'main cause into the ' King's protection ; 
 
 He 's loving and most gracious. 'T will be much 
 
 Both for your ' honour better, and your 'cause : 
 
 For if the trial of the law o'ertake you. 
 
 You '11 part away 'disgraced. 
 
Scene i.] KING HENKY Tin. 349 
 
 Wolsey adds : 
 Wol. He tells you 'rightly. 
 
 Q. Kath. . . . Te tell me what ye wish for both, — my ruin ! 
 
 Is this your Christian counsel ? Out upon ye ! 
 
 ' Heaven is above all 'yet ; ' there sits a Judge 
 
 That no King can corrupt. 
 Cam. Tour rage mistakes us. 
 
 §. Kath. The more shame for ye ! ' holy men I thought ye ! 
 
 Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal 'virtues ; 
 
 But cardinal 'sins, and hollow hearts, . I fear ye ! 
 
 Mend them, for shame, my lords ! Is this your 'com- 
 fort? 
 
 The cordial, that ye bring a wretched lady ? 
 
 A woman lost among ye, laughed at, scorned % 
 
 I will not wish ye ' half 'my miseries, 
 
 I have more charity ; but say, I warned ye ! 
 
 Take heed ! for Heaven's sake, take heed ! lest at once 
 
 The burden of 'my sorrows fall upon ye. 
 Wol. Madam, this is a mere 'distraction ; 
 
 Tou turn the 'good we offer into 'envy." 
 Q. Kath. Ye turn 'me into 'nothing. Woe upon ye. 
 
 And 'all such false professors ! Would you have me— 
 
 If you have any justice, any pity, 
 
 If ye be anything but churchmen's ' habits — 
 
 Put my sick cause into ' his hands that ' hates me ? 
 Wol. Madam, you 'wander from the good we aim at. 
 Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, 
 
 To give up 'wilHngly that noble title 
 
 Tour master wed me to : 'nothing ' but 'death 
 
 Shall e'er divorce my 'dignities. 
 Wol. 'Pray, hear me. 
 
 §. Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English earth. 
 
 Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it ! 
 
 Te have angels' ' faces, but Heaven knows your ' hearts. 
 
 I am the most unhappy woman living. — 
 
 Alas ! poor wenches, where are now 'your fortunes ? 
 
 Shipwrecked upon a kingdom where no pity, 
 
 No friends, no hope ; no kindred weep for me ; 
 
 Almost no 'grave allowed me. — Like the lUy, 
 
 That once was mistress of the field and flourished, 
 
 I 'U hang my head, and perish. 
 Wol. If your grace 
 
 Could but be brought to know our ends are honest — 
 Cam. Madam, be comforted. Tou wrong your virtues 
 
350 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 With these weak women's fears. If you please 
 To ' trust us in your business, we are ready 
 To use our utmost studies in your service. 
 Q. Kath. . . . Do what ye wUl, my lords : And, pray, forgive 
 me, 
 If I have used" myself unmannerly. — 
 Pray, do my service to his Majesty : 
 He has my 'heart yet, and shall have my 'prayers. 
 While I shall have my 'life. Come, reverend fathers, 
 ' Bestow your counsels on me ; 'she now begs, 
 That little thought, when she set footing here. 
 She should have bought her dignities so dear. uExeunt. 
 
 The King's annoyance with the Cardinals for postponing the trial 
 roakes him suspicious of them, and an accident now discovers to 
 him the duplicity of Wolsey. In forwarding a packet of State pa- 
 pers to his majesty, the Cardinal had inadvertently enclosed some 
 others of personal importance, and of his private correspondence 
 with his Holiness in Rome. The Duke of Norfolk, the Duke of Suf- 
 folk,* and the Lord Chamberlain, are conversing in an ante-chamber. 
 Norfolk says : 
 
 Nor. If you will now 'unite in your complaints. 
 
 And force" them with a 'constancy, the Cardinal 
 Cannot stand under them. 
 
 8ur. How came his practices to ' light % 
 
 Suf. The Cardinal's letter to the 'Pope miscarried. 
 
 And came to the eye o' the ' King ; wherein was read. 
 How that the Cardinal did entreat His Holiness 
 To 'stay the judgment o' the divorce ; for if 
 It 'did take place, " I do," quoth he, " perceive. 
 My King is tangled in affection to 
 A creature of the Queen's, Lady Anne Bullen." 
 The Lord Chamberlain adds : 
 
 Cham. The King in this perceives him, how he coasts, 
 And hedges'* his own way. But in ' this point 
 All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic 
 After his patient's 'death : the King already 
 Hath 'married the fair lady. But look ! the Cardinal ! 
 
 Wolsey and his Secretary Cromwell enter. 
 Nor. Observe, observe ; he 's moody. 
 
 Wol. The packet, Cromwell, — Gave it you the ' King % 
 Gram. To his own hand, in his bedchamber. 
 Wol. Looked he o' the ' inside of the papers ? 
 Crom. Presently 
 
 a Deported. h Charles Brandon, married to King Henry*s sister, the Qneen 
 
 Dowager of France. c Urge, enforce. d Creeps covertly along, as if sheltered by 
 a hedge. 
 
Scene 11.] KINO HENRT Tin. 351 
 
 He did unseal them ; and the first he viewed, 
 He did it with a serious mind ; a heed 
 Was in his countenance. You. he bade 
 Attend him 'here, this morning. 
 
 TVol. Leave me awhile. — cExit oromireu. 
 
 It shall be to the Duchess of Alen^on, 
 The French King's sister: he shall marry 'her — 
 Anne BuUen ? No ; I '11 no Anne Bullens for him : 
 There 's 'more in 't than ' fair 'visage. — BuUen 1 
 No, we '11 no Bullens ! — Speedily I wish 
 To hear from Eome. — The Marchioness of Pembroke ! — 
 The late Queen's 'gentlewoman! a 'knight's daughter, 
 To be her 'mistress' mistress'? the 'Queen's queen? — 
 This candle burns not 'clear: 't is I must 'snuff it ; . . . 
 Then, 'out it goes ! — What though I know her virtuous 
 And well deserving? yet I know her for 
 A spleeny ' Lutheran ! Again, there is sprung up 
 A heretic, an arch one, Cranmer ; one 
 Hath 'crawled into the favour of the King, 
 And is his oracle ! [Eetirei 
 
 The Lords-in-waiting announce " The King ! the King ! " King 
 
 Henry, reading \Arolsey's schedule, enters. 
 
 JS^. Hen. What 'piles of wealth hath he accumulated 
 
 To his own portion ! and what 'expense by the hour 
 Seems to flow from him ! ' How, i' the name of thrift, 
 Does he rake this together ? — Now, my lords, 
 Saw you the Cardinal ? 
 
 Nor. My lord, we have 
 
 Stood here observing him. Some strange commotion 
 Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ; 
 Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground. 
 Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight. 
 Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again. 
 Strikes his breast hard ; and anon, he casts 
 His eye against the 'moon : in most strange postures 
 We have seen him set himself. 
 
 K. Hen. It may well be : 
 
 There 'is a mutiny in his mind. If we did think 
 His contemplation were 'above the earth. 
 And fixed on 'spiritual object, he should stni 
 ' Dwell in his musings : but, I am afraid. 
 His thinkings are ' below the moon, — not worth 
 His serious considering. 
 The King takes his seat, and whispers to an Attendant ; who 
 
 goes to Wolsey, as yet ignorant of his inadvertency with the papers. 
 
352 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Wol. Heaven forgive me, and ever bless your highness ! 
 
 JT. Hen. Good my lord, 
 
 Tou are full of ' heavenly 'stuff, and bear the ' inventory 
 Of your best graces in your mind : you have scarce 
 
 time 
 To steal, from 'spiritual leisure, a brief span 
 To keep your 'earthly audit. I am glad 
 To have you, therein, my companion. 
 Wol. Sir, 
 
 For 'holy offices I have a 'time; a time 
 To think upon the part of 'business, which 
 I bear i' the State ; and nature does require 
 ' Her times of 'preservation ; — vehich, perforce, 
 I, her frail son, — amongst my brethren mortal, — 
 'Must give my tendance to, 
 
 H. Hen. You have said 'well. 
 
 Wol. And ever may your Highness yoke together. 
 As I will lend you cause, my 'doing well 
 With my well-'saying ! 
 
 K. Hen. 'T is well said 'again ; 
 
 And 't is a 'kind of good deed, to 'say well : 
 And yet 'words are no 'deeds. My father loved you ; 
 He said he did, and with his 'deed did crown 
 His 'word upon you. Since ' I had my office, 
 I have kept you next my heart ; Have I not made you 
 The prime man of the State ■? I pray you tell me. 
 If what I now pronounce you have found ' true : 
 And, if you may confess it, say withal, 
 If you are bound to us, or no. — What say you ? 
 
 Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces 
 
 (Showered on me daily) have been 'more than could 
 My studied purposes requite ; which went 
 Beyond all man's endeavours : 'my endeavours 
 Have ever come too short of my desires. 
 Yet filed with my 'abilities. I do profess, 
 That for your highness' good I ever laboured 
 More than mine own : that 'am, ' have, and 'wUl be true : 
 Though all the world should crack their duty to you, 
 I '11 stand unshaken yours. 
 
 K. Hen. 'T is nobly spoken. 
 
 Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, 
 For you have seen him open 't. — Eead o'er this : ['^pajf,"" 
 And, after, this : and then ... to breakfast, with 
 What appetite you have ! 
 
Scene ii.] 
 
 KINS HENBY VIII. 353 
 
 The King goes out frowning upon the Cardinal. The Nobles 
 throng after, smiling, and whispering. 
 
 Wol. "What should this mean'? 
 
 What 'sudden anger 's this 1 how have I reaped it ? 
 He parted 'frowning from me, as if ruin 
 Leaped from his eyes : So looks the chafed lion 
 Upon the daring huntsman that has galled him — 
 Then makes him nothing ! ... I must 'read this paper ; 
 I fear, the story of his anger. — 'T is so ! 
 This paper has 'undone me ! ... 'T is the account 
 Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together 
 For mine own ends ; indeed, to gain the Popedom, 
 And fee my friends in Rome. negligence. 
 Fit for a ' fool to fall by ! What cross devil 
 Made me put this 'main secret in the packet 
 I sent the King ■? — la there no way to 'cure this 1 
 No 'new device to beat this from his brains 1 
 I know, 't will stir him 'strongly ; . . . yet I know 
 A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune 
 WUl bring me off again !— What 's this?— "To the 
 
 'Pope!" 
 The letter, as I live, with 'all the business 
 I writ to his Holiness ! ... Nay then, farewell ! 
 I have touched the ' highest point of all my greatness ; 
 And, ' from that full meridian of my glory, 
 I haste now to my 'setting : I shall fall. 
 Like a bright exhalation in the evening, — 
 And no man see me more ! 
 The Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the 
 
 Lord Chamberlain re-enter. Norfolk speaks : 
 
 JVor. Hear the King's pleasure. Cardinal ; who commands 
 you 
 To render up the Great Seal" presently. 
 Into 'our hands ; and to confine yourself 
 To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's, 
 Till you hear 'further from his Highness. 
 
 Wol. Stay : 
 
 Where 's your 'commission, lords? 'Words cannot 
 
 carry 
 Authority so weighty. 
 
 Suf. Who dare 'cross 'em. 
 
 Bearing the King's will from his mouth expressly ? 
 
 Wol. Till I find 'more than wiU, or words, to do it,— 
 (I mean, your malice,) — know, officious lords, 
 
 a The Lord Chancellor's emblem of authority. 
 
354 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 'I dare, and 'must, deny it. 'Now I feel 
 
 Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, — envy. 
 
 How eagerly ye follow my disgraces. 
 
 As if they fed ye ! and how sleek and wanton 
 
 Ye appear, in everything may bring my 'ruin ! 
 
 ' Follow your envious courses, men of malice ; 
 
 You 've 'Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt. 
 
 In time will find their fit 'rewards. That Seal, 
 
 You ask with such a violence, the King — 
 
 (Mine, and 'your master) — with his own hand 'gave me ; 
 
 Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, 
 
 During my life ; and, to 'confirm his goodness. 
 
 Tied it by letters-patent : — Now, who '11 'take it? 
 
 Sur. The King, that gave it. 
 
 Wol. It must be ' himself, then. 
 
 Sur. Thou 'rt a proud ' traitor, priest ! 
 
 Wol. Proud lord, thou ' liest : 
 
 Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better 
 Have ' burnt that tongue, than said so. 
 
 Sur. Thy ambition. 
 
 Thou scarlet Sin, robbed this bewailing land 
 Of noble Buckingham, iny lather-in-law : 
 The heads of all thy brother Cardinals — 
 With thee, and all thy best parts bound together — 
 Weighed not a hair of ' his. Plague of your policy ! 
 You sent 'me Deputy for Ireland, 
 Far from his succour, — from the King, — from all 
 That 'might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him ; — 
 Whilst your 'great 'goodness, out of ' holy 'pity, 
 'Absolved him with an 'axe ! 
 
 Wol. This, and all else 
 
 This ' talking lord can lay upon my credit, 
 I answer, is most ' false. The Duke by ' law 
 Found his 'deserts. How innocent ' I was 
 From any private malice in his end. 
 His noble jury, and foul cause, can witness. 
 If ' I loved many words, lord, I should tell you, 
 You have as little ' honesty as ' honour. 
 
 Sur. Your long coat. Priest, protects you ! — Now, my lords. 
 Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ? 
 And from this fellow ? If we live thus tamely, 
 To be thus jaded" by a piece of scarlet. 
 Farewell nobility ! let his 'grace go forward, 
 And dare 'us with his 'cap, like larks !' 
 
 a Abused, over-ridden. 
 
 h Larks were enticed by email mirrore fastened on scarlet clotb. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENEY VIII. 355 
 
 Wol. All goodness 
 
 Is 'poison to thy 'stomach 1 
 
 Sur. Yes, ' that goodness 
 
 Of gleaning all the land's wealth into 'one,— 
 Into your 'own hands, Cardinal, by 'extortion ; 
 The 'goodness of youi- intercepted packets 
 You writ to the Pope, against the King ; your good- 
 ness. 
 Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious ! — 
 My lord of Norfolk, for the common good, 
 ' Produce the grand sum of his sins, — the articles 
 Collected from his life : — I '11 startle you 
 Worse than the sacring''-bell,' Lord Cardinal ! 
 
 Wol. How much, methinks, I 'could despise this man, — 
 But that I 'm bound in charity 'against it ! 
 
 Sur. I thank my 'memory, I yet remember 
 
 ' Some of these articles, and 'out they shall. 
 
 Now, if you 'can blush, and cry " guilty," Cardinal, 
 
 You '11 show a little ' honesty. 
 
 Wol. Speak on, sir ; 
 
 I 'dare your worst objections : ' if I blush. 
 It is, to see a nobleman want manners. 
 
 Sur. I had rather want those than my ' head. — Have at 
 you ! 
 First, that, without the King's assent, or knowledge. 
 You wrought to be a Legate ; by which power 
 You maimed the jurisdiction of all Bishops. 
 Norfolk adds : 
 
 JVor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else 
 To foreign princes, Ego et Hex mens" 
 Was stUl inscribed ; in which you brought the King 
 To be your 'servant. 
 
 Suffolk continues : 
 
 Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caused 
 
 Your holy ' hat to be stamped on the King's coin. 
 
 Snr. Then, that you have sent innumerable substance, 
 
 (By what means got, I leave to your own conscience,) 
 To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways 
 You have for dignities ; to the mere'' undoing 
 Of aU the kingdom. Many 'more there are ; 
 Which, since they are of 'you, — and 'odious, — 
 I will not taint my mouth with. 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain interposes : 
 
 Cham. my lord, 
 
 a Consecrating. 6 A little bell used in church service. c I and my King, 
 
 d Certain. 
 
356 THE beader's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 3. 
 
 Press not a falling man too far ; 't is virtue : 
 His faults lie open to the 'laws ; let ' them, 
 Not 'you, correct him. My ' heart weeps to see him 
 So little of his great self. 
 
 Sur. ... I forgive him. 
 
 Suf. Lord Cardinal, the King's further pleasure is, — 
 Because of those things you have done of late, — 
 That therefore now a 'writ be sued against you ; 
 To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, 
 Chattels," and whatsoever ; and to be 
 Out of the King's protection. — This is my charge. 
 
 Nor. And so we' 11 leave you to your meditations. 
 How to live ' better. For your stubborn answer 
 About the giving back the Great Seal to us. 
 The King shall know it, and, no doubt, shall 'thank 
 
 you. 
 So, fare you well, my ' little-good Lord Cardinal. 
 
 [All withdraw but Wolsey. 
 
 Wol. So, farewell to the little-good 'you bear me. . . . 
 Farewell ! a 'long farewell, to all my 'greatness ! 
 ' This is the state of 'man : — To-day, he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow, blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honours ' thick upon him : 
 The third day, comes a frost, a ' killing frost ; 
 And, — ^when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his 'root, 
 And then ... he falls, as I do ! I have ventured, — 
 Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, — 
 These many summers, in a 'sea of glory. 
 But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
 At length ' broke under me ; and now has ' left me — 
 Weary, and old with service, — to the mercy 
 Of a rude stream, that must for ever ' hide me. 
 Vain pomp and glory of this world, I ' hate ye ! 
 I feel my heart 'new-opened. O, how wretched 
 Is that poor man that hangs on 'princes' favours ! 
 There is, betwixt that smile he would aspire to, — 
 That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin, — 
 More pangs and fears than wars, or women, have ; 
 And when he faUs, ... he falls like Lucifer,' 
 Never to hope again ! — 
 
 The Cardinal's Secretary enters despondingly. 
 
 Why, how now, Cromwell ? 
 Grom. I have no power to speak, sir. 
 
 a O, R. castles. b The name of Satan before being cast from heaven. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY VIII. 357 
 
 Wol What ! amazed 
 
 At my misfortunes 1 Can thy spirit wonder 
 A great man should 'decline 1 Nay, an you 'weep, 
 I am fallen indeed. 
 
 Crom. How does your grace ? 
 
 Wol. Why, well ; 
 
 Never so ' truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
 I know 'myself 'now ; and I feel within me 
 A peace above all earthly dignities, — 
 A still and quiet conscience. The King has cured me, 
 I humbly thank his grace ; and from these shoulders, 
 These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken 
 A load would sink a 'navy, — too much honour ! 
 O, "t is a burden, Cromwell ! 't is a burden, 
 Too heavy for a man that hopes for ' heaven ! 
 
 Crom. I am glad your grace has made right use of it. 
 
 Wol. I ' hope I have : I am able 'now, methinks, 
 Out of a fortitude of soul I feel. 
 To endure 'more miseries, and greater far, 
 Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. — 
 What news abroad ? 
 
 Crom. The heaviest, and the worst. 
 
 Is — your displeasure with the King. 
 Wol. God bless him ! 
 
 Crom. The next is — that Sir Thomas More is chosen 
 Lord Chancellor in your place. 
 
 Wol. That 's somewhat 'sudden ! . . . 
 
 But he 's a learned man. May he continue 
 Long in his highness' favour, and do justice 
 For truth's sake, and his conscience' ; that his bones 
 (When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,) 
 May have a ' tomb of orphans' tears" wept on them ! — 
 What more ? 
 
 Crom,. That Cranmer is returned with welcome. 
 
 Installed Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 Wol. That 's news indeed ! 
 
 Crom,. Last, — that the Lady Anne, 
 
 Whom the King hath in secrecy long married,, 
 This day was viewed in 'open, as his Queen, 
 Going to chapel ; and the voice' is now 
 Only about her 'coronation. 
 
 Wol. ' There was the weight that pulled me down ! O Crom- 
 well, 
 The King has gone ' beyond me : all my glories 
 
 a The Lord Chancellor is the general guardian of orphans, 
 b Subject of conversation. 
 
358 THE EBADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 In that one woman I have lost for ever ! 
 
 No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, 
 
 Or gild 'again the noble troops that waited 
 
 Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ; 
 
 I am a poor ' fallen man, unworthy 'now 
 
 To be thy lord and master. Seek the 'King ; 
 
 ' That sun, I pray, may never 'set ! I have told him 
 
 'What and how 'true thou art: he will advance thee; 
 
 Some little memory of 'me will stir him — 
 
 I know his noble nature — not to let 
 
 ' Thy hopeful service perish too. 
 
 Crom. O my lord. 
 
 Must I then ' leave you % Must I needs forego 
 So good, so noble, and so true a master ? 
 Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, 
 With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 
 The King 'shall have my 'service ; but my 'prayers. 
 For ever and for ever, shall be 'yours. 
 
 Wol. . . . Cromwell, I did not think to shed a ' tear 
 In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me. 
 Out of thy honest truth, to play the 'woman. . . . 
 Let 's 'dry our eyes : And thus far hear me, Cromwell : 
 And — when I am forgotten, as I 'shall be. 
 And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
 Of me must 'more be heard of — say, ' I ' taught thee ; 
 Say, Wolsey, — ^that once trod the ways of glory. 
 And sounded all the depths, and shoals, of honour, — 
 Pound ' thee a way, out of his wreck, to 'rise in ; 
 A sure and safe one, though thy 'master missed it. 
 Mark but 'my fall, and that that ruined me ! 
 Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away 'ambition : 
 By ' that sin fell the 'angels ; how can 'man, then, 
 The image of his Maker, hope to 'win by 't ? 
 Love ' thyself ' last : 'cherish those hearts that ' hate 
 
 thee. 
 'Corruption wins, not more than 'honesty. 
 Still in thy right hand carry gentle 'peace, 
 To silence envious tongues. Be 'just, and fear not. 
 Let all the ends thou aim'st-at be thy country's. 
 Thy God's, and truth's: 'then if thou fall'st, O Crom- 
 well, 
 Thou fall'st a blessed 'martyr ! Serve the King ; — 
 And . . . pr'ythee, lead me in : 
 There take an inventory of all I have ; 
 
Act 4, Scene ii.] KING HENET VIII. 359 
 
 To the last penny, 't is the ' King's : my robe, 
 
 And my integrity to Heaven, are all 
 
 I dare 'novr call my own. O Cromvpell, Cromvrell ! 
 
 Had I but served my ' God, v?ith ' half the zeal 
 
 I served my 'King, 'He would not, in mine age. 
 
 Have left me naked to mine enemies ! 
 Grotn. Good sir, have patience. 
 Wol. So I have. Farewell 
 
 The hopes of ' Court ! 'my hopes in ' Heaven do dwell. 
 
 [ICxeunt. 
 
 The great Cardinal did not long survive his disgrace — he died 
 in the following year, (1530). Queen Katharine was formally 
 divorced by a Court held at Dunstable under Wolsey's successor, 
 Archbishop Cranmer. 
 
 The Queen is now an invalid, attended by Patience, her maid, 
 and Griffith, her gentleman-usher. He inquires : 
 
 Grif. How does your grace ? 
 
 Kath. Griffith, sick to 'death ! 
 
 My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, 
 ' Willing to leave their burden : reach a chair : — 
 So, . . now, methinks, I feel a little ease. — 
 Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st me, 
 That the great child of honour. Cardinal Wolsey, 
 Was 'dead? 
 
 Grif. Yes, madam ; but, I think, your grace, 
 
 Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to 't. 
 
 Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me 'how he died: 
 If 'well, he stepped before me, happily" 
 For my 'example. 
 
 Grrif. ' Well, the voice' goes, madam : 
 
 For, after the stout Earl Northumberland 
 Arrested him at York, and brought him forward 
 (As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer, 
 He fell sick suddenly, and grew 'so ill 
 He could not sit his mule. 
 
 Kath. Alas, poor man ! 
 
 Grif. At last, with easy roads," he came to Leicester ; 
 Lodged in the Abbey ; where the reverend Abbot, 
 With all his convent, honourably received him : 
 To whom he gave these words, — ^" O Father Abbot, 
 An old man, broken with the storms of State, 
 Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
 Give him a little 'earth, for charity ! " 
 So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness 
 
 ff Perhaps, haply. & Beport. c Short journeys or stages. 
 
360 THE KEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act i. 
 
 Pursued him still ; and, three nights after this, 
 
 About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
 
 ' Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance, 
 
 Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, 
 
 He gave his 'honours to the 'world again, 
 
 His 'blessed part to. 'Heaven, — and slept in peace. 
 
 Kath. So may he 'rest : His faults lie 'gently on him ! 
 Yet, thus far, Griffith, give 'me leave to speak him, 
 And yet with charity: — He was a man 
 Of an unbounded stomach," ever ranking 
 Himself with 'princes ; one that, by 'suggestion,' 
 Tithed" all the kingdom : simony"' was ' fair-play ; 
 His own 'opinion was his law ; i' the presence' 
 He would say untruths ; and be ever 'double, 
 Both in his 'words and 'meaning. He was never — 
 But where he meant to ruin — ^pitif ul : 
 His 'promises were, as he ' then was, 'mighty ; 
 But his 'performance, as he is 'now, 'nothing. 
 Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
 The clergy Ul 'example. 
 
 Grif. Noble madam, 
 
 Men's 'evil manners live iu ' brass ; their virtues 
 We write in 'water. May it please your highness 
 To hear 'me speak his 'good now ? 
 
 Kath. Yes, good Griffith : I were malicious else. 
 
 Ghrif. This Cardinal, though from a humble stock. 
 Was fashioned to much honour from his 'cradle. 
 He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
 Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading ; 
 Lofty and sour, to them that loved him 'not ; 
 But, to those men that 'sought him, sweet as summer : 
 And though he were unsatisfied in 'getting, — • 
 Which was a sin, — yet in ' bestowing, madam. 
 He was most princely. Ever witness for him 
 Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, 
 Ipswich, and Oxford ! one of which fell with him. 
 Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; 
 The other, though unfinished, yet so famous. 
 So excellent in art, and 'still so rising. 
 That Christendom shall 'ever speak his virtue. 
 His overthrow heaped ' happiness upon him ; 
 For ' then, and not ' till then, he felt ' himself, 
 And found the ' blessedness of being ' little : 
 And, — to add greater honours to his age 
 Than 'man could give him, — he died fearing 'God. 
 
 o Arrogance. &Hi8 own incitement, without law. cO. R. tied, 
 
 d Sale of church pr°f«^""^T»tR eTheroval nresence. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY VIII. 361 
 
 Kath. After 'my death, I wish no other herald, 
 No other speaker of my living actions. 
 To keep mine honour from corruption. 
 But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. — 
 Whom I most hated ' living, thou hast made me. 
 With thy religious truth and modesty, 
 Now in his ashes ' honour. Peace be with him ! — 
 Patience, be near me stUl : and set me lower : 
 I have not ' long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith, 
 Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
 I named my ' knell ; whUst I sit meditating 
 On that 'celestial harmony I go to. 
 
 Sad and solemn music is played, and a heavenly Vision promises 
 eternal happiness to the dying Queen. The music continues as 
 she awakes ; but the Angels vanish. 
 
 Kaih. Spirits of Peace, where are ye ? Are ye all gone. 
 And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye ? 
 
 Crrif. Madam, we are here. 
 
 Kath. It is not 'you I call for : 
 
 Saw ye none enter, since I slept ? 
 
 Grif. None, madam. 
 
 Kath. No ? Saw ye not, even now, a blessed troop 
 Invite me to a banquet ■? whose bright faces 
 Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun ! 
 They promised me 'eternal 'happiness ; 
 And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel 
 I am not worthy 'yet to wear : I 'shall, assuredly. 
 
 Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams 
 
 Possess your fancy. [musio ocasej. 
 
 Pat. ^ ... Do you note 
 
 How much her grace is altered on the sudden '? 
 How ' long her face is drawn ? how 'pale she looks, 
 And of an earthy colour ?" Mark her eyes ! 
 
 Grrif. . . . She is going, wench. Pray, pray ! 
 
 Pat. Heaven comfort her ! 
 
 A Messenger hastily enters, but without the ceremony she had 
 
 been accustomed to as Queen. She instantly shows great indig- 
 nation : 
 
 Mess. An 't like your grace, — 
 
 Kath. Tou are a saucy fellow : 
 
 Deserve we no more reverence ? 
 
 Mess. 1 humbly do entreat your highness' 'pardon ; 
 
 My 'haste made me unmannerly. There is staying 
 A gentleman, sent from the King, to see you. 
 
 a O. B. cold. 
 
362 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith: — but this 'fellow 
 
 Let me ne'er see again. (Exit sie.aenger. 
 
 Griffith returns, followed by Capucius. 
 
 ... If my sight fail not, 
 You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, 
 My royal nephew ; — and your name Capuoius ? 
 
 Cap. Madam, the same ; your servant. 
 
 Kath. O my lord, 
 
 The times, and titles, now are altered strangely 
 "With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, 
 What is your pleasure with me ? 
 
 Cap. Noble lady. 
 
 First, mine own service to your grace ; the next, 
 The King's 'request, that I would visit you, 
 And heartily entreat you take good comfort. 
 
 Kath. my good lord, ' that comfort comes too late ; 
 'T is like a pardon 'after execution. 
 That gentle physic, given in ' time, had 'cured me ; 
 But 'now, I am 'past all comforts here, but prayers. . . 
 How does his highness ? 
 
 Cap. Madam, in good health. 
 
 Kath. So may he 'ever do ! and ever flourish. 
 
 When ' I shall dwell with worms, and my poor 'name 
 Banished the kingdom ! — Patience, is that letter, 
 I caused you write, yet sent away '? 
 
 Fat. No, madam. \^^^{:° 
 
 Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver 
 This, to my lord the King. 
 
 Cap. Most willing, madam. 
 
 Kath. Li which I have commended to his goodness 
 
 The model" of our chaste loves, his young daughter,* — 
 (The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her !) 
 Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding, — ■ 
 To love her for her 'mother's sake, — that loved 'him. 
 Heaven knows how dearly ! My 'next poor petition 
 Is, that his noble grace would have some pity 
 Upon my wretched 'women," that so long 
 Have followed ' both my fortunes faithfully : 
 The last is, for my 'men ;° they are the poorest. 
 But poverty could never drag them from me. 
 As you wish Christian peace to souls departed. 
 Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the King 
 To do me this 'last right. 
 
 Cap. By Heaven, I will. 
 
 a Image. 6 The Princess Mary, afterwards "Queen. c Attendants. 
 
Acts, Scene ii.] KING HENEY VIII. 363 
 
 Kath. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me, 
 In all humility unto his highness : 
 Say to him, his 'long 'trouble now is passing 
 Out of this world ; tell him, in death I blessed him. 
 For so I will. — Mine eyes grow dim. — Farewell, 
 My lord. — Griffith, farewell. — Nay, Patience, 
 You must not leave me 'yet. — "When I am dead, good 
 
 wench, 
 Let me be used with honour : strew me over 
 With maiden-flowers, that all the world may know 
 I was a 'chaste 'wife: Although 'un-queened, yet, 'like 
 A Queen and daughter to a King, inter me. — 
 I can no more. ['''SJSer' 
 
 Queen Katharine did not die till 1536 — three years after the 
 King's marriage to her rival, Queen Anne Boleyn, and in the same 
 year as the execution of this his second wife. Then the poor 
 divorced Queen Katharine found rest from her sorrows : leaving 
 her fickle husband to pursue his often repeated experiments in 
 domestic felicity — marrying in haste, and repenting at leisure. He 
 employed shorter methods for future divorces. 
 
 Cromwell is taken into the royal favour: he is made successively 
 Master of the Jewel-House — Master of the Rolls (a position next 
 in rank to that of Lord Chancellor)— and afterwards private Secre- 
 tary to the King. 
 
 Cranmer is appointed Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate 
 of England ; but his tendency to Protestant opinions excites the 
 animosity of Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who secures the 
 trial of the Archbishop for uphjlding these new heresies. 
 
 The next Scene is in the Council-Chamber, presided over by the 
 Lord Chancellor, with the Dukes of Norfolk, Suffolk, and others. 
 Bishop Gardiner is present, and Cromwell is Secretary. The Lord 
 Chancellor addresses Cromwell : 
 
 Chan. Speak to the ' business, master Secretary : 
 
 ' Why are we met in council ? 
 Crom. Please your honours. 
 
 The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury, 
 
 Who waits your pleasures. 
 
 Chan. Let him enter now. . . . CCranmer approaches. 
 
 My good lord Archbishop, I am very sorry 
 
 To sit here at this present, and behold 
 
 ' That chair stand empty : but we all are frail. 
 
364 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 And few are angels : out of which frailty 
 
 And want of wisdom, you, that best should ' teach us, 
 
 Have misdemeaned yourself, and not a little, — 
 
 Toward the King first, and then toward his laws ; — 
 
 Pilling the realm by teaching 'new opinions. 
 
 Divers and dangerous ; — which are ' heresies, 
 
 And, 'not reformed, may prove pernicious. 
 
 Cran. I do beseech your lordships 
 
 That, in this case of 'justice, my 'accusers. 
 
 Be what they will, may stand forth face to face. 
 
 And freely urge against me. 
 
 Suf. Nay, my lord, 
 
 That cannot be : you are a 'counsellor, 
 And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. 
 The Bishop of Winchester rises : 
 
 Gar. My lord, because we have business of more moment, 
 We will be short with you. 'T is his highness' pleasure. 
 And our consent, for better trial of you, 
 From hence you be committed to the Tower ; 
 "Where, being but a 'private man again, 
 You shall know 'many dare accuse you ' boldly, — 
 More than, I fear, you are provided for. 
 
 Gran. Ah, my 'good Lord of Winchester, I 'thank you ; 
 You are 'always my 'good ' friend : if 'your will pass, 
 I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, — 
 You are 'so 'merciful ! ... I see your end: — 
 'T is my undoing ! Love and meekness, lord, 
 Become a churchman better than ambition. 
 That I shall 'clear myself, 
 I make as little doubt, as 'you do conscience. 
 In doing daily 'wrongs. I 'could say more, 
 But reverence to your calling makes me modest. 
 
 Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a 'sectary ; 
 
 That 's the plain truth : your painted gloss discovers. 
 To men that understand you, 'words and 'weakness. 
 The Secretary Cromwell rises : 
 
 Crotn. My Lord of Winchester, you are a little 
 
 (By your good favour,) ' too 'sharp : men so noble, 
 However faulty, yet should find respect 
 For what they ' have been : 't is a 'cruelty, 
 To load a ' falling man. 
 
 Oar. Good master Secretary, 
 
 I cry your honour mercy : 'you may, 'worst 
 Of all this table, say so. 
 
Scene ii.] KING HENRY VIII. 365 
 
 Crom. ' Why, my lord ? 
 
 Gar. Do not I know 'you for a favourer 
 
 Of this new sect ? 'you are not 'sound. 
 Crom. Not sound'? 
 
 Gar. Not sound, I say. 
 Crom. 'Would 'you were half so ' honest ; 
 
 Men's 'prayers then would seek you, not their ' fears. 
 Gar. ... I shall 'remember this bold language. 
 Crom. Do! Eemember your bold 'life too. 
 The Lord Chancellor intervenes : 
 Chan. This is too much ; forbear, for shame, my lords ! — 
 
 I take it, by 'all voices, that ' forthwith 
 
 You be conveyed to the Tower, a prisoner ; 
 
 There to remain, till the King's 'further pleasure 
 
 Be known unto us. 
 Cran. Is there no 'other way of mercy, 
 
 But I must needs to the ' Tower, my lords ■? 
 Gar. What other 
 
 Would you 'expect ? You are strangely troublesome ! 
 
 Let some o' the guard be ready there. [Enter Guard. 
 
 Cran. For me ? 
 
 Must 'I go, like a 'traitor, thither'? Stay, good my 
 lords ; 
 
 I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords ; 
 
 By virtue of that 'ring, I take my cause 
 
 Out of the grips of cruel men, and give it 
 
 To a most noble judge, — the King my master. 
 Chan. This is the ' King's ring ! 'T is no counterfeit. 
 Suf. ' 'T is the right ring, by Heaven ! I told ye all. 
 
 When we first put this dangerous stone a-roUing, 
 
 'T would fall upon 'ourselves. 
 The King enters, frowning on them ; he takes his seat. The 
 Bishop of Winchester says : 
 
 Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to Heaven 
 In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ; 
 Not only good, and wise, but most religious. 
 
 JK^. Sen. ' You 're ever good, at sudden commendations, 
 Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not 
 To hear such flatteries now ; and in my presence ; 
 They are too thin and bare to hide offences : 
 To 'me you cannot reach. You play the 'spaniel, 
 And think, with wagging of your ' tongue, to win me ; 
 But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I 'm sure, 
 ' Thou hast a 'cruel nature, and a ' bloody. — 
 
366 THE EEADEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Good man, LTociauo sit down. — 'Now let me see the 
 
 'proudest, 
 He that dares 'most, but wag his 'finger at thee : 
 By all that 's holy, he had better 'starve, 
 Than but once ' tlaink this place becomes thee not. 
 The Earl of Surrey interposes : 
 
 Sur. May it please your grace, — 
 
 JT. Hen. No, sir, it does 'not please me. 
 
 I thought, I had had men of understanding 
 And wisdom, of my Council ; but I find none. 
 Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, . . . 
 This 'good man, — few of 'you deserve that title ! — 
 This 'honest man, wait like a lowly footboy 
 At chamber-door ? and one as great as you are ? 
 Why, what a 'shame was this ! Did my commission 
 Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye 
 Power, as he was a ' Councillor to try him. 
 Not as a 'groom. There 's some of ye, I see, 
 More out of 'malice than integrity. 
 Would try him to the 'utmost, had ye mean ; 
 Which ye shaU never have, lords, while I live ! 
 Make me no more ado, but all 'embrace him : 
 Be ' friends, for shame, my lords ! — My Lord of Can- 
 terbury, 
 I have a suit which you must not deny me ; — 
 There is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism ; 
 Tou must be 'god-father, and answer for her. 
 Cran. The greatest 'monarch now alive may glory 
 In such an honour: how may 'I deserve it? 
 
 S^. Hen. Come, come, my lord, you 'd spare your spoons." 
 You '11 have 
 
 Two noble partners with you, — the old Duchess 
 Of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset. 
 Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you 
 Embrace and love this man. 
 Gw. ■ . . With a true heart, I do it. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I long 
 To have this young one made a Christian. 
 As I have made ye 'one, lords, one 'remain : 
 So ' I grow stronger, — you more ' honour gain. [Exeunt. 
 
 In 1533 the King was married to Anne Bullen, and, in the same 
 year, the Princess Elizabeth was born. The royal infant has been 
 taken to the Church ; and we are now supposed to be standing 
 within the Palace Yard, waiting for the return of the regal pro- 
 
 a Spoons were the usual gifts from god-fathers and sponsors. 
 
Scene iii.] KING HENRY VIII. 367 
 
 cession from the christening. The Porter — who has only one man 
 to assist him — is endeavouring to keep the crowd of lookers-on in 
 order. 
 
 Port. You '11 leave your noise anon, ye rascals ! Do you 
 take the Court for a bear''-garclen ? Ye rude slaves, 
 leave your gaping.' 
 
 Some one in the crowd bawls out : 
 
 Man. [mihio.j Good master Porter, I belong to the larder. 
 
 Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue ! — 
 Is this a place to 'roar in? — Fetch me a dozen crab-tree 
 staves, and strong ones. — I '11 scratch your heads ! 
 You must be seeing 'christenings ? Do you look for ale 
 and cakes ' here, you rude rascals % 
 , Man. Pray, sir, be patient : 't is as much impossible, 
 
 (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons,) 
 
 'To scatter them, as 't is to make them sleep 
 
 On May-day morning ; — which will never be. 
 
 We may as well push 'gainst Saint Paul's as stir them. 
 
 Port. How got they ' in, and be hanged ? 
 
 Man. Alas, I know not ; how gets the ' tide in ? 
 
 Port. Do you hear the noise they make t Keep the door 
 close, siiTah. 
 
 Man. What would you have me do % 
 
 Port. What 'should you do, but knock 'em down by the 
 dozens % 
 
 Crowd. Hooray ! hooray ! 
 
 The Lord Chamberlain enters. 
 
 Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here, 
 
 As if we kept a fair ! Where are these porters, 
 These lazy knaves ? — Ye have made a fine hand, fellows : 
 There 's a trim rabble let in ! Are all these 
 Your faithful friends o' the suburbs ? We shall have 
 Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ' ladies. 
 When they pass ' back from the christening. 
 
 Port. An 't please your honour, 
 
 We are but 'men ; and what ' two men may do, 
 (Not being torn a pieces,) we have done : 
 An 'army cannot rule 'em. 
 
 Cham. As I live. 
 
 If the King blame 'me for 't, I '11 lay ye all 
 
 By the heels, and suddenly ; and on your heads 
 
 Clap round fines for neglect. Hark ! the trumpets 
 
 sound ; 
 They 're come already from the christening. 
 
 a O. R. Parish. & Opening your mouths, sliouting. 
 
368 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Go, break among the press," and find a way out 
 
 To let the troop pass fairly, or ' I '11 find 
 
 A Marshalsea,' shall hold you play these two months ! 
 
 Port. Make way there for the Princess ! 
 
 Crowd. Hooray ! hooray ! [F.ieunt. 
 
 With difficulty we press forward, through the crowd, into the in- 
 terior of the Palace, in time to hear Garter King at Arms make this 
 proclamation : 
 
 G-art. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous 
 life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty 
 Princess of England, Elizabeth ! 
 
 The Archbishop of Canterbury kneels. 
 
 Cran. Sire, to your royal grace, and the good Queen, 
 My noble partners and myself thus pray : — 
 All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady. 
 That Heaven e'er laid-up to make parents happy, 
 May hourly fall upon ye ! 
 
 K. Hen. Thank you, good lord Archbishop ; 
 What is her name ? 
 
 Cran. Elizabeth. 
 
 IT. Hen. With this kiss take my blessing : God protect thee ! 
 Into whose hand I give thy life. 
 
 Cran. Amen. — 
 
 The assemblage is then addressed by Cranmer : 
 
 Let 'me speak, sir. 
 Eor ' Heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter 
 Let none think ' flattery, for they '11 find them ' truth. 
 This royal infant, — Heaven still move about her ! — 
 Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
 Upon this land a thousand-thousand blessings, 
 Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be — 
 But few now living can ' behold that goodness — 
 A pattern to all princes living 'with her. 
 And all that shall 'succeed : ' Sheba" was never 
 More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue. 
 Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces 
 Shall still be 'doubled on her: Truth shall 'nurse her; 
 Holy and heavenly Thoughts still 'counsel her : 
 She shall be ' loved, and ' feared : her 'own shall bless 
 
 her ; 
 Her foes, shake like a field of beaten corn, 
 And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with 
 
 her : 
 
 a Throng. & A prison in London. c Queen of the South, contemporaneous with 
 King Solomon (see 1 Kings, X), 
 
Epilogue.] KING HENEY VIII. 369 
 
 In ' her days, every man shall eat in 'safety, 
 Under his own vine, vs'hat he plants ; and sing 
 The merry songs of 'peace to all his neighbours. 
 God shall be 'truly knov^n. Our 'children's children 
 Shall see this, and bless Heaven ! 
 
 JS". Sen. Thou speakest vronders ! 
 
 Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, 
 An 'aged princess ; 'many days shall see her. 
 And yet no day without a deed to 'crown it. 
 'Would I had known no more ! . . . but she 'must 'die — 
 She must, the saints must have her ; — 
 A most unspotted lily shall she pass 
 To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. 
 
 I\^. Hen. O lord Archbishop, 
 
 This oracle of comfort has so pleased me. 
 
 That, when I am in heaven, I shall desu'e 
 
 To 'see what this child does, and praise my Maker. — 
 
 Lead the way, lords : Ye must all see the Queen, 
 
 And 'she must thank ye. This day, no man think 
 
 There 's business at his ' house, for all shall 'stay : 
 
 This little one shall make it holiday. CExennt. 
 
 EPILOGUE." 
 
 'T is ten to one, this play can never please 
 
 'All that are here. Some come to take their ease. 
 
 And sleep an act or two ; but those, we fear. 
 
 We have frighted with our trumpets ; so, 't is clear, 
 
 'They '11 say, " 'T is naught :" others, to hear the city 
 
 Abused extremely, and to cry, — "'That 's witty !" 
 
 "Which we have not done neither ; that, I fear, 
 
 All the expected good we 're like to hear 
 
 Eor this play, at this time, is only in 
 
 The merciful construction of good 'women : 
 
 For such a one we showed them.' If 'they smile. 
 
 And say, " 'T will do," I know, within a while. 
 
 All the best 'men are ours ; for 't is ill hap, 
 
 If ' they hold, when their ladies bid them clap. 
 
 End of King Henry VIII. 
 
 a Supposed to have been written by Ben Jongon. 
 b In the character of Queen Katharine. 
 
THE TBAGEDY OF COEIOLANDS, THOUGH WRITTEN AFTEE THE TWO OTHER 
 ROMAN PLAYS, IS THE FIRST IN HISTORICAI. ORDER : {see page 8). CORIO- 
 LANTJS DIED ABOUT 448 YEARS B. C. ; JULIUS C«SAK, 44 YEARS E. C; MARC 
 ANTONY AND QUEEN CLEOPATRA, 30 YEARS B. u. 
 
 CORIOL^I^XJS. 
 
 Shakespeare has written three Plays, illustrative of early Roman 
 History — Coriolanus, Julius Caesar, and Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 The tragedy of Coriolanus is supposed to have been written and 
 performed in 1610, but it was first printed in the folio of 1623. The 
 Story is taken from Plutarch's " Lives of the noble Grecians and 
 Romans compared together, and done into English by Thomas 
 North." The time of the supposed events — which Niebuhr, the 
 greatest ancient historian of our age, places among the fabulous 
 legends of Rome — is in the third century from the Building of the 
 City, or nearly five hundred years before the Christian era. 
 
 The old but ever-renewed struggle between Poverty and Property 
 is the subject of this drama ; its hero being considered by the 
 Patricians a man of extraordinary valour and incorruptible integ- 
 rity ; by the Plebeians, the embodiment of pride and irascibility. 
 
 The Characters retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 TuLLus AuFiDius, General of the 
 Volscians. 
 
 VoLTjMNiA, Mother to ('oriolanus. 
 ViRGiLiA, Wife to Goiiolanus. 
 Valekia, Friend to VirgiUa. 
 
 Roman and Volsei.an Senators, 
 Patricians, ^diles, Lictors, 
 Soldiers. Citizens, Messengers, 
 Serxiants to Aufidiua, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 The Scene is partly in Rome and its neighbourhood ; partly in 
 Corioli and its neighbourhood ; and partly in Antium ; both cities 
 being about thirty miles from Rome. 
 
 The Time comprehends about four historical years ; that is, from 
 the Secession to the Mons Sacer, in the year of Rome 262, to the 
 death of Coriolanus A. U. C. 266. 
 
 Oaius Maeoius, afterwards Caius 
 Maecius Coeiolanus, a nohle 
 Roman. 
 
 Titus L aetius , ( Generals against 
 
 CoMiNius, j" the Volscians. 
 
 Menenius Agrippa, Fnend to 
 Coriolanus. 
 
 SiciNius Velutus,) Tribunes of 
 
 Junius Beutus, j the people. 
 
 Young Marcius, Son to Corio- 
 lanus. 
 
 A Roman Herald. 
 
 The Play opens with a scene of tumult in the streets of Rome. 
 The starving Citizens are clamorous against the Patricians, and 
 chiefly against Caius Marcius, who had added to his pride of birth 
 contemptuous disdain for the complaints of the people. 
 
 One Citizen alone speaks in extenuation of the patrician warrior. 
 
Act 1, Scene i.] COKIOLANUS. 371 
 
 1 Clt. Before we proceed any further, hear 'me speak. 
 All. Speak, speak ! 
 
 1 Cit, You are all resolved rather to 'die than to famish % 
 All. Resolved, resolved ! 
 
 1 Cit. First, — you know, Caius Maroius is chief 'enemy to 
 
 the people ? Let us ' kill him, and we '11 have corn at 
 our own price. Is 't a verdict ? 
 All. No more 'talking on 't f let it be 'done: Away, away I 
 
 The friendly Plebeian advances : 
 
 2 Cit. One word, good citizens. Would you proceed 
 
 'especially against Caius Marcius ? 
 
 1 Cit. Against him ' first : he 's a very 'dog to the common- 
 
 alty. 
 
 2 Cit. Consider you what services he has done for his 
 
 country ? 
 
 1 Cit. Very well ; and could be content to give him good 
 
 'report for 't, but that he pays 'himself — with being 
 proud. What he hath done famously, he did it to 
 please his mother, and partly to be proud ; which he is^ 
 even to the 'altitude of his virtue. 
 
 2 Cit. What he cannot help in his 'nature, you account a 
 
 'vice in him. Tou must in no way say he is 'covetous ? 
 
 1 Cit. If I must not, I need not be 'barren of accusations ■, 
 
 he hath faults, with 'surplus, to tire in repetition. 
 C^Si,'.] What shouts are these ? The 'other side o' the 
 city is 'risen :° why stay 'we prating here ? To the 
 Capitol ! — Soft ! Who comes here °>. 
 
 2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa ; one that hath always 
 
 'loved the people. 
 1 Cit. ' He 's one honest enough : would all the 'rest were so !. 
 
 Menenius Agrippa enters. 
 
 Men. What work 's, my countrymen, in hand ? Where go 
 you? 
 
 1 Clt. Our business is not unknown to the Senate. They 
 say, 'poor suitors have strong ' breaths : they shall know, 
 we have strong 'arms too ! 
 
 Men. Why, my good friends, will you undo 'yourselves ? 
 
 1 Cit. We cannot, sir ; we 'are undone already. 
 
 Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable 'care 
 
 Have the patricians of you. For your 'wants, 
 Your suffering in this 'dearth, you may as well 
 Strike at the 'heaven with your staves, as lift them 
 Against the Roman State ; and for the 'dearth. 
 
372 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEAEE. CActl. 
 
 The 'gods, not the patricians, make it ; so 
 
 Your 'knees to 'them, not 'arms, must help: You 
 
 'slander 
 The helms o' the state, who care for you like ' fathers. 
 
 1 Cit. Care for us ! — They ne'er cared for us yet ! — Suffer 
 us to 'famish, and their store-houses 'crammed with 
 grain ; repeal daily any 'wholesome act established 
 'against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes 
 daily to chain up and restrain the 'poor. If the 'wars 
 eat us not up, ' they will ; and there 's all the ' love they 
 bear us. 
 
 Men. Either you must 
 
 Confess yourselves wondrous 'maUcious, 
 Or be accused of ' folly. I shall tell you 
 A pretty tale : it may be, you ' have heard it ; 
 But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture. 
 
 1 Cit. We '11 hear it, sir : yet you must not think to fob off 
 our disgrace with a 'tale. 
 
 3Ien. . . . There was a time, when all the ' body's 'members 
 Rebelled against the ' belly ; thus accused it : — 
 That only, like a 'gulf, it did remain 
 I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive ; 
 Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing 
 ' Like labour with the rest ; where other instruments 
 Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel ; 
 And ('mutually participate,) did minister 
 Unto the appetite and affection common 
 Of the 'whole ' body. The belly answered, — 
 
 I Cit. Well sir, 'what answer made the belly? 
 
 Men. Sir, I shall 'tell you.— With a kind of smile, 
 (For, look you, I 'may make the belly 'smile 
 As well as 'speak) — it tauntingly replied 
 To the discontented members, — the mutinous parts 
 That envied his receipt — ■ 
 
 1 Cit. Your belly's answer ■? What! 
 
 The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye. 
 The couisellor heart, the arm our soldier. 
 Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, 
 With other muniments and petty helps 
 In this our fabric, if that they — 
 
 Men. What then? 
 
 'Pore me, this fellow speaks ! What then % what then ? 
 
 1 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be restrained, — 
 
 Men. Well, what then? 
 
Scene i.] CORIOLANUS. 373- 
 
 1 Cit. What 'could the belly answer ? 
 
 Men. I will tell you. 
 
 1 Git. Te 're long about it. 
 
 Men. Note me this, good friend ; 
 
 Tour most grave belly was 'deUberate, 
 Not rash — hke his accusers, — and 'thus answered: — 
 " True is it, my in-corporate friends," quoth he, 
 " That I 'receive the general food, at first, 
 Which 'you do ' live upon ; and ' fit it is, — 
 'Because I am the store-house, and the shop. 
 Of the whole ' body : But, if you do remember, 
 I send it through the rivers of your blood. 
 Even to the Court, the heart, — to the seat o' the ' brain : 
 The strongest 'nerves, and small inferior 'veins. 
 From 'me receive that natural competency 
 Whereby they 'Hve." This says the belly, mark me, — 
 
 1 Oit. Ay, sir ; well, well. 
 
 Men. " Though 'all, at once, cannot 
 
 See what I do deliver out to 'each. 
 Yet I can make my audit up, that all 
 From me do 'back receive the 'flour of all. 
 And leave 'me but the 'bran." — What say you to 't ? 
 The Senators of Eome are this good ' belly, 
 And 'you . . . the 'mutinous 'members ! What do 'you 
 
 think, — 
 You, the great ' toe of this assembly ? 
 
 1 Cit. I the great toe ? 'why the great toe ? 
 
 Men. For, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest 
 
 Of this most wise rebellion, thou go 'st ' foremost. — 
 But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs : 
 Rome, and her 'rats, are at the point of battle ; 
 The 'one side 'must have bale." — 
 
 The great Patrician leader, Caius Marcius, enters : 
 
 HaU, noble Marcius ! 
 
 Mar. Thanks. — What 's the matter, you dissensions rogues ? 
 
 1 Cit. We have ever 'your good word. 
 
 Mar. He that will give good words to ' thee, will flatter 
 Beneath abhorring. — What would you have, you curs. 
 That like nor peace, nor war % the one 'affrights you. 
 The other makes you 'proud. He that 'trusts to you. 
 Where he should find you lions, finds you ' hares ; 
 Where foxes, 'geese : and your affections are 
 A sick man's appetite,^who desires most that 
 Which would 'increase his evil. He that depends 
 
 a MiafortTine. 
 
374 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Upon your favours, swims with fins of ' lead, 
 
 And hews down oaks with 'rushes. Hang ye ! Trust 
 
 ye? 
 "With every 'minute you do change a mind ; 
 And call him 'noble that was now your 'hate. 
 Him vile, that was your 'garland. What 's the matter, 
 That, in these several places of the city, 
 You cry against the noble Senate, who. 
 Under the Gods, keep you in awe, which else 
 Would feed on one another ? — What 's theii* seeking ? 
 
 Men. For corn, at their 'own rates ; whereof, they say. 
 The city is well stored. 
 
 Mar. Hang 'em ! " ' They say ! " 
 
 They '11 sit by the fire, and presume to know 
 What 's done i' the Capitol : making parties strong. 
 And feebling such as stand not in 'their liking. 
 Below their cobbled shoes. " ' They say " there 's grain 
 
 enough ! 
 Would the nobility lay aside their ruth," 
 And let me use my 'sword, I "d make a quarry' 
 With thousands of these quartered slaves, as high 
 As I could pick" my lance. 
 
 Men. What says the 'other troop ? 
 
 Mar. They are dissolved : hang 'em ! 
 
 They said, they were an-hungry ; sighed forth prov- 
 erbs, — 
 That " Hunger ' broke stone walls ; " that " ' Dogs must 
 
 eat ; " 
 That " Meat was 'made for mouths ; " that " The Gods 
 
 sent not 
 Corn for the 'rich men only : " — with these shreds. 
 They vented their complainings : which being answered, 
 And a petition granted them, — they threw their caps 
 As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon ! 
 
 Men. ' What is granted them ? 
 
 Mar. Five Tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms, 
 Of their own choice : one 's Junius Brutus, 
 Sicinius Velutus, and ... I know not — 'Sdeath ! 
 The rabble should have first unroofed the city, 
 Ere so prevailed with 'me ! Go home, you fragments ! 
 If, as I hear, the Volscians are in arms, 
 We shall have means to vent"* our musty superfluity. — 
 The Generals, Cominius and Titus Lartius, with several Sen- 
 ators, here pass along the street; followed by Junius Brutus and 
 
 a CompasBiou, pity. & Prey for vultures. c Pitch. d To get rid of. 
 
Scene i.] COEIOLANUS. 375 
 
 Sicinius Velutus, two of the newly elected Tribunes of the People. 
 
 Cominius says : 
 
 Com. Marcius, 't is 'true that you have lately told us, — 
 
 The Volsces 'are in arms. 
 Mar. They have a leader, 
 
 TuUus Aufidius, that will put you to 't. 
 
 I sin in 'envying his nobility ; 
 
 And were I anything but what I 'am, 
 
 I 'd wish me only 'he. 
 Com. You have 'fought together. 
 
 Mar. Were half to half the 'world by the ears, and he 
 
 Upon 'my party, I 'd revolt, to make 
 
 Only my wars with ' him : he is a lion 
 
 That I am 'proud to hunt. 
 1 Sen. Then, worthy Marcius, 
 
 Attend upon Cominius to these wars. 
 Com. It is your former promise. 
 Mar. And I am constant. — Titus Lartius, thou 
 
 Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. 
 Com. [To the ciiizens.: Heuce ! To your homes ! be gone ! 
 Mar. Nay, ' let them follow : 
 
 The Volsces have 'much corn ; take these 'rats thither. 
 
 To gnaw ' their garners. — Worshipful mutineers. 
 
 Your 'valour puts 'well forth ; 'pray, follow. [fniseo.' 
 
 Marcus goes out haughtily, followed by the Senators. The Ple- 
 beians quietly disperse. The two Tribunes, Sicinius and Brutus, 
 remain. 
 
 Sic. Was 'ever man so proud as is this Marcius ? 
 
 Bru. He has no equal. 
 
 Sic. When we were chosen Tribunes for the People, — 
 
 J3ru. Marked you his lip and eyes ? 
 
 Sic. Nay, but his ' taunts. 
 
 Eru. Being moved, he will not spare to gu-d° the 'gods. 
 
 Sic. Bemock the modest moon ! 
 
 Bru. The present wars devour him ! 
 
 Sic. Such a nature. 
 
 Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow 
 
 Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder 
 
 His insolence can brook to be commanded 
 
 'Under Cominius. 
 Sic. Let us hence, and hear 
 
 How the despatch is made ; and in what fashion, — 
 
 More than his 'singularity,' — he goes 
 
 Upon his present action. 
 JBru. Let 's along. [Exeunt. 
 
 a To taunt or sneer at. h Personal arrangement. 
 
376 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPBAEE. [Actl. 
 
 While Caius Marcius has been appointed to a command under 
 the senior generals Cominius and Titus Lartius, preparations are 
 made, by the Senators at Corioli, to place TuUus Aufidius at the 
 head of the Volscian army. 
 
 The Scene now changes to an apartment in the house of Caius 
 Marcius ; where Volumnia his mother, and Virgilia his wife are 
 employed in needlework. Volumnia is proud of her son and de- 
 sirous of his success ; Virgilia, quiet and retiring, is mainly anxious 
 for his safety. These ladies, thus contrasted, are admirable speci- 
 mens of the Matrons of Early Rome, and give us some idea of that 
 feminine nobility of character which induced the founders of the 
 city to introduce the religious festival of the " Matronalia," thus 
 conferring high political importance on the wives and mothers of 
 Rome, and causing them (as we shall afterwards leSrn) to be pub- 
 licly employed in time of danger. — Volumnia says to Virgilia : 
 
 Vol. I pray you, daughter, sing ; or express yourself in a 
 more 'comfortable sort : if my son were 'my husband, 
 I should freely 'rejoice in that absence wherein he won 
 'honour. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and my 
 only son ; when, for a 'day of Kings' entreaties, a 
 mother should not sell him an 'hour from her behold- 
 ing ; I, — considering how ' honour would become such 
 a person ; that it was no better than, (picture-like,) to 
 hang by the wall, if 'renown made it not stir, — was 
 pleased to let him seek danger where he was like to 
 find ' fame. To a cruel war I 'sent him ; from whence 
 he returned, his brows bound with oak !" I tell thee, 
 daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he 
 was a 'man-child, than in first seeing he had 'proved 
 himself a man. 
 
 Vir. But had he 'died in the business, madam, — how ' then? 
 
 Vol. Then his 'good 'report should have been my son. 
 Hear me profess sincerely : — Had I a 'dozen sons, — 
 each in my love alike, and none less dear than ' thine 
 and 'my good Marcius, — I had rather have 'eleven die 
 nobly for their country, than 'one voluptuously surfeit 
 'out of action. 
 
 A Gentlewoman enters : 
 
 Gefit. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you ? 
 
 Vir. Beseech you, give me leave to retire. 
 
 Vol. Indeed, you shall not. 
 
 Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum ; 
 I see him pluck Aufidius by the hair ; 
 Methinks, I see him 'stamp thus, and 'call thus, — 
 " Come on, you cowards ! " His bloody brow 
 
 a Tlie oak crown was, in Borne, the token of the highest distinction. 
 
Scenes iii,iv, v.] " COKIOLANUS. 377 
 
 With his mailed hand then wiping, forth he goes ! 
 Vir. His ' bloody brow ? O Jupiter, no blood ! 
 Vol. Away, you fool ! it more becomes a 'man 
 
 Than gilt his trophy. ' Go now : Tell Valeria, 
 
 We are fit to bid her welcome. 
 Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius ! 
 Vol. He '11 beat Aufidius' head below his knee. 
 
 And tread upon his neck. — Now to Valeria. Come ! 
 
 Shortly after the appointment of Caius Marcius to his command, 
 several skirmishes take place ; in one of which the Romans are 
 beaten back to their trenches — at which the indignation of the 
 young leader is aroused : 
 
 Mar. All the contagion of the south light on you, 
 
 You shames of Rome ! you herd of cowards ! — Boils 
 
 and plagues 
 Plaster you o'er ; that you may be 'abhorred 
 Further than 'seen ; and one infect another 
 Against the wind a mile ! You souls of 'geese. 
 That bear the 'shapes of men, how have you run 
 Prom slaves that 'apes would beat ! Pluto and hell ! 
 All hurt 'behind; 'backs red, and 'faces pale 
 With flight and agued fear ! Mend, and charge ' home ; 
 Or, by the fires of heaven, I '11 leave the foe, 
 And make my wars on 'you : look to 't ! Come on ; 
 If you '11 stand fast, we '11 beat them to their wives. 
 As they us to our trenches. Follow me ! 
 
 After this animating address, the fighting is renewed with vary- 
 ing fortune. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and Marcius follows 
 them. 
 
 So, now the gates are 'ope : — now prove good seconds : 
 'T is for the followers fortune widens them. 
 Not for the fliers : mark 'me, and do the like. 
 
 [He eniera the gates alone. 
 
 He is immediately attacked by the hostile soldiery, and almost 
 overpowered by many wounds. His sudden capture so exasperates 
 his men that they soon force their way to his assistance, and re- 
 cover him from the enemy. The bleeding hero is at once congrat- 
 ulated by Lartius his general, but he declines this public commen- 
 dation : 
 
 Mar. Sir, praise me not ; 
 
 My work hath yet not 'warmed me. Fare you well. 
 The blood I drop is rather 'physical 
 Than 'dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus 
 I win appear, and fight ! 
 
378 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act!. 
 
 Lart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, 
 
 Fall deep in love with thee ; and her great charms 
 
 'Mis-guide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman. 
 
 Prosperity be thy page !" 
 Mar. ' Thy friend ; no less 
 
 Than those she placeth highest ! So, farewell. 
 Z,art. Thou worthiest Marcius! — [Eiit Moreius. 
 
 Go, sound thy trumpet in the Market-place ; 
 
 Call thither all the officers o' the town, 
 
 Where they shall know our mind : Away ! [Exeunt. 
 
 After this temporary check to the Romans, we now proceed to 
 the camp of the Commander-in-chief, Cominius, who is endeavour- 
 ing to revive his wearied soldiers : 
 
 Com. Breathe you, my friends! Well fought! We are 
 come off 
 Like Romans, neither foolish in our 'stands. 
 Nor cowardly in 'retire : believe me, sirs, 
 We shall be charged 'again ! Ye Roman gods. 
 Lead their successes as we wish our own. 
 So give you thankful sacrifice ! — 
 A Messenger enters. 
 
 Thy news % 
 Mess. The citizens of CorioU have issued. 
 
 And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle : 
 I saw our party to their ' trenches driven. 
 And then I came away. 
 Com. How long is 't since *? 
 
 Mess. Above an hour, my lord. 
 
 A voice is heard without, calling : 
 Mar. Come I too late? 
 
 Com. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor. 
 More than I know the sound of ' Marcius' tongue 
 From every 'meaner man's. 
 
 Marcius enters, still covered with blood : 
 Mar. Come I too late ? 
 
 Com,. Ay, if you come not in the blood of 'others. 
 
 But mantled in. your 'own. 
 Mar. 0, let me cUp' you 
 
 In arms as sound as when I woo'd ; in ' heart 
 As merry as on my nuptial day. 
 Com,. Flower of warriors ! 
 
 How is 't with Titus Lartius ? 
 
 a Attendant. b Clasp. 
 
Scene vi.] COEIOLANUS. 379 
 
 Mar. As with a man busied about decrees : 
 
 Condemning some to 'death, and some to 'exile ; 
 
 Holding Corioli, in the name of Eome, 
 
 Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, 
 
 To let him slip at will. 
 Com. Where is that 'slave 
 
 Who told me they had beat you to your ' trenches ? 
 
 Where is he ? Call him hither. 
 Mar. Let him alone ; 
 
 He did inform the truth. 
 Com. But how 'prevailed you % 
 
 Mar. Will the ' time serve to tell ? I do not think so. 
 
 Where is the enemy? Are you 'lords o' the field? 
 
 If not, why cease you till you 'are so ? 
 Com. Marcius, 
 
 We have fought at disadvantage . . . and retired. 
 Mar. How lies their battle ? Know you on which side 
 
 They have placed their men of trust ? 
 Cmn. As I guess, Marcius, 
 
 Their bands i' the vaward" are the Antiates ; 
 
 O'er them Aufidius. 
 Mar. I do beseech you, 
 
 By all the battles whereia we have fought, 
 
 Set 'me against Aufidius ! 
 Com. Though I could wish 
 
 You were conducted home, yet dare I never 
 
 ' Deny your asking. Take your choice of those 
 
 That best can 'aid your action. 
 Mar. Those are they 
 
 That most are 'willing ; and, if any fear 
 
 Less for his 'person than an ill 'report ; 
 
 If any think brave 'death outweighs bad ' Uf e. 
 
 And that his country 's dearer than himself ; 
 
 Let him, 'alone, or 'many if so minded. 
 
 Wave thus, and follow Marcius ! ['""^ "" "'™'iS',i """ """■ 
 
 Come then ! along ! Make you a sword of 'me ? 
 
 If these shows be not outward, which of you 
 
 But is ' four Volsces ? 
 Com. March on, my fellows : 
 
 Make good this ostentation, and you shall 
 
 Divide in all with 'us. [Exeunt. 
 
 On the field between the Roman and the Volscian camps, Mar- 
 cius has at last the desire of his soldierly heart : he is at sword's 
 length with his great foe, TuUus Aufidius. 
 
 a Vanward, foremost rank . 
 
380 THE EEADEr's SHAKESPEAKE. [Actl. 
 
 Mar. I '11 fight with none but ' thee ; for I do hate thee 
 
 Worse than a promise-breaker. 
 Auf. We hate 'alike : 
 
 Not Afric owns a 'serpent I abhor, 
 
 More than ' thy fame I 'envy. Fix thy foot ! 
 Mar. Let the first budger die the other's slave, 
 
 And the gods doom him after ! 
 Auf. If I fly, Marcius, halloo me like a hare. 
 Mar. Within these three hours, Tullas, 
 
 Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, 
 
 And made what work I pleased ; 't is not 'my blood 
 
 Wherein thou seest me masked : for thy revenge, 
 
 Wrench up thy power to the highest. 
 Auf. Wert thou the Hector 
 
 That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny. 
 
 Thou shouldst not scape me here. 
 The contest is interrupted by some Volscian soldiers who assist 
 their general to escape from his formidable enemy. The tri- 
 umphant Marcius, although severely wounded, returns to the Roman 
 Camp, where he is loudly praised, in presence of the army, by the 
 general-in-chief, Cominius : 
 
 Com. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work. 
 Thou 'It not 'believe thy deeds : but I '11 report it 
 Where Senators shall mingle tears with smiles ; 
 Where the dull Tribunes, 
 
 That, with the fusty Plebeians, hate thine honours. 
 Shall say, against their hearts, — " We thank the gods 
 Our Kome hath such a soldier ! " — 
 
 Mar. Pray now, no more : My mother, 
 
 Who has a 'charter to extol her blood, 
 When 'she does praise me, 'grieves me. I have done 
 As 'you have done, — that 's what I 'can ; induced 
 As you have been, — that 's for my country : 
 He that has but effected his good will 
 Hath overta'en 'mine act. 
 . Oom. Tou shall not be 
 
 The 'grave of your deserving ; 'Rome must know 
 The value of her own. — Before our army, hear me. 
 
 Mar. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart 
 To hear themselves remembered. 
 
 Com. Should they 'not, 
 
 Well might they 'fester 'gainst ingratitude. 
 Of all the treasure, in the field achieved. 
 We render you the ' tenth, 
 
 Mar. I thank you, general, 
 
Sceneix.] COKIOLANTTS. 381 
 
 But cannot make my heai't consent to take 
 A ' bribe, to pay my 'sword : I do refuse it. 
 
 A long flourish. They all cry, " Marcius ! Marcius ! " cast up 
 their caps and lances. Cominius and Lartius stand bare. 
 
 May thes6 same instruments, which you profane, 
 Never sound more ! When drums and trumpets shall 
 I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be 
 Made all of false-faced soothing ! No more, I say. 
 Tou shout in acclamations ' hyperbolical ; 
 As if I loved my ' little should be dieted 
 In praises sauced with 'lies. 
 Cotn. Too modest are you ; 
 
 Therefore, be it known, that Caius Marcius 
 Wears this war's 'garland : and from this time. 
 For what he did before Corioli, call him. 
 With all the applause and clamour of the host, 
 Caius Marcius Coriolanus ! — Bear the addition nobly 
 ever! 
 
 The drums and trumpets mingle their sounds of triumph with the 
 shouts of the soldiers, as the cry rises from every column : 
 
 All. Caius Marcius Coriolanus ! 
 
 Cor. I will go wash ; 
 
 And when my face is fair, you shall perceive 
 
 Whether I blush or no. 
 Com. So, to our tent. 
 
 Cor. The gods begin to 'mock me. I, that now 
 
 'Refused most princely gifts, am bound to 'beg 
 
 Of my lord general. 
 Com. Take it: 't is yours — What is 'f? 
 
 Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli, 
 
 And at a poor man's house ; he used me kindly : 
 
 He cried to me ; I saw him 'prisoner ; 
 
 But then 'Aufidius was within my view. 
 
 And 'wrath o'erwhelmed my pity. I request you 
 
 To give my poor host ' freedom. 
 Com. O, well begged ! 
 
 Were he the ' butcher of my 'son, he should 
 
 Be free, as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. 
 Xart. Marcius, his name ? 
 Cor. Hj Jupiter, forgot ! . . . 
 
 I am weary ; yea, my 'memory is tired. — 
 
 Have we no 'wine here ? 
 Com. Go we to our tent. 
 
382 THE KBADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 The blood upon your visage dries ; 't is time 
 
 It should be looked to : Come ! [Exeunt. 
 
 We hasten to Rome, before intelligence of this great victory, and 
 the achievements of Coriolanus, can be known.— Menenius is in 
 conversation with the Tribunes Brutus and Sicinius : 
 
 Men. The augurer tells me we shall have news ' to-night. 
 
 Sru. Good, or bad ? 
 
 Men. Not according to the prayer of the 'people, for they 
 ' love not Marcius. 
 
 Sic. Nature teaches ' beasts to know their friends. 
 
 Men. Pray you, whom does the 'wolf love % 
 
 Sic. The lamb. 
 
 Men. Ay, to devour him ; as the hungry plebeians would 
 the noble Marcius. — You two are 'old men : tell me one 
 thing that I shall ask you. In what enormity is Mar- 
 cius 'poor, that 'you two have not in 'abundance ? 
 
 JSru. He 's poor in no 'one fault, but stored with 'all. 
 
 Sic. Especially in 'pride. 
 
 Men. This is strange now ! Do you two know how 'you are 
 censured here in the city 1 and you blame ' Marcius for 
 being proud? 
 
 JBru. We do it not 'alone, sir. 
 
 Men. I know, you can do very little 'alone. ' You talk of 
 pride : O, that you could turn your eyes toward the 
 napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey 
 of your good 'selves ! 
 
 £ru. What 'then, sir? 
 
 Men. Why, then, you should discover a brace of as un- 
 meriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates, — aliaa 
 ' fools, — as any in Rome. 
 
 Sic. Menenius, 'you are known well enough too. 
 
 Men. I am known to be a humorous Patrician, and one that 
 loves a cup of hot wine, with not a drop of allaying 
 ' Tiber" in 't : what I ' think, I 'utter, and spend my 
 malice in my breath. 
 
 Jiru. Come, sir, come ! we know you well enough. 
 
 Men. You know neither 'me, yourselves, nor anything. You 
 are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs : you wear 
 out a good wholesome forenoon, in hearing a cause 
 between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller ; and then 
 rejourn the 'controversy of 'threepence to a 'second day 
 of audience. You are a pair of strange ones. 
 
 Jiru. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perf ecter 
 
 a Water from the river Tiber. 
 
Scene i.] COBIOLANUS. 383 
 
 giber for the ' table, than a necessary bencher in the 
 ' Capitol. 
 
 Men. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not 
 worth the wagging of your beards ; and your beards 
 deserve not so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's 
 cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle. 
 Yet you must be saying, ' Marcius is 'proud ; who, in a 
 'cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since 
 Deucalion," though, peradventure, some of the best of 
 'em were hereditary 'hangmen. Good-den to your 
 'worships ; I will be bold to take my leave of you. 
 Brutus and Sicinius retire. As Menenius is going, he meets 
 
 Volumnia, the mother of Coriolanus, and Virgilia, his wife : 
 
 How now, my as fair as noble ladies, whither do you 
 foUow your eyes so fast ? 
 
 Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches ; 
 for the love of Juno, let 's go. 
 
 Men. Ha ! Marcius coming ' home % 
 
 Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius ; and with most prosperous ap- 
 probation. 
 
 Meti. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. — Ho ! Mar- 
 cius coming home ! 
 
 Vol. Look, here 's a letter from him : the ' State hath 
 another, his 'wife another ; and, I think, there 's one at 
 home for 'you. 
 
 Men. I wiU make my very house 'reel to-night : — a letter 
 for 'me ! It gives me an estate of seven years' health. 
 Is he not 'wounded ? he was 'wont to come home 
 wounded. 
 
 Vol. 0, he 'is wounded, — I thank the gods for 't ! 
 
 Men. So do I too, ... if it be not too 'much. — Brings he 
 victory in his pocket, the wounds 'become him. 
 
 Vol. On his 'brows, Menenius ! he comes the 'third time 
 home with the 'oaken 'garland. 
 
 Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly 1 
 
 Vol. Titus Lartius writes, They fought together, but Au- 
 fidius got off. The Senate has letters from the 'Gen- 
 eral, wherein he gives my 'son the whole name of the 
 war: he hath in 'this action outdone his former deeds 
 'doubly. 
 
 Vol. In troth, there 's 'wondrous things spoke of him. 
 
 Vir. The gods grant them true ! 
 
 Vol. True? pow, wow. 
 
 Men. True ! I '11 be 'sworn they are true. — 
 
 a Son of Prometheus : his flood happened 1503 years B. C. 
 
384 THE EEADEk's 8HAKESPEAKE. [Act 2. 
 
 Menenius calls to the Tribunes : 
 
 Save your good worships ! Marcius is coming ' home : 
 he has 'more cause to be proud. — 'Where is he 
 wounded ? 
 
 Vol. I' the shoulder, and i' the left arm. He received, in 
 the repulse of Tarquin, 'seven hurts i' the body. 
 
 Men. One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh, — there 's 'nine, 
 that ' I know. 
 
 Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds 
 upon him. 
 
 Jffen. Now it 's twenty-'seven ! every gash was an enemy's 
 grave. [^dBoS^uh.] Hark ! the trumpets. 
 
 Vol. These are the 'ushers of Marcius : ' before him he car- 
 ries 'noise ; and ' behind him he leaves ' tears. 
 
 A sennet. Trumpets sound, while a splendid procession advances. 
 In the place of honour — between the two senior generals, Cominius 
 and Titus Lartius — is Coriolanus, again crowned with the oaken 
 garland ; followed by Captains, Soldiers, and a Herald. The Her- 
 ald makes proclamation of the hero's achievements, and the people 
 all shout. The Herald proclaims : 
 
 ITer. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight 
 
 "Within Corioli gates : where he hath won, 
 
 With fame, a name to Caius Marcius ; this 
 
 In honour follows — Coriolanus ! 
 
 Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus ! [Flourish. 
 
 Oor. No more of this, it does offend my heart ; 
 
 ' Pray now, no more. 
 Com. Look, sir, your mother ! 
 
 Gor. O ! 'you have, I know, petitioned all the gods 
 
 For my prosperity ! [Koeeis. 
 
 Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up ; 
 
 My gentle Marcius, — worthy Caius, and 
 
 By deed-achieving honour newly named, — 
 
 What is it ? — Coriolanus must I call thee 1 — 
 
 But, O, thy wife !— 
 Oor. My gracious silence, hail ! 
 
 Would' st thou have 'laughed, had I come 'cofSned 
 home. 
 
 That 'weep'st to see me ' triumph ! Ah, my dear! 
 
 Such eyes the 'widows in Corioli wear. 
 
 And mothers that 'lack sons. 
 
 Menenius advances : 
 Men. A hundred thousand welcomes : I could 'weep. 
 
 And I could ' laugh ; I am light and heavy. Welcome ! 
 
Scene U.] COEIOLANUS. 385 
 
 A curse begin at very root on 's heart 
 
 That is not glad to see thee ! 
 Vol. I have lived 
 
 To see inherited my very 'wishes, 
 
 And the buildings of my 'fancy : only there 
 
 Is 'one thing wanting, — which I doubt not but 
 
 Our Rome will cast upon thee. 
 Oor. Know, good mother, 
 
 I had rather be their 'servant in 'my way, 
 
 Than 'sway with them in ' theii-s. 
 Com. On, to the Capitol ! 
 
 Coriolanus, with his wife and mother on either hand, proceeds to 
 the Capitol. Preceded by the lictors, Cominius the consul, Menen- 
 ius, Coriolanus, and many other Senators take their places : the 
 annoyed Tribunes take theirs by themselves. Menenius speaks : 
 
 Men. Having determined of the ' Volsces, it remains, 
 Most reverend and grave elders, to report 
 A little of that worthy work performed 
 By Caius Marcius Coriolanus ; whom 
 We meet here, both to ' thank, and to remember 
 With 'honours like himself. Speak, good Cominius. 
 
 Coriolanus rises, and offers to withdraw, that he might not be a 
 listener to his own eulogy. 
 
 1 Sen. Sit, Coriolanus: never shame to 'hear 
 
 What you have nobly 'done. 
 Cor. Your honours' pardon : 
 
 I had rather have my wounds to heal again, 
 
 Than ' hear say how I got them. 
 Men. Pray now, sit down. 
 
 Cor. I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun 
 
 When the alarums were sti'uck, than idly sit 
 
 To hear my 'nothings 'monstered. cexu. 
 
 Coriolanus having retired, Cominius commences his address : 
 
 Com. I shall lack 'voice : the deeds of Coriolanus 
 Should not be uttered ' feebly. — It is held 
 That valour is the 'chief est virtue, and 
 Most dignifies the haver :" if it be. 
 The man I speak of cannot, in the 'world, 
 Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years. 
 When Tarquin angered' Rome, he bravely fought ; 
 And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since, 
 
 a Possessor. 6 O. R. made a Head for. 
 
386 THE EEADBe's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 2. 
 
 He lurched all swords of the garland." For this last, 
 
 ' Before and ' in Corioli, let me say, 
 
 I cannot speak him 'home.' Alone he entered 
 
 The mortal gate of the city ; aidless came off ; 
 
 And, with a sudden reinforcement, struck 
 
 Corioli like a planet ; and, till we called 
 
 Both field and city ours, he never stood 
 
 To ease his breast with panting. 
 
 Men. He 's right noble : 
 
 Let him be called for. No : he doth appear, ['i'tl?"" 
 The Senate, Ooriolanus, are well pleased 
 To make thee ' Consul. 
 
 Cor. I do owe them still 
 
 My 'life and services. 
 
 Men. It then remains. 
 
 That you do speak to the 'people. 
 
 Gor. I do beseech you. 
 
 Let me o'erleap 'that custom ; for I cannot 
 Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them. 
 For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage : 
 Please you that I may 'pass this doing. 
 
 The Tribune Sicinius firmly replies : 
 
 Sic. Sir, the people 
 
 'Must have their voices: neither will they bate 
 One 'jot of ceremony. 
 
 Menenius speaks to Coriolanus : 
 
 Men. Pray you, go fit you to the 'custom ; and 
 Take to you, as your predecessors have, 
 Tour ' honour with the ' form. 
 
 Cor. It is a part 
 
 That I shall blush in acting, and might well 
 Be taken ' from the people. Is it for me 
 To 'brag unto them, — Thus I did, and thus ; — 
 Show them the unaching scars which I should 'hide? 
 As if I had received them for the hu-e 
 Of ' their breath only ! 
 
 Men. Do not stand upon 't. — 
 
 We recommend to you. Tribunes of the People, 
 ' Our purpose to them ; and to our noble Consul 
 Wish we all joy and honour. [Kxennt. 
 
 The Senators all echo the wish, and, with flourishes of martial 
 music, the assembly breaks up. 
 
 We now proceed to the Forum, where several Citizens await 
 the solicitations of their new Chief Magistrate. 
 
 a = Gained from all competitors the ■wi'eath of victory. 6 Fully to the pui*pose. 
 
Scene ui.] COHIOLANUS. 387 
 
 1 Oit. Once for all, if he 'do require our voices, we ought 
 
 not to 'deny him. 
 
 2 Oit. We 'may, sir, if we wUl. 
 
 3 at. We have 'power in ourselves to do it ; but it is a 
 
 power that we have 'no power to do : for if he show us 
 his wounds, and tell us his deeds, we are to put 'our 
 tongues into those wounds, and speak for them. In- 
 gratitude is monstrous : and for the multitude to be 
 ingrateful, were to make a 'monster of the 'multitude ; 
 of the which we, being members, should bring our- 
 selves to be 'monstrous members. Here he comes, and 
 in the 'gown of humility: mark his 'behaviour. We 
 are not to stay all ' together, but to come by him where 
 he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. There- 
 fore, follow me, and I '11 direct you how you shall go 
 
 by him. [Exenm Cltlzena. 
 
 Coriolanus, with greal reluctance, takes his stand. Menenius re- 
 monstrates with him : 
 
 Men. O sir, you are not right : have you not known 
 
 The 'worthiest men have done 't ? 
 Cor. What must I ' say ? — 
 
 " I pray, sir," — Plague upon 't ! I cannot bring 
 
 My tongue to such a pace. — " Look, sir : — my wounds ; — 
 
 I got them in my country's service, when 
 
 Some certain of your brethren roared, and ran 
 
 From the noise of our own drums." 
 Men. O me, the gods ! 
 
 Tou must not speak of ' that : you must desire them 
 
 To think on 'you. 
 Cor. To think on 'me 1 Hang them ! 
 
 I would they would ' forget me ! 
 Men. Tou '11 mar all : 
 
 I 'U leave you : pray, speak in 'wholesome manner. [Exit. 
 Cor. Bid them wash their faces, 
 
 And keep their teeth clean. — So, here comes a brace. 
 Two Citizens enter. 
 
 Tou know the 'cause, sirs, of my standing here ? 
 
 1 Cit. We do, sii- ; tell us what hath ' brought you to 't. 
 Cor. Mine own desert. 
 
 2 Oit. Tour own desert ? 
 Cor. Ay, not mine own 'desire. 
 
 1 Cit. How ! 'not your own desire ? 
 
 Cor. No, sir : 't was never my desire yet to trouble the 
 'poor, with begging. 
 
388 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 1 Cit. You must think, if we 'give you anything, we hope 
 
 to 'gain by you. 
 Cor. Well then, I pray, your 'price o' the consulship ? 
 
 1 Cit. The price is, to ask it ' kindly. 
 
 Cor. Kindly ! Sir, I 'pray let me have it : I have wounds 
 to show you, which shall be yours in private. — 'Your 
 good voice, sir : What say you ? 
 
 2 Cit. You shaU have it, worthy sir. 
 
 Cor. A match, sirs. — There are in all ' two worthy voices 
 begged. — I have 'your alms : adieu. 
 
 1 Cit. . . . But this is something odd ! 
 
 2 Cit. An 't were to give again . . . but 't is no matter. 
 
 [F!xeunL the two Git zens. 
 
 Cor. Most sweet voices ! — 
 
 Better it is to 'die, better to 'starve, 
 
 Than 'crave the hire which first we do 'deserve. 
 
 Enter three other Citizens. 
 Here come 'more voices. — 
 Your voices : for your voices I have ' fought ; 
 ' Watched for your voices ; for your voices, bear 
 Of wounds two dozen odd ; battles thrice six 
 'I 've seen, you 've 'heard of; for your voices, have 
 Done many things, some less, some more. Your voices : 
 Indeed, I would be Consul. 
 
 5 Cit. He has done nobly, and cannot go without any 'hon- 
 
 est man's voice. 
 
 6 Cit. Therefore, 'let him be Consul. The gods give him 
 
 joy, and make him good friend to the people ! 
 All. Amen, amen. — Heaven save thee, noble Consul ! [c^itS. 
 
 Coriolanus now gladly proceeds to the Senate-house to be in- 
 vested as Consul. Meanwhile, the angry Tribunes of the People, 
 Brutus and Sicinius, address the Citizens : 
 
 /Sic. How now, my masters ? ' have you chose this man ? 
 
 1 Cit. He has our 'voices, sir. 
 
 ^ru. We pray the gods he may 'deserve your loves. 
 
 2 Cit. Amen, sir. To my poor unworthy notice. 
 
 He 'mocked us, when he begged our voices. 
 
 1 Cit. No, 't is his kind of speech ; he did 'not mock us. 
 
 2 Cit. Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says, 
 
 He used us 'scornfully : he 'should have showed us 
 His marks of merit, — wounds received for 's country. 
 
 Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure. 
 
 A II. No ; no man saw 'em. 
 
 3 Cit. He 'said he had wounds, which he could show in 'pri- 
 
 vate ; 
 
Scene iii] COEIOLANUS. 389 
 
 And with his hand, thus waving it in scorn, 
 
 " I would be Consul," says he : " aged custom, 
 
 ' But by your voices, wUl not so permit me ; 
 
 Your voices, therefore. — I thank you for your voices, — 
 
 Your most sweet voices: — now you have left your 
 
 'voices, 
 I have no further with you." — Was not this mockery? 
 
 /Sic. Why, either you were ignorant to see 't ; 
 Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness 
 To 'yield your voices. 
 
 Bru. When he had 'no power. 
 
 He was your 'enemy : and do you think 
 That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, 
 When he ' hath power to crush ? 
 
 3 Cit. He 's not 'confirmed ; we may deny him 'yet. 
 
 2 Cit. And 'wUl deny him : 
 
 I '11 have five hundred voices of ' that sound. 
 
 1 Cit. I ' twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em. 
 
 Bru. Get you hence instantly ; and tell those friends 
 They "ve chose a Consul, that will from them take 
 Their liberties ; make them of no more voice 
 Than 'dogs, — that are as often ' beat for barking. 
 As therefore 'kept to do so. 
 
 Sic. Let them assemble. Then enforce his pride. 
 
 And his old hate unto you : Say, you chose him 
 More after 'our 'commandment, than as guided 
 By your own true affections. Say, you ne'er had 
 
 done 't — 
 Harp on that stUl — but by 'our putting on : 
 And presently, when you have drawn" your number, 
 Repair to the Capitol. 
 
 All. We will so : almost all 
 
 'Eepent in their election. [Eiennt. 
 
 While the Citizens are thus planning to revoke their own appoint- 
 ment, intelligence is received that Tullus Aufidius is again in arms, 
 being disgusted with the previous submission of his Volscian forces. 
 
 The Consul Coriolanus is passing along the street, accompanied 
 by Cominius, Menenius Agrippa, and other friends ; he says : 
 
 Cor. Tullus Aufidius, then, had made new head 1 
 So then, the Volsces stand but as at first ; 
 Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road 
 On us again. Saw you Aufidius? 
 
 Ziart. On safe-guard he came to me ; and did curse 
 
 a Assembled. 
 
390 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEAEE. [Acts. 
 
 Against the Vol sees, for they had so vilely 
 
 Yielded the town : he is retired to Antium. 
 Gor. Spoke he of 'me ? 
 Lart. He did, my lord. 
 
 Cor. ' How? what? 
 
 Lart. That, of all things upon the earth, he hated 
 
 ' Your person most ; that he would pawn his fortunes 
 
 To hopeless restitution, so he might 
 
 Be called your 'vanquisher. 
 Cor. ... At 'Antium lives he ? 
 
 I wish I had a cause to 'seek him there, 
 
 To oppose his hatred fuUy. 
 
 Sicinius and Brutus enter. 
 
 Behold ! these are the Tribunes of the People, 
 
 The ' tongues o' the common mouth : I do despise them ; 
 
 For they do prank them in authority. 
 
 Against all 'noble sufferance. 
 
 Sicinius rudely stands in the way. 
 
 Sic. Pass no further. 
 
 Cor. Ha ! what is that ? 
 
 Brutus adds : 
 
 Bru. It will be 'dangerous to go on : no further ! 
 
 Cor. Have I not passed the nobles and the commons ? 
 
 Have I had 'children's voices ? Are these your herd ? — 
 Must these have voices, that can 'yield them now. 
 And straight 'disclaim their tongues ? — What are your 
 
 offices ? 
 You being their 'mouths, why rule you not their ' teeth ? 
 Have you not set them on % 
 
 Men. Be calm, be calm. 
 
 Cor. It is a 'purposed thing, and grows by 'plot. 
 To curb the will of the 'nobility. 
 
 Bru. Call 't 'not a plot : 
 
 The people cry, you mocked them ; and, of late, 
 When corn was given them 'gratis, 'you repined ; 
 Scandaled the suppliants for the people ; called them 
 Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. 
 
 Cor. Why, this was known ' before. 
 
 Bru. Not to them 'all. 
 
 Cor. Have 'you informed them since % 
 
 Bru. How ! ' I inform them ! 
 
 Com. You are 'like to do such business. 
 
 Bru. Not unUke, each way, to better 'yours. 
 
Scene i.] COKIOLANDS. 391 
 
 Cor. Why then should I be 'Consul ? By yond' clouds. 
 
 Let me deserve so ill as 'you, and make me 
 
 Your fellow-Tribune ! 
 Sru. You speak o' the people, 
 
 As if you were a 'god to punish, — not 
 
 A 'man of their infirmity. 'T were well 
 
 We let the people know 't ! 
 
 Menenius kindly interposes : 
 Men. What, what ? his choler ? 
 
 Cor. Choler! 
 
 Were I as patient as the midnight sleep. 
 
 By Jove, 't would be my 'mind !" 
 Sio. It is a mind 
 
 That shall remain a poison where it ' is — 
 
 Not poison any 'further. 
 Gor. " ' Shall remain ! "— 
 
 Hear you this Triton' of the minnows ? mark you 
 
 His absolute " ' shall " ? O most unwise patricians ! 
 
 Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth 
 
 The corn o' the store-house 'gratis, 
 
 I say, they nourished disobedience, — fed 
 
 The 'ruin of the state. 
 £ru. Why shall the people give 
 
 One that speaks thus, their voice 1 
 Cor. I '11 give 'my 'reasons. 
 
 More worthy than ' their 'voices ! 
 Bru. 'T is enough : 
 
 He has spoken like a ' traitor, and shall answer 
 
 As traitors do. 
 Cor. Thou wretch ! despite o'erwhelm thee ! — 
 
 What should the people do with these bald Tribunes ? 
 
 Let what is meet be said, it 'must be meet. 
 
 And throw ' their power i' the dust. 
 Sru. Manifest treason ! The .^diles, ho ! — [Enter an ^idiie. 
 Sic. Go, call the 'people ; [jJil" ] in whose name, 'myself 
 
 Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator, — 
 
 A foe to the public weal. Obey, I charge thee, 
 
 And follow to thine answer ! Help, ye citizens ! 
 The JE,di\e returns with other Officers and a rabble of Citizens. 
 Bru. Seize him, ^diles. 
 Git. Down with him ! down with him ! 
 2 Sen. Weapons ! weapons ! weapons ! 
 
 Tribunes, patricians, citizens ! — what, ho ! — 
 
 Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens ! 
 
 a ConBiaer. h A sea-monster, halt man, lialf flsh. 
 
392 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Cit. Peace, peace, peace ! stay, hold, peace ! 
 
 Menenius again intervenes: 
 Men. What is about to be ? ... I 'm out of breath ; . . . 
 
 Confusion 's near: I cannot speak. — You, Tribunes, . . . 
 
 Coriolanus, patience : — Speak, good Sioinius. 
 Sic. Hear me, people ; peace ! 
 
 You are at poiat to lose your liberties : 
 
 Marcius would have all ' from you — Marcius, 
 
 Whom late you have named for Consul. 
 Menenius interrupts : 
 
 Men. Fie, fie, fie ! 
 
 This is the way to ' kindle, not to quench. 
 1 Sen. To unbuild the city, and to lay aU flat. 
 Sic. What is the 'city but the 'people ? 
 Cit. True, the people 'are the city. 
 
 After much confusion Brutus is heard : 
 Sru. By the consent of all, 'we were established 
 
 The people's magistrates. We do here pronounce. 
 
 Upon the part o' the people, in whose power 
 
 We were 'elected theirs, Marcius is worthy 
 
 Of present 'death. 
 Sic. Therefore lay hold of him ; 
 
 Bear him to the Rock Tarpeian," and from thence 
 
 Into destruction cast him ! 
 Bru. .ffildiles, seize him. 
 
 And bear him to the rock ! 
 Cor. No ; I '11 die here ! ['"^^irrl."" 
 
 Men. Down with that sword ! — Tribunes, withdraw awhUe. 
 J3ru. Lay hands upon him. 
 Men. Help ! Help Marcius, help, 
 
 You that be noble ; help him, young and old ! 
 Cit. Down with him ! down with him ! [coS°aiy. 
 
 In the terrific clamour that ensues, Coriolanus escapes instant 
 death by retiring, at the earnest solicitation of his friend Menenius, 
 to his own house, whither we follow him : he is now attended by 
 several friendly Patricians as well as by his mother. 
 
 Cor. Let them pull 'all about mine ears ; present me 
 Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels ; 
 Or pile ' ten hills on the Tarpeian rock. 
 That the precipitation might down stretch 
 Below the beam of sight ; yet will I 'still 
 Be thus to them. I muse, my honoured mother 
 Does not 'approve me further. Would you have me 
 
 a A precipice near Rome from whicli malefactors were thrown down. 
 
Scene ii,] OOEIOLANUS. 393 
 
 False to my nature ? Rather say, I play 
 
 Truly the man I 'am. 
 Vol. O, sir, sir, sir ! 
 
 I would have had you put your power well 'on, 
 
 'Before you had worn it out. 
 Oor. Why, let it go. 
 
 Vol. You might have been enough the man you are. 
 
 With striving ' less to be so : lesser had been 
 
 The thwartings of your dispositions, if 
 
 You had not showed ' them how you were 'disposed. 
 
 Ere ' they lacked power to 'cross you. 
 Oor. Let them hang ! 
 
 Vol. Ay, and burn too. 
 
 Menenius and Senators enter. 
 Me7i. Come, come ; you have been too rough, something 
 too rough : 
 
 You must return, and mend it. 
 
 Cor. 'What must I do ? 
 
 Men. Return to the Tribunes. 
 
 Cor. Well, what then I what then ? 
 
 Men. Repent what you have spoke. 
 
 Cor. For ' them ? — I cannot do it to the 'gods ; 
 Must I then do 't to 'themi 
 
 Vol. You are too absolute ; 
 
 Though therein you can never be too noble. 
 But when 'extremities speak, — I have heard you say. 
 Honour and policy, like unsevered friends, 
 I' the 'war do grow ' together : grant that, and tell me, 
 In 'peace, what each of them by the other lose. 
 That they combine not there ? 
 
 Cor. Tush, tush ! Why force you this ? 
 
 Vol. Because that now it 'lies on you to speak. 
 I would dissemble with my 'nature, where 
 My fortunes, and my friends, at stake, required 
 I should do so in honour : I pr'ythee go, my son, 
 Thy knee bussing" the stones, — for in such business 
 'Action is eloquence, and the 'eyes of the ignorant 
 More learned than the 'ears — and say to them. 
 Thou art their 'soldier ; and, being ' bred in broUs, 
 Hast not the 'soft way which, thou dost confess. 
 Were fit for thee to 'use, as they to 'claim. 
 In asking their good loves ; but thou wilt frame 
 Thyself, forsooth, 'hereafter theirs, so far 
 
394 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEAEE. [Acts. 
 
 As thou hast power and person. Here is Cominius. 
 Cominius enters. 
 
 Com. I have been i' the Market-place ; and, sir, 't is fit 
 You make strong party, or defend yourself 
 By calmness, or by absence : all 's in anger. 
 
 Cor. Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce ? 
 Must I with base tongue give my noble heart 
 A ' lie that it must bear ? Well, I will do 't : 
 Yet were there but this single self to lose, — 
 This mould of Marcius,^ — they to dust should grind it, 
 And throw 't against the wind. — To the Market-place ! — 
 You have put me 'now to such a part, which never 
 I shall discharge to the life. 
 
 Oom. Come, come, we '11 prompt you. 
 
 Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son : as thou hast said 
 ' My praises made thee ' first a soldier, so. 
 To have my praise for ' this, perform a j)art 
 Thou hast not done before. 
 
 Gor. Well, I 'must do 't. 
 
 Away, my disposition, and possess me 
 Some 'harlot's spirit !■ My throat of war be turned. 
 Which quired with my drum, into a pipe 
 That babies lulls asleep ! A 'beggar's tongue 
 Make motion through my lips ; and my armed knees. 
 Which bowed but in my stirrup, bend like his 
 That hath received an alms ! ... I will 'not do 't, 
 Lest I surcease" to honour mine own truth. 
 And, by my 'body's action, teach my 'mind 
 A most inherent baseness ! 
 
 Yol. At thy choice then : 
 
 To beg of ' thee, it is my 'more dishonour 
 Than thou of ' them. Come all to ruin : let 
 Thy mother rather feel thy 'pride, than fear 
 Thy dangerous 'stoutness ;' for ' I mock at death 
 With as big heart as ' thou. Do as thou list. 
 Thy valiantness was 'mine ; thou suck'dst it from me, 
 But owe thy pride ' thyself. 
 
 Cor. Pray, be content : 
 
 Mother, ... I am 'going to the Market-Place ; 
 Chide me no more. I '11 'mountebank their loves, 
 ' Cog" their hearts from them, and come home beloved 
 Of all the ' trades in Rome. Look, I am going. 
 Commend me to my wife. I '11 'return Consul, — 
 Or never trust to what my tongue can do 
 
 a Cease entirely. 6 Stubbomnees. c Obtain by flattery. 
 
Scene lii.] COEIOLANUS. 395 
 
 I" the way of flattery, further. 
 J^ol. Do yoiu' will. [esu. 
 
 Cominius says : 
 Oom. Away ! the Tribunes do attend you : arm yourself 
 
 To answer 'mildly ; for they are prepared 
 
 With accusations, — as I hear, 'more strong 
 
 Than are upon you 'yet. 
 Cor. The word is, " Mildly." — Pray you, let us go : 
 
 Let them accuse me by 'invention, — I 
 
 Will answer in mine 'honour. 
 Men. Ay, but mildly. 
 
 Co7\ Well, mildly be it then ! mildly. [Exeunt. 
 
 Wild excitement prevails as the trial of Coriolanus draws near. 
 Sicinius and Brutus, amidst a crowd of Citizens, await, in the 
 Forum, the arrival of the accused Patrician. — Brutus thus urges 
 Sicinius : 
 
 Sru. In ' this point charge him ' home — -that he affects" 
 ' Tyrannical power : If he evade us there, 
 Enforce him with his 'envy to the people. 
 Put him to 'choler straight. He hath been used 
 Ever to 'conquer, and to have his worth 
 Of contradiction : Being once 'chafed, he cannot 
 Be reined again to ' temperance ; ' then he speaks 
 What 's in his 'heart; and 'that is there which looks 
 With us to break his neck. Well, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius, Senators, and Patricians. 
 Menenius says : 
 
 Men. Calmly, I do beseech you. 
 
 Cor. The honoured gods 
 
 Keep Eome in safety ; and the chairs of Justice 
 
 Supplied with 'worthy men! plant 'love among us! 
 
 Throng our large temples with the shows of 'peace. 
 
 And 'not our streets with 'war ! 
 Men. A noble wish. Amen, amen. 
 
 The .^diles and Citizens approach clamorously. Coriolanus 
 says: 
 
 Cor. First, hear me speak. 
 
 Shall I be charged no ' further than this present ? 
 
 Must all 'determine ' here ? 
 
 Sicinius asks : 
 Sic. I do demand 
 
 If you submit you to the people's voices ; 
 
396 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Allow" theii' of&cers ; and are content 
 
 To suffer lawful censure for such faults 
 
 As shall be 'proved upon you ? 
 Cor. I 'am content. 
 
 Menenius rises : 
 Men. Lo, citizens, he says, he is content : 
 
 The 'warlike service he has done, consider ; 
 
 Think on the wounds his body bears, which show 
 
 Like graves i' the holy churchyard. 
 Cor. Scratches with briers — 
 
 Scars to move ' laughter only.— What is the matter. 
 
 That, being passed for Consul vnth full voice, 
 
 I am so dishonoured, that the very 'hour 
 
 You take it off again % 
 Sic. Answer to 'us. 
 
 We charge you, — that you have contrived to take 
 
 From Rome all seasoned office, and to wind 
 
 Yourself into a power ' tyrannical ; 
 
 For which you are a ' traitor to the people. 
 Cor. How ! traitor ! 
 
 Menenius whispers : 
 Men. Nay, temperately ; your promise. 
 
 Cor. The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people ! 
 
 Call 'me their 'traitor ! — ^Thou injurious Tribune ! 
 
 Within thine eyes, sat twenty ' thousand deaths ; 
 
 In thy hands clutched, as many 'millions ; in 
 
 Thy lying tongue, ' both numbers ; I would say, 
 
 " Thou 'liest ! " — unto thee, with a voice as free 
 
 As I do pray the gods. 
 Sic. Mark you this, people ^. 
 
 Shouts and yells arise from the enraged citizens, who utter the 
 fatal words : 
 
 Cit. To the Kock ! to the Rock with him ! 
 Sicinius continues : 
 
 Sie. Peace ! 
 
 We need not put 'new matter to his charge : 
 What you have 'seen him do, and heard him 'speak, 
 Deserves the extremest 'death. 
 
 Brutus interrupts : 
 
 £ru. But since he hath 
 
 Served well for Rome, — 
 Cor. What ! 'do 'you prate of service ? 
 
 Jiru. I talk of that, that ' know it. 
 
 a Acknowledge. 
 
Scene iii.] OOEIOLANUS. 397 
 
 Cor. You? 
 
 Men. Is this the promise that you made your mother ■? 
 
 Com. Know, I pray you, — 
 
 Cor. I '11 know no further ! 
 
 ' Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, — 
 Vagabond exile, — flaying, — pent" to linger 
 But with a 'graia a day, — I would not buy 
 Their mercy at the price of one fair 'word ; 
 Nor check my courage for what ' they can give, 
 To have 't with saying, " Good morrow." 
 
 Sicinius, after apparent consultation with his colleagues, proceeds : 
 
 Sic. For that he has — 
 
 As much as in him lies — from time to time 
 Envied against the 'people, seeking means 
 To pluck away their power ; — in the name o' the people. 
 And in the power of us, the Tribunes, we, 
 Even from this instant, banish him our city ! 
 
 All. It shall be so ! it shall be so ! let him away ! 
 Cominius interposes : 
 
 Com. Hear me, my masters, and my common friends ; — 
 
 Sic. He 's sentenced : no more hearing. 
 
 Com.. Let me speak : 
 
 I have been ' Consul, and can show for Rome 
 Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love 
 My country's good, more tender than my life — 
 
 Bru. 'There 's no more to be said, but he is ' banished — 
 As enemy to the people and his country : 
 It shall be so ! 
 
 Wild shouts of approbation arise from the Citizens : 
 
 Cit. It shall be so ! it shall be so ! he 's banished. 
 
 Cor. You common cry of 'curs ! whose ' breath I hate 
 As reek o' the rotten fens ; whose ' loves I prize. 
 As the dead carcases of unburied men 
 That do corrupt my air, — ' I banish 'you. 
 And here remain with your uncertainty !' 
 Let every feeble 'rumour shake your hearts ! 
 Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, 
 Fan you into 'despair ! Have the power still 
 To banish your defenders ; till, at length 
 Your ignorance deliver you, as most 
 Abated" captives, to some nation 
 That won you 'without blows ! Despising, then, 
 
 a Shut up, imprisoned. 6 A factious division. c Dejected, humiliated. 
 
398 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 For you, the city, thus I turn my back. . . . 
 
 There is a world elsewhere ! [Exeunt. 
 
 The historical date of the banishment of Coriolanus is 489 B. C. 
 At that time, banishment was no part of the Roman punitory law ; 
 but, to avoid a heavier doom — as in the case of precipitation from 
 the Tarpeian Kock — (an eminence on the Capitoline Hill, whence 
 persons condemned for treason to the State were frequently 
 hurled) — a man was permitted to be self-exiled. 
 
 Coriolanus parts from his patrician friends outside the city-gates, 
 and journeys on unattended. In his hatred of the Plebeians who 
 have so dishonoured him, he meditates an act which will prove 
 either a grateful revenge, or a welcome self-sacrifice. He makes 
 his lonely way to Antium — now the residence of his great foe, 
 Aufidius — where he arrives travel-soiled and in mean attire. 
 
 Cor. A 'goodly city is this Antium. — City, 
 
 'T is I that made thy 'widows : then, know me 'not ; 
 Lest that thy wives with spits, and boys with stones, 
 In 'puny battle slay me. 
 
 A Citizen enters. 
 Save you, sir. Direct me, if it be your will. 
 Where great Aufidius lies." Is he in Antium ? 
 
 Cit. He is, and feasts the nobles of the State 
 At 's house this night. 
 
 Cor. ' Which is his house, beseech you ? 
 
 Cit. This, here before you. 
 
 Cor. Thank you, sir. Farewell. [oiSn. 
 
 world, thy 'slippery ' turns ! ' Friends, 'now fast 
 sworn, — 
 
 Whose double bosoms seem to wear 'one heart ; 
 
 Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise. 
 
 Are still 'together ;— shall, 'within this hour, 
 
 On a dissension of a 'doit,' break out 
 
 To bitterest 'enmity : so, f ellest ' foes, — 
 
 Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep 
 
 To take the one the other ; by some chance, — 
 
 Some trick not worth an 'egg, — shall grow dear ' friends, 
 
 And inter join their issues. So with 'me : — 
 
 My birth-place 'hate I, and my love 's upon 
 
 This 'enemy town. ... I '11 enter : If he 'slay me. 
 
 He does fair 'justice ; if he give me way, 
 
 1 '11 do ' his country 'service ! [Eiit. 
 
 The banished Warrior enters his enemy's hall. 
 Cor. A 'goodly house : the feast smells well ; but I 
 Appear not like a 'guest. 
 
 a Lives. h A coin worth the eighth of a penny ; anything insignificant. 
 
Scene iv.] COHIOLANUS. 399 
 
 A Servant enters. 
 
 1 Serv. "What would you have, friend ? Whence are you ? 
 
 Here 's no place for 'you : pray, go to the door. 
 Cor. ... 1 have 'deserved no better entertainment 
 In being Coriolanus. 
 
 Another Servant enters. 
 
 2 Serv. "Whence are you, sir % Has the porter his eyes in 
 
 his head, that he gives entrance to such companions ? 
 
 Pray, get you 'out ! 
 Oor. Awa,j ! 
 
 2 /Serv. Away ? Get 'you away ! 
 Cor. Now thou art ' troublesome. 
 
 2 Serv. Are you so brave 1 I '11 have you ' talked with anon. 
 
 A third Servant enters. 
 
 3 Serv. "What fellow 's this ? 
 
 1 Serv. A strange one as ever I looked on : I cannot get 
 him out o' the house ; pr'ythee, call my master to him. 
 
 [Ex. 2 SerT. 
 
 3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow ? Pray you, avoid 
 the house. 
 
 Cor. Let me but 'stand ; I will not hurt your hearth. 
 
 3 Serv. What are you ? 
 
 Cor. A gentleman. 
 
 3 Serv. A marvellous poor one. 
 
 Cor. True, so I am. 
 
 3 Serv. Where dwellest thou ? 
 
 Cor. . . . "Under the canopy, 
 
 3 Serv. Under the canopy ? Where is that ? 
 
 Cor. 1' the city of kites and crows. 
 
 3 Serv. T the city of kites and crows ! — What an ass it is ! 
 Aufidius and Servant enter. 
 
 Auf. Where is this fellow? Speak, man: What 's thy 
 name ? 
 
 Cor. A name unmusical to Volseians' ears. 
 And harsh in sound to thine. 
 
 Auf. ' Say what 's thy name ? 
 
 Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown. . . . Know'st thou me 'yet 1 
 
 Auf. I know thee not : — thy name ■? 
 
 Cor. My 'name is Caius Marcius ; who hath done 
 To ' thee particularly, and to 'all the Yolsces, 
 Great hurt and mischief ; thereto witness may 
 My 'surname, — Coriolanus. Drops of blood 
 Shed for my thankless country, are requited 
 ' But with that surname ; only that remains. 
 
400 THE EBADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 The cruelty and envy of the 'people, 
 Permitted by our dastard nobles, have 
 Whooped me out of Eome. Now, this extremity 
 Hath brought me to ' thy hearth. Then, if thou hast 
 A heart of 'wreak" in thee, — that will revenge 
 Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those maims'' 
 Of shame seen through thy country,— speed thee 
 
 straight. 
 And make 'my misery serve thy turn : so use it. 
 That my revengeful services may prove 
 As ' benefits to ' thee ; for I will fight 
 'Against my cankered country, with the spleen 
 Of all the under-fiends. But if so be 
 Thou dar'st not this, then, in a word, I am 
 'Longer to live most 'weary, and present 
 My ' throat, to thee and to thy ancient malice ; 
 Which 'not to cut, would show thee but a ' fool ; 
 Since I have ever followed ' thee with hate. 
 Drawn ' tuns of blood out of thy country's breast. 
 And cannot live but to thy 'shame, — unless 
 It be to do thee 'service. 
 
 Auf. O Marcius, Marcius! 
 
 Each word thou 'st spoke hath weeded from my heart 
 A root of ancient envy. Now I contest 
 As hotly and as nobly with thj' 'love, 
 As ever in ambitious strength I did 
 Contend against thy 'valour. O come ; go in. 
 And take our friendly Senators by the hands ; 
 Who now are here, taking their leaves of me. 
 Who am prepared against your ' territories. 
 Though not for Eome 'itself. 
 
 Cor. You bless me, gods ! 
 
 Auf. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have 
 The 'leading of thine own revenges, take 
 The half of 'my commission : But come, go in : 
 Let me commend thee, first, to those that shall 
 Say " Yea " to thy desires. A thousand welcomes ! 
 But more a ' friend than e'er an 'enemy ; 
 Yet, Marcius, that was 'much. Your hand: most wel- 
 come ! [Eseunt. 
 
 We now return to Rome. The Tribunes are congratulating 
 themselves that all goes well. Sicinius and Brutus address the old 
 Senator, Menenius : 
 
 a Vengeance. 6 Injuries caused by disgraceful loss of territory and loss of men. 
 
Scene vl.] COBIOLANUS. 401 
 
 Bru. Hail, sir! 
 
 Men. Hail to you both ! 
 
 Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much missed, 
 
 But by his ' friends : the Commonwealth doth 'stand. 
 
 And so 'would do, were he 'more angry at it. 
 Men. All 's well ; and might have been much ' better, if 
 
 He could have 'temporised. 
 Sic. Where is he, hear you % 
 
 Men. Nay, I hear nothing : his mother and his wife 
 
 Hear nothing from him. 
 
 An y^dile enters. 
 ^d. Worthy Tribunes, 
 
 There is a slave, whom we have put in prison. 
 
 Reports, the Volsces, with two several powers. 
 
 Are entered in the Roman territories. 
 Men. 'T is Aufidius, 
 
 Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, 
 
 Thrusts forth his horns again into the world ! 
 A Messenger enters. 
 Mess. The nobles, in great earnestness, are going 
 
 All to the Senate-house : some news is come 
 
 That turns their countenances. 
 Sic. 'T is this 'slave. 
 
 Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes : — ' His raising ! — 
 
 Nothing but his report ! 
 Mess. Yes, worthy sir, 
 
 The slave's report is 'seconded ; and more, 
 
 ' More fearful is delivered. It is spoke freely — • 
 
 How 'probable I do not know — that ' Marcius, 
 
 Joined with Aufidius, leads a power ' 'gainst Rome. 
 Men. This is unlikely : 
 
 He and Aufidius can no more attone" 
 
 Than violentest contrariety. 
 Another Messenger enters and addresses the Tribune ; 
 Mess. You are sent for to the Senate ; 
 
 A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius, 
 
 Associated with Aufidius, rages 
 
 Upon our territories. 
 
 Menenius advances to the Tribunes : 
 Men. O, you have made 'good work. 
 
 ' You, and your 'apron-men ; that stood so much 
 
 Upon the voice of 'occupation, and 
 
 The breath of 'garlic-eaters ! We 're all undone ! 
 
 a Be in harmony. 
 
402 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 If he were putting tp my house the brand 
 
 That should consume it, I have not the face 
 
 To say, "Beseech you, cease.'' — You have made 'fair 
 
 hands, 
 You and your 'crafts !° ' We loved him ; but like beasts 
 And 'cowardly nobles, gave way unto 'your clusters, 
 Who did hoot him out o' the city. But, I fear, 
 You '11 roar him in again. Here 'come the clusters. — 
 
 Enter a troop of Citizens. 
 And is Aufidius 'with him 1 — You are they 
 That made the air unwholesome, when you cast 
 Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at 
 Coriolanus' exile. Now he 's 'coming ! 
 And not a hair upon a soldier's head 
 Which will not prove a 'whip. 'T is no matter ; 
 If he could ' burn us all into 'one coal. 
 We have 'deserved it. 
 Crowds of the penitent Citizens have now assembled : we listen to 
 some of them : 
 
 Oit. 'Faith, we hear fearfiil news. 
 
 1 Cit. For mine own part. 
 
 When I said. Banish him, I said, 'T was pity. 
 
 2 Cit. And so did I. 
 
 3 Oit. And so did I ; and, to say the truth, so did very many 
 
 of us. 'That we did, we did for the 'best: and, . . . 
 though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet 
 it was 'against our will. 
 
 1 Cit. The gods be good to us ! Come, masters, let 's home. 
 
 I ever said we were i' the wrong, when we banished 
 him. 
 
 2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let 's home. [cuS. 
 
 The Tribunes look at each other in perplexity. 
 Jiru. I do not like this news. 
 iSic. Nor I. 
 Ii)-u. Let 's to the Capitol. [Exeam. 
 
 The Senators, in their perplexity, despatch Cominius, the former 
 general and friend of Coriolanus, to endeavour to appease him 
 and to spare his ungrateful city. But Cominius returns unsuc- 
 cessful. He reports to the Tribunes : 
 
 Co}7i. He would not seem to ' know me. 
 
 Yet -one time he did call me by my name : 
 I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops 
 
 a Trades-people. 
 
Scene i.] COEIOLANUS. 403 
 
 That we have bled together. " Coriolanus " 
 He would not answer to : ' forbad all names ; 
 He was a kind of nothing, titleless, 
 Till he had 'forged himself a name, i' the fire 
 Of burning Eome. 
 
 Menenius turns to Sicinius and Brutus : 
 
 Men. Why, so ; you have made good work : 
 
 A pair of Tribunes that have wrecked fair Eome, 
 To make coals cheap ; a noble memory ! 
 
 Com. I minded him, how royal 't was to 'pardon, 
 And I offered to awaken his regard 
 For his private friends : his answer to me was, — 
 He could not stay to 'pick them, in a pile 
 Of noisome, musty 'chaff. He said, 't was folly, 
 For 'one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, 
 And still to nose the offence. 
 
 Men. For one poor grain or two ! 
 
 'I am one of those ; his mother, wife, his chUd, — 
 'We are the 'grains: 'You are the musty 'chaff! 
 'We must be burnt for 'you. 
 
 Sic. Nay, pray, be patient : if 'you, Menenius, 
 
 Would be your country's pleader, your good ' tongue, 
 More than the instant" 'army we can make. 
 Might stop our countryman. 
 
 Men. No ; I '11 not meddle. 
 
 Sic. Pray you, go to him. 
 
 Only make 'trial what your love can do. LExitMen. 
 
 Cominius says, as Menenius departs : 
 Com. He '11 never hear him. 
 
 I teU you, he does sit in 'gold ;' his eye 
 Red as 't would ' burn Rome. I kneeled before him ; 
 'T was very faintly he said, "Rise ; " dismissed me 
 Thus, with his speechless hand : what he would 'do. 
 He sent in writing after me ; what he would 'not, 
 ' Bound, with an oath, to yield to no conditions : 
 So that all hope is vain, — 
 Unless in 's noble mother, and his wife. 
 Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him 
 For mercy to his country. Therefore, let 's hence. 
 And with 'our fair entreaties ' haste them on. [Eseunt 
 
 The various embassies have been made in vain. Coriolanus and 
 Aufidius make definite arrangements for the assault of the city. 
 Coriolanus says : 
 
 a Immediate. & In imperial splendour. 
 
404 THE READEb's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Cor. We will, before the 'walls of Rome, to-morrow 
 Set down our host. — This last old man, 
 (Whom with a cracked heart I have sent to Eome,) 
 Loved me above the measure of a father ; 
 Nay, 'godded me, indeed ! Their latest refuge 
 Was to send 'him : Fresh embassies and suits, 
 Nor from the State nor private friends, hereafter 
 WiU I lend ear to. — [Shoutwihin.: Ha! what sight is 
 
 this'? . . . 
 Shall I be tempted to ' infringe my vow 
 In the same time 't is 'made % I will not. — 
 
 There now approach several ladies of the Matronalia dressed in 
 mourning : there is also a young boy led by her who is second in 
 the procession. 
 
 My 'wife comes foremost ; then, the honoured 'mould 
 Wherein this trunk was framed ; and in her hand 
 The 'grandchild to her blood. But out, affection ! 
 All bond and privilege of nature, break ! 
 Let it be 'virtuous to be obstinate. — [tendtohlm! 
 
 What is that curt'sy worth % Or those doves' eyes, 
 Which can make gods forsworn ? . . I melt, and am 
 
 not 
 Of stronger earth than others. . . . My 'mother bows. 
 As if Olympus, to a molehill, should 
 In supplication nod : And my young boy 
 Pleads with a ' look of intercession, which 
 Great Nature cries, " Deny not." — Let the Volsces 
 Plough Rome, and harrow Italy ! ' I '11 stand. 
 As if a man were author of 'himself, 
 And knew no 'other kin. 
 
 Virgilia is the first to speak. 
 
 FiV. My lord and husband ! 
 
 Cor. . ... Like a dull actor now, 
 
 I have forgot my part, and I am out. 
 Even to a full disgrace ! — Best of my flesh, 
 Forgive my ' tyranny ;" but do not say 
 For that, " Forgive our ' Romans." . . . O, a kiss 
 Long as my 'exile, sweet as my 'revenge ! 
 Now, by the jealous Queen' of Heaven, that kiss 
 I carried from thee, dear ; and my true lip 
 Hath virgined it e'er since. . . . You gods ! I prate !' 
 And the most noble mother of the world 
 Leave unsaluted : sink, my knee, i' the earth ; CHe unceia. 
 
 a Rigorous determination. &Juno. c O. R. pray. 
 
Scene ill.] COKIOLANUS. 405 
 
 Of ' thy deep duty move impression show, 
 Than that of 'common sons. 
 
 Vol. O, stand up bless'd ! — 
 
 Thou art 'my warrior ! Do you know this lady ? 
 Cor. The noble sister of Publicola — 
 
 The moon of Rome ; chaste as the icicle 
 That hangs on Dian's temple : Dear Valeria ! 
 She brings forward young Marcius : 
 
 Vol. This is a poor 'epitome of yours, 
 
 Which, by the interpretation of full time, 
 May show like 'all yourself. 
 
 Cor. The god of soldiers. 
 
 With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
 Thy thoughts with nobleness ; that thou may'st prove 
 To shame invulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
 Like a great sea^-mark, — standing every flaw. 
 And 'saving those that eye thee ! 
 
 Vol. Your knee, sirrah. 
 
 The child kneels. 
 
 Cor. That 's my brave boy ! 
 
 Vol. Even he, — your wife, — this lady, and myself, 
 Are suitors to you. 
 
 Cor. ... I beseech you, 'peace ; 
 
 Or, if you 'd ask, remember this before — 
 The things I have ' forsworn to grant, may never 
 Be held by you 'denials. Do not bid me 
 Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate 
 Again with Rome's mechanics : tell me not 
 Wherein I 'seem unnatural : desire not 
 To allay my rages and revenges, with 
 Tour colder 'reasons. 
 
 Vol. ' no more, no more ! 
 
 Tou have 'said, you will not grant us 'anything : 
 
 For we have nothing else to ask, ' but that 
 
 Which you deny already : yet we 'will ask. 
 
 That, ' if we fail in our request, the blame 
 
 May hang upon 'your 'hardness. Therefore, hear us. 
 
 Cor. . . . Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark ; for we 'U 
 Hear naught from Rome in 'private. — Tour request 1 
 
 Vol. Should we be silent and 'not speak, our raiment 
 And state of bodies, would bewray what life 
 We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself. 
 How more unfortunate than all living women 
 Are we come hither : For either thou 
 
406 THE EEADEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Must, as a foreign 'recreant, be led 
 "With manacles through our streets, or else 
 Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, 
 And bear the palm, — for having bravely shed 
 Thy wife and children's blood ! 
 
 (Jor. ... I have sat too long. [Ruiug. 
 
 Vol. Nay, go not from us thus. 
 
 If our request did tend 
 To save the Eomans, — thereby to 'destroy 
 The Volsces whom you serve, — you might condemn us, 
 As poisonous of your honour : No ; our suit 
 Is, that you 'reconcile them : whUe the Volsces 
 May say, " This mercy we have 'showed ; " the Eomans, 
 " This we 'received ; " and each in either side 
 Give the all-hail to 'thee, and cry, " Be bless'd 
 For making up this peace ! " Why dost not speak % 
 Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man 
 Still to remember 'wrongs % — Daughter, speak 'you ! . . . 
 He cares not for your 'weeping. — Speak ' thou, boy : 
 Perhaps thj' 'childishness will move him more 
 Than can our 'reasons. — There's no man in the world 
 More bound to his mother ; yet here he lets me prate, 
 Like one i' the stocks. 'Say, my request's unjust, 
 And 'spurn me back : But, if it be 'not so. 
 Thou art not honest, and the gods wUl plague thee ! — 
 Down, ladies ; let us shame him with our 'knees ! — 
 This boy, — that cannot ' tell what he would have, 
 But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, — 
 Does reason our petition with more strength 
 Than thou hast to 'deny 't. — Come, let us go ! 
 This f eUow had a ' Volscian to his mother ; 
 His wife is in ' Corioli, and his child 
 Like him by 'chance ! ... Yet 'give us our despatch : 
 I am hushed, until our city be 'a-fire, . . . 
 And then, I '11 speak a 'little ! 
 
 (Jor. , . . . O mother, mother ! 
 
 What have you done ? Behold, the heavens do ope. 
 The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 
 They laugh at. O, my mother ! 
 You have won a happy victory to ' Rome ; 
 But, for your son, — believe it, O, believe it, — 
 Most 'dangerously you have with him prevailed. 
 If not most 'mortal to him. — Now, good Aufidius, 
 Were you in 'my stead, say, would you have heard 
 
Scene v.] COEIOLANDS. 407 
 
 A mother less ? or 'granted less, Aufidius 1 
 
 Auf. ... I was 'moved withal. 
 
 (Jor. I dare be sworn, you were : 
 
 ' What peace you '11 make, advise me. For my part, 
 I '11 not to 'Rome, I '11 back with 'you ; and pray you. 
 Stand to me in this cause. — O mother ! wife ! 
 Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve 
 To have a ' temple built you : all the swords 
 In Italy, and her 'confederate arms. 
 Could not have made this peace. [Exeunt. 
 
 The Ladies hastily proceed to Rome, where they are received 
 
 ■with great public rejoicings. 
 
 The Volscian soldiers, instead of attacking Rome, return, with 
 Coriolanus, to Antium. The thwarted Aufidius privately prepares 
 a list of accusations against Coriolanus, which he forwards to the 
 Lords of the city ; and, lest these should fail to work the ruin of his 
 rival, he conspires with several Volscians to put him to death be- 
 fore he has an opportunity of justifying his conduct by an appeal 
 to the people. 
 
 The Volscian army is now in Antium. Before us are the Lords 
 of the city and a crowd of Citizens. — Coriolanus speaks : 
 
 Cor. Hail, lords ! I am returned 'your soldier ; 
 No more infected with my 'country's love. 
 Than when I 'parted hence ; but 'still subsisting 
 Under 'your great command. You are to know. 
 That prosperously I have 'attempted, and. 
 With bloody passage, 'led your wars even to 
 The gates of Rome. Our 'spoils we have brought 
 
 home 
 Do 'more than counterpoise — a full third part — 
 The 'charges of the action. We 've made 'peace. 
 With no less ' honour to the 'Antiates, 
 Than 'shame to the Romans : And we here deliver — 
 Subscribed by aU the Consuls and Patricians, 
 Together with the seal o' the- Senate — what 
 We have compounded on. tpreseots a paper. 
 
 Aufidius advances : 
 
 Auf. Read it 'not, noble lords ; 
 
 But teU the traitor — in the highest degree 
 He hath 'abused your powers. 
 
 Cor. Traitor ! — How now ! — 
 
 Axif. Ay, traitor, 'Marcius. 
 
 Cor. Marcius ! 
 
 Auf. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius. Dost thou think 
 ' I 'U grace thee with that robbery, thy stolen name 
 
408 THE KEADEE'S SHAKESJPEABE. [Act 5. 
 
 Coiiolanus, 'in Corioli'? — 
 
 You lords and heads of the State, perfidiously 
 He has ' betrayed your business ; and given up, 
 For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, — 
 I say, 'your city, — to his wife and mother ; 
 Breaking his oath and resolution, like 
 A twist of rotten silk ; never admitting 
 Council o' the war, but, at his 'nurse's tears, 
 He whined and roared away 'your victory, 
 That 'pages blushed at him, and men of ' heart 
 Looked wondering each at other. 
 
 Cor. Hear'st thou, Mars °>. 
 
 Auf. ' Name not the god, thou boy of tears ! 
 
 Cor. Measureless ' liar ! thou hast rdade my heart 
 
 Too great for what contains it. " Boy ! " O slave — 
 
 Cut me to pieces, Volsces ; men and lads. 
 
 Stain 'all your edges on me. — "Boy ! " False hound ! 
 
 If you have writ your annals ' true, 't is there. 
 
 That, like an eagle in a dove-cot, I 
 
 Fluttered your Volscians in Corioli : 
 
 'Alone I did it.— "Boy t" 
 
 A II f. Why, noble lords. 
 
 Will you be put in mind of your own shame, 
 By this unholy braggart '\ 
 
 Cor. O ! that I had him, 
 
 With 'six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe. 
 To use my lawful sword ! 
 
 Auf. Insolent villain ! 
 
 All Con. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him ! 
 
 Aufidius and the Conspirators draw, and stab Coriolanus, who 
 
 falls dead. Aufidius stands on his body. A Senator exclaims : 
 
 Sen. TuUus,— 
 
 Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. 
 
 Auf. My lords, when you shall know the danger 
 
 Which this man's life did owe you, you '11 'rejoice 
 
 That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours 
 
 To call me to your Senate, I '11 deliver 
 
 Myself your loyal servant, or endure 
 
 Your heaviest censure. . . . Now my 'rage is gone, 
 
 And I am struck with 'sorrow. Though, in this city, he 
 
 Hath widowed and unchilded many a one. 
 
 Which to this hour bewail the injury. 
 
 Yet he shall have a noble 'memory. 
 
 [Eseunt, bearing the body of Gorlolanua. A dead march souaded. 
 
 End of Coeiolands. 
 
JULIUS C^S^R. 
 
 The Tragedy of Julius Caesar was probably written in 1607 — the 
 same year in which it was first performed, although it was not 
 printed till 1623; forit had now became the policy of the managers of 
 the theatre with which Shakespeare was connected, to keep the Plays 
 of this very popular author out of the hands of rival companies. 
 
 There were several earlier productions on the same subject : — 
 Stephen Gosson (in his " School of Abuse," printed in 1579,) men- 
 tions a play called " The Historic of Caesar and Pompey " ; — In 
 1582, Dr. Richard Eedes (who is mentioned by Francis Meres in 
 his " \Arit's Commonwealth " as one of the best tragic writers of 
 the time) produced a Latin play, which was acted in Oxford Uni- 
 versity : — In 1601, Weaver, in his " Mirror of Martyrs," makes 
 distinct reference to an English drama, of which he thus writes : 
 
 " The many-headed multitude were drawne 
 
 By Brutus' speech, that Caesar was ambitious ; 
 When eloquent Mark Antonie had showne 
 His vertues, who but Brutus then was vicious ? " 
 
 Again : In 1603, the author of the first known edition of " Ham- 
 let," causes the Prince to address Lord Corambus, (the Lord 
 Polonius of Shakespeare's later version,) — 
 
 Ham. My lord, you played in the Vniuersitie. 
 
 Cor. That I did my L : and I was counted a good actor. 
 
 Ham. What did you enact there ? 
 
 Cor. My lord, I did act lulius Ccesar, I was killed in the Capitoll, 
 
 Brutus killed me. 
 Ham. It was a brute parte of him, to kill so capitall a calfe. 
 
 And in 1604, Alexander, Earl of Sterline, (Stirling) produced his 
 English Tragedy of "Julius Caesar." 
 
 To neither of these dramatists does Shakespeare appear to have 
 been indebted : but, in the historical incidents of this great struggle 
 between Patricians and Plebeians, he faithfully adheres to Sir 
 Thomas North's Translation of the " Parallel Lives," by Plutarch ; 
 to which, in almost every scene and in every important speech, our 
 Poet shows his obligations. 
 
 Shakespeare having, in his English Historical Plays, represented 
 Royalty in all its forms — whether of Divine right, passive obedi- 
 ence, non-resistance, tyranny, craft, crime, vice, — virtue, — now 
 turns round to display, in the characters of Brutus and Cassius, 
 the more liberal principles of some modern governments. 
 
410 
 
 THE EEADEES SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 The Dramatis Personae retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 Julius Ca;sAK. 
 OCTAVIUS Oa;sAE, 
 Maecus Antonius, I 
 
 Maecus Beutus, 1 
 
 CASsros, I 
 
 Casca, I 
 
 Teebonius, (^ 
 
 LiGAEIUS, j 
 
 Decius Beutus, 
 Metellus Cimbee, 
 
 OiNNA, J 
 
 The Time of the action is limited to about two years : that is, 
 from the Ides — the 15th— of March (when Caesar was assassinated, 
 44 years B. C.) to the Battle of Philippi, 42 B. C. 
 
 The Scene is, during a great part of the Play, at Rome : after- 
 wards near Sardis, and finally at Philippi. 
 
 Two of the 
 Triumvirs 
 after the 
 death of 
 Gasar. 
 
 Conspira- 
 tors 
 against 
 Julius 
 Cmsar. 
 
 Flavius ostm^Maexillus, Tribunes. 
 
 A Soothsayer. 
 
 LuciLius , TiTiNros , M e s s a l a , 
 
 VoLUMNius, Friends to Brutus 
 
 and Oassius. 
 Vaeeo, Claudius, Steato, 
 
 Lucius, Servants to Brutus. 
 PiNDAKus, Servant to Cassius. 
 
 Calphuknia, Wife of (JcBsar. 
 PoBTiA, Wife of Brut/us. 
 
 Attendants, &c. 
 
 The opening Scene is a Street in Rome. Flavius and Marullus, 
 partisans of Pompey the Great — lately the powerful rival of Caesar, 
 and but recently murdered in Egypt — encounter a crowd of the 
 lower order of Citizens, whom Flavius addresses : 
 
 Flam. Hence ! home, you idle creatures ! get you home ! 
 Is this a ' holiday % What ! know you not, 
 Being 'mechanical, you ought not walk 
 Upon a 'labouring day, without the 'sign 
 Of your profession 1 — Speak, what trade art ' thou ? 
 
 1 Git. Why, sir, a 'carpenter. 
 
 Mar. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule ? 
 What dost thou with thy 'best apparel on? — 
 You, sir, what trade are 'you ? 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a ' fine workman, 
 
 I am but, as you would say, a 'cobbler. 
 
 Mar. But what ' trade art thou % answer me 'directly." 
 
 2 Cit. A trade, sir, that I hope I may use with a safe con- 
 science ; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of ' bad 'soles. 
 
 Mar. . . ' What trade, thou knave ? Thou naughty knave, 
 what trade? 
 
 2 Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not 'out with me : yet, if 
 you ' be out, sir, I can 'mend you. 
 
 Mar. What mean'st thou by that ? ' Mend me, thou saucy 
 fellow? 
 
 ct Plainly, without circumlocution. 
 
. Scene i.] JULIUS C^SAE. 411 
 
 2 Git. Why, sir, 'cobble you. 
 
 Flav. Thou art a 'cobbler, art thou 1 
 
 2 Git. Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the 'awl ; I meddle 
 with no tradesman's matters, but with 'awl. I am, 
 indeed, sir, a surgeon — to old shoes ; when they are in 
 great danger, I 're-cover them. As proper men as ever 
 trod upon neat's-leather, have gone upon 'my handi- 
 work. 
 
 Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop ' to-day ? 
 
 ' Why dost thou lead these men about the streets 1 
 
 2 Git. Truly, sir, to Wear out their shoes, to get myself into 
 'more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday to see 
 'Caesar, and to rejoice in his triumph. 
 MaruUus advances : 
 
 Mar. 'Wherefore rejoice? What 'conquest brings he 
 home? 
 What ' tributaries follow him to Rome, 
 To grace, in captive bonds, ' his chariot wheels ? 
 You blocks ! you stones ! you 'worse than senseless 
 
 things ! 
 O you hard hearts ! you cruel men of Rome ! 
 Knew you not ' Pompey ? Many a time and oft 
 Have you cUmbed-up to walls and battlements. 
 To towers and windows, yea, to 'chimney-tops. 
 Tour infants in your arms, and there have sat 
 The livelong day, with patient expectation. 
 To see great ' Pompey pass the streets of Rome : 
 And when you saw his 'chariot but appear. 
 Have you not made an universal shout. 
 That 'Tiber trembled underneath her banks. 
 To hear the 'replication of your sounds 
 Made in her concave shores ? 
 And do you 'now put on your best attire? 
 And do you now cull out a ' holiday ? 
 And do you now strew flowers, in ' his way 
 That comes in triumph over Pompey's ' blood ? 
 Be gone ! 
 
 Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, 
 Pray to the gods to intermit the-plague 
 That needs 'must light on this ' ingratitude ! [Eieoot. 
 
 In another Avenue of the City, Caesar and his wife Calphurnia, 
 — attended by Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Marc Antony, and other 
 
412 THE KEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act L 
 
 Patricians, followed by a great crowd of Plebeians, — have formed 
 into a procession in honour of the god Pan, or Lupercus, — as this 
 rural deity was otherwise called. Caesar speaks : 
 
 C^ces. Calphumia, — 
 
 Stand you directly in. Antonius' way, 
 When he doth run his course. — Antonius, — 
 Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, 
 To 'touch Calphumia ; for our elders say, 
 The ' barren, touched in this holy chase. 
 Shake -'off their sterile curse. 
 
 Ant. I shall remember : 
 
 When Caesar says, " Do this," it is performed. 
 
 Oces. Set on ; and leave no ceremony out. 
 
 Martial music is heard : A Soothsayer interrupts the procession : 
 
 Sooth. Caesar! 
 
 Cces. Ha ! Who calls ? Who is it in the press that calls 
 on 'me? 
 I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, 
 Cry, " Caesar ! " — Speak : Caesar is turned to hear. 
 
 Sooth. Beware the Ides" of March ! 
 
 Cces. Brutus, what man is that ? 
 
 Jim. A Soothsayer, bids you beware the Ides of March. 
 
 Cces. Set him before me ; let me see his face. — 
 
 What say'st thou to me 'now ? Speak once again. 
 
 Sooth. Beware the Ides of March ! 
 ^.jSkes. He is a 'dreamer ; let us leave him : — Pass. 
 
 The stately procession moves on, but Brutus and Cassius re- 
 main behind. Their conversation is frequently interrupted by the 
 distant acclamations of the mob. Cassius addresses Brutus : 
 
 Cas. WiU 'you go see the order of the course 1 
 
 Jiru. Not I. 
 
 Cas. I pray you, do. 
 
 Sru. I am not 'gamesome : I do lack some part 
 
 Of that quick spirit that is in 'Antony. 
 
 Let me not hinder, Cassius, 'your desires ; 
 
 I '11 leave you. 
 Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late : 
 
 I 'have not from your eyes that gentleness 
 
 And show of love, as I was 'wont to have : 
 
 You bear too stubborn and too strange' a hand 
 
 Over your friend that loves you. 
 Sru. Cassius, 
 
 Be not deceived : if I ' have veiled my look, 
 
 aOQe of tlie three diTisions of the Koman months — Nones, Kalends, and Ides. 
 h tTnf amiliar. 
 
Scene il.] JULIUS C^SAR. 413 
 
 I turn the trouble of my countenance 
 
 Merely upon 'myself. Vexed I am, 
 
 Of late, with passions of some difference," — 
 
 Conceptions only proper to 'myself, — 
 
 Which give some 'soU, perhaps, to my behaviour ; 
 
 But let not therefore my good 'friends be grieved, — 
 
 (Among vrhioh number, Cassius, be you one,)^ — 
 
 Nor construe any further my neglect, — 
 
 Than that poor Brutus, with ' himself at war, 
 
 Forgets the 'shows of love to 'other men. 
 
 Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much 'mistook your passion ; 
 By means whereof, this breast of 'mine hath buried 
 Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. 
 TeU me, good Brutus, can you see your ' face 1 
 
 JBru. No, Cassius ; for the eye sees not itself 
 But by 'reflection, — by some other thing. 
 
 Cas. O, be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus : 
 Were I a common ' laugher, or did use 
 To stale, with ordinary oaths, my love 
 To every 'new 'protester ; if you know 
 That I do fawn on men, and hug them hard, 
 And after 'scandal them ; or if you know 
 That I profess inyself in banqueting 
 To all the 'rout,— then, hold me 'dangerous. ['''Zu?.' ""^ 
 
 Bru. What means this shouting % I do ' fear, the people 
 ' Choose Caesar for their king. 
 
 Cas. Ay, 'do you ' fear it ? 
 
 Then must I think you 'would not have it so % 
 
 Bru. I would 'not, Cassius ; yet I love him well. 
 But wherefore do you ' hold' me here so long ? 
 What is it that you would impart to me % 
 If it be aught toward the 'general good. 
 Set Honour ia one eye and Death i' the other, 
 And I will look on both indifferently •." 
 For, let the gods so speed me, as I love 
 The name of ' honour 'more than I fear 'death. 
 
 Cas. Well, 'honour is the 'subject of my story. — 
 I cannot tell what you and other men 
 Think of this life ; but for my single self, 
 I had as lief 'not be, as live to be 
 In awe of such a ' thing as I myself. 
 'I was born free as ' Csesar ; so were 'you : 
 We both have ' fed as well, and we can both 
 Endure the winter's cold as well as he : 
 
 a Discordance. b Detain. c Without emotion, coolly. 
 
414 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 For once, upon a raw and gusty day, 
 
 The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, 
 
 Cfesar said to me, " ' Dar'st thou, Cassius, now 
 
 Leap in with me into this angry flood, 
 
 And swim to yonder point? " — Upon the word. 
 
 Accoutred as I was, I 'plunged in, 
 
 And bade him 'follow: so, indeed, he did. 
 
 The torrent roared, and we did buffet it 
 
 With lusty sinews ; throwing it aside 
 
 And stemming it, with hearts of controversy ; 
 
 But ere we could 'arrive the point proposed, 
 
 Cfesar cried, " Help me, Cassius, or I 'sink ! " 
 
 I, as .tineas, our great ancestor. 
 
 Did, from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder 
 
 The old 'Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber, 
 
 Did I the tired ' Ceesar. And this 'man 
 
 Is now become a 'god ; and Cassius is 
 
 A 'wretched creatui^, and must ' bend his body 
 
 If Csesar carelessly but 'nod on him. — 
 
 He had a fever when he was in Spain ; 
 
 And, when the fit was on him, I did mark 
 
 How he did 'shake : 't is ' true, this 'god did 'shake ! 
 
 His coward ' lips did from their colour fly ; 
 
 And that same 'eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 
 
 Did 'lose his lustre. I did hear him 'groan ; 
 
 Ay, and that 'tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
 
 Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 
 
 Alas, it cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius," 
 
 As a sick 'girl. Ye gods, it doth 'amaze me, 
 
 A man of such a ' feeble temper should 
 
 'So get the start of the majestic world. 
 
 And bear the palm 'alone. [rfo'lirisii. 
 
 Bru. 'Another general shout ! 
 
 I do believe that these applauses 'are 
 For some new honours that are heaped on Caesar. 
 
 Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, 
 Like a 'colossus ;" and we, 'petty men. 
 Walk under ' his huge legs, and peep about 
 To find ourselves dishonourable graves ! 
 Men, at 'some time, are 'masters of their fates : 
 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our 'stars, 
 But in 'ourselves, that we are underlings. 
 Brutus, and Csesar : What 'should be in that Csesar °i 
 Why should ' that name be sounded more than 'yours ? 
 
 a Alluding to the Colossus at Rhodes. 
 
Scene ii.J J0LIua C^SAE. 415 
 
 'Write them together, — yours is as fair a name ; 
 
 ' Sound them, — it doth become the 'mouth as well ; — 
 
 ' Weigh them, — it is as heavy ; — 'conjure with them, 
 
 ' Brutus will start a Spirit as soon as Csesar ! [Shmt. 
 
 Now, in the names of all the gods at once, 
 
 Upon 'what meat does this our Csesar feed, 
 
 That he is grown so great ? Age, thou art shamed ! 
 
 Eome, thou hast 'lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
 
 When went there by an age, since the great flood. 
 
 But it was famed with more than with 'one man 1 
 
 When could ' they say, till now, that talked of Eome, 
 
 That her wide walls encompassed 'but 'one man? 
 
 0, you and I have heard our ' fathers say, — 
 
 There was a 'Brutus" once, that would have brooked 
 
 The eternal ' Devil to keep ' his state in Eome, 
 
 As easily as a ' king ! 
 
 £rn. That you do 'love me, I am nothing jealous ; 
 What you would 'work me to, I have some aim : 
 How ' I have thought of this, and of these times, 
 I shall recount ' hereafter : for this 'present, 
 I would not, so with love I might entreat you. 
 Be any further moved. What you have 'said, 
 I will consider ; what you ' have to say, 
 I will with patience hear ; and find a time 
 Both meet to hear, and 'answer, such high things. 
 Till then, my noble friend, chew' upon this : — 
 Brutus had rather be a 'villager. 
 Than to repute himself a 'son of ' Eome 
 Under these hard conditions as this time 
 Is like to lay upon us. — The games are done. 
 And Csesar is returning. 
 
 Cas. As they pass-by, pluck Casca by the sleeve ; 
 And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you 
 What hath proceeded, worthy note, to-day. 
 
 Uru. I win do so. — But, look you, Cassius, 
 
 The angry spot doth glow on Osesar's brow. 
 And all the rest look like a chidden train : 
 Calphurnia's cheek is pale ; and Cicero 
 Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes 
 As we have seen him in the Capitol, 
 Being crossed in conference by some senators. 
 
 The gorgeous procession reappears. As Caesar is passing, he 
 pauses — looking uneasily at Brutus and Cassius, whose absence 
 from the sports he had doubtless observed. 
 
 a Lucius Junius Brutus . & Ruminate. 
 
416 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Cms. Antonius, . . . 
 
 Let me have men about me that are ' fat ; 
 
 ' Sleek-headed men, and such as 'sleep o' nights : 
 
 Yond' Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
 
 He 'thinks too much : such men are 'dangerous. 
 
 Ant. Pear him not, Caesar, he 's 'not dangerous ; 
 He is a noble Roman, and 'well given. 
 
 Gees. 'Would he were fatter ! But I ' fear him 'not : — 
 Yet, if my name 'were liable to fear, 
 I do not know the man I should 'avoid 
 So soon as that spare Cassius. He 'reads much ; 
 He is a great 'observer, and he looks 
 Quite 'through the deeds of men : 'he loves no plays. 
 As ' thon dost, Antony ; he hears no music ; 
 Seldom he smiles ; and smiles in such a sort. 
 As if he 'mocked himself, and scorned his spirit 
 That 'could be moved to smile at 'anything ! 
 Such men as he be never at heart's ease. 
 Whiles they behold a 'greater than themselves ; 
 And therefore are they 'very dangerous. 
 I rather tell thee what is to ' be feared. 
 Than what ' I fear, — for always ' I am ' Ceesar. 
 Come on my 'right hand, (for this ear is deaf,) 
 And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. [L^aiS" 
 When the procession has passed, the blunt dogged Casca says to 
 
 Brutus : 
 
 Casca. You pulled me by the cloak: Would you 'speak with 
 
 me? 
 Bru. Aj, Casca : tell us what hath chanced to-day. 
 
 That Csesar looks so sad. 
 Casca. Why, you were with him, were you not? 
 Bru. I should not then 'ask Casca what hath chanced. 
 Casca. Why, there was a 'crown offered him; and, 'being 
 
 offered him, he put it by, with the ' back of his hand, — 
 
 thus ; and then the people fell a-shouting. 
 Bru. What was the 'second noise for? 
 Casca. Why, for that too. 
 
 Cas. They shouted ' thrice : what was the ' last cry for ? 
 Casca. Why, for that too ! 
 Bru. ' Was the crown offered him ' thrice ? 
 Casca. Ay, marry, was 't, and he 'put it 'by ' thrice, every 
 
 time gentler than other; and, 'at every putting-by, 
 
 mine honest neighbours shouted. 
 Cas. ' Who offered him the crown ? 
 
Scene ii.] JULIUS C«SAE. 417 
 
 Oasca. Why, Antony. 
 
 Bru. Tell us the 'manner of it, gentle Casca. 
 
 Casca. I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it : 
 it was mere ' foolery ; I did not mark it. I saw Mark 
 Antony offer him a crown ; — ^yet 't was not a 'crown 
 neither, 't was one of these 'coronets ; — and, as I told 
 you, he put it by once : but, for all that, to 'my think- 
 ing, he would fain have ' had it. Then he offered it to 
 him 'again ; then he put it ' by again : but, to my think- 
 ing, he was very ' loth to lay his fingers off it. And 
 then he offered it the ' third time ; he put it the third 
 time by: and still 'as he refused it, the rabblement 
 shouted, and clapped their chapped hands, and threw 
 up their sweaty night-caps ; and uttered such a deal 
 of stinking breath, ' because Csesar refused the crown, 
 that it had almost 'choked Csesar ; for he 'swooned, and 
 fell down at it : And, for mine 'own part, I durst not 
 laugh, — for fear of opening my lips, and 'receiving the 
 bad air. 
 
 Cas. But, soft, I pray you : What ! did Csesar 'swoon ? 
 
 Casca. He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at 
 mouth, and was speechless. 
 
 Bru. 'T is very like : he ' hath the falling-sickness. 
 
 Cas. No, ' Csesar hath it 'not ; but you and I, 
 
 And honest Casca, 'we have the falling-sickness. 
 
 Casca. ... I know not what you mean by that ; but, I am 
 sare, Csesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not 
 ' clap him, and ' hiss him, according as he pleased and 
 'dis-pleased them, — as they use to do the players in the 
 theatre, — I am no true man. 
 
 Bru. What said he when he came unto himself ? 
 
 Casca. Marry, 'before he fell down, when he perceived the 
 common herd was 'glad he refused the crown, he 
 plucked me ope his doublet, and offered them his 
 ' throat to cut. — An ' I had been a man of any 'occupa- 
 tion, if I would not have taken him at a word, I would 
 I might go 'down . . . among the rogues. — And so he 
 fell. When he came to himself again, he said. If he had 
 done, or said, anything 'amiss, he desired their 'wor- 
 ships to think it was his 'infirmity.- Three or four 
 wenches, where I stood, cried, " Alas, good soul ! " and 
 forgave him with all their hearts ; but there 's no heed 
 to be taken of ' them : if Csesar had stabbed their 
 'mothers, they would have done no less. 
 
418 THE keader's SHAKESPEAEE. lActl. 
 
 Cas. Did ' Cicero say anything *? 
 
 Casca. Ay ; he spoke ' Greek. 
 
 Cas. To what effect ? 
 
 Casca. . . . Nay, an I tell you ' that, I '11 ne'er look you i' the 
 face again : But those that 'understood him smiled at 
 one another and shook their heads ; — but for mine own 
 part, it 'was Greek to 'me. Fare you well. There was 
 'more foolery yet, if I could remember it. 
 
 Cas. Will you 'sup with me to-night, Casca ? 
 
 Casca. No, I am promised forth. 
 
 Cas. Will you 'dine with me ' to-morrow 1 
 
 Casca. Ay, if I be alive, and your mind hold, and your 
 dinner worth the eating. 
 
 Cas. Good : I will expect you. 
 
 Casca. Do so. Farewell, both. [caSL 
 
 J3ru. What a ' blunt fellow is this grown to be ! 
 
 Cas. This 'rudeness is a sauce to his 'good 'wit. 
 Which gives men stomach to 'digest his words 
 With better appetite. 
 
 Bru. And so it is. For this time I will leave you, Cassius. 
 To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, 
 I will come ' home to you ; or, if you will. 
 Come home to 'me, and I will wait for you. 
 
 Cas. I will do so : — till then, think of the world. \_^Slt. 
 
 Well, Brutus, thou art 'noble ; yet, I see, 
 Thy honourable metal 'may be wrought 
 ' From that it is disposed : therefore, 't is meet 
 That noble minds keep ever with their 'likes ; 
 For who so firm that 'cannot be seduced °i 
 Csesar doth bear 'me hard ; but he loves ' Brutus : 
 If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, 
 He should not humour 'me. — I will this night, 
 In several hands, in at his windows throw, — 
 As if they came from 'several citizens, — 
 Writings, all tending to the great opinion 
 That Home holds of his name ; wherein, obscurely, 
 Csesar's ambition shall be glanced at : 
 And, after this, let Cfesar seat him sure ; 
 For we will 'shake him, or worse days endure ! [exh. 
 
 The louring evening deepens into night. A storm arises ; and, 
 in the brilliant corruscations of the lightning, we can perceive two 
 Patricians meeting on the street — Casca with his sword drawn, and 
 Cassius. 
 
Scene ill.] JULIUS CffiSAB. 419 
 
 Gas. Who 's there "? 
 
 Gasca. A Eoman. 
 
 Gas. Casca, by your voice. 
 
 Gasca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this ? 
 
 Gas. A very 'pleasing night to ' honest men. 
 
 Gasca. Who ever knew the heavens menace so ? 
 
 Gas. Those that have known the 'earth so full of ' faults. 
 For 'my part, I have walked about the streets, 
 'Submitting me unto the perilous night; 
 Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone : 
 And, when the cross-blue lightning seemed to open 
 The breast of ' heaven, I did present myself, 
 Even in the aim and very flash of it. 
 
 Gasca. But 'wherefore did you so much ' tempt the heavens t 
 It is the part of 'men to ' fear and tremble, 
 When the most mighty 'gods, by tokens, send 
 Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. 
 
 Gas. You are dull, Casca ; and those sparks of Uf e 
 That 'should be in a Eoman, 'you do 'want. 
 Or else you 'use not. You look pale, and gaze. 
 To see the strange impatience of the 'heavens. 
 Now could I, Casca, name to thee a 'man. 
 Most like this dreadful 'night ; 
 A man no mightier than thyself, or me, 
 In 'personal action ; yet 'prodigious" grown 
 And fearful, — as these strange eruptions are. 
 
 Gasca. 'T is ' Csesar that you mean ; is it not, Cassius t 
 
 Gas. Let it be who it is : for Romans 'now 
 
 Have thews and limbs ' like to their ancestors ; 
 But, woe the while ! our fathers' 'minds are dead. 
 And we are governed with our 'mothers' spirits. 
 
 Gasca. Indeed, they say, the Senators to-morrow 
 Mean to establish Caesar as a ' king ; 
 And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, 
 In every place, . . . save here in Italy. 
 
 Gas. I know where I wUl wear this 'dagger then ; 
 Cassius from bondage will 'deliver Cassius : 
 Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat : 
 Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass. 
 Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron. 
 Can be retentive to the strength of 'spirit ; 
 But life, being weary of these worldly bars. 
 Never lacks power to 'dismiss 'itself. 
 If I know ' this, know all the world besides, 
 
 a Portentous. 
 
420 THE KEADEB's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 That part of tyranny that I do ' bear, 
 
 I can shake-'off at pleasure. [Thunder aim. 
 
 ■Casca. So can I : 
 
 So 'every bondman in his own hand bears 
 The power to 'cancel his captivity. 
 
 ■Cas. And why should Csesar be a ' tyrant, then ? 
 Poor man ! I know, he would not be a 'wolf. 
 But that he sees the Romans are but 'sheep : 
 He were no 'lion, were not Romans 'hinds. — But, O 
 
 grief, 
 Where hast thou led me % I, perhaps, speak this 
 Before a 'willing bondman : then I know 
 My answer must be made ; but I am armed, 
 And dangers are to me indifferent. 
 
 •Casca. You speak to ' Casca ; and to such a man 
 
 That is no fleering" ' tell-tale. Hold, — my hand : 
 Be factious for 'redress of all these griefs ; 
 And I will set this foot of 'mine as far 
 As who goes farthest. 
 
 •Cas. There 's a bargain made. 
 
 Now know you, Casca, I have moved already 
 Some certain of the noblest-minded Bomans 
 To undergo with me an enterprise 
 Of honourable-dangerous consequence ; 
 And I do know, by this they stay for me 
 In Pompey's porch : for now, this fearful night. 
 There is no stir or walking in the 'streets ; 
 And the complexion of the element 
 In favour' 's like the work we have in hand, — 
 Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible ! — 
 Come, Casca, you and I will yet, ere day, 
 See Brutus at his house : ' three parts of him 
 Is ours already ; and the man 'entire, 
 Upon the 'next encounter, yields him ours. cexooiil 
 
 The stormy night continues. Brutus, feverous and agitated, is 
 alone in his orchard. 
 
 Jiru. What, Lucius, ho ! — 
 
 I cannot, by the progress of the stars. 
 
 Give 'guess how near to day. — Lucius, I say! — 
 
 I would it were 'my fault to sleep so soundly. — 
 
 When, Lucius, when ? Awake, I say ! What, Lucius ! 
 
 Lucius enters. 
 Get me a ' taper in my study, Lucius : 
 
Scene i.] JULIUS C^SAR. 421 
 
 When it is lighted, come and call me here. [ExitLuo. 
 
 ... It must be by his 'death : and, for 'my part, 
 I know no 'personal cause to spurn at him, 
 But for the 'general. He would be 'crowned : — 
 How that might 'change his nature, — there 's the ques- 
 tion: 
 It is the ' bright day that brings forth the adder ; 
 And 'that craves wary walking. Crown him? — that ; 
 And then, I grant, we 'put a sting in him. 
 That, at his will, he 'may do danger with. 
 The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 
 ' Kemorse from 'power : And, to speak truth of Csesar, 
 I have not known when his 'affections swayed. 
 More than his 'reason. But 't is a common proof, 
 That ' lowliness is young ambition's ' ladder. 
 Whereto the climber-upward turns his ' face ; 
 But, when he once 'attains the upmost round. 
 He ' then unto the ladder turns his ' back, 
 Looks in the 'clouds, — scorning the base degrees" 
 By which he did ascend. So Csesar 'may : 
 Then, 'lest he may, 'prevent. And, since the quarrel 
 Will bear no colour for the thing he ' is, 
 Fashion it thus : — that 'what he is, augmented. 
 Would run to these and these 'extremities : 
 And therefore think him — as a serpent's 'egg, 
 Which, hatched, would, as his kind,' 'grow mischiev- 
 ous ... 
 And ' kill him in the shell. — 
 
 [riSrsJ Lucius, what now ? 
 
 Imc. The taper 'burneth in your closet, sir. 
 
 Searching the window for a flint, I found [Gwiog a ictwr. 
 This paper, thus sealed up ; and I am sure 
 It did not lie there when I 'went to bed. 
 
 £ru. Get you to bed 'agaia ; it is not day. 
 
 Is not to-morrow, boy, the Ides of March ? 
 
 Xiicc. I know not, sir. 
 
 £ru. Look in the calendar, and bring me word. [exuluc. 
 
 The exhalations whizzing in the air 
 Give so much light that I may read by them. [Reads. 
 
 " Brutus, thou sleep' st : awake, and see thyself. 
 Shall Rome, et cetera ? — Speak, strike, redress ! " 
 Such instigations have been often dropped 
 Where I have took them up. 
 " Shall Rome, et cetera ? " Thus must I 'piece it out : 
 
 a Low steps. & Bace, genus. 
 
422 THE KEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Shall Eome stand under 'one man's awe ? What ! 
 
 Eome? 
 My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 
 The Tarquin drive, when ' he was called a King ! 
 " Speak, strike, redress P' — Am I entreated 
 To speak, 'and strike ? O Rome, I make thee promise. 
 If the 'redress will follow, thou receiv'st 
 Thy ' full petition at the hand of Brutus ! [rie^Si. 
 
 Xiuc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. [Knocking ^iinin. 
 
 £ru. 'T is good. — Go to the gate ; somebody knocks, [es. luo. 
 . . . Since Cassius first did whet me against Osesar, 
 I have not slept. 
 
 Between the 'acting of a dreadful thing 
 And the first 'motion, all the interim is 
 Like a 'phantasma" or a hideous 'dream : 
 The Genius,' and the mortal instruments, 
 Are then in <50uncil ; and the state of man. 
 Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
 The nature of an 'insurrection. [re'i'oMm 
 
 Xiiic. Sir, 't is your brother" Cassius at the door, 
 Who doth desire to 'see you. 
 
 Sru. Is he 'alone ? 
 
 Luc. No, sir, there are 'more with him. 
 
 Hrn. Do you know ' them ? 
 
 IjUC. No, sir ; their hats are plucked about their ears. 
 And half their faces buried in their cloaks. 
 
 J3ru. ■ Let them enter, cei. luc. 
 
 They are the faction. Conspiracy ! 
 Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by 'night, 
 When evils are most free 1 O, then, by 'day, 
 Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
 To 'mask thy monstrous visage ? Seek none, Conspkacy ; 
 ' Hide it — in smiles and affability : 
 For if thou path thy native semblance 'on,"* 
 Not Erebus" itself were dim enough 
 To hide thee from prevention.^ 
 The Conspirators enter: — Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, Metel- 
 
 lus Cimber, and Trebonius. Cassius speaks : 
 
 Cas. I think we are too bold upon your rest : 
 Good morrow, Brutus ; do we trouble you °i 
 
 Sru. I have been 'up this hour ; 'awake all night. — 
 ' Know I these men that come along with you % 
 
 Cas. Yes, every man of them ; and no man here 
 But honours you : and every one doth wish 
 
 <x Vision. & Overseeing spirit, c Cassius was married to Junia the sister of Brutus . 
 (Z = If thou waUc in tliy true form. eHell. /Prevented by being discovered. 
 
Scene i.] JULIUS O^SAE. 423 
 
 You had but that opinion of 'yourself, 
 Which every noble Roman bears of you. 
 
 Brutus confers privately for a short time with Cassius ; then he 
 addresses the other conspirators : 
 
 Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by one. 
 
 Gas. And let us 'svs^ear our resolution. 
 
 lira. No, 'not an oath : if not the face" of men. 
 
 The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse, — 
 
 If these be motives 'weak, break off betimes, 
 
 And every man hence to his idle bed ; 
 
 So let high-sighted Tyranny range on. 
 
 Till each man drop by lottery. But, countrymen, 
 
 What need vre 'any spur, ' but our own cause. 
 
 To urge us to redress ? what 'other bond 
 
 Than secret Romans, that have 'spoke the word. 
 
 And will not 'palter ?' and what other oath 
 
 Than honesty to honesty engaged. 
 
 That this 'shall be, or we will 'fall for it % 
 
 Swear priests, and cowards, and men cautelous,' 
 
 Old feeble carrions, and such suffering souls 
 
 That 'welcome wrongs ; unto ' bad causes swear 
 
 Such creatures as men 'doubt : but do not stain 
 
 The even virtue of 'our enterprise. 
 
 To think that, or our 'cause, or our 'performance. 
 
 Did 'need an 'oath ; — when every drop of blood 
 
 That every Roman bears, and 'nobly bears^ 
 
 Is guilty of a several ' bastardy. 
 
 If he do break the smallest particle 
 
 Of any 'promise that hath passed from him. 
 
 Gas. But what of Cicero ? Shall we sound him ? 
 
 Bru. O, name him not ; for he will never ' follow 
 Anything that other men ' begin. 
 
 Dec. Shall no man else be touched but only Csesar % 
 
 Gas. Decius, well urged. — ■ I think it is not meet. 
 Marc Antony, so well belov'd of Csesar, 
 Should 'outlive Csesar : and, you know, his means. 
 If he improve them, may well stretch so far 
 As to annoy us all : which to prevent. 
 Let 'Antony, 'and Csesar, fall together. 
 
 Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, 
 To cut the 'head off, and then hack the 'limbs — 
 Like 'wrath in 'death, and 'envy 'afterwards ; 
 For Antony is but a ' limb of Csesar : 
 Let us be 'sacrificers, but not ' butchers, Caius. 
 
 a Dejected looks. 6 Shuffle, dodge. c Cautious. 
 
424 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 We all stand up against the 'spirit of Caesar ; 
 And in the spirit of men there is no ' blood : 
 O, that we then could come by CsBsar's spirit, 
 And 'not dismember Caesar ! But, alas, 
 Csesar 'must bleed for it. And, gentle friends, 
 Let 's kill him ' boldly — but not 'wrathfully ; 
 Let 's carve him, as a dish fit for the 'gods, — 
 Not 'hew him, as a carcass fit for 'hounds : 
 And for Mark Antony, think not of 'him ; 
 For he can do no more than Caesar's 'arm, 
 When Caesar's ' head is 'off. 
 
 Gas. But it is doubtful yet. 
 
 Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no ; 
 For he is 'superstitious grown of late ; 
 And the persuasion of his augurers 
 May hold him ' from the Capitol to-day. 
 
 Dec. Never .fear that : I can 'o'ersway him ; 
 For I can give his humour the true bent. 
 And I will ' bring him to the Capitol. 
 
 Cas. Nay, we will 'all of us be there to fetch him. — 
 
 The morning comes upon us : we '11 leave you, Brutus : 
 And, friends, disperse yourselves ; but all remember 
 What you have said, and show yourselves 'true Eo- 
 mans. 
 
 JSru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily ; 
 Let not our ' looks put-on our 'purposes ; 
 But bear it as our Roman 'actors" do. 
 With untired spirits and formal constancy : 
 And so, good morrow to you every one. [ex. an but Brutus. 
 
 Boy ! Lucius ! — fast asleep? It is no matter ; 
 Enjoy the heavy honey-dew of slumber : 
 ' Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies. 
 Which busy care draws in the brains of 'men ; 
 Therefore, thou sleep'st so sound. 
 
 While the Conspirators are thus taking leave of Brutus, his wife 
 Portia, enters. 
 
 Portia, what mean you °i Wherefore rise you 'now ? 
 It is not for your ' health, thus to commit 
 Tour weak condition to the raw-cold morning. 
 Por. Nor for yours neither. You 've ungently, Brutus, 
 Stole from your bed : and yesternight, at supper. 
 You suddenly arose, and walked about ; 
 And when I asked you what the 'matter was, 
 
 a Rocsicus and .^sopuB, the greatest actors of all times, were contemporaries of 
 Brutus. 
 
Scene t] JULIUS C«SAE. 425 
 
 You stared upon me with ungentle looks : 
 And, with an 'angry wafture of your hand, 
 Gave sign for me to 'leave you. Dear my lord, 
 Make me acquainted with your 'cause of grief ? 
 
 Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all. 
 
 For. Brutus is wise ; and were he 'not in health, 
 He would embrace the means to 'come by it. 
 
 Brv. Why, so I do. — Good Portia, stay not now. 
 
 Jfor. Is Brutus sick % 
 
 And will he steal out of his wholesome bed. 
 And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air 
 To 'add unto his sickness 1 No, my Brutus ; 
 Tou have some sick offence within your 'mind ; 
 Which, by the right and virtue of my place, 
 I ought to know of. 
 
 Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. 
 
 For. I should not 'need, if 'you were gentle 'Brutus. 
 Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, 
 Is it excepted I should know no 'secrets 
 That appertain to you % Am I yourself 
 But, as it were, in sort or limitation ? 
 To keep with you at meals, comfort your home, 
 And talk to you sometimes % Dwell I but in the suburbs 
 Of your good pleasure °\ If it be no more, 
 Portia is Brutus' 'servant — not his 'wife: 
 
 Bru. Tou are my true and ' honourable 'wife ; 
 As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops 
 That visit my sad heart. 
 
 For. If this were true, then should I know this secret. 
 I grant, I am a woman ; but withal 
 A woman that Lord ' Brutus took to wife : 
 I grant, I am a woman ; but withal 
 A woman well reputed, — ' Cato's daughter. 
 Think you I am no stronger than my 'sex. 
 Being so ' fathered, and so ' husbanded % 
 Tell me your counsels ; I will 'not disclose them. 
 I have made strong proof of my constancy. 
 Giving myself a voluntary wound : Can I bear that 
 With patience, and not my husband's secrets % 
 
 Bru. Gods ! render me 'worthy of this noble wife ! [''^"wn.* 
 Hark, hark ! one knocks : Portia, go in awhile ; 
 And by-and-by thy bosom 'shall partake 
 The secrets of my heart. . . . Leave me with haste, [pjj' 
 
 C Knocking heard, 
 Lucius enters. 
 
426 THE reader's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 2. 
 
 Lucius, who is 't that knocks 1 
 Luc. Here is a sick man that would speak with you. 
 Sru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. — 
 
 I come ! I come ! [EMum, 
 
 The Romans had, with little opposition, allowed Caesar to assume 
 the title of Dictator ; but great Patrician opposition was mani- 
 fested when it was proposed that he should reign as King ; — the 
 name being already associated with Tarquin and tyranny. Never- 
 theless, an obsequious majority of the Senate had determined to 
 confer the obnoxious title, on the Ides of March — that is, about the 
 fifteenth day of the same month in our calendar : and it was planned 
 that the signal for the action of the Conspirators should be — the 
 presentation of a petition by Metellus Cimber on behalf of his ban- 
 ished brother. 
 
 Caesar had been almost persuaded not to go to the Senate, but, 
 changing his mind, he is about to proceed, when he is addressed by 
 his wife Calphurnia : 
 
 Gal. What mean you, Csesar ? think you to walk forth % 
 Tou shall not stir out of your house ' to-day. 
 
 (Jms. Csesar 'shall forth : the things that threatened me 
 Ne'er looked but on my ' back ; when they shall see 
 The 'face of Csesar, they are vanished. 
 
 Cal. Csesar, I never stood on ceremonies," 
 
 Yet 'now they fright me. There is one within, 
 
 Besides the things that 'we have heard and seen, 
 
 Eecounts most horrid sights seen by the 'watch :' — 
 
 Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds. 
 
 In ranks and squadrons, and right form of war, 
 
 Which drizzled ' blood upon the Capitol ; 
 
 The noise of battle hurtled in the 'air ; 
 
 The graves have yawned, and yielded up their dead ; 
 
 And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the 'streets. 
 
 O Csesar, these things are 'beyond all use. 
 
 And I 'do ' fear them ! 
 
 Cms. What can be 'avoided. 
 
 Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods % 
 Yet Csesar 'shall go forth ; for these predictions 
 Are to the 'world in general as to Csesar. 
 
 Cal. When ' beggars die, there are no 'comets seen ; 
 
 The heavens 'themselves blaze forth the death of 
 'princes. 
 
 Cms. 'Cowards die 'many times ' before their deaths ; 
 The 'valiant never taste of death but 'once. 
 
 a, Gave superstitious attention to omens. & Soldiers on guard. 
 
Scene ii.] JULIUS O^SAE. 427 
 
 Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 
 
 It seems to me most strange that men should 'fear ; 
 
 Seeing that death, a necessary end, 
 
 ' Will come, 'when it will come. 
 
 Cal. Alas, my lord ! 
 
 Your wisdom is consumed in 'confidence. 
 Do 'not go forth to-day : call it 'my fear 
 That keeps you in the house, and not your own. 
 We '11 send Mark Antony to the Senate-house, 
 And he shall say you are not well to-day : 
 Let me, upon my ' knee, prevail in this ! 
 
 Goes. Mark Antony 'shall say I am not well ; 
 And, for thy humour, I 'will stay at home. 
 Here' s Decius Brutus, 'he shall tell them so. 
 The wary Conspirator enters. 
 
 Dec. Caesar, all hail ! Good morrow, worthy Csesar : 
 I come to fetch you to the Senate-house. 
 
 Cms. And you are come in very happy time, 
 To bear my greetings to the Senators, 
 And tell them that I 'will not come to-day : 
 ' Cannot, is false ; and that I 'dare not, falser ; 
 I 'wUl not come to-day. — Tell them so, Decius. 
 
 Dec. Most mighty Csesar, let me know some 'cause. 
 Lest I be laughed at when I tell them so. 
 
 Coes. The cause is in my 'wUl, — I 'will not come ; 
 That is enough to satisfy the Senate. 
 But, for your 'private satisfaction, 
 Because I love you, I will let you know : — 
 Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home : 
 She dreamed last night she saw my statue. 
 Which, like a fountain with a hundred spouts, 
 Did run pure blood ; and many lusty Romans 
 Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it. 
 These she applies for warnings and portents 
 Of evils imminent ; and on her knee 
 Hath ' begged that I wUl stay at home to-day. 
 
 Dec. . . . This dream is all 'amiss interpreted : 
 It was a vision ' fair and ' fortunate. 
 Your statue, spouting blood in many pipes. 
 In which so many smiling Romans bathed. 
 Signifies that, from 'you, great Rome shall suck 
 ' Reviving blood ; and that great men shaU press 
 For tiactures, stains, relics, and cognizance : 
 ' This by Calphurnia's dream is signified. 
 
428 THE READEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Goes. And this way have you well 'expounded it. 
 
 Dec. I have, when you have heard what I can say : 
 And know it 'now. The Senate have concluded 
 To give this day a 'crown to mighty Csesar. 
 If you shall send them word you will not come, 
 Their minds may 'change. Besides, it were a mock 
 Apt to be rendered, for some one to say, 
 " Break up the Senate till another time. 
 When Csesar's 'wife shall meet with better 'dreams." 
 
 Ctes. How foolish do your fears seem 'now, Calphurnia ! 
 I am ashamed that I did yield to them. — 
 And look where other friends are come to fetch me. 
 
 Several of the Conspirators enter. 
 
 Welcome, Publius. — 
 What, ' Brutus ! are 'you stirred so early too % — 
 I thank you for your pains and courtesy. [ISS. 
 
 See ! Antony, that revels long o' nights. 
 Is notwithstanding up. — Good morrow, Antony. 
 I am to blame to be thus waited for. — 
 Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me ; — 
 And we, ' like friends, will straightway go ' together. 
 
 [Ex. Conap. 
 
 As they depart with Caesar on their murderous business, one of 
 the Conspirators hngers reluctantly : 
 
 Stu. That 'every like is not the 'same, O Csesar, 
 
 The heart of ' Brutus yearns to think upon ! [Exit. 
 
 We now proceed, in imagination, to the portico of Pompey's 
 Temple at the Capitol. The street is crowded with people. Arte- 
 midorus stands perusing a document of warning, which he intends 
 to present to Caesar. The chief Conspirators — Brutus, Cassius, 
 Casca, Metellus Cimber, and others — are in the procession. 
 
 Caesar, about to enter the Senate-house, observes the Soothsayer, 
 and thus reminds him of their former interview : 
 
 Coes. The Ides of March are 'come. 
 Soolh. Ay, Csesar ; but not 'gone. 
 
 Artemidorus hastens forward : 
 
 Art. HaU, Csesar! Read this schedule. 
 
 Decius, fearing the contents, presents another paper : 
 
 Dec. 'Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread. 
 At your best leisure, this 'his humble suit. 
 
Scene i.] JULIUS 0«SA.B. 429 
 
 Art. O Caesar, read 'mine first ; for mine 's a suit 
 
 That touches Csesar 'nearer. Bead ' it, great Csesar. 
 
 fees. "What touches us 'ourself shall be ' last served. 
 
 Art. Delay not, Csesar ; read it ' instantly. 
 
 Cas. "What, urge you your petitions in the 'street ? 
 Come to the ' Capitol. 
 
 Caesar enters the Capitol, all the Conspirators closely following. 
 The Senators rise as Caesar enters ; 
 
 Oces. . . . "What is now amiss, 
 
 That Csesar and his Senate must 'redress ? 
 
 Metellus Cimber advances and kneels : 
 Met. Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Csesar, 
 Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat 
 An humble heart, — [Koeeiing. 
 
 CcBS. I must 'prevent thee, Cimber : 
 
 These couchings, and these lowly courtesies, 
 Might fire the blood of 'ordinary men ; 
 And turn pre-ordiaance," and first decree. 
 Into the law of 'children. Be not ' fond' 
 To think that ' Csesar bears such rebel blood, 
 That wiU be thawed ' from the true quality, 
 With that which melteth ' fools ; — I mean, sweet words, 
 Low-crooked curt'sies, and base spaniel-fawning. 
 Thy brother by 'decree is banished : 
 If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for ' him, 
 I spurn thee, like a cur, out of my way. 
 Know, Csesar doth not 'wrong ; nor, without 'cause, 
 "Will he be satisfied. 
 
 Metellus rises : 
 Met. Is there no voice more worthy than my own. 
 To sound more sweetly in great Csesar's ear 
 For the repealing of my banished brother ? 
 
 Brutus advances and kneels : 
 £ru. ' I kiss thy hand, but not in ' flattery, Csesar ; 
 
 ' Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may 
 
 Have an ' immediate freedom of repeal. 
 Cms. "What, Brutus ! 
 
 Cassius kneels : 
 Cas. Pardon, Csesar ; Csesar, pardon : 
 
 As low as to thy foot doth ' Cassius fall, 
 
 To ' beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. 
 Cms. ' I could be well moved, if I were as 'you ; 
 
 Established rule. b Foolish. 
 
430 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 If I could 'pray to move, prayers would move 'me : 
 But I am constant as the northern" star. 
 Let me a little 'show it, even in this, — 
 That I was constant, Cimber should be ' banished. 
 And constant do remain to ' keep him so. 
 Cinna presses forward : 
 
 Cin. Csesar, — 
 
 Cces. Hence ! Wilt thou lift up Olympus ? 
 
 Decius advances : 
 Dec. Great Csesar, — 
 Cms. Doth not 'Brutus bootless kneel? 
 
 Casca creeps up behind, exclaiming : 
 Oasca. Speak, 'hands, for 'me. 
 
 Casca stabs Caesar in the neck. Caesar catches hold of his 
 arm. All the Conspirators, jealous of every tyranny but 'their own, 
 eagerly rush on their victim ; and each seems anxious to share in 
 the glory of the assassination. Cassius, thirsting for the tyrant's 
 blood, stabs him furiously ; last of all, Brutus, deliberately, but sor- 
 rowfully, plunges his sword into the lacerated breast. When Caesar 
 perceives him, he exclaims : 
 
 Cces. M tic, Brute .?— Then fall, Cssar ! 
 
 The dying Caesar slowly shrouds his face with his robe, stoically 
 to conceal any evidence of pain ; and the master of the world falls 
 at the foot of Pompey's statue — a lifeless, powerless corpse ! The 
 Senators and the People hasten away in wild confusion. Cinna 
 exclaims : 
 
 Cin. Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead ! — 
 
 Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. 
 Cassius adds : 
 Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, 
 
 " Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement ! " 
 And Brutus : 
 JBru. People, and Senators, be not affrighted ; 
 
 Fly not ; stand still : — Ambition's debt is 'paid ! 
 Gas. Where 's Antony ? 
 Tre. Fled to his house, amazed : 
 
 Men, wives, and children stare, cry out, and run, 
 
 As it were 'doomsday. 
 Jiru. Fates ! we will know your pleasures. — 
 
 That we shall 'die, we know ; 't is but the ' time. 
 
 And drawing days out, that men stand upon. 
 Cas. Why, be that cuts off twenty years of 'life. 
 
 Cuts off so many years of 'fearing 'death. 
 
 a Nortli Pole star. 
 
SiieneiJ JULIUS CffiSAK. 431 
 
 J3ru. Grant ' that, and then is death a ' benefit. 
 
 Stoop ! let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood ! 
 Then walk we forth, even to the Market-place ; 
 And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, 
 Let 's all cry, " Peace, Freedom, and Liberty ! " 
 
 In the midst of the wild excitement, Marc Antony rushes for- 
 ward — and then sorrowfully approaches the corpse ; 
 
 Ant. . . . O mighty Csesar ! dost thou lie so low ? 
 Are aU thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
 Shrunk to this little measure ? — Fare thee weU. . . . 
 I know not, gentlemen, what you ' intend ; 
 Who 'else must be let blood, who else is 'rank ■." 
 If I 'myself, there is no hour so fit 
 As ' Csesar's death's hour ; nor no instrument 
 Of ' half that worth, as those your swords — made rich 
 With the most noble blood of all this world ! 
 I do beseech ye, if you bear 'me hard,' 
 Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, 
 ' Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
 I shall not find myself so 'apt to die : 
 No 'place will please me so, no 'mean of death. 
 As here ' by Caesar, . . . and by 'you cut off, 
 The choice and master-spirits of this age. 
 
 Brutus replies : 
 
 Jiru. Antony, beg not your death of 'us. 
 
 Though now we must 'appear bloody and cruel, 
 
 (As, by our hands, and this our present act. 
 
 You see we do,) yet see you 'but our hands ; 
 
 Our 'hearts you see not, — 'they are 'pitiful; 
 
 And pity to the general wrong of 'Rome, 
 
 Hath done this deed on Caesar. For 'your part. 
 
 To you our swords have 'leaden points. Marc Antony; 
 
 Only be patient, till we have appeased 
 
 The multitude, (beside themselves with fear,) 
 
 And then we will deliver you the 'cause. 
 
 Why I, that did ' love Csesar when I 'struck him, 
 
 Have thus proceeded. 
 
 A nt. I doubt not of your 'wisdom. 
 
 Let each man render me his bloody hand : 
 First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with 'you ; 
 Next, Caius Cassius, do I take 'your hand; 
 Now, Decius Brutus, yours; now yours, Metellus ; 
 Tours, Cinna ; and, my valiant Casca, yours ; 
 
 a Offensive. h Have a hard (or iiarsli) opinion of me. 
 
432 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Though last, not least in love, yours, good Trebonius. — 
 
 Gentlemen aU, . . . alas ! what shall I say? 
 
 My credit 'now stands on such slippery ground, 
 
 That 'one of ' two bad ways you must conceit me, — 
 
 Either a 'coward, or a 'flatterer. . . . 
 
 That I did love thee, Csesar, O, 't is true : 
 
 If then thy ' Spirit look upon us now. 
 
 Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death. 
 
 To see thy Antony making his 'peace. 
 
 Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, — 
 
 Most noble ! — in the presence of thy corse ? 
 
 Had I as many 'eyes as thou hast 'wounds. 
 
 Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, 
 
 It would become me better, than to close 
 
 In terms of ' friendship with thine enemies. 
 
 Pardon me, Julius ! — Here wast thou bayed, brave 
 
 hart; 
 Here didst thou fall ; and here thy hunters stand, 
 Signed in thy spoil, and crimsoned in thy lethe !° 
 
 Cas. Marc Antony, — 
 
 Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassius : 
 
 The 'enemies of Csesar shall say this ; 
 Then, in a ' friend, it is cold modesty. 
 
 Gas. I ' blame you not for praising Csesar so : 
 
 But what compact mean you to have with 'us ? 
 Will you be ranked in number of our ' friends ? 
 Or shall we on, and 'not depend on you? 
 
 A lit. Therefore I took your hands : but was, indeed. 
 Swayed from the point by looking down on Csesar. 
 Friends am I with you 'all, and ' love you all ; 
 Upon this hope, — that you shall give me 'reasons 
 Why, and wherein, Csesar was dangerous. 
 
 Brutus interrupts : 
 
 JBtu. Or else were this a 'savage spectacle. 
 
 Our reasons are so full of good regard. 
 
 That were you, Antony, the 'son of Csesar, 
 
 You should be satisfied. 
 Ant. That 's all I seek : 
 
 And am moreover suitor, that I may 
 
 Produce his body to the Market-place ; 
 
 And in the jDulpit,' as ' becomes a friend. 
 
 Speak in the order of his funeral. 
 Bru. You shall. Marc Antony. 
 
 a Death. 6 Rostrum. 
 
Scene i.] JULIUS C^SAE. 433 
 
 Cassius says aside : 
 
 Cas. Brutus, a word with you. — 
 
 You ' know not what you do ; do 'not consent : 
 Know you how much the people may be moved 
 By that which he will utter 1 
 
 JBru. By your pardon ; — 
 
 I will 'myself into the pulpit ' first, 
 And show the 'reason of our Caesar's death : 
 What 'Antony shall speak, I will protest 
 He speaks by leave and by permission ; 
 It shall 'advantage more than do us 'wrong. — 
 . Marc Antony, here, ' take you Csesar's body. 
 Tou shall not, in your funeral speech, ' blame 'us, 
 But speak all good you can devise of Csesar ; 
 And 'say, you do 't by our 'permission. 
 
 Ant. Be it so ; I do desire no more. 
 
 £ru. Prepare the body, then, and follow us. [M"rcTntU°' 
 
 Ant. — O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth. 
 That I am meek and gentle with these ' butchers ! . 
 Thou art the ruins of the noblest man 
 That ever lived within the tide of time. 
 'Woe to the hands that shed this costly blood ! 
 Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, — 
 Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips 
 To beg the voice and utterance of 'my tongue : — 
 A 'curse shall light upon the line" of men ; 
 Domestic ' fury, and fierce civil 'strife. 
 Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ; 
 Blood and destruction shall be so in use. 
 And dreadful objects so familiar. 
 That mothers shall but 'smUe, when they behold 
 Their infants quartered with the hands of war — 
 All pity choked with custom of fell deeds ! 
 And Caesar's Spirit, ranging for revenge. 
 With Ate'' by his side, come hot from hell. 
 Shall, in these confines, with a monarch's voice. 
 Cry " Havoc ! " and let slip the dogs of war ; 
 That 'this foul deed shall smell above the earth. 
 With 'carrion men groaning for burial. [iiit. 
 
 The Scene has now changed to the Forum, where the Citizens 
 have assembled in great numbers. — Cassius is followed into the 
 street by a large crowd of clamorous Plebeians ; while Brutus as- 
 cends the rostrum to address those that remain. The Citizens fre- 
 quently interrupt him in his patriotic appeal. 
 
 a O. B. limbs. h Goddess of ReveDge. 
 
y. 
 
 434 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Citizens. Silence ! ' Silence ! 
 
 3 Git. The noble ' Brutus is ascended. Silence ! 
 
 Bru. Be patient till the last. — Romans, countrymen, and 
 lovers ! 'hear me for my 'cause ; and be 'silent, that you 
 'may hear: "'believe me, for mine 'honour; and have 
 'respect to mine honour, that you 'may believe : 'cen- 
 sure me, in your 'wisdom ; and awake your senses, that 
 you may the 'better 'judge. If there be any in this 
 assembly, — any dear 'friend of Csesar's, — to him I say, 
 that 'Brutus' love to Csesar was no less than 'his. If 
 then that friend demand, Why Brutus rose 'against 
 Csesar, ' this is my answer, — Not that I loved Csesar 
 'less, but that I loved 'Rome 'more. Had you rather 
 Csesar were 'living, aud die all 'slaves ; than that Csesar 
 were 'dead, to live- all 'free menl As Csesar loved 
 me, I 'weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I 'rejoice at 
 it ; as he was valiant, I ' honour him ; but, as he was 
 'ambitious, I 'slew him. There are — tears, for his ' love ; 
 joy, for his 'fortune; honour, for his 'valour; and 
 death, for his 'ambition ! "Who is here so base, that 
 'would be a 'bondman? If any, speak; for him have 
 I 'offended. Who is here so 'rude, that would not be a 
 ' Roman % If any, speak ; for ' him have I offended. 
 Who is here so 'vile, that will not 'love his 'country? 
 ' If any, speak ; for ' him have I 'offended. ... I pause 
 for a reply. 
 
 All. None, Brutus, none ! 
 
 Bru. Then 'none have I offended. I have done no more to 
 ' Csesar, than you shall do to ' Brutus The 'question" of 
 his death is enrolled in the Capitol ; his 'glory not 'ex- 
 tenuated, wherein he was 'worthy ; nor his 'offences 
 'enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes 
 his body, mourned by Marc Antony : who, though he 
 had no 'hand in his death, shall receive the 'benefit of 
 his dying, — a place in the commonwealth ; as which 
 of 'you shall not ? With this I depart, — that, as I slew 
 my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same 
 dagger for 'myself, when it shall please my country to 
 need 'my death. 
 
 All. Live, Brutus ! live ! live ! 
 
 1 Git. Bring him with triumph home unto his house ! 
 
 2 Git. Give him a statue with his ancestors ! 
 
 3 Git. Let ' him be Csesar ! 
 
 Sru. Good countrymen, let me depart 'alone, 
 
 a Special investigation. 
 
Scene ii.] JULIUS C^SAB. 435 
 
 And, for my sake, stay here with Antony. 
 Do grace to Caesar's 'corse ; and grace his speech 
 Tending to Caesar's glories,^which Marc Antony, 
 By our permission, is allowed to make. 
 I do 'entreat you, not a man depart, 
 Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. [esu. 
 
 1 at. Stay, ho ! and let us hear Marc Antony. 
 
 As Brutus withdraws from the rostrum, Marc Antony approaches. 
 Before him is borne the body of Caesar, covered with the robe worn 
 at the time of the assassination. The wily Antony at once per- 
 ceives, by the applause of the people, the favourable impression that 
 Brutus has made, and thus, deferentially, begins his address : 
 
 Ant. For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you. 
 4 Git. What does he say of Brutus ? 
 
 3 Clt. ■ He says, for Brutus' sake. 
 
 He finds himself beholding to us all. 
 
 4 Git. 'T were best he speak no harm of Brutus 'here. 
 
 1 Oit. This Csesar was a tyrant. 
 
 3 Git. Nay, that 's certain ! 
 
 We are blessed that Eome is rid of him. 
 
 2 Git. Peace ! let us hear what Antony can say. 
 
 Ant. j]riendSj^RorftanSr-C0unir-ymenJ — lea-d- 'me your ears ; 
 I come to ' bury Csesar, — not to 'praise him. 
 ^Hre-'evil'that ffien do, 'lives after tEemT 
 The 'good, is oft interred with their bones ; 
 So 'let it be with 'Caesar. The noble Brutus 
 Hath told you, Caesar was 'ambitious : 
 If it 'were so, it was a 'grievous ' fault ; — 
 And grievously hath Csesar answered it ! 
 Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, — 
 (For Brutus is an honourable man, 
 So are they 'all, all honourable men,) 
 Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. — 
 
 He was 'my 'friend, faithful and just to 'me : .- — 
 But ' Brutus says he was ambitious ; ^. ' 
 And Brutus 'is an honourable man;_ 
 He hath brought many captives 'home to Rome, 
 Whose ransoms did the 'general coffers fill : 
 Did this in Caesar seem 'ambitious ? 
 When that the 'poor have cried, Csesar hath 'wept ; 
 Ambition should be made of 'sterner stuff: 
 Yet Brutus says, he 'was ambitious — 
 And Brutus is an ' honourable man. 
 
 Tou all did see, that on the Lupercal," 
 
 a Lnpercalia— feast in honour of the god Pan, (held annually on Feb. 15.) 
 
436 THE EEADEe's SHiKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 I ' thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
 
 Which he did thrice 'refuse : was ' this ambition ? 
 
 Yet Brutns 'says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And, 'sure, he ' is an honourable man. 
 
 I speak not to disprove what ' Brutus spoke. 
 
 But here I am to speak what I do 'know. 
 
 You all did 'love him once 1 — not without cause ! 
 
 What cause withholds you then to 'mourn for him ? 
 
 Judgment ! thou art fled to brutish ' beasts. 
 
 And 'men have lost their reason ! — Bear with me ; . . . 
 
 My heart is in the 'coffin there with Csesar, 
 
 And I must pause till it come back to me. 
 
 1 Cit. Methinks, there is much 'reason in his sayings. 
 
 4 Oit. Marked ye his words? He 'would not take the 
 'crown : 
 Therefore, 't is certain he was 'not ambitious. 
 
 2 Oit. Poor soul ! his eyes are red as ' fire with weeping. 
 
 3 at. There 's not a nobler man in ' Rome than Antony. 
 
 4 Cit. Now mark him ; he begins 'again to speak. 
 Ant. . . . But yesterday, the 'word of Csesar might 
 
 Have stood against the 'world: — now, lies 'he there, 
 And none so poor to do him reverence ! 
 
 masters ! if I were disposed to stu- 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do 'Brutus wrong, and 'Cassius wrong. 
 Who, you all know, 'are 'honourable men: 
 
 I Will not do 'them wrong ; I rather choose 
 
 To wrong the 'dead, to wrong 'myself, and 'you, 
 
 Than I will wrong 'such 'honourable men. 
 
 But here 's a parchment, — with the seal of Csesar ; — 
 
 I found it in his closet, — 't is his will ! 
 
 Let but the commons hear this testament, — 
 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not 'mean to read,) — 
 
 And they would go and kiss dead Csesar's wounds. 
 
 And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 
 
 Yea, beg a ' hair of him for memory. 
 
 And, dying, mention it within 'their wills — 
 
 Bequeathing it, as a 'rich legacy, 
 
 Unto their issue. 
 
 4 Cit. We '11 ' hear the will : read it, Marc Antony. 
 
 All. The will, the will ! we 'will hear Csesar's will. 
 
 Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I 'must not read it ; 
 It is not meet you know ' how Csesar loved you. 
 You are not 'wood, you are not 'stones, but 'men ; 
 
Scene iiO JULIUS C^SAR. 437 
 
 Aud, 'being men, hearing the will of Caesar, 
 It will 'inflame you, it wiU make you 'mad. 
 'T is good you know not that you are his ' heirs ; 
 For if you should, O, what would come of it ! 
 
 4 Cit. ' Eead the will ! we '11 hear it, Antony. 
 
 Ant. Will you be 'patient? will you 'stay awhile? 
 I have 'o'ershot myself to tell you of it. 
 I fear, I 'wrong the ' honourable men 
 Whose daggers have 'stabbed Caesar ; I do feai' it. 
 
 4. Git. They were 'traitors : — honourable men? 
 
 All. The will ! the testament ! 
 
 Ant. You will 'compel me, then, to read the will? 
 Then make a ring about the corpse of Csesar, 
 And let me show you him that 'made the will. 
 Shall I descend? And will you give me leave ? 
 
 All. Come down. — Descend. — You 'shall have leave. ["","'* 
 
 2 Cit. Eoom for Antony, — most noble Antony ! 
 
 Ant. ... If you ' have tears, prepare to 'shed them 'now. 
 You all do know this mantle ? I remember 
 The 'first time ever Csesai- put it on ; 
 'T was on a summer's evening, in his tent. 
 That day he overcame the ' Nervii !° 
 Look, in ' this place ran 'Cassius' dagger through ! 
 See, what a rent the envious ' Casca made : 
 Through ' this, the well-beloved ' Brutus stabbed ; 
 And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, 
 Mark how the blood of Csesar followed 'it; — 
 As rushing out of doors, to be resolved 
 If ' Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no : 
 For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's 'angel : 
 Judge, you gods, how dearly Csesar loved him ! 
 This, this was the unkindest' cut of all : 
 For when the noble Csesar saw ' him stab, 
 ' Ingratitude — more strong than ' traitors' arms, — 
 Quite vanquished him : ' then burst his mighty heart ; 
 And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
 Which all the while 'ran ' blood, great Csesar ' fell. — 
 0, what a fall was ' there, my countrymen ! 
 Then I, and you, and 'aU of us fell down. 
 Whilst 'bloody treason 'flourished over us. — 
 ! now you 'weep ; and I perceive you feel 
 The dint' of pity : these are 'gracious drops ! 
 Kind souls ! What, 'weep you, when you but behold 
 
 a A people of Belgic Gaul who had been totally defeated by Julius CsBBar. 
 6 O. R. This was the most unkindest. c Power, impressive force. 
 
438 THE KEADEK's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Our Csesar's 'vesture wounded 1 Look you ' here. 
 Here is ' himself, — marred, as you see, by ' traitors. 
 All. O piteous spectacle ! — O noble Csesar ! — 
 
 most bloody sight ! — We will be revenged! — 
 Revenge! — Let not a traitor 'live! 
 
 Ant. Stay, countrymen. 
 
 1 Oil. Peace, there ! Hear the noble Antony. 
 
 2 at. We '11' hear him, we '11 'follow him, we '11 'die with 
 
 him! 
 Ant. Grood friends ! 'sweet friends ! let me not stir you up 
 To such a 'sudden flood of mutiny. 
 They that have done this deed are ' honourable : — 
 What 'private griefs they have, alas, I know not. 
 That 'made them doit: — they are 'wise and honour- 
 able. 
 And will, no doubt, with 'reasons answer you. 
 
 1 come not, friends, to 'steal away your hearts : 
 I am no 'orator, as Brutus is ; 
 
 But, as you know me all, a plain ' blunt man. 
 
 That love my friend ; and ' that they know full well 
 
 That 'gave me public leave to speak of him. 
 
 For ' I have neither wit," nor words, nor worth. 
 
 Action, nor utterance, nor the 'power of speech 
 
 To stir men's blood : I only speak right 'on ; 
 
 I tell you that which you yourselves do ' know ; 
 
 Show you sweet Osesar's 'wounds, — poor poor dumb 
 
 mouths ! — 
 And bid ' them speak ' for me : But, were I Brutus, 
 And Brutus Antony, there 'were an Antony 
 Would ruffle-up your spirits ; and put a ' tongue 
 In every wound of Csesar, — that should move 
 The 'stones of Rome to 'rise and 'mutiny ! 
 
 Citizens. ' We '11 mutiny ! — We '11 burn the house of 
 Brutus ! — 
 Away, then ! Come, seek the conspirators. 
 
 A7it. Why, friends, you go to do you know not what. 
 Wherein hath Csesar thus 'deserved your loves 1 . . . 
 You have ' forgot the 'will I told you of. 
 
 Citizens. Most true ; — the wiU ! — let 's stay and ' hear the 
 will. 
 
 Ant. 'Here is the will, and under Csesar's seal: — 
 To every Roman citizen he gives, — 
 To every several man, — seventy-five drachmas.' 
 
 2 Git. Most noble Csesar ! — we '11 'revenge his death. 
 
 oO. E. writ. b The draclima was worth about 8d, (=.16 ) 
 
Act 4, Scene ii.] JULIUS C«SAR. 439 
 
 Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his 'walks, 
 
 His private 'arbours, and new-planted 'orchards, 
 
 On this side Tiber : he hath left them 'you, 
 
 And to your 'heirs, for 'ever, — 'common pleasures. 
 
 To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. 
 
 ' Here was a Caesar ! when comes such 'another ? 
 
 1 Cit. Never, never ! — Come, away, away ! 
 We '11 burn his body in the holy place. 
 And vrith the brands 'fire all the traitors' houses. 
 Take up the body ! 
 
 Citizens. Go, fetch fire ! — Pluck down benches ! — Pluck 
 down forms, windows, anything ! 
 
 Ant. 'Now let it work! — Mischief ! thou art afoot. 
 
 Take thou what course thou wUt ! ['"X'.hSj' 
 
 [''enS™'] How now, fellow? 
 
 Serv. Sir, Octavius is 'already come to Rome. 
 He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. 
 
 Ant. And thither will I straight to 'visit him. 
 He comes upon a 'wish. Fortune is merry. 
 And in ' this mood wiU give us 'anything. 
 
 Serv. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius 
 
 Are rid like 'madmen through the gates of Rome. 
 
 Ant. Belike, they had some notice of the people 
 
 ' How I had 'moved them. Bring me to Octavius ! 
 
 The indignation of the Citizens, after the assassination of Caesar, 
 was so great that, as we have heard, Brutus and Cassius were com- 
 pelled to withdraw from Rome. Marc Antony remained, endeavour- 
 ing to become Dictator ; but he found an obstacle to his projects in 
 young Octavius, the nephew and adopted son of Caesar. After a 
 time, however, they were reconciled, and, with Lepidus, formed the 
 Second Triumvirate. Then, combining their powers, after the lapse 
 of nearly two years, they marched against Brutus and Cassius in 
 Syria. 
 
 We have now before us the camp of Brutus — near that of Cas- 
 sius — at Sardis, in Asia Minor. Brutus speaks : 
 
 Sru. Stand, ho ! What now, LucUius ? is Cassius near ? 
 
 Lucil. He is at 'hand. 
 
 £ru. A word, Lucilius : 
 
 How he 'received you, let me be resolved. 
 Lucil. With courtesy and with 'respect enough ; 
 
 But not with such ' familiar instances. 
 
 Nor with such free and friendly conference. 
 
 As he hath used of 'old. 
 
440 THE KEiDEE's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Jiru. Thou hast describe<5 
 
 A 'hot friend 'cooling. Ever note, LucUius, 
 When love begins to sicken and decay, 
 It useth an 'enforced ceremony. 
 There are no ' tricks in plain and simple ' faith : 
 But 'hollow men, like 'horses hot at hand, 
 Make gallant 'show and promise of their mettle ; 
 But, when they should 'endure the bloody spur. 
 They ' fall their crests, and, like 'deceitful jades, 
 ' Sink in the trial. Comes his army 'on ? 
 
 Lucil. They mean this night in Sardis to be quartered ; 
 The 'greater part, the horse in general, 
 Are come with Cassius. [S?. 
 
 Bru. Hark ! he is 'arrived. — March gently on to 'meet him. 
 
 Cassius and Soldiers enter : 
 Cas. Most noble brother, you have done me 'wrong. 
 Bru. Judge me, you gods ! wrong I mine 'enemies ? 
 
 And if 'not so, how should I wrong a ' brother ? 
 Cas. Brutus, this sober form of yours ' hides wrongs ; 
 
 And when 'you do them — 
 Bru. Cassius, be content ; 
 
 Speak your griefs 'softly, — I do know you well. 
 
 Before the eyes of both our armies here, 
 
 Which should perceive nothing but 'love from us, 
 
 Let us not 'wrangle : bid them move away ; 
 
 Then, in my tent, Cassius, 'enlarge your griefs. 
 
 And I will give you audience. 
 
 Cassius follows Brutus into his tent. 
 Cas. That you 'have wronged me, doth appear — in this, — 
 
 You have condemned and noted Lucius Bella 
 
 For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
 
 Wherein my letters, (praying on his side 
 
 Because I ' knew the man,) were slighted off. 
 Bru. You wronged 'yourself to write in such a case. 
 Qas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
 
 That every 'nice offence should bear his comment. 
 Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 
 Are much condemned to have an ' itching 'palm ; — • 
 
 To sell and mart your offices, for gold, 
 
 To undeservers. 
 Cas. 'I an itching palm % 
 
 You know, that you are ' Brutus that speak this ; 
 
 Or, by the gods, this speech were else your ' last ! 
 
Scene iii.] JULIUS C^SAK. 
 
 441 
 
 Bru. The name of Cassius 'honours this corruption, 
 And 'chastisement doth therefore ' hide his head. 
 
 Gas. 'Chastisement! 
 
 Bru. Eemember March ! the ' Ides of March, remember ! 
 Did not great ' Julius ' bleed for justice' sake ? 
 What villain" touched his body, that did stab, 
 And 'not for justice ? What, shall one of 'us, — 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world 
 But for 'supporting robbers, — shall 'we now 
 Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ; 
 And sell the mighty space of our large ' honours. 
 For so much ' trash, as may be grasped thus ? 
 I had rather be a 'dog, and bay the moon. 
 Than 'such a Eoman. 
 
 Gas. Brutus, bay' not 'me, 
 
 I '11 not 'endure it ! You forget yourself 
 To hedge 'me in ; I am a soldier, I ! 
 Older in practice, abler than 'yourself 
 To make conditions. 
 
 Bru. Go to ! you are 'not Cassius. 
 
 Gas. I 'am. 
 
 Bru. I say, you are 'not. 
 
 Gas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself ! 
 
 Have mind upon your health ! tempt me no ' further ! 
 
 Bru. Away, slight man ! 
 
 Gas. Is 't possible ? 
 
 Bru. Hear me, for I 'will speak. 
 
 Must I give way and room to 'your rash choler ? 
 Shall ' I be frighted when a 'madman stares ? 
 
 Cas. O ye gods, ye gods ! Must I endure all this % 
 
 Bru. All this ? ay, more : fret, till your proud heart ' break ; 
 Go, show your 'slaves how choleric you are. 
 And make your 'bondmen tremble. Must 'I budge? 
 Must I observe 'you % Must I stand or crouch 
 Under your testy humour % By the gods. 
 You shall 'digest the venom of youi- spleen. 
 Though it do 'spht you ; for, from this day forth, 
 I '11 use you for my 'mirth, — yea, for my 'laughter, — 
 When you are 'waspish. 
 
 Gas. Is it come to ' this ? 
 
 Bru. You 'say, you are a 'better soldier: 
 
 Let it 'appear so ; make your vaunting ' true, 
 And it shall please me well : for mine own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of 'noble men. 
 
 a Serf, servile man. 6 0. R. bait. 
 
442 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Cas. You 'wrong me every way ; you wrong me, Brutus ; 
 I said, an 'elder soldier, not a better : 
 Did I say, better ? 
 
 Uru. If you did, I care not. 
 
 Cas. When 'Caesar lived, 'he durst not thus have moved me. 
 
 JBru. Peace, peace ! you durst not so have tempted ' him. 
 
 Cas. I 'durst not? 
 
 £ru. No. 
 
 Cas. What ! 'durst not tempt him '? 
 
 Bru. For your 'life you durst not. 
 
 Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
 I 'may do that I shall be 'sorry for. 
 
 JBru. You ' have done that, you 'should be sorry for. 
 There is no ' terror, Cassius, in your ' threats ; 
 For I am armed so strong in ' honesty. 
 That they pass by me, — as the idle wind 
 Which I respect not. I did send to you 
 For certain sums of gold, which you 'denied me; — 
 For ' I can raise no money by 'vile means : 
 By heaven, I had rather coin my ' heart. 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring. 
 From the hard hands of peasants, their vile trash 
 By 'any indirection ; — I 'did send 
 To you for gold, to pay my legions, — 
 Which 'you 'denied me ! Was that done like Cassius ? 
 Should ' I have answered Caius Cassius so 1 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. 
 To lock such 'rascal-counters from his friends, 
 Be ready, gods ! with 'all your thunderbolts 
 ' Dash him to pieces ! 
 
 Cas. I denied you 'not. 
 
 Uru. You 'did. 
 
 Cas. I did 'not : he was but a fool 
 
 That brought my answer back. — -Brutus hath 'rived 
 
 ray heart : 
 A friend should ' bear his friend's infirmities. 
 But Brutus makes mine 'greater than they are. 
 
 Bru. I do not, till you 'practise them on me. 
 
 Cas. You love me not ? 
 
 Bru. I do not like your ' faults. 
 
 Cas. A 'friendly eye could never see 'such faults. 
 
 Bru. A 'flatterer's 'would not; though they 'do appear 
 
 As huge as high Olympus ! 
 Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come ! 
 
SceDeiit] JULIUS C^SAE. 443 
 
 Revenge yourselves 'alone on 'Cassius, 
 
 For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
 
 Hated by one lie loves ; braved by his brother ; 
 
 Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
 
 Set in a note-book, learned, and conned by rote, 
 
 To cast into my teeth — O, I could weep 
 
 My spirit from mine eyes ! — 'There is my dagger. 
 
 And 'here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
 
 Dearer than Plutus' " mine, 'richer than gold : 
 
 If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
 
 I, that denied thee gold, wiU give my ' heart : 
 
 Strike, — as thou didst at Caesar ! for, I know, 
 
 When thou didst hate him ' worst, thou lov'dst him 
 
 better 
 Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. 
 
 Bru. ' Sheathe your dagger : 
 
 Be 'angry when you wUl, it shall have scope ; 
 ' Do what you will, 'dishonour shall be ' humour. 
 O Cassius ! you are yoked with a lamb — 
 That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; 
 Which, much enforced, shows a 'hasty spark, 
 And straight is cold again. 
 
 Gas. Hath Cassius lived 
 
 To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
 When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him 1 
 
 Uru. When I spoke that, ' I was ill-tempered too. 
 
 Vas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand? 
 
 JBru. And my ' heart too ! 
 
 Gas. O Brutus ! 
 
 JBru. What 's the matter ? 
 
 Gas. Have 'you not love enough to bear with me. 
 
 When that rash humour — which my mother gave me — 
 Makes me forgetful? 
 
 Sru. Yes, Cassius ; and, from henceforth. 
 
 When you are . . . 'over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 He '11 think, your mother chides,— and 'leave you 'so. 
 . . . Lucius ! a bowl of wine. 
 
 Gas. I did not think you 'could have been so angry. 
 
 JBru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs ! 
 
 Gas. Of your philosophy you make no use, 
 If you give place to 'accidental evils. 
 
 Bru. No man bears sorrow better : — Portia ... is dead ! 
 
 Gas. Ha! Portia? 
 
 Bru. She is dead. 
 
 a The god of riches. 
 
444 THE KEADEr's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Cas. How 'scaped I 'kUling when I crossed you so? — 
 
 insupportable and touching loss ! — 
 Upon what sickness ? 
 
 Bru. Impatient of my absence, 
 
 And grief, that young Octavius and Marc Antony 
 Have made themselves so strong ; — she fell distract, 
 And, — her attendants absent,— swallowed fire. 
 
 Gas. And died so ? 
 
 Sru. Even so. 
 
 Cas. O ye immortal gods ! 
 
 Lucius enters with wine and tapers : 
 
 Bru. ' Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl of wine. — 
 In this, I 'bury all unkindness, Cassius. [Drim.. 
 
 Gas. ' My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. — 
 Fill, Lucius, till the wine 'o'erswell the cup ; 
 
 1 cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Driok.. 
 Bru. . . . Well, to our work 'aUve. — What do you think 
 
 Of marching to ' Philippi presently ? 
 Gas. I do not think it good. 
 Bru. Your reason ? 
 
 Gas. This it is : — 
 
 'T is better that the enemy seek 'us : 
 
 So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, 
 
 Doing ' himself offence ; whilst we, lying still, 
 
 Are full of rest, defence, and nimbleness. 
 Bru. 'Good reasons must, of force, give place to ' better. 
 
 Hear me, good brother : You must note, beside. 
 
 That we have tried the 'utmost of our friends, 
 
 Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe : 
 
 The 'enemy increaseth every day ; 
 
 We, 'at the height, are ready to 'decline. 
 
 There is a tide in the affairs of men. 
 
 Which, taken at the ' flood, leads on to fortune ; 
 
 Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
 
 Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
 
 On such a ' full sea are we now afloat ; 
 
 And we must ' take the current when it serves. 
 
 Or lose our ventures. 
 Gas. Then, with your wiU, go on : 
 
 We '11 along ourselves, and 'meet them at Philippi. 
 Bru. The 'deep of night is crept upon our talk, 
 
 And nature must obey necessity ; 
 
Scene iii.] JXJLIUS CaiSAB. 445 
 
 WWch we will niggard witli a little rest. 
 
 There is no more to say 1 
 Cas. No more. Good night : 
 
 Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. 
 -Brw. Noble Cassius, good night, and good repose. 
 Cas. O my dear brother ! 
 
 This was an ill ' beginning of the night : 
 
 Never come such division 'tween our 'souls ! 
 
 Let it not, Brutus. 
 £ru. Everything is well. 
 
 Cas. Good night, my lord. 
 JBru. Good night, dear 'brother, [of^lns. 
 
 . . . Lucius ! where is thy instrument ? 
 
 jLuc. Here ia the tent. 
 
 Sru. What, thou speak'st drowsUy ? 
 
 Poor knave, I blame thee not ; thou art o'erwatched. 
 Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes 'awhUe, 
 And touch thy instrument a strain or two ? 
 
 IjUC. Ay, my lord, an 't please you. 
 
 JBru. It does, my boy : 
 
 I trouble thee too much, but thou art 'v rillin g. 
 
 Ziuc. It is my 'duty, sir. 
 
 £ru. I should not virge thy duty past thy 'might ; 
 
 If I do live, I will be good to thee. ["^".rS"' 
 
 This is a sleepy tune : . . O murderous slumber, 
 Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy 1 — 
 I will not do thee so much wrong to 'waJte thee : 
 If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument ; 
 I '11 take it from thee ; and, good boy, good night — . . . 
 Let me see, let me see : — Is not the leaf turned down 
 Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. [^Sl'?eS.' 
 
 The Ghost of Caesar enters. 
 . . . How ill this taper bums ! — Ha ! who comes here ? 
 I think, it is the 'weakness of mine eyes 
 That shapes this monstrous apparition ! 
 It 'comes upon me. — Art thou anything ? 
 Art thou some god, some angel, or some 'devU, 
 That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare ? 
 ' Speak to me, what thou art ! 
 
 Ghost. Thy Evil Spirit, Brutus. 
 
 JBru. Why com'st thou ? 
 
 Ghost. To tell thee, thou shalt see me at ' PhiUppi. 
 
 JBru. Why, I 'will see thee at Philippi. — [Ghost vanishes. 
 
446 THE eeadee's SHAKESPEABE. [Act 5. 
 
 Now I have taken 'heart, thou vanishest : 
 
 HI Spirit, I would hold 'more talk with thee. — 
 
 . . . Boy ! Lucius ! — Varro ! Claudius ! sirs, awake ! — 
 
 Didst thou 'dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? 
 
 Luc. My lord, I do not ' know that I did cry. 
 
 Bru. Didst thou 'see anything ? 
 
 Luc. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Bru. Sleep again, Lucius. — Sirrah, Claudius! 
 Attendants enter. 
 Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep ? 
 
 Var., Clau. Did we, my lord? 
 
 Bru. Ay : 'saw you anything ? 
 
 Var. No, my lord, I saw nothing. 
 
 Clau. Nor I, my lord. 
 
 Bru. . . . Go, and commend me to my brother Cassius : 
 Bid him set-on his 'powers betimes ' before, 
 And we wiU 'follow. 
 Var., Clau. It shall be done, my lord. [Exeunt. 
 
 Two great trials of the strength of the rival forces are about to be 
 made on the Plains of Philippi, in Macedonia. These battles took 
 place 42 years before the Christian era. The leaders were, on one 
 side, Octavius and Antony — on the other, Brutus and Cassius. — 
 
 We have now before us the leaders of the royalists. Octavius 
 addresses his fellow commander : 
 
 Oct. ' Now, Antony, our hopes are 'answered : 
 Tou said, the enemy would 'not come down, 
 But keep the hills and upper regions ; 
 It proves 'not so : their battles are at ' hand ; 
 They mean to warn us at Philippi here. 
 Answering, before we do demand of them. 
 Martial music is heard, signifying that a conference is desired. 
 
 Brutus and Cassius enter, followed by their Officers. Brutus is 
 
 the first to speak : 
 
 Bru. They stand, and would have parley. — 
 
 ' Words before ' blows : is it so, countrymen ? 
 Oct. Not that 'we love words ' better, as 'you do. 
 Bru. ' Good words are better than ' bad 'strokes, Octavius. 
 Ant. In 'your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good 'words : — 
 
 Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, 
 
 Crying, " Long live ! hail, Csesar ! " 
 Cassius retorts : 
 Gas. Antony, 
 
 The posture of 'your blows is yet unknown ; 
 
Scene i.] JULIUS C^SAK. 447 
 
 But for your 'words, they rob the Hybla''bees, 
 
 And leave them ' honeyless. 
 Ant. Not stingless, too ? 
 
 £ru. O, yes, and 'soundless too ; 
 
 For you have stol'n their ' buzzing, Antony, 
 
 And, very wisely, ' threat, ' before you sting. 
 Ant. VUlains, 'you did not so, when your vile daggers 
 
 Hacked one another in the sides of Cffisar : 
 
 Tou showed your teeth like 'apes, and fawned like 
 'hounds, 
 
 And bowed like ' bondmen, kissing. Csesar's feet ; 
 
 Whilst 'damned ' Casca, like a cur, behind, 
 
 Struck Caesar on the 'neck. O, flatterers ! 
 Cas. Flatterers ? — Now, Brutus, thank yourself : 
 
 His tongue had not offended so to-day, 
 
 If 'Cassius might have ruled. 
 
 Octavius advances : 
 Oct. Come, come, the 'cause ! 
 
 . ' I draw a sword against 'conspirators : 
 
 When think you that the sword goes-up again ? 
 
 Never, till Caesar's three-and-thirty wounds 
 
 Be well avenged ; or till another Csesar 
 
 Have 'added slaughter to the sword of ' traitors. 
 JBru. Csesar, thou canst not die by ' traitors' hands, 
 
 Unless thou bring'st them with thee. 
 Oct. So I hope : 
 
 I was not born to die on ' Brutus' sword. 
 Uru. O, if though wert the noblest of thy strain,' 
 
 Young man, thou 'couldst not die more honourable. 
 Cassius interrupts : 
 Cas. A peevish 'school-boy, worthless of such honour ; 
 
 Joined with ... a 'masker and a reveller. 
 Ant. . . . Old Cassius still ! 
 Oct. Come, Antony ; away ! — 
 
 Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth. 
 
 If you dare fight 'to-day, come to the field ; 
 
 If not, when you have 'stomachs." 
 Octavius, Antony, and their Officers withdraw. Further confer- 
 ence or compromise is now impossible. Cassius says : 
 
 Gas. Why now, blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark ! 
 The storm is 'up, and all is on the hazard. . . . 
 If we do ' lose this battle, then is this 
 The very 'last time we shall speak together. 
 What are you 'then determined to do 1 
 
 a A mountaiu in Sicily, famed for its honey. b Race, family. c Inclination. 
 
448 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 6. 
 
 Sru. Even by the rule of that philosophy 
 
 By which I did ' blame Cato — for the death 
 
 Which he did give ' himself. 
 Gas. ' Then, if we ' lose this battle, 
 
 You are contented to be led in triumph 
 
 Throughout the streets of Rome ? 
 Bru. No, Cassius, no. Think not, thou noble Eoman, 
 
 That ever Brutus will go ' bound to Rome. 
 
 And, whether we shall meet 'again, I know not. 
 
 Therefore, our everlasting farewell take : — 
 
 For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius ! 
 
 If we 'do meet again, why, we shall 'smile ; 
 
 If not, . . . why then, ' this parting was 'well made. 
 Gas. For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus ! 
 
 If we 'do meet again, we '11 smile indeed ; 
 
 If not, 't is true, this parting 'was well made. 
 Uru. Why then, lead on ! — O, that a man might know 
 
 The 'end of this day's business, ere it come ! 
 
 But it sufficeth that the day 'will end, 
 
 And 'then . . . the end is 'known. — Come, ho ! away! 
 
 The Scene changes to another part of the field at Philippi. Cas- 
 sius angrily rushes in, followed by Titinius : 
 
 Gas. O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly ! — 
 This ensign" here of mine was turning back ; 
 I 'slew the coward, and did take it from him. 
 Pindarus enters hastily : 
 
 Fin. Ply further off, my lord, fly further off ; 
 Marc Antony is in your tents, my lord ! 
 Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly 'far off. 
 
 Gas. This hUl is far enough. Look, look, Titinius ! 
 Are those 'my tents where I perceive the fire ? 
 
 2^it. They are, my lord. 
 
 Gas. Titinius, if thou lov'st me. 
 
 Mount thou my horse, and ' hide thy spurs in him. 
 
 Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops. 
 
 And here again ; that I may rest assured 
 
 Whether yond' troops are ' friend or 'enemy. — ce-xu tu. 
 
 Go, Pindarus, get higher on ' that hill ; 
 
 ' My sight was ever thick : regard Titinius, 
 
 And tell me what thou not'st about the field. — [Exit pin. 
 
 . . This day I breathed first : time is come round, 
 
 a Standard-bearer. 
 
Scene iii.] JULIUS C^SAR. 449 
 
 And where I did ' begin, there shall I 'end ; 
 
 My life has 'run his compass. — Pindarus, what news ! 
 J^in. 'Titinius is enclosed ! He 's ta'en : [Shoat.j and, hark ! 
 
 They shout for joy. 
 Cas. Come down ; behold no more ! — 
 
 O, coward that I am, to live so long. 
 
 To see my best friend ta'en before my face ! — [ ^w^jr 
 
 Come hither, Pindarus : 
 
 In Parthia did I take thee prisoner ; 
 
 And then I 'swore thee, saving of thy life, 
 
 That, whatsoever I did ' bid thee do. 
 
 Thou shouldst 'attempt it. Come now, 'keep thine 
 oath : 
 
 Now be a ' freeman : Here, take thou the hilt ; 
 
 And, when my face is covered, as 't is now. 
 
 Guide thou the sword. . . . Caesar, thou art revenged, 
 
 Even with the sword that slaughtered" 'thee. [Dies. 
 
 But Titinius had not been taken : he was enclosed by a troop of 
 Mends, whom the rash and impulsive Cassius mistook for foes. 
 Titinius, finding Cassius dead, sends Messala to acquaint Brutus — 
 who hastens to the spot, followed by Strato and Volumnius. 
 
 Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie 1 . . 
 
 Julius Csesar, thou art mighty 'yet ! 
 
 Thy Spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords 
 
 Even against 'ourselves ! ' Ah, noble Cassius ! 
 
 Thou last of all the Romans, fare thee well ! 
 
 It is impossible that ever Home 
 
 Should breed thy 'fellow. — Friends, I owe more tears 
 
 To this dead man than you shall 'see me pay : . . . 
 
 1 shall find time, Cassius ! I shall find time. — 
 
 . . . Come hither, good Volumnius : list a word. 
 The Ghost of Csssar hath appeared to me 
 ' Two several times, by night, — at Sardis once. 
 And, this last night, 'here in Philippi fields : 
 I know my hour is come. Nay, I am 'sure it is. 
 Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes ; 
 Our enemies have beat us to the 'pit : [Aia''iZ.s. 
 
 It is more worthy to ' leap-in ourselves. 
 Than tarry tiU they 'push us. Good Volumnius, 
 Thou know'st that we two went to school together ; 
 Even for that, our love of old, I pray thee, 
 Hold thou my sword-hUt, whilst I run on it. 
 Vol. That 's not an office for a 'iriend, my lord. [1,'lS'e"' 
 
 Bru. . . . PareweU. to you ; — and you ; — and you, Volum- 
 
 aO. B. killed. &0. R. in our own proper entrails. 
 
450 THE READEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 My heart doth joy, that yet in all my life 
 
 I found no man but he was ' true to me. 
 
 ' I shall have 'glory, by this ' losing day, 
 
 More than Octavius and Marc Antony, 
 
 By ' their vile 'conquest, shall attain unto. 
 
 So, fare you v?ell at once ; for Brutus' tongue 
 
 Hath almost ended his life's history. 
 
 Night hangs upon mine eyes ; my bones would rest, 
 
 That have but laboured to 'attain this hour. — 
 
 Loud alarums are heard within, mingled with cries of "Fly, my 
 lord! fly! fly!" 
 
 I pr'ythee, Strato, stay ' thou by thy lord. 
 Hold thou my sword, and turn away thy face. 
 While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato ? 
 Stra. Give me your hand first : Pare you well, my lord. 
 Bru. Farewell, good Strato. . . . Caesar, 'now be still : 
 I killed not ' thee with half so good a will. 
 He runs on his sword and dies. 
 Alarums are again sounded, followed by a retreat. Enter Octavius, 
 Antony, and other Officers. Messala asks : 
 
 Mes. strato, where is thy master ? 
 
 Stra. Free from the bondage 'you are in, Messala: 
 The conquerors can but make a ' fire of him ; 
 For Brutus -'only overcame 'himself. 
 And no man 'else hath honour by his death. 
 
 Ant. So Brutus 'should be found. . . . 
 
 This was the 'noblest Roman of them all : 
 All the conspirators, — save 'only he, — 
 Did ' that they did, in 'envy of great Osesar ; 
 He only, in a general honest thought 
 And common good to 'all, made one of them. 
 His life was gentle ; and the elements 
 So mixed in him, that nature might stand up 
 And say to all the 'world, " 'This was a 'man ! " 
 Octavius adds : 
 
 Oct. According to his 'virtue let us use him. 
 
 Within 'my tent his bones to-night shall lie. 
 
 Most like a 'soldiei-, ordered honourably. — 
 
 So, call the field to 'rest : and let 's away. 
 
 To 'part the glories of this happy day. [Exeant. 
 
 End of Julius Gesae. 
 
ANTONY AND CLEOP^TR^. 
 
 The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra naturally follows that of 
 Julius Caesar in date of production : it was entered on the Station- 
 ers' Books (for copyright purposes) in 1608, but not then printed : its 
 first publication was in the folio of 1623, under the title of " The 
 Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra." 
 
 The historical narrative given in North's translation of Plutarch's 
 Life of Antony is very faithfiilly reproduced in this dramatic mir- 
 ror, which pictures two of the most celebrated lovers in the history 
 of the world — exposes the secret personal springs of g^eat State 
 negotiations — shows us that Kings and Queens are but men and 
 women ; often controlled, like the meanest of their subjects, by de- 
 grading passions, weaknesses, and vices. We have not merely per- 
 sonal but mental photographs of the great Triumvirate in the unemo- 
 tional Lepidus, the genial voluptuary Antony, and the cautious 
 young Octavius Caesar, — who afterwards became sole master of the 
 Roman world, and, under the title of Augustus, earned the praise 
 of all good men, and the grateful adulations of Horace, of Ovid,, 
 and of Virgil. 
 
 Marc Antony had been early distinguished, not only for his mili- 
 tary but his civil talents ; an orator and a politician, sagacious,, 
 skilful, and ambitious, but unscrupulous, sensual, prodigal, and re- 
 vengeful ; ever the comrade of his soldiers, rather than their gen- 
 eral — a lavish eulogist of Julius Caesar, but the fatal enemy of 
 Cicero — " a masker and a reveller," but a master of the world ! In 
 his earlier career he had been married to Fulvia, a shrill-tongued 
 scold, bold and ambitious ; who, when this her third husband — a 
 wedded wooer of over fifty — fell into the snares of Cleopatra the 
 beautiful Queen of Egypt — a sprightly widow of thirty-eight, — urged 
 Octavius to take up arms against her faithless lord, that the grim 
 monster War might avenge her private wrongs. 
 
 Cleopatra had been early married to her brother Ptolemy, and on 
 his death at the early age of eleven, she became sole Queen. She 
 was known to have lavished her favours on Pompey (who died 4S 
 B. C.) and on Julius Caesar, to whom she bore a son named Caesar- 
 ion (who afterwards obtained the title of King from the Roman 
 Triumvirs, but was killed by order of Augustus at the age of eigh- 
 teen, B. C. 30). Cleopatra is depicted as artful and accomplished,, 
 wayward, voluptuous, and wicked — but beautiful. Her companion- 
 ship so degraded her once noble lover Antony (a pleasure-seeker 
 " foraging for death "; that their lives now " point a moral " and dis- 
 grace a history. 
 
 In the play she thus foretells her dramatic doom ; 
 
 — " Saucy lictors 
 Will catch at us like wantons, and scald rhymers 
 Ballad us out o' tune ; the quick comedians 
 
452 
 
 THE EEADEES SHAKE8PBAEE. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Extemporally will stage us, and present 
 Our Alexandrian revels : Antony 
 Shall be brought drunken forth ; and I shall see 
 Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness." 
 
 For, in the days of Shakespeare, all the female characters of his 
 plays (and this is the main excuse for expunging much of the wit and 
 wisdom he has bequeathed to us) were performed by boys, — who 
 thus served a kind of dramatic apprenticeship to the older actors. 
 
 Coleridge says : — " Of all Shakespeare's Historical Plays, Antony 
 and Cleopatra is by far the most wonderful . . . whether the play is 
 not, in all exhibitions of a giant power in its strength and vigour of 
 maturity, a formidable rival of ' Macbeth,' ' Lear,' ' Hamlet,' and 
 ■• Othello.' " 
 
 The Dramatis Personae retained in this Condensation are : 
 
 Maeo Antony, ) 
 
 •OcTAVins C^SAB, >- Triumvirs. 
 
 M. ^Mii,. Lepidus,) 
 
 Sextus Pompeitjs. 
 
 DoMiTius Bnoeak-1 
 
 BUS, 
 SOAEUS, 
 
 Demetkius, 
 Philo, 
 
 Antony. 
 
 Mec^nas, 
 
 Agkippa, 
 
 dolabella, 
 
 Pkoculeius, 
 
 Thyeetjs, 
 
 1 
 
 I Friends of 
 ( Gmsar. 
 
 J 
 
 Menas, Friend of Pompey. 
 Taueus, Lieutenant- General to 
 
 Ocesar. 
 Canidius, Lieutenant- General to 
 
 Antony. 
 EcPHKONius, a School-master. 
 Alexas, Maeeian, and Diomedes, 
 
 Attendants on Cleopatra. 
 A Soothsayer. A Clown. 
 
 Cleopatka, Queen of Egypt. 
 OcTAviA, Sister to Cwswr, and 
 
 afterwards Wife to Antony. 
 Chaemian and Ieas, Attendants 
 
 on Cleopatra. 
 
 Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and 
 other Attendants. 
 
 The historical Time occupies about nine years : that is, from 
 about two years after the Battle of Philippi (B. C. 42) to the deaths 
 of Antony and Cleopatra (B. C. 30). 
 
 The Scenes are laid in various parts of the Roman Empire, but 
 chiefly at Alexandria (in Egypt) and in Rome. 
 
 The two great battles at Philippi resulted in the defeat of the 
 Republican party, headed by Brutus and Cassius ; and threw all 
 power into the hands of the Second Triumvirate, which consisted 
 of Octavius Cassar, Lepidus, and Marc Antony. After the ruin of 
 Pompey, and even before the dismission of Lepidus, (whose com- 
 parative unfitness for his high position was soon discovered by his 
 associates,) Octavius and Antony were enabled to divide the Roman 
 dominions. Italy was left in common ; Octavius Cassar was to rule 
 
Scene i.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATEA. 453 
 
 over Spain, while to Marc Antony were assigned the East and Africa. 
 On his way to the East, he cited Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, to 
 appear before him, and he soon fell under the enchantment of her 
 bewitching beauty. 
 
 The Scene discloses a Room in Queen Cleopatra's Palace at Alex- 
 andria. Two Officers, Demetrius and Philo, subordinates to Marc 
 Antony, are in conversation. 
 
 Fhi. Nay, but this 'dotage of our general's 
 
 'O'erflows the measure: his goodly eyes 'now turn 
 The office and devotion of their view 
 Upon a ' tawny front. Look where they come. 
 Take but good note, and you shall see in him 
 The triple" piUar of the world transformed 
 Into a wanton's fool ! behold and see. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with their train. The 
 doting Queen addresses her fascinated admirer : 
 
 Gleo. If it be ' love indeed, tell me how 'much ? 
 Ant. There 's 'beggary in the love that can be 'reckoned. 
 Cleo. I '11 set a bourn' how 'far to be beloved. 
 Ant. Then must thou needs find out 'new heaven, new 
 'earth. 
 
 An Attendant enters. 
 
 Att. News, my good lord, from Rome. 
 
 Ant. Grates" me ! — The sum '?'' 
 
 Gleo. Nay, hear them, Antony : 
 
 ' Pulvia, perchance, is 'angry ; or, who knows 
 
 If the scarce-bearded Csesar have not sent 
 
 His 'powerful 'mandate to you, "Do this, or this ; 
 
 Take-in" that kingdom, and enfranchise that ; 
 
 Perform 't or else we chide-'' thee." — 
 
 Call-in the messengers. — As I am Egypt's Queen, 
 
 Thou ' blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine 
 
 Is Csesar's 'homager:' So thy cheek pays shame 
 
 When shrill-tongued Pulvia 'scolds."— The messengers I 
 
 Ant. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch 
 Of the ranged' empire f aU ! Here is 'my space ! 
 Kingdoms are 'clay : Our dungy earth alike 
 Feeds 'beasts as man : the 'nobleness of life 
 Is, to do thus ! [Embracing] 'We stand up 'peerless ! 
 
 Gleo. . . . Excellent falsehood ! 
 
 Why did he 'marry Fulvia, and not ' love her ? — 
 I '11 'seem the fool I am not ; 'Antony 
 Will be . . himself — 
 
 a Holding the third part, as one of the Triumvirs. & limit, boundary, c Oflfends, 
 annoys. d Briefly : the result only, e Subdue, include. /O. E. damn. ^Tielder 
 of homage. AFulvia is said to have overruled her three husbands, i Arranged, 
 well governed. 
 
454 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [AoH. 
 
 A nt. But" stirred by Cleopatra. — 
 
 Now, for the love of Love' and lier soft hours, 
 Let 's not confound" the time with conference ' harsh : 
 There 's not a 'minute of our lives should stretch 
 Without some pleasure 'now : — ' What sport to-night ? 
 
 /7/eo. 'Hear the ambassadors. 
 
 Ant. Fie, wrangling Queen ! 
 
 Whom 'everything becomes, — to chide, to laugh, 
 To weep ; whose every passion fully strives 
 To make itself, — in thee, — fair and admired ! — 
 'No messenger. — But thine, and all alone. 
 To-night we 'U wander though the 'streets, and note 
 The qualities'* of people. Come, my Queen ; 
 'Last night you did 'desire it. — Speak not to us. [ToMesa 
 
 [Ex. ADt. ai d Oleo. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra withdraw. Charmian and Iras, the Queen's 
 Tvaiting-women — with Alexas her gentleman-usher — remain. The 
 -volatile Charmian says : 
 
 Char. 'Lord Alexas ! 'sweet Alexas ! most 'anything Alexas ! 
 almost most 'absolute Alexas ! — where 's the Sooth- 
 sayer that you praised so to the Queen ■? O, that I 
 knew who is to be my husband ! [TheSooihsajor.dTaDces. 
 
 Alex. Soothsayer! 
 
 iSooth. Your will 1 
 
 <Jhar. ... Is this the man? — Is 't you, sir, that know 
 things ? 
 
 Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy 
 A ' little I can read. 
 
 A.lex. Show him your hand. 
 
 Char. Good sir, give me 'good fortune. 
 
 Sooth. I 'make not, but foresee. 
 
 Char. Pray then, foresee me 'one. 
 
 During the palmistry, the cynical Enobarbus enters as a looker-on. 
 
 Sooth. . . . You 'shall be yet far ' fairer than you 'are. 
 Char. He means, in flesh. 
 Iras. No ; you shall 'paint when you are old. 
 Char. Wrinkles forbid ! 
 
 Sooth. . . . You shall be more ' beloving than belov'd. 
 Char. Good now, some 'excellent fortune ! Let me be 
 
 married to 'three Kings in a forenoon, and widow them 
 
 all! 
 Sooth. . . . You shall 'outlive the lady whom you serve. 
 Char. excellent ! I love long life better than figs.' 
 
 a^Eicept, unless. 6 For the sake of the Queen of love c Consume. d Varied 
 ranks. e An old proverb. 
 
Scene li.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 455 
 
 Sooth. . . . You have seen, and proved, a fairer ' former for- 
 tune 
 Than that which is to 'approach. 
 Char. Out, fool ! I forgive thee for a witch. — 
 
 Nay, come, tell Iras 'hers. We '11 'all know our for- 
 tunes. 
 
 Enobarbus jocularly says : 
 
 ^no. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be — 
 drunk to bed. — Hush ! Here comes Antony. 
 
 All obsequiously withdraw, as Marc Antony approaches in con- 
 versation with the Messenger : 
 
 Mess. Pulvia thy wife first came into the field. 
 
 Ant. Against my brother Lucius ■? Well, what 'worst ? 
 
 Mess. The nature of ' bad news infects the ' teller. 
 
 Ant. When it concerns the fool, or coward. — On." 
 Things, that are 'past, are done with 'me. 
 
 Mess. Labienus — 
 
 This is stiff' news — hath with his Parthian force 
 Extended" Asia ; and from the Euphrates 
 His conquering banner shook ; from Syria, 
 To Lydia and to Ionia : whilst — 
 
 Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say, — 
 
 Mess. O, my lord ! 
 
 Ant. Speak to me ' home," minoe not the 'general tongue : 
 Name Cleopatra as she is called in ' Rome ; 
 KaU thou in 'Pulvia's phrase ; and taunt 'my faults 
 With such full licence, as both ' truth and 'malice 
 Have power to utter. 0, ' then we bring forth weeds 
 When our quick' 'miads-^ lie still : . . . Farewell awhile. 
 
 Mess. At your noble pleasure. rnxit Messenger. 
 
 Ant. From Sicyon, ho, the news ! Speak there ! 
 
 Antony calls for another Messenger : 
 The man from Sicyon ! — is there such an one 1 
 Att. He stays upon your will. 
 Ant. Let him appear. — 
 
 . . . These strong 'Egyptian fetters I must 'break, 
 Or lose myself in dotage. 
 
 Another Messenger enters. 
 What are you 1 
 2 Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, is 'dead. 
 Ant. . . . ' Where died she ? 
 
 2 Mess. In Sicyon : 
 
 Her length of sickness, with what else more serious 
 
 a Proceed. & Harsli, disagreeable. c Seized on. d Directly to the point, 
 
 «;Fertile. /O. B. windes. 
 
456 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 Importeth thee to know, this letter bears. [Giving lette.- 
 Ant. . . ■ Forbear me. — 
 
 [Exit MeBBenger. 
 
 There 's a great spirit 'gone ! Thus 'did I 'desire it : 
 
 What our contempts do often 'hurl from us, 
 
 "We wish it ours 'again ! She 's 'good, being 'gone ! . . . 
 
 The hand 'could pluck her back, that shoved her 'on. . . . 
 
 I must from this enchanting Queen break off : 
 
 Ten ' thousand harms more than the ills I ' know, 
 
 My idleness doth hatch . — Ho, Enobarbus ! [Enoi>arbu« advances. 
 
 JEJno. What 's your pleasure, sir ? 
 
 Ant. I must with 'haste from hence. 
 
 JSno. Why, then, we kUl all our 'women : We see how mortal 
 an 'unkindness is to them ; if they suffer our 'depar- 
 ture, 'death 's the word. 
 
 Ant. I 'must be gone. . . . Fulvia is dead. 
 
 £Jno. Fulvia! 
 
 Ant. Dead. 
 
 £Jno. . . Why, sir, give the gods a 'thankful sacrifice. 
 When it pleaseth their deities to take the 'wife of a man 
 from him, it shows to man the ' tailors of the earth : 
 comforting therein, — that, when 'old robes are worn-out, 
 there are members to make 'new. If there were no 
 'more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, 
 and the case to be lamented : ' this grief is crowned 
 with 'consolation ; — your old smock brings forth a 'new 
 petticoat ; — and, indeed, the tears live in an 'onion" that 
 should water 'this sorrow. 
 
 Ant. The business she hath broached' within the State 
 Cannot endure my absence. 
 
 £!no. And the business 'you have broached ' here cannot be 
 without you ; especially that of Cleopatra's, which 
 wholly depends on your 'abode. 
 
 Ant. No more 'light answers ! Let our officers 
 Have notice what we purpose. I shall break 
 The 'cause of our expedience" to the Queen, 
 And get her ' leave to part. For not alone 
 The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches," 
 Do strongly speak to us ; but the ' letters too 
 Of many our contriving friends in Rome 
 Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius" 
 Hath given the dare-' to Csesar, and commands 
 The empire of the 'sea : our slippery people 
 (Whose love is never linked to the 'deserver 
 Till his deserts are 'past) begin to throw 
 
 a Axe artifloially caneed, as by an onion. 6 Opened, commenced. c Expedition, 
 departure. d FresBing motives. c Son of Pompey the Great. /Challenge. 
 
BceneUl.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 457 
 
 Pompey the Great," and all his dignities, 
 
 Upon his 'son ; whose quality,' going 'on, 
 
 The sides" o' the world may danger. Say, our 'pleasure, 
 
 (To such whose place is under us,) requires 
 
 Our 'quick remove from hence. 
 
 JSnO. I shall do it. IBxeunt. 
 
 The Scene is still in the Palace at Alexandria. The ever-jealous 
 Cleopatra, as yet ignorant of her rival's death, is in her private 
 apartment, attended by Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. 
 
 Cleo. ' Where is he, Charmian ? 
 
 Char. I did not see him since. 
 
 Gleo. [to Alex.: ' See where he is, — who 's with him, — what he 
 does : — 
 
 I did not 'send you: — If you find him sad. 
 
 Say, ' I am dancing ; if in mirth, report 
 
 That I am sudden 'sick : Quick, and return ! tBrit Aiei. 
 Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him 'dearly, 
 
 You do not hold the method to enforce 
 
 The like from ' him. 
 Cleo. What 'should I do I do not 1 
 
 Char. In each thing give him 'way — cross him iu nothing. 
 Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool — the way to ' lose him. 
 Char. Tempt him not so too far ; But here 'comes Antony. 
 Cleo. I 'm sick, and sullen. 
 
 Antony enters : 
 Ant. i am sorry to give breathing'' to my purpose. 
 Cleo. . . Help me away, dear Charmian ; I shall fall : — 
 
 It cannot be thus 'long! — the sides of nature 
 
 Will not sustain it. . . Stand further from me. 
 Ant. What 's the matter ? 
 
 Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there 's some 'good news. 
 
 What says the 'married woman ">. — Yoa may 'go ! . . . 
 
 'Would she had never given you leave to 'come ! 
 
 Let her n5t say, 't is 'I that keep you here, — 
 
 I have 'no power upon you ; ' hers you are. 
 Ant. The gods best know, — 
 Cleo. Why should I think you can be 'mine, and ' true, 
 
 (Though you, in swearing, shake the throned gods,) 
 
 Who have been ' false to ' Fulvia ? 
 Ant. Most sweet queen, — 
 
 Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no 'colour' for your going, 
 
 But bid farewell, and 'go. When you sued 'staying, 
 
 ' Then was the time for words : no 'going ' then ! — 
 
 a TreacheroTiBly murdered in Egypt, B. C. 48. 6 Power, authority, c Boundaries, 
 d Words, expression. e Excuse. 
 
458 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 1. 
 
 ' Eternity was in our lips and eyes, 
 
 Bliss ia our brows' bent ;" none our parts so poor, 
 
 But was a race' of ' heaven : they 'are so still, . . . 
 
 Or thou, the greatest 'soldier of the world. 
 
 Art turned the greatest ' liar ! 
 
 Ant. Hear me. Queen : 
 
 The strong necessity of time commands 
 Our 'services awhile ; but my full 'heart 
 Remains in use with 'you. Our Italy 
 Shines o'er with civil swords : Sextus Pompeius 
 Makes his approaches to the port of Rome : 
 His numbers threaten. . . . My 'more particular, 
 (And that which most with you should 'urge" my going,) 
 Is . . . Fulvia's death. 
 
 Cleo. Though age from ' folly could not give me freedom. 
 It does from 'childishness :'' — ' Can Fulvia 'die ? 
 
 Ant. She 's dead, my queen. 
 
 Cleo. . . . O most false love ! 
 
 Where be the sacred vials' thou should st fill 
 With 'sorrowful water ? Now I see ! I see, 
 In ' Fulvia's death, how 'mine received shall be. 
 
 Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know 
 The 'purposes I bear ; which 'are, or 'cease. 
 As 'you shall give the advice. By the fire 
 That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence, 
 ' Thy soldier-servant ; making peace, or war. 
 As 'thou affect'st. 
 
 Cleo. . . Cut my lace, Charmian, come ; — 
 
 But let it be : — I am quickly Ul,— and 'well again. 
 So Antony loves ! 
 
 Ant. My precious Queen, forbear ; 
 
 And give true 'evidence to his love, which stands 
 An honourable trial. 
 
 Cleo. ' ... So Fulvia ' told me. 
 
 I pr'y thee, turn aside, and weep for ' her ; 
 Then bid adieu to 'me, and 'say — the tears 
 Belong to 'Egypt :■'' Good now, play one scene 
 Of excellent 'dissembling ; and let it ' look 
 Like perfect ' honour. 
 
 Ant. You '11 heat my blood : no more ! 
 
 Cleo. . . . You can do ' better yet ; but this is meetly. 
 
 Ant. Now, by my sword, — 
 
 Cleo. 'And ' target. — StiU he 'mends ; 
 
 But this is not the ' best. 
 
 a Eyebrows' arch. & Taste or flavour. cO. R. safe. d From shedding tears. 
 e Alluding to tlie Roman custom of preserving in bottles tears for the death of 
 friends. /The Queen of Egypt. 
 
Scene iv.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATKA. 459 
 
 Ant. ... I '11 leave you, lady ! 
 
 Cleo. Courteous lord, one word . . . 
 
 Sir, you and I must 'part, — but that 's not it ! 
 
 Sir, you and I have 'loved, — but 'there 's not it ! 
 
 That you knov? 'well : something it is 'I would, — 
 
 O, my 'oblivion is a very Antony, 
 
 And I am 'all forgotten ! . . Honour calls you hence ; 
 
 Therefore be d^af to my unpitied ' folly. 
 
 And all the gods go with you ! Upon your sword 
 
 Sit laurel victory ! and smooth success 
 
 Be strewed before your feet ! 
 A>it. Let us go. Come ; 
 
 Our separation so 'abides, and 'flies. 
 
 That thou, 'residing here, go'st yet with 'me. 
 
 And I, hence fleeting, here 'remain — with ' thee ! cemum. 
 
 Antony, thus leaving Cleopatra in Egypt, hastens to Rome, 
 where he is invited to stay with Lepidus ; who, desirous of recon- 
 ciliation, appoints a meeting with Octavius Caesar. — The Scene is 
 now in Rome at Caesar's House. — Caesar and Lepidus are in con- 
 versation : 
 
 Cces. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know. 
 It is not Csesar's 'natural wise" to ' hate 
 Our' great competitor. From Alexandria 
 This is the news : — He fishes, drinks, and wastes 
 The lamps of night in revel ; is not more 'manlike 
 Than Cleopatra, nor the Queen of Ptolemy 
 More 'womanly than he ; hardly gave audience, or 
 Vouchsafed to think he had 'partners. Tou shall find 
 
 there 
 A man, who is the abstract of all ' faults 
 That 'all men follow. 
 
 Ziep. I must not think there are 
 
 Evils enow to darken 'all his goodness : 
 His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven. 
 More fiery by night's 'blackness ; 'hereditary. 
 Rather than 'purchased ; what he cannot 'change, 
 Than what he 'chooses. 
 
 Cces. You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not 
 Amiss to revel on the throne of Ptolemy ; 
 To give a 'kingdom for a 'mirth," to sit 
 And keep the turn of tippling with a slave ; 
 To reel the streets at noon ; — yet must Antony 
 
 a Disposition, O. B. vice. &0.B. one. c A brkf amusement. 
 
460 THE EEADEk's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 No way excuse his soils," when 'we do bear 
 So great weight in his hghtness.' He must be chid 
 As we rate" boys, who, being mature in 'knowledge, 
 Pawn their experience to their present 'pleasure. 
 And so rebel to judgment. — Here 's more news. 
 A Messenger enters. 
 
 Mess. Thy biddings have been done ; and every hour, 
 Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report 
 How 't is abroad. Pompey is strong at 'sea ; 
 No vessel can peep forth, but 't is as soon 
 Taken as seen ; for Pompey's 'name strikes more 
 Than Could his 'war resisted. 
 
 Cobs. O, Antony, 
 
 Leave thy lascivious wassails \^ When thou once 
 
 Wast beaten from Modena, at thy heel 
 
 Did Famine follow : thou didst drink 
 
 What ' beasts would cough-at: thy palate then did deign 
 
 The roughest berry on the rudest hedge ; 
 
 Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets. 
 
 The barks of trees thou browsed'st ; on the Alps, 
 
 It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh. 
 
 Which some did die to ' look on ; and all this 
 
 (It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now) 
 
 Was borne so Uke a 'soldier, that thy cheek 
 
 So much as 'lanked not 
 
 Lep. 'T is pity of him. 
 
 C(BS. Let his shames quickly 
 
 Drive him to Rome ashamed : 't is time we twain 
 Did show ourselves i' the field ; and, to that end. 
 Assemble we" ' immediate council : Pompey 
 ' Thrives in our idleness. — But here comes Antony. 
 Marc Antony enters accompanied by his lieutenant Enobarbus, 
 
 and his friends Mecaenas and Agrippa. — Lepidus hastily advances 
 
 to promote reconciliation. 
 
 Lep. Good Enobarbus, pray entreat your captain 
 
 To soft and 'gentle speech. 
 Eno. I shall entreat him 
 
 To answer like ' himself : if Csesar move-' him, 
 
 Let Antony look 'over Caesar's head. 
 
 And speak as loud as Mars ! 
 Lep. 'T is not a time for private enmity." 
 ^no. ' Every time serves for the matter born in 't. 
 Lep. But 'small to 'greater matters must give way. 
 £Jno. Not if the small come ' first. 
 
 a Disgi'acef ul actions. 6 Frivolity, levity. c Chide vehemently. d Drunken 
 revelries. eO. B. me. /Roubb, excite. ijr O. E. stomaching. 
 
Scene li] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 461 
 
 Lepidus turns now to appeal to his brother Triumvirs : 
 
 Lep. Noble friends, 
 
 That whicli 'combined us was most great ; and let not 
 A leaner action 'rend us. What 's amiss, 
 May it be 'gently heard. Then, noble partners. 
 Touch you the 'sourest points with sweetest ' terms. 
 
 Ant. 'T is spoken well. 
 
 "Were we before our armies, and to ' fight, 
 I should do thus. 
 
 After a painful silence Octavius coldly advances : 
 
 CcBS. . . . Welcome to Rome, Marc Antony. 
 
 Ant. Thank you, Csesar. . . . 
 
 I learn, you take things ' ill, which are 'not so ; 
 Or being so, concern 'you not. 
 
 Cces. I must be laughed at, 
 
 If, — or for 'nothing, or a 'little, — I 
 Should say myself 'offended ; and with 'you 
 Chiefly i' the world. 
 
 Ant. My being ia Egypt, Caesar, what was 't to 'you ? 
 
 Vces. No more than Tny residing here at ' Rome 
 Might be to you in ' Egypt : yet, if you there 
 Did practise" on 'my state, yoar being in Egypt 
 ' Might be my question. 
 
 Ant. How intend you ? 'practised ? 
 
 Cces. You may be pleased to 'catch at mine intent 
 
 By what did here befall me. Tour wife, and brother. 
 Made wars upon me ; and 'their contestation 
 Was theme for 'you ; 'you were the word of 'war. 
 
 Ant. Tou do 'mistake your business ; my brother never 
 Did urge me in his act : I did inquire' it. 
 And have my learning from some true reports," 
 That drew their swords with you. Of this, my letters 
 ' Before did satisfy you. If you '11 'patch a quarrel, 
 (As matter 'whole you 've not to make it with,) 
 It must not be with ' this. 
 
 Vces. 'You patched-up your excuses. 
 
 Ant. Not so, not so. You thought, that I, 
 
 Your partner in the cause. 
 
 Could not, with graceful eyes, attend those wars 
 Which fronted"* mine own peace. As for my 'wife, . . . 
 I would 'you had ' her spirit in such 'another ! — 
 The third o' the 'world is yours, which with a snaffle' 
 You may pace easy, — but not such a 'wife ! 
 
 Cces. I vsrrote to you, 
 
 a Employ Btratagems. 6 Examine into. e Reporters. d Confronted. 
 
 « A light bridle. 
 
462 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 When rioting in Alexandria ; you 
 
 Did pocket-up my letters, and with taunts 
 
 Did gibe my missive" out of audience. 
 
 Ant. Sir, he 'fell upon me, ere 'admitted: 
 
 Three Kings I had newly feasted, . . . and did want 
 Of what I was' i' the morning ; but, next day, 
 I told him of myself ; — which was as much 
 As to have asked him pardon. Let this fellow 
 Be nothing of our strife ; ' if we contend, 
 ' Out of om- qaestion 'wipe him ! 
 
 Cces. Tou have ' broken 
 
 The article of your 'oath ; which you shall never 
 Have tongue to charge 'me with. 
 
 Lepidus anxiously interposes : 
 
 J,ep. Soft, Csesar ! 
 
 Ant. No, Lepidus, ' let him speak ! 
 
 The honour 's 'sacred which he talks on 'now, — 
 Supposing that I ' lacked it. But on, Csesar : 
 The article of my oath, — 
 
 Oces. To lend me arms and aid when I required them ,- 
 And both those you 'denied. 
 
 Ant. ' Neglected, rather ; 
 
 And then, when 'poisoned" hours had bound me up 
 Prom mine own knowledge. ... As nearly as I may, 
 I '11 play the 'penitent to you ; but mine ' honesty 
 Shall not make poor my 'greatness. Truth is, that 
 
 Pulvia, 
 To have me out of ' Egypt, made wars ' here ; 
 For which myself, — the ignorant motive, — do 
 So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour 
 To stoop in 'such a case. 
 
 JOep. 'T is 'nobly spoken. 
 
 Enobarbus adds : 
 
 .Eno. If you 'borrow one another's 'love for the instant, you 
 may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, 'return 
 it again : you shall have time to wrangle-in, when you 
 have nothing else to do. 
 
 Ant. . . . ' Thou art a 'soldier only : speak no more. 
 
 JSno. That truth should be 'silent, I had almost forgot. 
 
 Ant. Tou 'wrong this presence ; therefore, speak no more. 
 
 Cces. ' I do not much dislike the 'matter, but 
 The 'manner of his speech ; for it cannot be 
 We shall 'remain in friendship. Yet if I knew 
 
 a MeBsenger. b And had not recovered my sobriety. c Drunken 
 
Scene il.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 463 
 
 "What hoop should hold us 'stanch, from edge to edge 
 
 O' the world I would pursue it. 
 
 Agrippa advances : 
 "Affr. Give me leave, Caesar, — 
 
 Thou hast a sister by the mother's side — 
 
 Admired Octavia : great Marc Antony 
 
 Is now a 'widower. 
 Gobs. Say not 'so, Agrippa : 
 
 If ' Cleopatra heard you, your 'reproof 
 
 Were weU deserved — of 'rashness. 
 Ant. I am 'not married, Caesar : let me hear 
 
 Agrippa further speak. 
 Agr. To hold you in 'perpetual amity. 
 
 To make you 'brothers, and to knit your hearts 
 
 With an unsUpping knot, — take Antony 
 
 Octavia to his wife ; whose beauty claims 
 
 No worse a husband than the best of men ; 
 
 Whose virtue and whose general graces speak 
 
 That which none 'else can utter. 'By this marriage. 
 
 All 'little jealousies, (which now seen 'great,) 
 
 And all great ' fears, (which now import their 'dangers,) 
 
 Would then be 'nothing. Pardon what I have spoke ; 
 
 For 't is a 'studied, not a 'present thought — 
 
 By 'duty ruminated. 
 Ant. . . Will ' Csesar speak ? 
 
 Goes. Not till he hears how 'Antony is touched 
 
 With what is spoke akeady. 
 Ant. What power is in Agrippa, 
 
 If I would say, "Agrippa, be it so," 
 
 To make this 'good ? 
 Gobs. The power of ' Caesar, — and 
 
 His power unto ' Octavia. 
 Ant. May I never, 
 
 To this good purpose, that so fairly 'shows. 
 
 Dream of ' impediment ! — Let me have thy hand : 
 
 ' Further this act of grace ; and, from this hour, 
 
 The heart of ' brothers govern in our ' loves. 
 
 And sway our great 'designs ! 
 Goes. There is my hand. 
 
 A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother 
 
 Did ever love so dearly : let her live 
 
 To join our ' kingdoms and our hearts ; and never 
 
 Fly-off our loves again ! 
 Lep. Happily, Amen ! 
 
464 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Ant. ... I did not think to draw my sword ' 'gainst Pom- 
 pey;" 
 
 For he hath laid strange courtesies and great 
 
 Of late upon me : I must ' thank him only, 
 
 Lest my remembrance suffer ' iU report ; 
 
 At heel of ' that,' defy him. 
 Ijep. Time calls upon us : 
 
 Of us must Pompey presently be 'sought, 
 
 Or else 'he seeks out 'us. As yet, by sea, 
 
 He is an absolute master. 
 Ant. ' Haste we for it. 
 
 Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, despatch we 
 
 The business we have talked of. 
 Cms. With most gladness ; 
 
 And do invite you to my sister's view. 
 
 Whither straight I 'U lead you. 
 Ant. Let us, Lepidus, 
 
 Not lack 'your company 1 
 Lep. Noble Antony, 
 
 Not 'sickness should detain me. [ei. csos., Ant., ana Lap. 
 
 After the departure of the three great leaders, Mecsenas and 
 Agrippa enter into conversation with Enobarbus. 
 
 Mec. Welcome from Egypt, sir. 
 Eno. ' Half the heart of Osesar, worthy Mecsenas ! — 
 My honourable friend, Agrippa ! — 
 
 Agr. Good Enobarbus ! [The? mutually Balme. 
 
 Mec. We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well 
 
 digested. Tou stayed well by it in Egypt ? 
 Eno. Ay, sir ; we did sleep 'day out of countenance, and 
 
 made the ' night light — with 'drinking ! 
 Mec. Cleopatra is a most triumphant lady, — if report be 
 
 'square to her. 
 Eno. When she ' first met Marc Antony, she 'pursed up his 
 
 heart, upon the river Oydnus." 
 Agr. There she appeared ' indeed ! or my reporter 'devised 
 
 well for her. 
 Eno. I will tell you. — ■ 
 
 The ' barge she sat in, like a burnished ' throne. 
 
 ' Burned on the water : the 'poop was beaten gold ; 
 
 Purple the sails ; and so perfumed that 
 
 The winds were love-sick with them ; the 'oars were 
 'silver. 
 
 Which, to the tune of flutes, kept stroke ; and made 
 
 The water, which they beat, to follow faster, 
 
 a Sextua Pompey. & After that. c A river in Gilicia, near Tarsus. 
 
Scene ii.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 465 
 
 As 'amorous of their strokes. For her own 'person, 
 It beggared all description : she did lie 
 In her pavilion — cloth of golden tissue — 
 'O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see 
 The ' fancy outwork 'nature : On each side her, 
 Stood pretty dimpled ' boys, like smiling Cupids, 
 With divers-coloured fans ; whose v^ind did seem 
 To 'glow the delicate cheeks which they did 'cool— 
 And what they 'un-did 'did. 
 
 Agr. O, rare for Antony ! 
 
 JEno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides" 
 
 So many Mermaids, tendered her by the eyes, 
 And made their bends' adornings : At the helm 
 A 'seeming Mermaid 'steers ; the silken tackle 
 Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, 
 That yarely frame the office." From the barge 
 A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
 Of the adjacent wharfs. The city 'cast 
 Her people out upon her ; and Antony, 
 Enthroned i' the Market-place, did sit alone, 
 Whistling to the air ; — which, but for vacancy," 
 Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too. 
 And made a 'gap in nature. 
 
 Agr. Rare Egyptian ! 
 
 JEno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her. 
 Invited her to supper : She replied, 
 It should be better he became ' her guest, — 
 Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, 
 (Whom ne'er the word of " No " 'woman heard speak,) 
 Being barbered ' ten times o'er, 'goes to the feast ; 
 And, for his ordinary," pays his 'heart. 
 For what his 'eyes ate only. 
 
 Agr. Royal wench! 
 
 Mec. Now, Antony must leave her utterly. 
 
 JEno. Never ! — he will not : 
 
 Age cannot wither ' her, nor custom 'stale 
 Her infinite variety. ' Other women 'cloy 
 The appetites they 'feed; but 'she makes hungry 
 Where most she satisfies. 
 
 Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can 'settle 
 The heart of Antony, Octavia is 
 A ' blessed lottery to him. 
 
 Agr. But let us go. — 
 
 Good Enobarbus, make yourself my 'guest, 
 
 a Nvrnphs of the sea— the fifty daughters of Nereus. 6 aenu&exlone, c That 
 skilfully perform their duties. d Want of intelligence. e Usual price of a meal. 
 
466 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 2. 
 
 Whilst you abide here. 
 JEno. Humbly, sir, I thank you. cExeum 
 
 The beautiful widow, the Lady Octavia, is easily persuaded by 
 her politic brother to become the wife of Antony. — The Scene is 
 now in the residence of Octavius Caesar : and we have before us 
 two of the great Triumvirs, with the Lady Octavia. The accepted 
 suitor apologetically addresses his promised bride : 
 
 Ant. The world, and my great office, wiU sometimes 
 'Divide me from your bosom. 
 
 Octa. All which time. 
 
 Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers 
 To them for you. 
 
 Ant. Csesar, good night. — My Octavia, 
 
 Read not my blemishes in the world's 'report : 
 I ' have not kept my square ; but that to 'come 
 Shall all be done by the 'rule. Good night, dear lady. 
 
 Octa. Good night, sir. [Kxeunt Cssar and Octavia 
 
 As Antony is musingly leaving Csesar's house, he meets the 
 Egyptian Soothsayer. 
 
 Ant. Now, sirrah : — You do wish yourself in Egypt ? 
 
 South. Would 'I hadnever come from thence, nor 'you come 
 thither ! 
 
 Ant. If you can, your 'reason? 
 
 South. I see it in my 'motion," have it not in my ' tongue : 
 but yet hie 'you to Egypt again ! 
 
 Ant. Say to me. 
 
 Whose fortune shall rise 'higher, — Csesar's or mine ? 
 
 Sooth. Caesar's. 
 
 Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side : 
 
 Thy Demon — that 's thy ' Spirit which keeps thee — is 
 
 Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable. 
 
 Where 'Csesar's is not ; but, 'near 'him, thy Angel 
 
 Becomes a ' Fear, as being o'erpowered : therefore 
 
 Make 'space enough between you. 
 
 Ant. Speak this no more ! 
 
 Sooth. To none but 'thee ; no more, 'but when to thee. 
 If thou dost play with him at any game, 
 Thou 'rt sure to 'lose; and, of all 'natural luck, 
 He beats thee 'gainst the 'odds : 'thy lustre thickens, 
 When 'he shines by. I say again, thy Spii'it 
 Is all 'afraid to govern thee near ' him ; 
 But, he 'away,' 't is 'noble. 
 
 Ant. . . . Get thee gone : 
 
 a Mind (the motive power). 6 O. R. alway. 
 
Act 1, Scene v.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 467 
 
 Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him. — [exh soomsoyer 
 He shall to ' Parthia. — Be it art, or hap, 
 He hath spoken true : the very 'dice obey him ; 
 And, in our sports, my better 'cunning' faints 
 Under his 'chance. ... I will 'soon to Egypt : 
 For though I make this marriage for my 'peace, 
 I' the East my 'pleasure lies. — 
 Enter Ventidius. 
 
 O, come, Ventidius, 
 You must to Parthia : your commission 's ready ; 
 Follow me, and receive 't. cExeuat, 
 
 The marriage of Marc Antony and Octavia soon takes place. 
 How was this intelligence received by the deserted, love-lorn 
 Queen of Egypt? Cleopatra is again before us, in her palace at 
 Alexandria, attended by her women Charmian and Iras. 
 
 Cleo. Charmian, — . . 
 
 Ha, ha ! — Give me to drink mandragora." 
 
 Char. Why, madam? 
 
 Cleo. That I might 'sleep-out this great gap of time, 
 My Antony is away. 
 
 Char. You think of him too much. 
 
 Gleo. O Charmian I 
 
 "Where think'st thou he is 'now ? Stands he, or sits he 1 
 Or does he walk ? or is he on his horse ? 
 Do bravely, horse ! for wott'st* thou 'whom thou mov'st f 
 The demi- Atlas" of this Earth, — the arm 
 And burgonef* of men ! — He 's speaking now. 
 Or murmuring, " "Where 's my serpent of old Nile ? " 
 For so he calls me. . . . 'Now I feed myself 
 "With most delicious poison ! — 
 Alexas enters. 
 
 Alex. Sovereign of Egypt, haU I 
 
 Cleo. How much 'un-like art thou Marc Antony ! 
 Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath 
 With ' his tinct gilded ' thee. — 
 How goes it with my brave Marc Antony ? 
 
 Alex. Last thing he did, dear Queen, 
 
 He kissed — the last of many 'doubled kisses — 
 This orient pearl. — His speech 'sticks in my heart. 
 
 Cleo. Mine ear must 'pluck it thence. 
 
 Alex. " Good friend," quoth he, 
 
 " Say, — The firm Roman to great Egypt sends 
 
 a A narcotic plant. & Kuoweet. c Atlas, the fabled supporter of the Earth. 
 
 d Armour for the head : = chief protection. 
 
468 THE EEADEr's SHAKESPE4EE. [Act 1. 
 
 This treasure of an oyster ; at whose foot, 
 
 (To 'mend the petty present,) I ■will piece 
 
 Her opulent throne with ' kingdoms : 'all the East, 
 
 Say thou, shall call her mistress." So he nodded. 
 
 And soberly did mount an arrogant" steed ; 
 
 Who neighed so high, that what I 'would have spoke 
 
 Was beastly 'dumbed by him. 
 
 Cleo. What ! Was he sad, or merry ? 
 
 jLlex. Like to the time o' the year between the extremes 
 Of hot and cold : he was 'nor sad, nor merry. 
 
 Cleo. O well-divided disposition ! — Note him, 
 
 Note him, good Charmian, ' 't is the man ! but note 
 
 him : 
 He was not 'sad, — for he would 'shine on those 
 That make their looks by ' his ; he was not 'merry, — 
 Which seemed to tell them, — his remembrance lay 
 In 'Egypt, with Ms joy ; but 'between 'both! 
 
 'heavenly mingle! — Be'st thou sad, 'or merry. 
 The violence of either 'thee becomes, 
 
 So does it no man else. — Mett'st thou my posts ? 
 
 Alex. Ay, madam; ' twenty several messengers : 
 Why do you send so 'thick?' 
 
 ■Oleo. Who 's ' born that day 
 
 When I ' forget to send to Antony, 
 Shall die a ' Jbeggar. — Ink and paper, Charmian. — 
 He shall have, every day, a several greeting, 
 Or I '11 unpeople Egypt. — The music, ho ! 
 Give me some music, — music, moody food 
 Of us that trade in love. — No, let it alone. 
 Let us to billiards : come, Charmian. . . . No, I 'U none 
 
 now. — 
 Give me mine angle," — we '11 to the river : there, 
 (My music playing far off,) I will betray 
 'Tawny-finned'' fishes ; my bended hook shall pierce 
 Their slimy jaws ; and, as I draw them up, 
 
 1 '11 think them, every one, an 'Antony ! 
 And say, " Ah, ha ! you 're 'caught !" 
 
 Char. 'T was merry when 
 
 You 'wagered on your angling ; when your diver 
 Did hang a 'salt-fish on his hook, which he 
 With fervency drew-up. 
 
 Cleo. That time — O times ! — 
 
 I laughed him out of patience ; and that night 
 I laughed him 'into patience : and next morn, 
 
 a O. R. arme-gaunt. & Closely, frequently, c Fishing-rod. d O. K. tawny fine. 
 
Scene v.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 46& 
 
 Ere the ninth hour, I 'drunk him to his bed ; 
 Then put 'my tires" and mantles on him— whUst 
 'I wore his sword PhiUppan ! — 
 
 A Messenger enters. 
 
 O, from Italy ? — 
 ' Rain' thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, 
 That long time have been barren. 
 
 Mess. . . . Madam, madam, — 
 
 Gleo. . . . Antony 's 'dead 1 — if thou say so, villain, 
 Thou kill'st thy 'mistress ! But well and free, 
 (If thou 'so yield him) there is gold, and here 
 My bluest veins to kiss ; — a hand that 'kings 
 Have lipped, and ' trembled kissing. 
 
 Mess. First, madam, he is well. 
 
 Cleo. Why, there 's 'more gold. But, sirrah, mark ! We 
 use 
 To say, the 'dead are well : bring it to ' that. 
 The gold I give thee will I 'melt, and pour 
 Down thy ill-uttering throat ! 
 
 Mess. WiU 't please you hear me ? 
 
 Cleo. I have a mind to 'strike thee ere thou speak'st : 
 Yet, if thou say, — Antony lives, — is well, — 
 Or friends with Caesar, — or not captive to him^ 
 I '11 set thee in a 'shower of gold, and 'hail 
 Rich pearls upon thee ! 
 
 Mess. — Madam, ... he 's well. 
 
 Oleo. Well said I 
 
 Mess. And friends with Csesar. 
 
 Oleo. Thou 'rt an ' honest man I 
 
 Mess. Caesar and he are 'greater friends than ever. 
 
 Gleo. Make thee a 'fortune from me ! 
 
 Mess. But yet, madam, — 
 
 Cleo. ... I do not Hke " but yet," it does allay 
 The good precedence ; fie upon " but yet ! " 
 " But yet " is as a gaoler, to bring forth 
 Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend. 
 Pour out thy 'pack of matter to mine ear. 
 The good and bad together : He 's ' friends with Caesar ? 
 In state of 'health, thou say'st? and, thou say'st, 'free? 
 
 Mess. Free, madam ? no : I made no 'such report : 
 He 's married ... to Octavia. 
 
 Cleo. The most infectious 'pestilence upon thee ! [^'down"" 
 Hence, horrible vUlain ! or I '11 spurn thine eyes 
 Like balls before me ! I 'U unhair thy head ! 
 
 a Attires. b O. B. ram. 
 
470 a?HE reader's Shakespeare. [Act 2. 
 
 Thou shalt be whipped with 'wire, and stewed in ' brine, 
 
 Smarting in lingering pickle ! 
 Mess. Gracious madam, 
 
 I, that do bring the news, 'made not the match. 
 Cleo. Say 't is 'not so, a ' Province I will give thee. 
 
 And make thy fortunes for the blow thou hadst. 
 Mess. He 's 'married, madam. 
 Cleo. Rogue, thou hast lived too long ! 
 
 As the Queen draws her dagger, the frightened Messenger runs 
 off. Charmian stops her royal mistress : 
 
 Char. Good madam, keep yourself 'within yourself : 
 The man is innocent. 
 
 Cleo. ' Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt. — 
 Melt Egypt into Nile ! and ' kindly creatures 
 Turn all to 'serpents ! — Call the slave 'again : — 
 Though I am 'mad, I will not ' bite him : — Call ! 
 
 Char. He is afeared to come. 
 
 Cleo. I will not hurt him. — [oSr. 
 
 These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 
 A 'meaner than myself ; since I myself 
 Have given myself the cause. [Me°M™i"«w™J Come hither, 
 
 sir. 
 Though it be 'honest, it is never good 
 To bring ' bad news : Give, to a 'gracious message. 
 An ' host of tongues ; but let ' ill tidings tell 
 ' Themselves — when they be 'felt. 
 
 Mess. I have done my duty. 
 
 Cleo. . . . ' Is he married ? 
 
 I cannot hate thee 'worser than I do. 
 If thou again say. Yes. 
 
 Mess. Should I ' lie, madam 1 
 
 Cleo. O, I would thou didst. 
 
 So half my Egypt were submerged, and made 
 A cistern for scaled snakes ! Go, get thee hence : 
 Hadst thou ' Narcissus" in thy face, to 'me 
 Thou wouldst appear most 'ugly. He is married ■? 
 
 Mess. I crave your highness' pardon. He 's married, to 
 Octavia. 
 
 Cleo. O, that ' his fault should make a knave of thee, 
 
 That art not what thou 'rt sure of ! — Get thee hence ! 
 
 [Exit Mess. 
 
 I faint : — O Iras ! Charmian ! — 'T is no matter. — 
 Go to the fellow, good Alexas ; bid him 
 Report the 'feature of Octavia, her years, 
 
 a A beautiful Bceotian youtli who feU In love with his own image in the water and 
 ■drowned himself. 
 
Scene vi.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 471 
 
 Her inclination ; let him not leave out 
 
 The colour of her hair : bring me word quickly. — 
 
 [Exit Alexss. 
 
 Let him for ever go ! — let him 'not — Charmian ; 
 Though he be painted 'one way like a ' Gorgon, 
 The other way 's a Mars. — [To jiardian.] Bid you Alexas 
 Bring me word how 'tall she is. — 'Pity me, Charmian, 
 But do not 'speak to me. . . . Lead me to my chamber. 
 
 The marriage of Marc Antony and the Lady Octavia was cele- 
 brated in Rome with great rejoicing and festivity. After one of the 
 banquets, we overhear a conversation between Menas, a captain in 
 the service of Sextus Pompey, and Enobarbus. Menas says : 
 
 Men. You and I have known, sir? 
 
 Sno. At sea, I think. 
 
 Men. We have, sir. 
 
 JEno. 'You have done well by 'water. 
 
 Men. And you by 'land. 
 
 Sno. I will praise any man that will praise 'me ; though it 
 
 cannot be denied what I have done by 'land. 
 Men. Nor what 'I have done by 'water. 
 Sno. Yes ; something you can deny for your own safety : 
 
 you have been a great ' thief by sea. 
 Men. And 'you by ' land. 
 ^no. There I 'deny my land-service. But give me your 
 
 hand, Menas. We came hither to ' fight with you. 
 Men. For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking. 
 
 We looked not for Marc Antony ' here. Pray you, is he 
 
 married to Cleopatra ? 
 JEno. Caesar's sister is called Octavia. 
 Men. True, sir ; she 'was the wife of Caius Marcellus. 
 ^no. But she is 'now the wife of Marcus Antonius. 
 Men. Then are Csesar and he forever knit together. 
 Jilno. If ' I were bound to 'divine of this unity, I would not 
 
 prophesy 'so. You shall find the band that 'seems to 
 
 tie their friendship together will be the very 'strangler 
 
 of their amity : Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still 
 
 conversation. 
 Men. Who would not have his 'wife so? 
 JEno. Not he, that himself is 'not so ; which is Marc 
 
 Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again : then 
 
 shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Csesar ; 
 
 and, as I said before, that which is the 'strength of 
 
 their 'amity, shall prove the immediate author of their 
 
472 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 'variance. Antony will use his affection where it is : 
 
 he married but his 'occasion here. 
 Men. And thus it 'may be. Come, sir, will you aboard ? I 
 
 have a health for you. 
 JEno. I shall take it, sir : we have used our throats in Egypt. 
 Men. Come, let 's away. [Esenot. 
 
 The Scene changes to an Ante-chamber in Caesar's house in Rome, 
 where the marriage festivities are ended, and the bride and bride- 
 groom are preparing for their departure. Agrippa enquires of Eno- 
 barbus, concerning their reconciled leaders : 
 
 Agr. What, are the brothers parted ? 
 
 Sno. They have despatched with Pompey : he is gone; 
 
 The other three are sealing." Octavia weeps 
 
 To part from Rome ; Csesar is sad ; and Lepidus, 
 
 Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled 
 
 With some sickness. 
 Agr. 'T is a 'noble Lepidus. 
 
 JEno. A 'very fine one ! O, how he loves Csesar ! 
 Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Marc Antony ! 
 JEno. Csesar °i Why, he 's the 'Jupiter of men. 
 Agr. What 's Antony ■? the 'god of Jupiter. 
 
 Indeed, he plied them 'both with excellent praises. 
 JEno. But he loves Csesar 'best ; — yet he loves Aiitony. 
 
 Hoo ! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, 
 cannot 
 
 Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, — hoo ! — 
 
 His love to Antony. But as for Csesar, 
 
 Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder, ['^'i™?"'] So ! 
 
 This sounds to horse. — Adieu, noble Agrippa. [EjiitEno. 
 
 Antony and his wife approach, accompanied by Csesar, that he 
 may give to both a farewell greeting. 
 
 Cms. You take from me a great part of 'myself ; 
 Use me well in 't. — Sister, prove such a wife 
 As my thoughts make thee. — Most noble Antony, 
 Let not the piece of virtue which is set 
 Betwixt us as the cement of our love. 
 To keep it builded, be the 'ram' to batter 
 The fortress of it. 
 
 Ant. Make me not offended 
 
 In your distrust, Csesar. You shall not find. 
 
 Though you be therein curious, the ' least cause 
 
 For what you seem to fear. So, the gods keep you ! 
 
 a Ratifying tlielr agreement, & An instrument in warfare. 
 
Scenes ii and iii.] ANTONY AND OLEOPATKA. 473 
 
 Goes. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well ! 
 The elements be kind to thee, and make 
 Thy spirits all of comfort ! fare thee well. 
 
 Octavia cannot express her emotions, but bursts into tears, while 
 Antony looks on admiringly. 
 
 Ant. The April 's in her eyes ; it is love's spring, 
 And these the showers to bring it on. . . . 
 Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can 
 Her heart inform her tongue, — the swan's down-feather. 
 That stands upon the swell at the full of tide. 
 And neither way inclines. Nay, come, sir, come ; 
 I 'U wrestle with you in 'my strength of love : 
 Look, here I have you ; thus I let you go. 
 And give you to the gods. Farewell, farewell ! [Exeum. 
 
 Leaving the " happy pair " to travel towards Athens, we, with 
 imagined wing, fly back to Alexandria, where, in the palace, Queen 
 Cleopatra is desirous personally to question the unhappy Messen- 
 ger. 
 
 Cleo. Where is the fellow, Charmian ? 
 Alex. Half afeared to come. 
 
 Cleo. Go to, go to.— Come hither, sir. [^"'eS'!"'" 
 
 Char. Good majesty, 
 
 Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you 
 
 But when you are 'well pleased. 
 Cleo. That Herod's head 
 
 I '11 have : but how, — when Antony is gone, — 
 
 Through whom I might commandite — Come thou near. 
 Mess. Most gracious majesty, — 
 
 Cleo. Didst thou 'behold Octavia? 
 
 Mess. Ay, dread Queen. 
 Cleo. Where ? 
 
 Mess. Madam, in Rome : 
 
 I looked her in the face ; and saw her led 
 
 Between her brother and Marc Antony. 
 Cleo. ... Is she as tall as I ? 
 Mess. She is not, madam. 
 
 Cleo. Didst hear her 'speak? Is she 'shrUI-tongued, or 
 
 'low? 
 Mess. Madam, I ' heard her speak : she is ' low- voiced. 
 Cleo. That 's not so good. He cannot like her long. 
 
 Charmian brealfs in : 
 Char. 'Like her? O Isis !" 't is impossible. 
 
 a The presiding goddess of the Egyptians. 
 
474 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 8. 
 
 Gleo. ' I think so, Charmian : dull of tongue and dwarfish ! — 
 
 What 'majesty is in her gait ? Remember, — 
 
 If e'er thou 'look'dst on majesty. 
 Mess. She 'creeps ; 
 
 Her 'motion and her 'station" are as one : 
 
 She shows a ' body rather than a life ; 
 
 A 'statue, than a breather. 
 Cleo. Is this 'certain ? 
 
 Mess. Or I have no observance. 
 Cleo. Charmian, he 's very knowing, 
 
 I do perceive 't. — There 's nothing in her yet. — 
 
 The fellow has good judgment. — Guess at her 'years, I 
 pr'ythee. 
 Mess. Madam, she was a widow — 
 
 Gleo. Widow ? — Charmian, hark ! 
 
 Mess. And I do think, she s thirty. 
 
 Gleo. Bear' st thou her ' face in mind ? is 't long? or round? 
 Mess. Eound, even to 'faultiness. 
 Gleo. For the most part, ' they are foolish that are so. — 
 
 Her 'hair, what colour? 
 Mess. Brown, madam ; and her forehead 
 
 As low as she would wish it. 
 Cleo. There 's gold for thee ! 
 
 Thou must not take my former sharpness ill. 
 
 I will employ thee back to Eome : I find thee 
 
 Most fit for business. Go, make thee ready, 
 
 Our letters are prepared. [''J,"e"tf'] A proper man. 
 
 Why, Charmian, methinks, by him. 
 
 This creature 's no such thing. 
 Char. Nothing, madam. 
 
 Cleo. The man has seen 'some majesty, and should know. 
 Char. 'Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend! 
 
 And serving 'you so long ! 
 Gleo. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Char- 
 mian : 
 
 But 't is no matter ; thou shalt bring him to me — 
 
 Where I will write. All may be well enough. 
 Char. I warrant you, madam. [Exeunt. 
 
 The friendship between Caesar and Antony, though aided by this 
 hasty marriage, was not of long duration. Sextus Pompey, taken 
 prisoner, had been put to death : Lepidus was no longer thought 
 of any importance in the Triumvirate ; so that the other members, 
 Octavius Caesar and Marc Antony, became, in reality, rivals and 
 
 a StaudiBg posture = movements and poses. 
 
Scene iv.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 475 
 
 competitors for supreme power. Soon, wearied of his marriage, 
 Antony proceeds to fight against the Parthians :' Cleopatra hastens 
 to meet him ; he, plunging into every voluptuous excess, returns 
 with her to Egypt. Octavius, enraged at this insult to his sister, 
 thus speaks of Antony to Agrippa and Mecaenas : 
 
 Goes. Contemning Rome, he has done all this : And more : — 
 In Alexandria, in the Market-place, 
 Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold 
 Were publicly enthroned : There unto her 
 He gave the 'stablishment of Egypt ; made her 
 Of Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, absolute Queen. 
 Then i' the common show -place, where they exercise, 
 His sons he there proclaimed the ' kings of kings ! 
 She, in the habiliments of the goddess Isis, 
 That day appeared. 
 
 Mec. Let ' Eome be thus informed. 
 
 Cces. The people ' know it ; and have now received 
 'His accusations. 
 
 Agr. ' Whom does he accuse % 
 
 GcBs. Myself ; and that, having in Sicily 
 
 Sextus Pompeius spoiled," vre had not rated' him 
 ' His part o' the isle : then does he say, he lent 'me 
 Some shipping unrestored : lastly, he frets 
 That Lepidus of the Triumvirate 
 Should be deposed ; and, adding, 'we detain 
 All his revenue. 
 
 Agr. Sir, this should be 'answered. 
 
 CcBS. 'T is done already, and the messenger gone. 
 I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel ; 
 That he his high authority 'abused. 
 And did 'deserve his change. For what 'I have con- 
 quered, 
 I grant him 'part ; but then, — in his Armenia, 
 And other of his conquered kingdoms, — I 
 Demand the 'like. 
 
 Mec. He '11 never yield to ' that. 
 
 Cms. Nor must not then be yielded to in ' this. 
 
 The Lady Octavia, wife of Marc Antony, enters : 
 
 Octa. Hail, CsBsar, and my lord ! hail, most dear brother ! 
 
 0(BS. . . . That ever I should call thee castaway ! 
 
 Octa. You have 'not called me so, nor have you cause. 
 
 Goes. Why have you stol'n upon us ' thus % You come not 
 Like Caesar's 'sister : The wife of Antony 
 Should have an 'army for an usher ; and 
 
 a Plundered after war, spoliated. 6 Allowed. 
 
476 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 The neighs of horse to tell of her 'approach, 
 
 Long ere she did 'appear ; the trees by the way 
 
 Should have borne 'men, and expectation fainted, 
 
 Longing for what it had not ; nay, the dust 
 
 Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
 
 Baised by your populous troops. But 'you are come 
 
 A 'market-maid to Eome, and have prevented 
 
 The ostentation" of our love : we should have 'met you 
 
 By sea and land, supplying 'every stage 
 
 With an 'augmented greeting. 
 
 Octa. Good my lord. 
 
 To come thus was I not 'constrained, but did it 
 On my free will. My lord Marc Antony, 
 Hearing that you prepared for 'war, acquainted 
 My grieved ear withal ; whereon, I begged 
 His pardon for 'return. 
 
 Cobs. Which soon he granted, 
 
 Being an obstruct' 'tween his love and him ! 
 
 Octa. . . . Do not say so, my lord ! 
 
 Cces. I have eyes upon him, 
 
 And his affairs come to me on the wind. 
 Where is he 'now, Octavia ? 
 
 Octa. My lord, in Athens. 
 
 Cces. No, my most wronged sister ; Cleopatra 
 
 Hath nodded him to ' her. He hath given his empire 
 Up to a wanton, and they both are levying 
 The kings o' the earth for war. 
 
 Octa. Ah me, most wretched. 
 
 That have my heart 'parted, betwixt two friends 
 That do afflict each other ! 
 
 Cces. Welcome ' hither ! 
 
 Your letters did 'withhold our breaking forth, 
 TUl we perceived both how, sister, 'you were wronged, 
 And 'we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart. 
 Be you not troubled with the time, which drives 
 O'er your content these strong necessities ; 
 But let 'determined things to destiny 
 Hold unbewailed their way. Welcome to Rome ; 
 Nothing more dear to 'me. You are abused 
 Beyond the mark of thought ; and the high gods. 
 To do you justice, make their ministers 
 Of 'us and those that 'love you. Best of comfort; 
 And ever welcome ! 
 Each heart in Eome does love and pity you : 
 
 a Outward display. b Obstruction, hindrance. O. R. abstract. 
 
Sceneviii.J ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 477 
 
 'T is only 'Antony who turns you off; 
 
 Be ever known to patience : My dearest sister ! [Exeum. 
 
 These insults to Octavia, as well as his own desire to become 
 sole ruler, urge Octavius to denounce Antony as a deserter from his 
 country : the Roman Senate, therefore, not only revokes Antony's 
 power in Rome, but also declares war against Queen Cleopatra 
 in Egypt. 
 
 A considerable interval elapses before we see Antony, with a large 
 army and a powerful fleet, near the Promontory of Actium. On the 
 opposite coast, Octavius Caesar, with an equal fleet and army, has 
 taken his position. — While the rival armies are awaiting orders to 
 begin the fight. Queen Cleopatra, believing that her fleet was invin- 
 cible, supports Antony's desire to venture a battle by sea. A naval 
 engagement immediately follows (historically known as the battle 
 of Actium, B. C. 31). But, while success on either side is doubtful, 
 the strategic Cleopatra suddenly sails away with all her fleet : her 
 infatuated lover, Antony, leaps into a boat and follows her ; thus 
 enabling Octavius to obtain an easy victory. — Enobarbus rushes in, 
 bitterly exclaiming : 
 
 Eno. Naught, naught, all naught ! I can behold no longer. 
 The Antoniad," the Egyptian admiral. 
 With all their sixty, 'fly, and turn the rudder : 
 To see 't, mine eyes are blasted ! 
 Scarus enters. 
 
 Scar. Gods, and goddesses ! 
 
 Aye ! the whole synod of them ! 
 The greater cantle' of the world is lost 
 With very ignorance : we have ' kissed away 
 Kingdoms and provinces. Cleopatra, 
 (Whom leprosy o'ertake !) — i' the midst o' the fight. 
 When Vantage like a pair of twins appeared, 
 Hoists sails, and flies. The noble ruin of her magic, 
 
 Antony, 
 Leaving the fight ia height, flies after her ! 
 I never saw an action of such shame ! 
 
 Canidius, one of Antony's officers, enters : 
 
 Can. Our fortune on the 'sea is out of breath. 
 
 And sinks most lamentably. Had our general 
 
 Been what he knew himself, it had gone 'weU : 
 
 O, he has given example for 'our flight. 
 
 Most grossly, by his 'own. To Caesar will I render" 
 
 My legions, and my horse : six kings already 
 
 ' Show me the way of ' yielding. 
 
 Eao. 'I '11 yet follow 
 
 a The name of Queen Cleopatra's ahip. h Portion. c Surrender. 
 
478 THE READEK's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act 3. 
 
 The wounded chance of Antony, — though my reason 
 Sits in the wind 'against me. [Exeunt. 
 
 The fugitive Antony, thus defeated and dishonoured, gives way 
 to melancholy, refusing to speak to Cleopatra. He is now in an 
 apartmejit of the Palace at Alexandria, followed by a few still faith- 
 ful adherents. 
 
 Ant. Hark! the 'land bids me tread no more upon 't; 
 It is ashamed to bear me. — Friends, come hither : 
 I am so lated" in the world, that I 
 Have lost my way for ever ! — I 've a ship 
 Laden with gold ; take that ; divide it, fly, 
 And make your peace with Csesar. What ! you will 
 
 not? 
 I have fled 'myself, and have instructed cowards 
 To run and show their shoulders. — Friends, be gone ! 
 I have 'myself resolved upon a course, 
 Which has no need of 'you : begone ! begone ! 
 Oh ! I followed ' her I blush to look on : 
 My very ' hairs do mutiny ; for the 'white 
 Reprove the ' brown for rashness, and they ' them 
 For fear and doting. — Pray you, look not sad, 
 Nor make replies of loathness : ' take the hint 
 Which my despair proclaims ; let that be left 
 Which leaves itself ! I '11 see you by-and-by. [muiw".. 
 While Antony thus despondingly sits down, Eros, his favourite 
 servant, conducts Cleopatra into the chamber. Antony, not know- 
 ing that she is so near, musingly speaks : 
 
 Ant. No, no, no, no, no. ... O fie, fie, fie ! 
 
 . . . The stripling Csesar ! he at Philippi ' kept 
 His sword, e'en like a dancer ; while ' I struck 
 The lean and wrinkled Cassius ; and 't was I 
 That the mad ' Brutus ended — yet now . . . No matter ! 
 Eros endeavours to arouse him : 
 
 Eros. The Queen, my lord ! the Queen ! 
 
 Most noble sir, arise ; the Queen approaches : 
 Her head 's declined, and death will seize her, but' 
 Tour comfort makes the rescue. 
 
 Ant. I have offended reputation. — 
 A most unnoble swerving. 
 
 jEtOS. Sir, the Queen! [Anwoy starts at recogniUon. 
 
 Ant. . . . O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt ? See, 
 How I convey 'my shame out of ' thine eyes, 
 
 a Belated, benighted. b XJnleas, 
 
Scene X.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 479 
 
 By looking ' back on what I have left behind, 
 'Stroyed in dishonour! 
 
 Cleo. O my lord, my lord ! 
 
 Forgive my fearful sails ! I little thought 
 Tou would have ' followed. 
 
 Ant. Egypt, thou knew'st too well 
 
 My heart was to ' thy rudder tied by the strings, 
 And thou shouldst tow me after : O'er my spirit 
 Thy full supremacy thou knew'st ; and that 
 Thy ' beck" might, from the bidding of the 'gods. 
 Command me. 
 
 Cleo. O, my pardon ! 
 
 Ant. Now I must, 
 
 To the young man,' send humble treaties ; dodge 
 
 And palter in the shifts of lowness ; who. 
 
 With half the bulk o' the world, played as I pleased — 
 
 Making and marring fortunes. You did know. 
 
 How much you were my 'conqueror ; and that 
 
 My sword, made weak by my 'affection, would 
 
 Obey 'it on 'all cause. 
 
 Cleo. Pardon, pardon ! 
 
 Ant. . . . Pall not a tear, I say : 'one of them rates" 
 
 'AH that is won and lost. — We sent our schoolmaster ; 
 
 Is he come back ? — Love, I am fuU of lead. — 
 
 Some wine, within there, and our viands ! — Fortune 
 
 knows. 
 We 'scorn her most, when most she offers 'blows. fExeunt. 
 
 The crest-fallen Marc Antony has sent Euphronius, his old 
 school-master, as a petitioner from Queen Cleopatra and himself. 
 The aged envoy thus addresses the conquering Octavius : 
 
 Euph. 'Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and 
 Eequires to live in ' Egypt ; which not granted. 
 He 'lessens his requests, and to thee sues 
 To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, 
 A 'private man, in 'Athens. This for 'him. — 
 Next, ' Cleopatra does confess thy greatness. 
 Submits her to thy might ; and of thee craves 
 The circle'' of the Ptolemies for her ' heirs, 
 Now hazarded to thy grace. 
 
 Cms. For Antony, 
 
 I have no ears to ' his request. The Queen 
 Nor audience, nor desire, shall fail, — so she 
 From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, 
 
 a A nod of inTitation. & The young Octavius. c Equals in value, d Crown. 
 
480 THE EEADEe's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 Or take Ms ' life there : this if she 'perform, 
 
 She shall not sue unheard. So to them both. [Exeunt. 
 
 Euphronius returns to Antony with this severe reply. The fiery 
 spirit of the old Roman is at once aroused : 
 
 Ant. Is ' that his answer ? » 
 
 Euph. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ant. The ' Queen shaU then have courtesy, so she 
 Will yield 'us up % 
 
 Euph. . . . He says so. 
 
 Ant. Let ' her knovs^ 't. 
 
 To the boy Csesar send this grizzled head. 
 And he WAl fill ' her vpishes to the brim 
 With principalities. 
 
 To him again. Tell him, he wears the rose 
 Of 'youth upon him, from which the world should note 
 Something 'particular : his coin, ships, legions. 
 May be a 'coward's ; whose 'ministers would prevail 
 Under the service of a 'child, as soon 
 As i' the command of ' Caesar : I 'dare him therefore 
 To lay his gay comparisons apart. 
 And answer 'me 'declined," sword against sword. 
 Ourselves 'alone ! I '11 write it : follow me. \_^'-ilX"^ 
 The cynical Enobarbus, having heard this idle challenge, says : 
 
 Eno. Yes ! like enough high-battled Csesar will 
 
 Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the show' 
 Against a 'sworder! — I see, men's 'judgments are 
 A parcel of their ' fortunes ; and things outward 
 Do draw the ' inward quality after them, 
 To' suffer all alike. That ' he should dream, 
 (Knowing all measures") the full'* Csesar will 
 Answer his 'emptiness ! — Caesar, thou hast subdued 
 His ' judgment too. lE^t edo. 
 
 The wily Octavius, having given his harsh reply to Antpny, now 
 endeavours to win Cleopatra. He sagaciously sends a special ad- 
 vocate, Thyreus — a handsome, young, and dashing officer, already 
 distinguished for his eloquence, address, and cunning — to the sus- 
 ceptible Queen. His appearance at once captivates her : she rises 
 to receive him : 
 
 Cleo. Caesar's will '? 
 
 Thyr. Hear it 'apart. 
 
 Gleo. None here but friends : say ' boldly. 
 
 Thyr. Thus then, thou most renowned : Caesar entreats, 
 
 fl Subdued (by defeat or age). 6 Publicly exhibited. c Means to attain a 
 
 purpose. d Inflated by victory. 
 
Scene ll.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 481 
 
 Not to consider in what case" thou stand'st, 
 Further than he is Caesar ; and, fair Queen, 
 He knows that you embrace not Antony 
 As you did 'love, but as you 'feared him. 
 The scars upon your honour, therefore, he 
 Does pity as 'constrained blemishes. 
 Not as 'deserved. 
 
 Cleo. He is a 'god, and knows 
 
 What is most right. Mine honour was not 'yielded, 
 But 'conquered merely. 
 
 2%2/r. Shall I say to Csesar 
 
 What you 'require of him ? for he partly begs 
 To be desired to 'give. It would please him 
 To hear from me you had ' left Antony, 
 And put yourself under 'his shroud,' — - 
 The 'universal landlord. 
 
 Oleo. . . . What 's your name ? 
 
 Thyr. My name is Thyreus. 
 
 Cleo. Most kind messenger, 
 
 Say to great Caesar this : — In deputation 
 I kiss his conquering hand : tell him, I am prompt 
 To lay my 'crown at his feet, and there to kneel : 
 Tell him, from ' his all-obeying breath I hear 
 The doom of 'Egypt. 
 
 Thyr. 'T is your noblest course. 
 
 Give me grace to lay my duty on your hand ? 
 
 The pleased Queen gives her hand to the gallant young officer, 
 saying : 
 
 Cleo. Tour Caesar's ' father oft 
 
 (When he hath mused of taking ' kingdoms in,) 
 Bestowed his lips on that unworthy place. 
 As it 'rained kisses. 
 
 Marc Antony here enters with Enobarbus, as the handsome envoy 
 from Octavius is taking his leave : 
 
 Ant. Favours, by Jove that thunders ! — 
 
 What art thou, fellow % 
 Thyr. One thai but performs 
 
 The bidding of the fullest" man, and worthiest 
 To have command obeyed. 
 Ant. Approach, there! — Ay, you kite! — Now, gods and 
 devils ! 
 Authority 'melts from me: of late, when I cried, 
 " Ho ! " 
 
 a Particular oonaition. 6 Protection, place of shelter, c Greatest, most noble. 
 
482 THE EEADEr's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 3. 
 
 (Like boys unto a muss,") ' kings would start forth, 
 And cry, " Tour will ? " Have you no ears ? 
 I am Antony 'yet. [aneodaits.] Take hence this 'Jack, 
 and 'whip him. 
 
 Enobarbus mutters : 
 
 Eno. 'T is better playing with a lion's 'whelp. 
 
 Than with an 'old one 'dying. 
 Ant. Moon and stars ! 
 
 Whip him ! — ^Were 't ' twenty of the greatest tribu- 
 taries 
 That do acknowledge Csesar, should I find ' them 
 So saucy with the hand of . . . her here (what 's her 
 
 name, 
 Since she 'was Cleopatra?) — Whip him, fellows. 
 Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face. 
 And whine aloud for mercy. ' Tug him away : ' Being 
 
 whipped, 
 Bring him again. — This Jack of Caesar's 
 Shall bear an errand to his master. ["'"S'Th';?.'?"" 
 
 Thyreus is dragged out for punishment by the attendants. An- 
 tony angrily turns to Cleopatra. 
 
 Ha ! Have I my pillow left unpressed in Rome, 
 To be abased by one that looks on menials V" 
 
 Cleo. Good my lord, — 
 
 A7it. You have been a boggier" ever : — 
 
 But when we in our viciousness grow 'hard, — 
 (O misery on 't !) — the wise gods seeP our eyes ; 
 Make us adore our errors ; laugh at us. 
 While we strut to our confusion ! 
 
 Cleo. O, is 't come to this? 
 
 Ant. Though you can 'guess what temperance 'should be. 
 You know not what it ' is. 
 
 Oleo. Wherefore is this ? 
 
 Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards, 
 
 And say, " I thank your bounty," be familiar with 
 ' My playfellow, your hand, — this kingly seal. 
 And pUghter of high hearts ! ['"''°S°TS?r1us"'"'°] O!— 'Is 
 he whipped? 
 
 Att. Soundly, my lord. 
 
 Ant. Cried he ? and begged he pardon ? 
 
 Att. He 'did ask favour. 
 
 Ant. ... If that thy father live, let him repent 
 
 Thou wast not made his 'daughter. Henceforth, 
 
 a Scramble. & O. R. feeders. c Double-dealer. d Hoodwink. 
 
Scene xl.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 483 
 
 The white hand of a lady ' fever thee ! 
 
 Shake thou to 'look on 't. Get thee back to Caesar, 
 
 Tell him thy 'entertainment : for he seems 
 
 Proud and disdainful ; harping on what I 'am, 
 
 Not what he knew I 'was. He makes me angry ; 
 
 And at this time most easy 't is to do 't, 
 
 "When my good stars, that were my former 'guides. 
 
 Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires 
 
 Into the abysm of hell. ... If he mislike 
 
 My 'speech, and what is 'done, teU him, he has 
 
 Hipparchus, 'my enfranchised bondman, whom 
 
 He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture. 
 
 As he shall like, to 'quit" me. ' Urge it thou : 
 
 Hence, with thy stripes ! Be gone ! [eih Thjreus. 
 
 Cleo. . . . Have you done 'yet ? 
 
 Ant. Alack ! our terrene' moon is now eclipsed, 
 And it portends alone the ' fall of Antony !— 
 To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes 
 With one that ties his points ■?" 
 
 Gleo. Not know me 'yet ? 
 
 Ant. Cold-hearted — toward 'me ? 
 
 Cleo. Ah, dear ! if I be so. 
 
 Prom my cold heart let Heaven engender ' hail. 
 And 'poison it in the 'source ; and the first stone 
 Drop on 'my neck: as 'it determines, so 
 Dissolve my ' life ; the next, ' Caesarion smite, 
 Till by degrees the memory of my love. 
 Together with my brave Egyptians all, 
 Lie graveless ; till the flies and gnats of Nile 
 Have buried them for prey ! 
 
 Ant. ... I am satisfied. — 
 
 Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where 
 I will oppose his fate."* Our force by 'land 
 Hath nobly held ; our severed 'navy too 
 Have knit again, and float,' threat'ning most seahke. . . . 
 Where hast thou been, my heart? — Dost thou hear, 
 
 lady? 
 If from the field I shall return once more 
 To kiss these lips, I will appear in ' blood ! 
 I will be ' treble-sinewed, hearted, breath'd, 
 And fight maUciously ! I '11 set my teeth. 
 And send to darkness all that stop me ! — Come, 
 Let 's have one other 'gaudy-' night. — Call to me 
 'All my sad captains : ' fill our bowls ; once more 
 
 a To repay my insult. & Belonging to the earth. c Shoe-strings. d Decree. 
 « Fleet. /Festive. 
 
484 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Let 's mock the midnight bell ! ' 
 
 Cleo. It is my birthday : 
 
 I had thought to have held it 'poor ; but, since my lord 
 
 Is Antony again, ' I will be ' Cleopatra ! 
 Ant. Come on, my Queen ! The next time I do fight, 
 
 I '11 make Death 'love me, for I will contend 
 
 Even with his pestilent 'scythe. [ExeumAnt.andoieo. 
 
 As the reconciled Antony and Cleopatra withdraw to new revel- 
 ries, Enobarbus, disgusted with the vacillating behaviour of his 
 leader, mutters : 
 
 Eno. ' Now, he '11 outstare the ' lightning ! To be furious, 
 Is to be frighted 'out of fear ; and, in that mood. 
 The dove will peck the estridge :" and I see still, 
 A diminution in our captain's ' brain 
 Eestores his ' heart. When valour preys on 'reason. 
 It 'eats the sword it fights with. . . . ' I will seek 
 Some way to leave him. [Exit. 
 
 After a night of revelry, we see Antony the next morning prepar- 
 ing for battle, assisted by Eros, his attendant ; the Queen looking 
 •on. 
 
 Ant. Eros ! mine armour, Eros ! CEroa enters. 
 
 Come, come, good fellow, put mine iron on : — 
 If fortune be not ours to-day, it is 
 Because we brave' her. — Come ! 
 
 Cleopatra says : 
 
 Cleo. Nay, I '11 help too. 
 
 What 's this for? ... Is not this buckled weU? 
 
 Ant. Barely, rarely : 
 
 He that 'un-buckles this, till we do please 
 To doff 't for our repose, shall hear a storm. — 
 Thou fumblest, Eros ; and my Queen 's a squire 
 More tight at this than thou. Despatch. — O love, 
 That thou could'st 'see my wars to-day! [souto'e'SMrs. 
 
 Good morrow. Soldier : 
 Thou look'st like him that ' knows a warlike charge : 
 To business that we love we rise ' betime, 
 And go to 't with 'delight. 
 
 Sold. A 'thousand, sir. 
 
 Early though 't be, have on their riveted trim, 
 • And at the port expect you. 
 
 a, Ostrich. 6 Defy. 
 
Scene iv.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 485 
 
 Trumpets flourish, and Captains and Soldiers enter. 
 Ant. 'T is well blown, lads. 
 
 This morning, like the spirit of a youth 
 That means to be of note, begins betimes. — 
 Fare thee well, dame : whate'er becomes of me, 
 This is a 'soldier's kiss. [^lZ"l I 'H leave thee 
 Now, like a man of 'steel. — You, that will fight, 
 Follow me close ; I '11 bring you to 't. — Adieu. 
 
 As the Queen and her train withdraw, a Soldier advances : 
 
 Sold. The gods make this a happy day to Antony ! 
 
 Ant. ' Would thou, and those thy scars, had once prevailed 
 To make me fight at ' land ! 
 
 Sold. Hadst thou done so. 
 
 The Kings that have revolted, — and the Soldier 
 That has this morniag left thee, — would have still 
 Followed thy heels. 
 
 Ant. ' Who 's gone this morning ? 
 
 Sold. Who ? 
 
 One ever near thee ; call for Enobarbus, 
 He shall not hear thee ; or from ' Csesar's camp 
 Say, " I am none of ' thine." 
 
 Ant. What say'st thou? 
 
 Sold. Sir, he is with Csesar, but his chests and treasure 
 He has not with him. 
 
 Ant. Is he gone? 
 
 Sold. Most certain. 
 
 Ant. Go, Eros, send his treasure after ; do it : 
 
 Detain no jot, I charge thee. Write to him — 
 
 ' I will subscribe — gentle adieus and greetings : 
 
 Say, that I wish he never find more cause 
 
 To change a master. — O ! 'my fortunes have 
 
 ' Corrupted honest men ! — Despatch. — Oh ! Enobarbus ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 This desertion of Enobarbus during the night weighs heavily on 
 Antony, but he "heaps coals of fire on his head" by generously 
 sending not only the treasure left by his disloyal friend, but also the 
 contents of his own private purse. 
 
 On the morning of the battle, the faithless Enobarbus is seen 
 standing, in deep dejection, near the camp of his late enemy. 
 When he hears of Antony's kindness and generosity, he exclaims •. 
 
 £Ino. I am alone the 'villain of the earth, 
 And ' feel I am so most. O Antony ! 
 Thou 'mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid 
 My ' better service, when my ' turpitude 
 
486 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 Thou dosfc so crown with gold ! This blows" my 
 
 heart ! 
 ' I fight 'against thee ? — No ! O, bear me witness, 
 
 night,— 
 Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon. 
 When men revolted shall upon record' 
 Bear 'hateful memory, poor Enobarbas did repent ! — 
 O sovereign mistress of true melancholy. 
 The 'poisonous damp of night disponge" upon me. 
 That life, — a very rebel to my will, — 
 May hang no longer on me ! Antony, 
 ' Nobler than my revolt is ' infamous, 
 Forgive me in thine 'own particular ; 
 But let the 'world still rank me in its register 
 A master-leaver and a fugitive ! . . . O Antony ! Antony ! 
 
 Overcome with remorse Enobarbus falls down dead. 
 
 All arrangements for the battle having been made on both sides, 
 an engagement, favourable to Antony, takes place ; and the jubi- 
 lant conqueror is on his march under the walls of Alexandria, at- 
 tended by Scarus and his triumphant soldiers. 
 
 Ant. Through Alexandria make a jolly march ; 
 
 Bear our hacked targets like the men that own them. 
 Had our great palace the capacity 
 To 'camp this host, we all would sup ' together. 
 And drink carouses to the next day's fate. 
 Which promises 'royal perU. — Trumpeters, 
 With brazen din blast you the city's ear : 
 Make mingle with our rattling tambourines. 
 That heaven and earth may strike their sounds 'to- 
 gether, 
 Applauding our approach ! [Exennt. 
 
 In the meantime, Cleopatra has been secretly listening to the 
 overtures of Octavius Caesar, who desires her to put Antony to 
 death, or to expel him from her dominions. This indecisive battle 
 by land, and his previous success at sea, encourage Octavius to 
 rely once more on his iships, and enable Cleoparta to perform an 
 unexpected act of treachery. 
 
 The partial success of the land fight had emboldened Marc 
 Antony, who is now addressing Scarus, his second in command : 
 
 Ant. Their preparation is ' to-day by 'sea : 
 We please them not by ' land. 
 I would, they 'd fight i' the ' fire, or i' the 'air ; 
 
 a Crushes, gives blows to. & The record of history, c Fall like water from a sponge. 
 
aceneax.] ANTONY AND OLEOPATBA. 487 
 
 ' We 'd fight there too. Order for 'sea is given ; 
 
 ' They have put forth the haven. 
 
 And, by yond pine I shall discover all : 
 
 Scarus, 1 '11 bring thee word how it is like to go. [eih. 
 
 Scarus, left alone, presages misfortune : 
 Scar. Swallows have built 
 
 In Cleopatra's sails their nests : the augurers 
 Say, they know not, — cannot tell ; — look grimly, 
 And dare not 'speak their knowledge. Antony 
 Is valiant, and dejected ; and, by starts, 
 His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear. 
 Of what he has, and has not. 
 Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight : Antony, who has been watch- 
 ing its progress, now rushes in : 
 
 Ant. All is 'lost! 
 
 This foul Egyptian hath again betrayed me : 
 
 My fleet hath yielded to the foe ! 
 
 O sun ! thy uprise shall I see no more : 
 
 Fortune and Antony 'part here ; even here 
 
 Do we shake hands. — All come to this ? — The hearts 
 
 That spanieled" me at heels, to whom I gave 
 
 Their wishes, do 'dis-candy, — melt their sweets 
 
 On blossoming Osesar ; and ' this pine is barked' 
 
 That overtopped them all. ' Betrayed I am ! . . . 
 
 O this false soul of Egypt ! this grave charm, — 
 
 Whose eye becked forth my wars, and called them 
 
 home ; 
 Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end, — 
 Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose. 
 Beguiled me to the very 'heart of loss. — 
 What, Eros ! Eros ! 
 
 Cleopatra timorously approaches : 
 
 Ah, thou spell ! Avaunt ! 
 Gleo. ' Why is my lord enraged against his love ^ 
 Ant. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving, 
 
 And blemish Csesar's triumph. Let him take thee, 
 And hoist thee up to the shouting Plebeians : 
 Follow his chariot, like the greatest 'spot 
 Of aU thy sex! [o,.^„Ji'„.. 
 
 The affrighted Cleopatra, now fearing Antony's violence, rushes 
 from him to seek shelter in her own apartments : 
 
 ... 'T is well thou 'rt gone. 
 If it be well to ' live ; but better 't were 
 
 a 0. R. panelled. & Stripped of its bark. 
 
488 THE header's SHAKESPEAEE. [Act*. 
 
 Thou fell'st into my fury ; for 'one death 
 Might have prevented 'many. — The witch shall 'die : 
 To the young Eoman boy she hath 'sold me, and I fall 
 Under this plot ; she dies for 't. — Eros, ho ! tesh 
 
 ■We follow Cleopatra crying aloud for assistance : 
 
 Oleo. Help me, my women ! O ! he is mad ! 
 
 Char. To the Monument ! 
 
 There lock yourself, and send him word you are 'dead. 
 Cleo. Ay ! to the Monument ! — 
 
 Mardian, go tell him I have 'slain myself ; 
 
 Say, that the last I spoke was, Antony ; 
 
 And word it, pr'ythee, piteously. Hence, Mardian, 
 
 And bring me how he ' takes my death. 
 
 To the Monument ! cnxeuat. 
 
 The Queen, thus menaced with the vengeance of Antony, immedi- 
 ately withdraws to a suburb of the city containing the tombs of her 
 family ; at the same time causing the report to be spread that she 
 had committed suicide. 
 
 Antony remains in the Palace, where he is now with his ever- 
 faithful attendant : 
 
 Ant. Eros, thou 'yet behold'st me '? 
 
 Sros. Ay, noble lord. 
 
 Ant. . . Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragon-like, 
 
 A vapour, sometime like a bear, or lion ; 
 
 A towered citadel, a pendant rock ; 
 
 A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
 
 With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world, 
 
 And mock our eyes with 'air : Thou hast 'seen these 
 signs : 
 
 They are black Vesper's" pageants, 
 Eros. Ay, my lord. 
 
 Ant. That which is now a ' horse, even with a thought 
 
 The rack' dislimns," and makes it 'in-distinct. 
 
 As water is in water. 
 Eros. It does, my lord. 
 
 Ant. . . . My good knave"* Eros, now thy Captain is 
 
 Even such a body : ' here I am Antony ; 
 
 Tet cannot ' hold this visible shape, my knave.'' 
 
 I made these wars for Egypt : and the Queen, — 
 
 Whose heart, I thought, I had, — for she had mine, — 
 
 Packed cards with ' Caesar, and false-played 'my glory 
 
 Unto an 'enemy's triumph. — 
 
 Nay, weep not, gentle Eros ; there is left us 
 
 Ourselves, to 'end ourselves ! 
 
 a The eveuing star ; here a poetical name for Night. 
 h c The cloud separates or dissolves. a Servant. 
 
Scene xii.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 489 
 
 Mardian, the Queen's chief Attendant, enters to deliver his mes- 
 sage. 
 
 O, thy vile lady ! 
 She has robbed me of my sword. 
 
 Mar. No, Antony ; 
 
 My mistress ' loved thee, and her fortunes mingled 
 With thine entirely. 
 
 Ant. Hence, saucy minion ! peace! 
 
 She hath ' betrayed me, and shall die the death. 
 
 Mar. Death of 'one person can be 'paid but once, . . . 
 
 And that she has discharged. What ' thou wouldst do. 
 Is done unto thy hand : the ' last she spake 
 Was, " Antony ! most noble Antony ! " 
 
 Ant. Dead then ? 
 
 Mar. Dead. 
 
 Ant. . . . Unarm, Eros : the long day's task is done, 
 
 And 'we must sleep. — That thou depart'st hence safe. 
 
 Does pay thy labour richly ; Mardian, go. [Marfun 
 
 —Off, pluck off :— 
 
 The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep 
 
 The battery from my 'heart. 0, cleave, my sides ! 
 
 Heart, once be stronger than thy continent :" 
 
 Crack thy frail case ! No more a soldier : — 
 
 Bruised pieces, go ! ... Prom me awhile. — [£„" 
 
 I will 'o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and 
 
 Weep e'en for my pardon : since the torch is 'out, 
 
 Lie down, and stray no farther. — I come, my Queen. — 
 
 Where souls do couch on flowers, we '11 hand in hand. 
 
 And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze : 
 
 Come, Eros ! Eros ! c''™' advances. 
 
 Eros. What would my lord % 
 
 Ant. Since Cleopatra died, 
 
 I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods, 
 Detest my baseness. I, — that with my sword 
 Quartered the world, and o'er green Neptune's back 
 With ships made 'cities, — condemn myself, to lack 
 The courage of a 'woman. — Thou art sworn, Eros, 
 That when the exigent' should come, — which now 
 'Is come, indeed, — when I should see behind me 
 The inevitable prosecution of disgrace, 
 Thou then wouldst ' kill me : Do 't ; the time is 'come. 
 Thou strik'st not 'me, 't is ' Caesar thou def eat'st. . . 
 Wouldst thou be windowed in great Rome, and see 
 Thy master thus with pleached" arms, bending down 
 
 a That which contains it. 6 Exigency, emergency, 
 
 c Pinioned, undergoing correction or punishment. 
 
490 THE header's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 4. 
 
 His corrigible neck, his face subdued 
 To penetrative shame 1 — whilst the wheeled seat 
 Of fortunate Csesar, drawn before him, branded 
 ' His baseness that ensued ! 
 
 Eros. I 'would not see 't ! 
 
 Ant. Come then ; for with a 'wound I must be 'cured. 
 When I did make thee ' free, swor'st thou not then 
 To do this when I bade thee ? Do it at 'once ! 
 
 Eros. My dear master, 
 
 My captain, and my emperor ! ... let me say 
 Before I strike this bloody stroke, — farewell? 
 
 A.nt. 'T is said, man ; and farewell. 
 
 Eros. Farewell, great chief. ShaU I strike 'now ? 
 
 Ant. Now, Eros. 
 
 Eros. Why, 'there then ! 
 
 But, instead of slaying his master, the noble Eros falls on his 
 own sword. 
 
 Thus I do escape the sorrow of Antony's death. [Dies. 
 Ant. ' Thrice nobler than myself ! 
 
 Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what 
 ' I 'should, and ' thou couldst 'not. My Queen and Eros 
 Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me 
 A nobleness in record. Come then ; and, Eros, 
 Thy master dies thy scholar : to do thus He stabs himself. 
 I learned of ' thee. . . . How ! not dead % not dead ? — 
 The guard, ho ! — O, despatch me ! 
 
 Enter Dercetas and Guard. 
 
 I have done my work ill, friends : O, make an 'end 
 Of what I have begun ! 
 
 Let him that, loves me strike me 'dead. iex. eaard. 
 
 Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers 'fly. tsiit oer. 
 
 Diomedes enters. 
 
 Ant. Art thou there, Diomed ? Draw thy sword, and give 
 me 
 
 Sufficient strokes for 'death. 
 I>io. Most absolute lord, 
 
 My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. 
 Arit. ... Where is she % 
 
 JDio. Locked in her Monument. She had a 'prophesyiag 
 fear 
 
 Of what hath 'come to pass ; for when she saw — 
 
 Which never shall be found — you did suspect 
 
Scene xiil.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 491 
 
 She had disposed" -with Csesar, she sent word she was 
 
 'dead ; 
 But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent 
 ' Me to proclaim the ' truth ; and I am come, 
 I dread, too late ! 
 Ant. Too late, good Diomed ! 
 
 Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides : 
 'T is the ' last service that I shall command you. 
 I have ' led you oft ; carry me 'now, good friends, 
 And have my thanks for all ! ["'"Tnto'T.""^ 
 
 The bleeding Suicide is tenderly borne, by the Guards, to the 
 Monument, in which Cleopatra has found shelter ; and (the doors 
 being firmly closed to prevent access) he is dragged up by ropes 
 into the apartment where the Queen and her Attendants are : 
 
 Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying ! only 
 
 I here ' importune death 'awhile, — until. 
 
 Of many thousand kisses, the poor 'last 
 
 I lay upon ' thy lips. I am dying, Egypt, dying ! . . . 
 
 The miserable change now at my end 
 
 Lament nor sorrow at ; but please your thoughts 
 
 In feeding them with those my ' former fortunes^ 
 
 "Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world. 
 
 The noblest ; and do now not ' basely die ; 
 
 A Eoman, by a Eoman 'valiantly vanquished ! . . . 
 
 Now, my spirit is going ; . . . I can no more. 
 
 Oleo. Noblest of men, woo't die ? 
 
 Hast thou no care of 'me ? shall I abide 
 In this dull world, which in thy absence is 
 No better than a sty 1 — O ! see, my women, [''^aiS'!'' 
 
 The crown o' the earth doth melt My lord ! my lord ! 
 
 O, withered is the garland of the war. 
 And there is nothing left to care for now,' 
 Beneath the visiting moon. 
 The Queen swoons, but is roused by the cries of her Attendants : 
 
 Atts. Lady ! — Madam ! — Royal Egypt ! — Empress ! 
 
 Oleo. . . . No more, but e'en a 'woman ; and commanded 
 By such poor passion as the maid that milks . . . 
 The gods have stolen our jewel : then is it sin, 
 To 'rush into the secret house of Death, 
 Ere Death dare 'come to us 1 — Ah, women ! look ! 
 Oar lamp is spent, it 's out. — Good sirs, take heart: 
 We '11 bury him ; and then, . . . what 's brave, what 's 
 noble, 
 
 a Arranged, made terms witti. & 0. K. remarkable. 
 
492 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Let 's do it after the high ' Eoman fashion, 
 
 And make Death 'proud to take us. Come, away : 
 
 This case of that huge spirit now is cold. 
 
 Ah, women, women ! Come : We have no friend 
 
 But resolution, and the ' briefest 'end. cexcudi. 
 
 Octavius Caesar, fearing that Cleopatra might destroy herself, 
 sends Proculeius, one of his friends, ostensibly to soothe her grief, 
 but in reality to secure her person. Proculeius and several of his 
 guards ascend the Monument by a ladder ; they then unbar and 
 open the gates, and are thus enabled to gain ingress to Cleopatra's 
 retreat. She is attended by her women, Charmian and Iras. 
 
 Cleo. My desolation does begin to make 
 A ' better life ; and it is surely great 
 To do that thing" that ends all other deeds, 
 Which shackles accidents, and bolts-up change ; 
 The beggar's nurse, and Caesar's. 
 
 Proculeius and his soldiers suddenly enter, and surround the 
 Queen. She draws a dagger, but is immediately seized and dis- 
 armed by her Roman custodians : 
 
 JPro. Hold, worthy lady, hold ! 
 
 Do not 'abuse my master's bounty by 
 The undoing of 'yourself. 
 
 Cleo. Where art thou, Death % 
 
 Come hither, come ! come, come ! and take a Queen — 
 Worth many babes and beggars ! 
 
 I'ro. O, temperance, lady! 
 
 Cleo. Sir, I will eat no meat, I '11 not drink, sir ; 
 If idle talk will once be necessary, 
 I '11 not 'sleep, neither. This mortal house I '11 'ruin. 
 Do Csesar what he can. Know, sir, that I 
 Will 'not wait pinioned at your master's Court, 
 Nor 'once be chastised with the sober eye 
 Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist 'me up. 
 And show me to the shouting varletry 
 Of censuring Rome ? Rather a 'ditch in Egypt 
 Be gentle 'grave to me ! rather on Nil us' mud 
 Lay me with water-flies to sting me ! rather make 
 My country's pyramids my welcome gibbet,' 
 And hang me up in chains ! 
 
 Dolabella, the Governor of Syria, enters, and addresses Caesar's 
 agent : 
 
 Dol. Proculeius, 
 
 a To seek death. & O. R. my Countries high pyramides my Gibbet. 
 
Scene ii.] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 493 
 
 What thou haat done, thy master Csesar knows, 
 
 And he hath sent me for thee : for the Queen, 
 
 I '11 take her to 'my guard. 
 Pro. So, Dolabella, 
 
 It shall content me best : be gentle to her. 
 
 [To Cleopatra.] To CsBsar I wUl Speak what you shall please, 
 
 If you '11 employ me to him. 
 CUo. Say, I would die ! K rMie": 
 
 Dolabella advances : 
 
 Dol. Most noble empress, you have heard of me ? 
 
 Gleo. No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. — 
 You laugh when boys or women tell their 'dreams. 
 
 Dol. I understand not, madam. 
 
 Clw. I dreamt, there was an 'emperor Antony : . . . 
 O, such 'another sleep, that I might see 
 But such another 'man ! 
 
 His face was as the heavens, and therein stuck 
 A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted 
 This little round of earth. 
 His legs bestrid the ocean ; his reared arm 
 Crested the world ; his voice was propertied 
 As all the tuned spheres, — and that to ' friends ; 
 But when he meant to quail and 'shake the orb, 
 He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
 There was no 'winter in 't ; an 'autumn" 't was. 
 That grew the more by 'reaping : his delights 
 Were dolphin-like ; they showed his back 'above 
 The element they lived in : . . . 
 Think you there 'was, or 'might be, such a man I 
 
 Dol. Gentle madam, no. 
 
 Gleo. . . . You lie, up to the hearing of the gods ! 
 
 Dol. Hear me, good madam. 
 
 Your loss is as yourself, great ; and you bear it 
 As 'answering to the weight : but ' I do feel. 
 By the rebound of 'yours, a grief that smites 
 My very ' heart at root. 
 
 Cleo. I thank you, sir. 
 
 Dol. Make not your thoughts your 'prisons : no, dear 
 Queen : 
 Our care and pity are so much upon you, 
 That we remain your friend ; and so, adieu, 
 I must attend on Csesar. [Ent doi. 
 
 Notwithstanding every precaution to remove from the Queen all 
 aO. R. Antony. 
 
494 THE bbadee's SHAKESPEABE. [Acts. 
 
 the ordinary means of death, a Peasant is enabled to bring to her, con- 
 cealed in a basket of fruit, some venomous asps. Then Cleopatra 
 bravely and unfalteringly prepares to die. 
 
 Cleo. Now, Iras, what think'st ' thou ? 
 
 Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown 
 
 In Rome, as well as I ! Nay, 't is most certain. 
 
 Saucy lictors will catch at us ; and scald" rhymers 
 
 Ballad us out o' tune : the quick' comedians 
 
 Extemporarily will stage us, and present 
 
 Our Alexandrian revels. Antony 
 
 Shall be brought 'drunken forth, and I shall see 
 
 Some squeaking Cleopatra ' boy° my greatness ! 
 
 Iras. 'I '11 never see it ; for, I am sure, my 'nails 
 Are stronger than mine eyes. 
 
 Cleo. Why, ' that 's the way 
 
 To fool their preparation, and to conquer 
 Their most absurd intents. [charmianretarLs] Now, Char- 
 
 mian '? — 
 Show me, my women, like a Queen ! — Go fetch 
 My best attires ; — I am 'again for Cydnus, 
 To meet Marc Antony. — Iras, go : — my robe : — 
 Now, noble Charmian, we '11 despatch 'indeed ; 
 And, when thou hast done this chare,'* I '11 give thee 
 
 leave 
 To play, till 'doomsday. — Bring our crown and all. 
 
 [A noise wilhin. Exitlras- 
 
 Wherefore 's this noise ? 
 
 One of the Guard enters. 
 Guard. Here is a rural fellow, 
 
 That will not be 'denied your highness' presence : 
 
 He brings you figs. 
 Cleo. . . . Let him come in. rissit ouardj What poor an instru- 
 ment 
 
 May do a noble 'deed ! he brings me liberty ! 
 
 My resolution 's placed, and I have nothing 
 
 Of 'woman in me : now from head to foot 
 
 I am 'marble-constant ; now the fleeting moon 
 
 No planet is of 'mine. 
 The Guard returns, with a Clown bringing-in a basket. 
 Guard. This is the man. 
 
 Cleo. Avoid,' and leave him. [esu ouara. 
 
 Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, 
 
 That kills and pains not ? 
 Clown. Truly I ' have him ; but I would not be the party 
 
 a Poor, worthless. & Quick-witted, lively. c Even in Shakespeare's time, all 
 female characters were performed by boys. d Light work. « Begone. 
 
Scene a] ANTONY AND CLEOPATEA. 495 
 
 that should desire you to ' touch Mm, for his biting is 
 'immortal : those that do 'die of it do seldom or never 
 'recover. 
 
 Cleo. . . . Bemember'st thou 'any that have died on 't ? 
 
 Clown. Very many, men, and women too. I heard of one 
 of 'them no longer than yesterday : a very honest wo- 
 man, but something given to lie, as a woman should 
 'not do but in the way of honesty : ' how she died of the 
 biting of it, what pain she felt.— Truly, she makes a 
 very good report o' the worm ; but he that will believe 
 all that they 'say, shall never be saved by half that 
 they 'do. But this is most fallible, — the worm 's an 
 odd worm. 
 
 Cleo. . . . Get the hence : farewell. 
 
 Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. [^'"J^iy?.""] You must 
 think this, look you, — that the worm will do his ' kind. 
 
 Cleo. Ay, ay! Farewell. 
 
 Cloven. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the 
 keeping of 'wise people ; for, indeed, there is no 'good- 
 ness in the worm. 
 
 Cleo. Take thou no care : it shall be heeded : Farewell, [diwa. 
 Iras returns to the Queen with her vestments of royalty. 
 
 Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
 ' Immortal longings in me. Now, no more 
 The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. — 
 Yare," yare, good Iras ! Quick. — Methinks, I hear 
 Antony 'call ! I 'see him rouse himself 
 To praise my noble act ! . . . Husband, I come ! 
 Now to 'that name my 'courage prove my title ! 
 I am fire and air ; my other elements 
 I give to baser 'life. — So, — have you done? 
 Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
 Farewell, kind Charmian : — Iras, long farewell. 
 She kisses both her attendants. Iras, overcome with violent 
 
 emotion, falls down dead. 
 
 Have I the 'aspic in my lips 1 Dost fall ? 
 
 If thou and nature can so gently part, 
 
 Thou tell'st the world it is not worth leave-taking. 
 Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may say. 
 
 The gods ' themselves do weep. 
 Cleo. Come, thou mortal wretch, [^"".o'EKe'Ll"" 
 
 With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate' — 
 
 Of life — at once untie : Poor venomous fool. 
 
 Be angry, and despatch ! 
 
 a Neatly, skilfully. h Entangled. 
 
496 THE reader's SHAKESPEARE. [Act 5. 
 
 Char. O eastern star ! 
 
 CUo. Peace, Charmian, peace ! 
 
 Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
 
 That sucks the nurse asleep ? 
 Char. O break ! O break! 
 
 Gleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — 
 
 Antony ! — Nay, I will take ' thee too. 
 
 She applies another asp to her arm, then falls back and dies. 
 Char. ... So, fare thee well. — Now downy windows, close ; 
 And golden Phoebus never be beheld 
 Of eyes again so royal ! — Your crown 's awry ; 
 
 1 'U mend it, and then . . . play. 
 
 The Guard rushes in. 
 1 Guard. Where is the Queen % 
 
 Char. Speak softly ; wake her not. 
 
 1 Guard. Ceesar hath sent — 
 
 Char. Too slow a messenger ! 
 
 Charmian applies the asp to herself. 
 O ! come ! apace ! despatch ! I partly feel thee. 
 1 Guard. "What work is here ? — -Charmian, is this well done ? 
 Char. It 'is well done, and fitting for a princess 
 
 Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier ! [Dies. 
 Attendants are heard calling : 
 Att. A way there ! a way for Csesar ! 
 
 Caesar and Dolabella enter with their train. 
 
 Cobs. ■ ■ ■ Bravest at the last ! 
 
 She levelled at our purposes, and, being royal. 
 Took her 'own way. She shall be buried by her An- 
 tony: 
 No grave upon the earth shall hold" in it 
 A pair so famous. All. our army shall 
 In solemn show attend this funeral, 
 And then to Eome. — Come, Dolabella, see 
 ' High order in this great solemnity. [Emiim. 
 
 End of Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 a O. R. clip. 
 
 Gibson Bros,, Printers, Washington, D, C.