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His legs bestrid the ocean : 2 his rear'd arm Crested the world: 3 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 'twas, That grew the more by reaping : His delights Were dolphin-like : they show'd his back above The element they liv'd in : In his livery Walk'd crowns, and crownels ; realms and islands were As plates 4 dropp'd from his pocket. DoL Cleopatra, Cleo. Think you, there was, or might be, such a man As this I dream'd of? Dol. Gentle madam, no. Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. But, if there be, or ever were one such, It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff To vie 5 strange forms with fancy ; yet, to imagine An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, Condemning shadows quite. Dol. Hear me, good madam : Your loss is as yourself, great ; and you bear it As answering to the weight : 'Would, I might never O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel, By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots My very heart at root. Cleo. I thank you, sir. Know you, what Caesar means to do with me ? Dol. I am loath to tell you what I would you knew. Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir, Dol. Though he be honourable, Cleo. He'll lead me then in triumph ? Dol. Madam, he will ; I know it. JVithin. Make way there ! — Caesar ! Enter C.ESAR, GaLLUS, PROCtXLEIUS, Mecjenas, Seleucus, and Attendants. Cces. Which is the queen Of Egypt? Dol. 'Tis the emperor, madam. [Cleopatra kneels. Cms. Arise, You shall not kneel : I pray you, rise ; rise, Egypt. 1 Shakspeare uses O for an orb or circle. Thus in King Henry V. : — ' can we cram Within this wooden O the very casques.' 2 So in Julius Caesar : — ' Why, man, he doth bestride the world Like a Colossus.' 3 Dr. Percy thinks that ' this is an allusion to some of the old crests in heraldry, where a raised arm on"a wreath was mounted on the helmet.' To crest is to surmount. 4 Plates means silver money: — ' What's the price of this slave, 200 crowns ? Belike he has some new trick for a purse, -And if he has, he's worth 300 plates.' In neraldry, the roundlets in an escutcheon, if or, or yellow, are called besants ; if argent, or while, plates, which are round flat pieces of silver money, perhaps without any stamp or impress. It is remarkable after all that the commentators have said against Ben Jorison, 53 Cleo. Sir-, the gods Will have it thus ; my master and my lord I must obey. Cos. Take to you no hard thoughts : The record of what injuries you did us, Though written in our flesh, we shall remember As things but done by chance. Cleo. Sole sir o' the world I cannot project 6 mine own cause so well To make it clear ; but do confess, I have Been laden with like frailties, which before Have often sham'd our sex. Cces. Cleopatra, know, We will extenuate rather than enforce : If you apply yourself to our intents, (Which towards you are most gentle,) you shall find A benefit in this change ; but if you seek To lay on me a cruelty, by taking Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself Of my good purposes, and put your children To that destruction which I'll guard them from, If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. Cleo. And may, through all the world : 'tis yours : and we Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of conquest, shall Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. Cms. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.'' Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and. jewels, I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued ; Not petty things admitted. — Where's SeleucKS? Sel. Here, madam. Cleo. This is my treasurer ; let him speak, my lord, Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. Sel. Madam, I had rather seel 8 my lips, than, to my peril, Speak that which is not. Cleo. What have I kept back ? Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made known. Cces. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra! I approve Your wisdom in the deed. Cleo. See, Caesar ! O, behold How pomp is foHow'd ! mine will now be yours ; And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. The ingratitude of this Seleucus does Even make me wild : — O, slave, of no more trust Than love that's hir'd !-- -What, goest thou back ; thou shalt Go back, I warrant thee ; but I'll catch thine eyes, Though they had wings : Slave, soulless villain, dog ! O, rarely base ! 9 Cms. Good queen, let us entreat you. Cleo. O, Caesar, what a wounding shame is this : That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me, Doing the honour of thy lordliness To one so meek, that mine own servant should Parcel the sum of my disgraces by Steevens should have expunged a note that appeared in his edition of 1778, in which he cites the following beautiful passage from Ben Jonson's New Inn, on the subject of liberality : — ' He gave me first my breeding, I acknowledge : Then shower'd his bounties on me, like the hours That open-handed sit upon the clouds, And press the liberality of heaven Down to the laps of thankful men.' 5 To vie here has its metaphorical sense of to contend in rivalry. 6 To project is to delineate, to shape, to form. So in Look About You, a Comedy, 1600:— ' But quite dislike the project of your sute.' 7 Caesar afterwards says : — ' For we intend so to dispose you, as Yourself shall give us counsel.' 8 Close up my lips as effectually as the eyes of a hawk, are closed. To seel hawks was the technical term for sewing up their eyes. 9 i. e. base in an uncommon degree. S06 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. Act T. Addition of his envy !'• Say, good Caesar, That I some lady trifles have reserv d, Immomcnt toys, things of such d'gnity As we areet modern 2 friends withal : and say, Some Nobler token I have kept apart For Livia, and Oetavia, to induce Their mediation ; must I be unfolded With 3 one that I have bred ? The gods ! It smites me Beneath the fall I have. Pr'ythee^hence^ ^ Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.*— Wert thou a man, Thou would'st have mercy on me. ^ Forbear, Seleucus. ca ^' [Exit Seledcus. Cleo. Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought For things that others do ; and, when we tall, We answer others' merits' in our name. Are therefore to be pitied. Cass Cleopatra, Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknow- ledge, .„,_ . Put we i' the roll of conquest : still be it yours, Bestow it at vour pleasure ; and believe, < , r ' s do merchant, to make prize with you Ofthines that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer d ; Make "not your thoughts your prisons: 1 : no, dear queen, For wc intend so to dispose you, as Yourself shall give us counsel, r Md, and sleep . Our care and pity is so moch upon you. That we remain vour friend ; And so adieu. Cleo. My master, and my lord . ~ s ' Not so : Adieu. [Exeunt Cjesar, and his Train. Cleo. Be words nic, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charmian. ** * ' [JVhispers Chabmt j». tra». Finish, good lady ; the bright day is done, And we are for the dark. Cleo. "" thee again: I have spoke already, and it is provided ; Go, put it to the haste. Char. Madam, I will. Re-enter Dolabella. Dol. Where is the queen ? Char. Behold, sir. [Ex.* Charmian Clen Dolabella? Dol. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, Which my love makes religion to obey, i tell you this : Cmsar through Syria Intends his journey j and, within three days, You with your children will he send belore : Make your best use of this : I have perform d Your pleasure, and mv promise Cleo. Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor. Poi. I your servant. Adieu, good queen ; I must attend on Cassar. Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit Dol.] Now Iras, what think'st thou ? Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown In Rome, as well as I : mechanic slaves, With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view ; in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be unclouded, And fore'd to drink their vapour. Iras. The gods forbid • Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras : Saucy lictora Will catch at us, like strumpets ; and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tunc : the quick' comedians Bxtemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels ; Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy' my greatness V the posture of a whore. Iras. O, the good gods ! Cleo. Nay, that is certain. Iras. I'll never see it ; for, I am sure, my nails \r. stronger than mine eyes. ( v, „. e Why, that's the way To fool their preparation, and to conquer Their most absurd 9 intents.— Now, Charmian I— Enter Charmian. Show me, my women, like a queen ;— Go fetch My best attires:— J am ag&™ f " r Cydnus, To meel Mark Antony :— Sirrah, 1 " Iras, go.— Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch, indeed: And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave ,. To play till doomsday.— Bring our crown and all : Wherefore's this noise 7 [Exit Iras. A Noise within. Enter one of the Guard. Guard. H we ls a nlral f, ' llow > That will not be denied your highness' presence ; Hi' lirin«_'s VOU figs. Cleo. Let him come in. How" poor an instrument r i " . ,t i i n't i-.i . [Exit Guard, libe 1 < That this fellow should add one more parcel or , ihe sum of my disgraces, namely, his own fnatioeS 2 i. e. common, ordinary. 8 WWi is here used with the po^ er , of b V; t>1 a , rttn , 4 i. e. fortune. ' Begone, or* shall exert thatrojal spirit which I had in my prosperity. In spte iof the im- becility of my present weak condiuon.' Chaucer has a similar image in his Canterbury Tales, T. 31S0:— ' Yet in our ashen cold is tire yreken.' 5 i. e. we answer for that which others have merited bv their transgressions. . .. 6 ' He not a prisoner in imagination, when in reality yon are free. 5 ... !•__. Tie [|,e7/W« or 7u/e*-witted comedians. <» It has been alrea.lv observed that the parts of females b , boyrson our ancient staee. Nash.m'us Pierce Pennih exultation ha 'our players are.not as the players beyond sea that ,,,.,..,. ommon courtesans to play < Darls ■ „• impropriety r>l men representing ,, r . ;„ Ms Tragedy of the Raging Turlr, 1631, has . ■• remale character. 9 [absurd here means unmeet, uiifittmg, unreason- °ltsirra!i was not anciently an appellation either May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing Of woman in me : Now from head to foot I am marble-constant: now the fleeting 11 moon No planet is of mine. Re-enter Guard, with a Clown, hinging a Basket. Guard. This is the man. Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. [Exit Guard. Hast thou the pretty worm 1 ' of Nilus there, That kills and pains not? Clown. Truly I have him; but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, tor his biting is immortal ; those, that do die of it, do seldom or never recover. reoroachful or injurious; being applied with £. sort of nlaTful kindness, to children, frtenas, and servants, and what may seem more extraordinary, as in the present c^e women. It is nothing more than the exclama- ron/Strha: and we sometimes find it w *Pg™;» form 'Jlsyr a, there said you wel.'— Confutation o. Vidolas daxton, 1546. The Hetfl. tu of Plautus is rlndered by an old translator, Ha Sirra. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Knieht of Malta, one gentlewoman says to another, ' Sirrah, why dost thou not marry .' 11 The first folio has ' What poor an instrument.' 12 Fleeting, or Mittinsr, is changeable, inconstant:— ' More variant than is ihtJUttmg luneS Walter's Guistard and StsmoiiO, loW7. I am now (says Cleopatra) ' whole as the marble, founded as the rock,' and no longer inconstant ano changeable, as woman often is. ' W,nn is used bv our old writers to signify a serpent The word is pure Saxon, and is still used in the north in he same sense. We have it still in the bhndworm and sloTiro™ Shakspeare uses it several flir.es.- Th. notion of a serpent that caused death without pa.n I fable, and is here adopted with propriety The worm of N^ was the asp of the ancients, WtJlcl Dr. Shaw says is wholly unknown to ua. Scene II ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 307 Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't ? Clown. Very many, men and women loo. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterdav : a very honest woman, 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. 1 But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence ; farewell. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Cleo, Farewell. [Clown sets down the Basket. Clown. Ycu must think this, look you, that the worm will do hie kind. 2 Cleo. Ay, ay ; farewell. Clovm. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people ; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm. Cleo. Take thou no care ; it shall be heeded. Clown. Very good : give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. Cleo. Will it eat me ? Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman : I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women ; for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. Cleo. Well, get thee gone ; farewell. Clown. Yes, forsooth j I wish you joy of the worm. [Exit. Re-enter Iras, with a Robe, Crown, $-c. Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : 3 Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: — Yare, yare, 4 good Iras ; quick. — Methinks, I hear Antony call ; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath : 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. 5 — So, — have you done ? Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian ; — Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. Iras falls and dies. Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost fall l e If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, 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. This proves me base : If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her ; and spend that kiss, Which is »iy heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch, [To the Asp, which she applies to her Breast. Wilh thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie ; poor venomous fool, Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak ! That I might hear thee call great Caesar, ass Unpolicied !' Char. O, eastern star ! Cleo. Peace, peace ! 1 Warburton observes that ' Shakspeare'a clowns are always jokers, and deal in sly satire :' but he would have all and half change places. I think with Steevens that the confusion was designed to heighten the humour of the clown's speech. '2 i. e. act according to his nature. 3 From hence probably Addison in Cato : — ' This longing after immortality.' 4 i. e. be nimble, be ready. See Act iii. Sc. 5. 5 Thus in King Henry V. : — ' He is pure air smijire ; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him ' 6 Ira" muFt he anppnoeH to bnve applied an asp to hpr Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep ? Char. O, break ! O, break ! Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — O, Antony ! — Nay, I will take thee too ; — [Applying another Asp to her Arm. What should I stay — [Falls on a bed, and dies. Char. In this wild world ? — So, fare thee well, — Now boast thee, death ! in thy possession lies A lass unparallel'd. — Downy windows, close ; a And golden Phoebus never be beheld Of eyes again so royal 1 Your crown's awry ; I'll mend it, and then play. 9 Enter the Guard, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where is the queen ? Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 1 Guard. Caesar hath sent Char. Too slow a messenger. [Applies the Asp. O, come ; apace, despatch ; I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well : Caesar's beeuil'd. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Caesar : — call him. 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 ! [Dieu. Enter Dolabella. Dol. How goes it here ? 2 Guard. All dead. Dol. Caesar, thy thoughii Touch their effects in this : Thyself art coming To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou So sought'st to hinder. Within. A way there ! a way for Caesar Enter Cesar, and Attendants. Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer ; That you did fear, is done. Cces. Bravest at the last • She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way. — The manner of their deaths ? I do not see them bleed. Dol. Who was last with them ? 1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her figs ; This was his basket. Cass. Poison'd, then. I Guard. O, Caesar, This Charmian lived but now ; she stood, and spake : I found her trimming up the diadem On her dead mistress ; tremblingly she stood, And on the sudden dropp'd. Ca:s. O, noble weakness ! If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear By external swelling: but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace. DoL Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown: 10 The like is on her arm. 1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail : and these fig- leaves Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile. Cces. Most probable, That so she died ; for her physician tells me, arm while her mistress was settling her dress, to account for her falling so soon. 7 i. e. an ass without more wit or polio/ than to leave the means of death within my reach, and thereby defeat his own purpose. 8 Charmian may be supposed to close Cleopatra's eyes, the first melancholy office performed after death. 9 Charmian remembers the words uttered to her by her beloved mistress iust before : — ' when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thea leave To play till doomsday.' 10 i. e. swelled, puffed. SOS CYMBELINE. She hath pursu'd conclusions' infinite Of easy ways to die. — Take up her bed ; And bear her women from the monuments- She shall be buried by her Antony : No grave upon the earth shall clip in it A pair so famous. High events as these Strike those that make them ; and their story ia No less in pity, than his glory, which Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall, In solemn show, attend this funeral ; And then to Rome. — Come, Dolabella, see Hifh order in this great solemnity. [Exeunt. 1 To pursue conclusions is to try experiments. So in Hamlet :— ' like the famous ape To try conclusions ' THIS play keeps curiosity always busy, and the ps» sions always interested. The continual hurry of the action, the variety of incidents, and the quick succession of one personage to another, call the mind forward with- out intermission from the first act to the last. But the power of delighting is derived principally from the fre- quent changes of "the scene; for, except the feminine arts, some of which are too low, which distinguish Cleo- patra, no character is very strongly discriminated. Up ton, who did not easily miss what he desired to find, h-aa discovered that the language of Antony is, with great skill and learning, made pompous and superb, accord- ing to his real practice. But I think his diction not dia tinguishable from that of others : The most tumid speech in the play is that which Cssar makes to Octavia. The events, of which the principal are described ac cording to history, are produced without any art of coo nection or care o'f disposition. JOHNSON. CYMBELINE. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. THE general scheme of the plot of Cymheline is formed on the ninth novel of the second day in the Decamerone of Boccaccio. It appears Iroia the pre- face of tlic Old translation of the Decamerone, printed in folio in 1620, that many of the novels had before re- ceived an English dress, and had been printed sepa- rately. A deformed and interpolated imitation of the novel in question was printed at Antwerp, by John Dusborowghe, as early as 1518, under the following title : ' This matter treateth of a merchaumes wife that afterwards wente lyke a man and becam a greate lord, and was called Frederyke of Jennen afterwarde.' It exhibits the material features of its original, though the names of the characters are changed, their senti- ments debased, and their conduct rendered still more improbable than in the scenes of Cymbeline. A book was published in London in 1603, called 'Westward for Smelts, or the Waterman's Fare of mad merry western Wenches, whose Tongues albeit like Bcll- rs they never leave ringing, yet their T i sweet, and will much content you : Written by Kitl ot Kings tone.' It was aeain printed in 16-20. To the second tale in this work Shakspeare seems to have been indebted for the circumstances m his plot ol Imo- gen's wandering about after Fisanio has left her in the forest ; her being almost famished ; and being taken at a subsequent period into the service of the Roman general as a page. But time may yet I >rin other modification of the story, which will prove more exactly conformable to the plot of the play. Malone supposes Cymbeline to have been written in the vear 1609. The king, from whom the play takes its title, began his reign, according to Holinshed, in the nineteenth vear of the reign of Augustus Ca 381 : and the play commences in or about the twenty-fourth year of Cymbeline's reign, which was the forty-second year of the reign of Augustus; and the sixteenth of the Christian era : notwithstanding which. Shakspeare has peopled Rome with modem Italians; rhilario,Iachimo, &c. Cvmbeline is said to have reigned thirty -five years, leaving at his death two sons, Guiderius and Arviragus. Tcnantius (who is mentioned in the first seene) was the father of Cymheline, and nephew of Cassibelso, being the younger son of his elder brother Lud, king of the southern part of Britain, he agreed to pay an annual tribute to Rome. After his death, Te- hantius, Lud's younger son, was established on the throne, of which he and his elder brother Androgeus, who fled to Rome, had been unjustly deprived by their uncle. According to some authorities, Tenantius quietlv paid the tribute stipulated by Cassibelan ; ac- cording to others, he refused to pay it, and warred with the Romans. Shakspeare supposes the latter to be the truth. Holinshed, who furnished our poet with these facts, furnished him also with the name of Sicilius, who was admitted king of Britain, A. M. 3650. Schlegel pronounces Cymbeline to be ' one of Shak- epea.-e's most wonderful compositions,' in which the poet ' has contrived to blend together into one harmo- nious whole, the social manners of the latest times with heroic deeds, and even with appearances of the gods. In the character of Imogen not a feature of female ex- cellence is forgotten ; her chaste tenderness, her soft- ness, and her virgin pride, her boundless resignation, and her magnanimity towards her mistaken husband, by whom she is unjustly persecuted ; her adventures in disguise, her apparent death, and her recovery, form altogether a picture equally tender and afFectin;-. 'Tin- two princes, Guiderius and Arviragus, both educated in the wilds, form a noble contrast to Miranda and Pcrdita. In these two young men, to whom the chase has given vigour and hardihood, but who are un acquainted wit It their high destination, and have always in ted by heroism which leads them to anticipate and to dream of deeds of valour, till an occasion is offered which they are irresistibly impelled to embrace. When Imogen comes in disguise to their rave ; when Gui- derius and Arviragus form an impassioned friendship, with all the innoeence of childhood, for the tender boy, (in whom they neither suspect a female nor their own Sister when on returning from the chase they find her dead, sing her to the ground, and cover the grave with :— these scei. a W W life for poetry I imagination.' ' The wise and virtuous Belartus, who after living long aa a hermit, again becomes a help, is a venerable the dexterous dissimulation and quick presence of mind of the Italian Iachimo is quite suitable to the bold treachery he plays; Cymbeline, the father of Imogen, and even her husband Posthumus, during the fust half of the piece, are somewhat sacrificed, but this cot hi not be otherwise ; the false and wicked : merely an instrument of the plot ; she and her stupid son Cloten, whose rude arrogance is portrayed with much humour, are got rid of by merited punish- ment before the conclusion.' Steevene objects to the character of Cloten in a note on the fourth act of the play, observing that ' he is re presented at once as brave and dastardly, civil and brutish, sagacious and foolish, without that subtilty of distinction, and those shades of gradation between sense and folly, virtue and vice, which constitute the excel- lence of such mixed characters as Polonius in Hamlet, and the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet.' It should, how- ever, be observed, that Imogen has justly defined him ' (haXmegulous devil Cloten ;' and Miss Seward, in one of her Letters, assures us that singular as the character of Cloten may appear, it is the exact prototype of a being she once knew. ' The unmeaning frown of the coun- tenance ; the shuffling gait ; the burst of voice ; the bus- tling Insignificance; the fever and ague fits of valour; the troward tetehiness; the unprincipled malice; and what is most curious, those occasional gleams of good sense, amidst the floating clouds of folly which gene- rally darkened and confused tho man's brain; and which, in the character of Cloten, we are apt to impute to a violation of unity in character, but in the some time Captain C n I saw the portrait of Cloten was not out of nature.' In the development of the plot of this play the poet has displayed such consummate skill, and such minute attention to the satisfaction of the most anxious and scrupulous spectator, as to afford a complete refutation of Johnson's assertion, that Shakspeare usually hurries over the conclusion of his pieces. . There is little conclusive evidence to ascertain the date of the composition of this play ; but Malone places it in the year 1609. Dr. Drake, after Chalmers, has ascribed it to the year 1605. Scene I. GYMBELINE. PERSONS REPRESENTED. 309 CrMBEUBE, King of Britain. Cloten, Son to the Queen by a former Husband. Leonatus Posthumus, a Gentleman, Husband to Imogen. Belarius, a banisked Lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. Guiderius, (< So ™ t0 Cymbeline, disguised under Arviragus ) ^ names o/ Poly dore and Cad- ' ( wsl, supposed Sons to Belanus. Philario, Friend to Posthumus, ) T . ,- Iachimo, Friend to Philario, ( kalians. A French Gentleman, Friend to Philario. Caius Lucius, Ge neral of the Roman Forces. A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. Pisanio, Servant to Posthumus. Cornelius, a Physician. Two Gentlemen. Two Gaolers. Queen, Wife to Cymbeline. Imogen, Daughter to Cymbeline by a former Queen, Helen, Woman to Imogen. Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, Appa- ritions, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and oilier Attendants. SCENE, sometimes in Britain; sometimes in Italy. ACT L SCENE I. Britain. The Garden behind Cymbe line's Palace, Enter Two Gentlemen. 1 Gentleman. You do not meet a man but frowns : our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers, Still seem, as does the king's.' 2 Gent. But what's the matter ? 1 Gent His daughter, and the heir of his king- dom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son, (a widow That late he married,) hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman : She's wedded ; Her husband banish'd ; she imprison'd : all Is outward sorrow ; though, I think, the king Be touch'd at very heart. •2 Gent None but the king? 1 Gent. He that hath lost her, too: so is the queen, ihat most desir'd the match : But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thtRg they scowl at. f £ ea< - TI , , And why so ? 1 GenL He that hath miss'd the princess, is a thing Too bad for bad report : and he that hath her, (1 mean, that married her,— -alack, good mani— /.nd therefore banish'd,) is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one kis like, there would be something failing Jn him that should compare. I do not think, »o fair an outward, and such stuff within Endows a man but he. 2 Gent. You speak him far.* 1 Cent. I ao extend him, sir, within himself: Crush him together, rather than unfold His measure duly. 3 2 Gent. What's his name, and birth? 1 Cent I cannot delve him to the root: His father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour* Against the Romans, with Cassibelan • But had his titles by Tenantius, 6 whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success: Sso gam d the sw-additiovi, Leonatus : 1 Our bloods [i. e. our dispositions or temperaments] are not more regulated by the heavens, b v n-ery skuen influence, lha.n our courtiers are by the 'disposition of the king: : when he frowns, every man frowns.' Blood is used in old phraseology for disposition or tempera- msnt. So in King Lear:— * ' Were it my fitnesG To let these hands obey my blood ' 2 i.e. you praise him extensively. 3 'My eulogium, however extended it may seem, is short ot his real excellence ; it is rather abbreviated than expanded.' Perhaps this passage will be best illustra- feu by the following lines in Troilus and Cressida, Act ill. OC 3 • - ' ' no man is the lord of any thin", Till he communicate his pans to others • Nor doth he of himself know them fur alight, Till he behold them form'd in the applause Where they are extended.' .[i. e. displayed at length ] And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, (Then old and fond of issue,) took such sorrosv, That he quit being ; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd As he was born. The king, he takes the babe To his protection ; calls him Posthumus ; Breeds him, and makes him of his bedchamber: Puts him to all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd ; and In his spring became a harvest : Liv'd in court (Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lov'd : A sample to the youngest ; to the more mature A glass that feated* them ; and to the graver, A child that guided dotards ; to his mistress, 8 From whom he now is banish'd, — her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may -be truly read, What kind of man he is. 2 Gent. f honour him Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell me, Is she sole child to the king ? 1 Gent. His only child. He had two sons (if this be worth your hearing Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old' P the swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stolen : and to this hour, no guess in know ledge Which way they went. 2 Gent. How long is this ago ? 1 Gent. Some twenty years. 2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con- vey'd ! So slackly guarded ! And the search so slow, That could not trace them ! 1 Gent. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be iaudi'd at, Yet is it true, sir. 2 Gent. I do well believe you. 1 Gent. We must forbear: Here comes the queem and princess. [Exeunt. SCENE IL The same. Enter the Queen, Pos- thumus, and Imogen. Queen. No, be assur'd, you shall not had me, daughter, After the slander of most step-mothers, 4 I do not (says Steevens) understand what can be meant by 'joining his honour against, &c. with, &c Perhaps Shakspeare wrote : — ' did join his banner.'' In the last scene of the play Cymbeline proposes that 'a Roman and a British ensign should wave icether ' The father of Cymbeline. 6 'This encomium (says Johnson) is highly artful To be at once in any great degree loved and praised is truly rare.' 1 Feale is well-fashioned, proper, trim, handsome well compact. Concinnus. Thus in Horman's Vul»a- na, lol9 .— ' He would see himself in a glasse, that = ah thinge were feet.' Feature was also used for fashio?. or proportion. The verb to feat was probably formed by Shakspeare himself. 3 ' To his mistress,' means as to his mistresu. 310 CYMBELLNE Act !• Evil-eyed unto you : you are my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That loclf up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win the offended king, I will be known your advocate : marry, yet The fire of rage is in him ; and 'twere good, You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. Post. Please your highness, I will from hence to-day. Queen. You know the peril : — I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections : though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit Queen. Imo. • O, Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! — My dearest hus- band, I something fear my father's wrath ; but nothing (Always reserv'd my holy duty,) 1 what His rage can do on me : You must be gone ; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes : not comforted to live, But that there is this jewel in the world, That I may see again. Post. My queen ! my mistress ! O, lady, weep no more ; lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man ! I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth. My residence in Rome at one Philario's ; Who to my father was a friend, to me Known but by letter : thither write, my queen, And with mine eyes I'll drink the words ^rou send, Though ink be made of gall. Re-enter Queen. Queen. Be brief, I pray you : If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure : — Yet I'll move him [Aside. To walk this way : I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries, to be friends : Pays dear for my offences. 2 [Exit. Post. Should we he taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live, The loathness to depart would grow : Adieu! Imo. Nay, stay a little : Were you but riding forth to air yourself, Such parting were too petty. Look here, love ; This diamond was my mother's : take it, heart ; But keep it till you woo another wife, When Imogen is dead. Post. How ! how ! another ? You gentle gods, give me but this I have, And sear up 3 my embraccments from a next With bonds of death! — Remain, remain thou here [Putting on the Ring. While sense* can keep it on ! And sweetest, fairest, As I my poor self did exchange for you, To your so infinite loss ; so, in our trifles I still win of you : For my sake, wear this ; It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it Upon this fairest prisoner. [Putting a Bracelet on her Arm. Imo. O, the gods ! When shall we see again ? Enter Cymbeljne and Lords. Post. Alack, the king! Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid I hence, from my sight! If, after this command, thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness, thou diest : Away ! Thou art poison to my blood. Post. The gods protect you ! And bless the good remainders of the court ! I am gone. [Exit Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death More sharp than this is. Cym. O, disloyal thing, That should'st repair 5 my youth ; thou heapest A year's age on me ! 6 Imo. I beseech you, sir, Harm not yourself with your vexation : I Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs, all fears. Cym. Past grace ? obedience ? Imo. Past hope, and in despair ; that way, past grace. Cym. That might'st have had the sole son of my queen ! Imo. O, bless'd, that I might not ! I chose an eagle, And did avoid a puttock. 8 Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; would'st have made my throne A seat for baseness. Imo. No ; I rather added A lustre to it. Cym. O, thou vile one ! Imo. Sir, It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus : You bred him as my playfellow ; and he is A man, worth anv woman : overbuys me Almost the sum he pays. 9 Cym. What ! — art thou mad ? Imo. Almost, sir : Heaven restore me ! — 'Would I were A neat-herd's daughter ! and my Leonatus Our neighbour shepherd's son ! Re-enter Queen. Cym. Thou foolish thing !— • They were again together : you have done [To the Queen Not after our command. Away with her, And pen her up. Queen. 'Beseech your patience : — Peace. Dear lady daughter, peace ; Sweet sovereign, 1 ' I say I do not fear my father, so far as I may say it without breach of duty.' 2 ' He gives me a valuable consideration in new kind- ness, (purchasing, as it were, the wrong I have done him), in order to renew our amity, and make us friends again.' 3 Shakspeare poetically calls the cere-cloths, in which the dead are wrapped, the bonds of death. There was no distinction in ancient orthography between seare, to dry, to wither ; and seare, to dress or cover with wax. Cere-cloth is most frequently spelled seare-cloth. In Kamlet we have : — ' Why, thy canonized bones hearsed in death Have burst their cerements.'' 4 l. e. while I have sensation to retain it. There can be no doubt that it refers to the ring, and it is equally obvious that thee would have been more proper. Whe- ther tins error is to be laid to the poet's charge or to that of careless printing, it would not be easy to decide. Malone, however, has shown that there are many pas- sages in these plays of equally loose construction. 5 i. e. renovate my youth, make me young again ' To repaire (according to Baret) is to restore to the first state, to renew.' So in All's Well that Enda Well :— • it much repairs me To talk of your good father.' 6 Sir Thomas Hammer reads : — ' thou heapest many A year's age on me f Some such emendation seems necessary. 7 ' A touch more rare' is ' a more exquisite feeling, a superior sensation.' So in The Tempest : — ' Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions.' And in Antony and Cleopatra : — 'The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do stronely speak to us.' A passage in King Lear will illustrate Imogen's mean* ing: — « where the greater malady is fix'd, The lesser is scarce felt.' 9 A puttock is a mean degenerate species of hawk too worthless to deserve training. 9 ' My worth is not half equal to bis ' Scene IV. CYMBELINE. Sll Leave us to ourselves ; and make yourself some comfort Out of your best advice. 1 Cym. Nay, let her languish A drop of blood a day ; and, being aged, Die of this folly ! 2 ' [Exit. Enter Pisanio. Queen. Fie ! — you must give way : Here is your servant. — How now, sir ? What news ? Pis. My lord, your son drew on my master. Queen. Ha ! No harm, I trust, is done ? Pis. There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger : they were parted By gentlemen at hand. Queen. I am very glad on't. Imo. Your son's my father's friend : he takes his part. — To draw upon an exile ! — O brave sir ! — I would they were in Afric both together ; Myself by with a needle, that I might prick The goer back. — Why came you from your mas- ter ? Pis. On his command : He would not suffer mc To bring him to the haven : left these notes Of what oommands I should be subject to, When it pleas'd you to employ me. Queen. This hath been Your faithful servant : I dare lay mine honour, He will remain so. Pis. I humbly thank your highness. Queen. Pray, walk a while. Imo. About some half hour hence, I pray you, speak with me : you shall, at least, Go see my lord aboard : for this time, leave me. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A public Place. Enter Cloten, and two Lords. 1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to take a shirt ; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacrifice : Where air comes out, air comes in : there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it — Have I hurt him ? 2 Lord. No, faith ; not so much as his patience. [Aside. 1 Lord. Hurt him ? his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel if it be not hurt. 2 Lord. His steel was in debt ; it went o' the backside the town. [Aside. Clo. The villain would not stand me. 2 Lord. No ; but he fled forward still, toward your face. [Aside. 1 Lord. Stand you ! you have land enough of your own : but he added to your having ; gave you some ground. 2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans : Puppies ! [Aside. Clo. I would, they had not come between us. 2 Iyyrd. So would I, till you had measured how tons a fool you were upon the ground. [Aside. Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and re- fuse me ! 2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. [Aside. 1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together : She's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit. 3 2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the re- flection should hurt her. [Aside. Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber : 'Would there had been some hurt done ! 2 Lord. I wish not so ; unless it had been the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. [Aside. Clo. You'll go with us ? 1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. Clo. Nay, come, let's go together. 2 Lord. Well, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Imogen and Pisanio. Imo. I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven, And question'dst every sail : if he should write, And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost As offer'd mercy is.* What was the last That he spake to thee ? Pis. 'Twas, His queen, his queen ! Imo. Then wav'd his handkerchief? Pis. And kiss'd it, madam Imo. Senseless linen ! happier therein than I !— And that was all ? Pis. No, madam ; for so long As he could make me with this eye or ear 5 Distinguish him from others, he did keep The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, How swift his ship. Imo. Thou should'st have made him As little as a crow, or less, 6 ere left To after-eye him. Pis. Madam, so I did. Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings ; crack'd them, but To look upon him ; till the diminution Of space 7 had pointed him sharp as my needle: Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. — But, good Pi- sanio, When shall we hear from him ? Pis. Be assur'd, madam, With his next vantage. 8 Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had Most pretty things to say : ere I could tell him, How I would think on him, at certain hours, Such thoughts, and such ; or I could make him swear The shes of Italy should not betray Mine interest, and his honour ; or have charg'd him. At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight. To encounter me with orisons, for then I am in heaven for him : 9 or ere I could Give him that parting kiss, which I had set Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, Shakes all our buds from growing."' Enter a Lady. Lady. The queen, madam, Desires your highness' company. 1 Advice is consideration, reflection. Thus in Mea. sure for Measure :— ' But did repent me after more advice.'' 1 This is a bitter form of malediction, almost conge- nial to that in Othello : — ' may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day.' 3 ' Her beauty and her sense are not equal.' To un- derstand the force of this idea, it should be remembered that anciently almost every sign had a rcotto, or some attempt at a witticism underneath. In a subsequent scene Iachimo, speaking of Imogen, says ; — ' All of her that is out of door, most rich ! If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone the Arabian bird ' 4 ' Its loss would be as fatal as the loss of intended mercy to a condemned criminal.' A thought resem- bling this occurs in All's Well that Ends Well : — ' Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried.' 5 The old copy reads, 'his eye or ear.' 6 This comparison may be illustrated by the follow- ing in King Lear : — ' the crows and choughs that wing the mid way air, Seem scarce so gross as beetles.' 7 The diminution of space is the diminution of which* space is the cause. 8 Opportunity. 9 i. e. 'to meet me with reciprocal prayer, for thenm/ solicitations ascend to heaven on his behalf.' 10 i. e. our buds of love, likened to the buds of flower*,. So in Romeo and Juliet : — ' This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.* 312 CYMBELINE. Act I. Jmo. Those things I bid you do, get them de- spatched. — I will attend the queen. Pi's. Madam, I shall. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Rome. An Apartment in Philario's Mouse. Enter Philario, Iachimo, a French- man, a Dutchman, and a Spaniard. 1 Iach. Believe it, sir : I have seen him in Britain ; he was then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy, as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I could then have looked on him without the help of admiration ; though the catalogue of his endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by items. Phi. You speak of him when he was less fur- nished, than now he is, with that which makes 2 him both without and within. French. I have seen him in France : we had very many there, could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. Iach. This matter of marrying his king's daugh- ter, (wherein he must be weighed rather by her value, than his own,) words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter.* French. And then his banishment : Iach. Ay, and the approbation of those, that weep this lamentable divorce, under her colours, are wonderfully to extend 4 him ; be it but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar without more 5 quality. But how comes it, he is to sojourn with you j How creeps acquaintance ? Phi. His father and I were soldiers together ; to whom I have been often bound for no less than my life : Enter Posthumus. Here comes the Briton : Let him be so entertained amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen of your knowing, to a stranger of his quality. — I beseech you all, be better known to this gentleman ; whom I commend to you, as a noble friend of mine : How worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing. French. Sir, we have known together In Orleans. Post. Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay still. French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness : I was glad I did atone 6 my countryman and you ; it had been pity, you should have been put together with so mortal a purpose, as then each bore, upon importance' of so slight and trivial a nature. Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller : rather shumi'd to go even with what I heard, than in my every action to be guided by others' experiences: 8 but, upon my mended judg- ment, (if I offend not to say it is mended,) my quar- rel was not altogether slight. French. 'Faith, yes, uTbe put to the arbitrement of swords ; and by such two, that would, by all likelihood, have confounded 9 one the other, or have fallen both. Iach. Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference ? 1 This enumeration of persons is from the old copy ; but Mynheer ami the Don are mute characters. •2 i. e. accomplishes him. 3 ' Words him— a great deal from the matter,' makes •the description of him very distant from the truth. •J i. e. to magnify his good qualities. See Act i. Sc. 1. 5 The old copy reads, less. The poet has in other places entangled himself with the force of this word in construction. Thus in the Winter's Tale : — ' I ne'er heard yet That any of these bolder vices iranted Lr-ss impudence to gainsay what they did, Than to perform it first.' .6 i. e reconcile. "7 Importance is importunity. 8 ' Rather studied to avoid conducting himself by the ©pinions of others, than to be guided by their experi- ence; 5 French. Safely, I think : 'twas a contention in public, which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. It was much like an argument that fell out last night, where each of us fell in praise of our country mistresses : This gentleman at that time vouching, (and upon warrant of bloody affirmation,) his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant- qualified, and less attemptible, than any the rarest of our ladies in France. Iach. That lady is not now living ; or this gentle- man's opinion, by this, worn out. Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my mind. Iach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. Post. Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would abate her nothing ; though I profess myself her adorer, not her friend. 10 Iach. As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand-in- hand comparison,) had been something too fair, and too good, for any lady in Britany. If she went before others I have seen, as that diamond of yours out-lustres many I have beheld, I could not but be- lieve 11 she excelled many: but I have not seen the most precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. Post. I praised her, as I rated her : so do I my stone. Iach. VV hat do you esteem it at? Post. More than the world enjoys. Iach. Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's outpriz'd by a trifle. Post. You are mistaken : the one may bo sold, or given ; if there were wealth enough for the pur- chase, or merit for the gift : the other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the gods. Iach. Which the gods have given you? Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep. Iach. You may wear her in title yours : but, yon know, strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen, too: so, of your brace of unprizeable estimations, the one is but frail, and the other casual : a cunning thief, or a that-way accomplished courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. Post. Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier, to convince 12 the honour of my mistress ; if, in the holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing doubt, you have store of thieves ; not- withstanding I fear not my ring. Phi. Let us leave here, gentlemen. Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy sig- nior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me ; we are familiar at first. Iach. With five times so much conversation, I should get round of your fair mistress: make her go back, even to the yielding ; had I admittance, and opportunity to friend. Post. No, no. Iach. I dare, thereon, pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, o'er- values it something. But I make my wager rather against your confidence, than her reputation : and, to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any lady in the world. 9 i. e. destroyed. So in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 2 :— ' What willingly he did confound he wail'd.' 10 Friend and lover were formerly synonymous. Pos- thumus means to bestow the most exalted praise on Imogen, a praise the more valuable as it was the result of reason, not of amorous dotage. I make my avowal, says he, in the character of her adorer, not of her pos sessor. I speak of her as a being I reverence, not as a beauty I enjoy. I rather profess to describe her with the devotion of a worshipper, than the raptures of a lover. This sense of the word also appears in a subsequent re mark of Iachimo : — ' You are a. friend, and therein the wiser.' i. e. you are a lover, and therefore show your wisdom in opposing all experiments that may bring your lady's chastity imo question. 1 1 The old copy reads, ' I could not believe she exceli'i many.' Mr. Heath proposed to read, ' I could but be- lieve,' &c. The emendation in the text is Malone'3 12 i. e. overcome. L_ Scene VI. CYMBELINE. 313 Post. You are a great deal abused 1 in too bold a persuasion ; and I doubt not you sustain what you're worihy of, by your attempt. lack. What's that? Post. A repulse : Though your attempt, as you call it, deserves more ; a punishment too. Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this : it came in too suddenly ; let it die as it was born, and, I pray, you, be better acquainted. lack. 'Would I had put my estate, and my neigh- bour's, on the approbation 2 of what I have spoke. Post. What lady would you choose to assail ? lach. Yours ; whom in constancy, you think, stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the court where your lady is, with no more advantage than the op- portunity of a second conference, and I will bring from thence that honour of hers, which you imagine so reserved. Post. I will wage against your gold, gold to it : niv ring I hold dear as my finger ; 'tis part of it. lack. You are a friend, 3 and therein the wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you eannot preserve it from tainting : But, I see, you have some religion in you, that you fear. Post. This is but a custom in your tongue ; you bear a graver purpose, I hope. lack. lam the master of my speeches ; 4 and would undergo what's spoken, I swear. Post. Will you ? — I shall but lend my diamond till your return: — Let there be covenants drawn between us : My mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match : here's my ring. Phi. I will have it no lay. lach. By the gods, it is one : If I bring you no sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand du- cats are yours ; so is your diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are yours : — provided, I have your commendation, for my more free entertainment. Post. I embrace these conditions ; let us have articles betwixt us : — only, thus far you shall an- swer. If you make your voyage upon her, and give me directly to understand you have prevailed, I am no further your enemy, she is not worth our debate ; if she remain unseduced, (you not making it appear otherwise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault you have made to her chastity, you shall answer me with your sword. lach. Your hand ; a covenant : We will have these things set down by lawful counsel, and straight away for Britain ; lest the bargain should catch cold, and starve : I will fetch my gold, and have our two wagers recorded. Post. Agreed. [Exeunt Post, and Iach. French. Will this hold, think you'/ Phi. Signior Iachimo will not from it. Pray, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Britain. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Queen, Ladies, and Cornelius. Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers ; Maxe haste : Who has the note of them ? 1 i. e. deceived. ' The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave.' Othello. 2 i. e. proof ' how many now in health Shall drop their blood in approbation Of what your reverence shall incite us to.' King Henry V. 3 See note 10 in the preceding page. 4 ' I know what I have said; I said no more than I meant.' 5 Conclusions are experiments. ' I commend (says Walton) an angler that trieth conclusions, and improves his art.' 6 ' This thought would probably have been more amplified, had our author lived to be shocked with such 1 Lady. I, madam. Queen. Despatch. [Exeunt Ladies. Now, master doctor; have you brought those drugs? Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay : here they are, madam : [Presenting a small Pox. But I beseech your grace, (without offence ; My conscience bids me ask;) wherefore you have Commanded of me these most poisonous compounds, Which are the movers of a languishing death ; But, though slow, deadly '! Queen. I do wonder, doctor, Thou ask'st me such a question : Have I not been Thy pupil long ? Hast thou not learn'd me how To make perfumes ? distil '! preserve ? yea, so, That our great king himself doth woo me oft For my confections / Having thus far proceeded, (Unless thou think'st me devilish,) is't not meet That I did amplify my judgment in Other conclusions ? 5 I will try the forces Of these thy compounds on such creatures as We count not worth the hanging, (but none human,) To try the vigour of them, and apply Allayments to their act; and by them gather Their several virtues, and effects. Cor. Your highness, Shall from this practice but make hard your heart ;6 Besides, the seeing these effects will be Both noisome and infectious. Queen. O, content thee. — Enter Pisanio. Here comes a flattering rascal ; upon him [Aside. Will I first work : he's for his master, And enemy to my son. — How now, Pisanio?— Doctor, your service for this time is ended ; Take your own way. Cor. I do suspect you, madam ; But you shall do no harm. [Aside. Queen. Hark thee, a word. — [To Pisanio. Cor. [Aside.] I do not like her. 7 She doth think she has Strange lingering poisons : I do know her spirit, And will not trust one of her malice with A drug of such damn'd nature : Those, she has Will stupify and dull the sense awhile : Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats, and dogs ; Then afterward up higher : but there is No danger in what show of death it makes, More than the locking up the spirits a time, To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd With a most false effect ; and I the truer, So to be false with her. Queen. No further service, doctor, Until I send for thee. Cor. 1 humbly take my leave. [Exit. Queen. Weeps she still, say'st thou ? Dost thou think, in time She will not quench ;° and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses ? Do thou work ; When thou shalt bring me word, she loves my son, I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then As great as is thy master : greater ; for His fortunes all lie speechless, and his name Is at last gasp : Return he cannot, nor Continue where he is ; to shift his being, 9 Is to exchange one misery with another ; experiments as have been published in later times, by a race of men who have practised tortures without pity, and related them without shame, and are yet suffered to erect their heads among human beings.' ' Cape saxa manu, cape robora, pastor.' Johnson. 7 This soliloquy is pronounced by Johnson to be 'very inartificial, and that Cornelius makes a long speech to tell himself what himself knows.' The great critic forgot that it was intended for the instruction of the audience, to relieve their anxiety at mischievous in- gredients being left in the hands of the Queen. It is no less useful to prepare us for the return of Imogen to life. 8 i. e. grow cooL 9 To change his abode. 314 CYMBELINE. Act ! And every day, that comes, comes to decay A daWs workln him : What shalt thou expect, To be depender on a thing that eans / Who cannot be new built: nor has no friends, [The Queen drops a Sox : Pisanio takes it up. So much as but to prop him ?-Thou tak'st up Thou know'st not what ; but take it for thy labour : It is a thing I made, which hath the king Five times g redeem'd from death: I do not know What is more cordial :-Nay, I pr'ythee, take it , It is an earnest of a further good That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how The case stands with her; do*t, as ; from , thy elf Think what a chance thou changes! on ; 2 but think Thou hast thy mistress still ; to boot, my son, Who shall take notice of thee ; I'll move the kmg To any shape of thy preferment, such As thou'lt desire ; and men myself, I chiefly, That set thee on to this desert, am bound To load thy merit richly. Call my women; Think on my words. [Exit Pisa.]-A sly and constant knave ; Not to be shak'd : the agent for his master ; And the remembrancer of her, to hold The hand fast to her lord.-I have given him that, Which, if he take, shall quite ynpe°P le , ner . Of liegers' for her sweet; and which she, alter, Except she bend her humour, shall be assur d Re-enter Pisanio, and Ladies. To taste of too.-So, so ;-well done, well done . The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, Bear to my closet :-Fare thee well, Pisanio; Thmk on my words. [Exeunt Queen and Ladies Pig And shall do:* But when to my good lord I prove untrue, I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. [Exit. SCENE VII. Another Room in the same. Enter Imogen. Jmo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false ; A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, That hath her husband bamsh'd ;-0, that husband . Mv supreme crown of grief! and those repeated Vexations of it ! Had I been thief-stolen, As my two brothers, happy ! but most miserable Is the desire that's glonous :> Blessed be those, How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, Which seasons comfort.— Who may this be ? Fie . Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome ; Comes from mv lord with letters. lach. Change you, madam .' The worthy Leonatus is in safety, And greets your highness dearly. [Presents a letter. Imo. Thanks, good sir: You are kindly welcome. lach. All of her, that is out of door, most rich. [Aside, If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, She is alone the Arabian bird ; and I Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend . Arm me, audacity, from head to foot ! Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight ; Rather, directly fly. Imo. [Reads.]— He is one of the noblest note, la whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon him accordingly, as you value your truest r Leonatus. So far I read aloud : But even the very middle of my heart Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thanktully.— You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I Have words to bid you ; and shall find it so, In all that I can do. lach Thanks, fairest lady. — What ' are men mad ? Hath nature given them eye* To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop Of sea and land, which can distinguish twixt The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd stones Upon the number'd beach V and can we not Partition make with spectacles so precious 'Twixt fair and foul ? . . , .« j m0 What makes your admiration / lach. It cannot be i' the eye; for apes and monkey3 'Twixt two such shes, would chatter this way, and Contemn with mows" the other: Nori' the judgment; For idiots, in this case of favour, would Be wisely definite : Nor i' the appetite ; Sluttery, to such neat excellence oppos d, Should make desire vomit emptiness, Not so allur'd to feed. 9 Imo. What is the matter, trow 1 lach. . The cloyed win, (That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, That tub both fill'd and running,) ravening first The lamb, longs after for the garbage. Imo ' = What, dear sir, Thus raps you? Are you well ? lach. Thanks, madam; well :— ' Beseech you, sir, desire [To Pisanio. My man's abode where I did leave him : he Is strange and peevish. 10 p,-, I was going, sir, To give him welcome. f£*a Pisawio. Imo. Continues well my lord / His health, be- seech you? lach. Well, madam. Imo. Is he dispos'd to mirth ? I hope, he is. lach. Exceeding pleasant ; none a stranger there So merry and so gamesome : he is call'd The Briton reveller. j m0 _ When he was here, He did incline to sadness ; and oft-times Not knowing why. . / ac ^, I never saw him sad. There is a Frenchman his companion, one, An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves 1 That inclines towards its fall. 2 < Think with what a fair, prospect of mending your fortunes you now change your present service.' It has been proposed to read :— 'Think what a chance thou chancest on.' ' ' Think what a change thou chancest on.' But there seems to be no necessity for alteration. 3 A /,e°-er ambassador is one that resides in a foreign court to promote his master's interest. So in Measure for Measure : — _ . , ' Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift embassador, Where you shall be an everlasting hegerS 4 Some words, which rendered this sentence less abrupt, and perfected the metre of it, appear to have been omitted in the old copies. 5 Imogen's sentiment appears to be, Had I been stolen by thieves in my infancy, I had been happy. Bu how pregnant with misery is that station which is called glorious, and so much desired. Happier far are those, how mean soever their condition, that have their honest wills ; it is this which seasons comfort,' (l. e. tempers it, or makes it more pleasant and acceptable.) See Ham- iet, Act i Sc 3 ;— ' My blessing season this in you.' 6 The old copy reads, trust. The emendation was suggested by Mason ; is defended by Steevens ; and, of course, opposed by Malone. 7 We must either believe that the poet by ' number'* beach' means 'numerous beach,' or else that he wrote ' th> unnumbered beach ;' which, indeed, seems most probable. 8 To mow or moe, is to make mouths. 9 Iachimo, in his counterfeited rapture has shown how the eyes and the judgment would determine in favour of Imogen, comparing her with the suppositi- tious present mistress ofPosthumus, he proceeds to say, that appetite too would give the same suffrage. Desire (says he) when it approached stutter,, and considered it in comparison with such neat excellence, would not only be not so allured to feed, but, seized with a fit of loathing, would vomit emptiness, would feel the con vulsions of disgust, though, being unfed, it had no ob- J To'i e he is a foreigner ani foolish, or silly. Iachimo says again at the latter end of this scene :— ' And I am something curioua, being strange To have them in safe stowage.' Here also strange means a stranger or foreigner. Scene VII. CYMBELINE. 315 A Gallian g&rl at home : he furnaces' The thick sighs from him ; whiles the jolly Briton, (Your lord, I mean,) laughs from's free lungs, cries, O ! Can my sides hold, to think, that man, — who knows By history, report, or his own proof, What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose But must he, — will his free hours languish for ' Assured bondage 1 Imo. Will my lord say so ? Jach. Ay, madam ; with his eyes in flood with laughter. It is a recreation to be by, And hear him mock the Frenchman : But, heavens know, Some men are much to blame. Imo. Not he, I hope. lach. Not he : But yet heaven's bounty towards him might Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much ; 2 In you, — which I count his, beyond all talents, — Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound To pity too. Imo. What do you pity, sir lach. Two creatures, heartily. Imo. Am I one, sir ? You look on me ; What wreck discern you in roe, Deserves your pity ? lach. Lamentable! What'. To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace I' the dungeon by a snufF? Imo. I pray you, sir, Deliver with more openness your answers To my demands. Why do you pity me ? lach. That others do, I was about to say, enjoy your But It is an office of the gods to venge it, Not mine to speak on't. Imo. You do seem to know Something of me, or what concerns me ; 'Pray you (Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more Than to be sure they do : For certainties Either are past remedies ; or, timely knowing, 3 The remedy then born,) discover to me What both you spur and stop.* lach. Had I this cheek To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch, Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul To the oath of loyalty ; this object, which Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, Fixing it only here : should I, (damn'd then,) Slaver with lips as common as the stairs That mount the Capitol ; join guipes with hands Made hard with hourly falsehood, 5 (falsehood, as With labour ;) then lie peeping in an eye, Base and unlustrous as the smoky light That's fed with stinking tallow ; it were fit, That all the plagues of hell should at one time Encounter such revolt. Imo. My lord, I fear, Has forgot Britain. lach. And himself. Not I, Incliri'd to this intelligence, pronounce 1 Weha\ethe same expression in Chapman's pre- face to his translation of the Shield of Homer, 1598 : — ' Furnuceth the universal sighes and complaintes of this transposed world.' And in As You Like It : ' Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad.' 2 'If he merely regarded his own character, without any consideration of his wife, his conduct would be un- pardonable.' 3 It seems probable that knowing is here an error of the press for known. 4 ' The information which you se>em to press forward and yet withhold.' The allusion is to horsemanship. So in Sidney's Arcadia : — ' She was like a horse desi- rous to runne, and miserably spurred, but so short- reined, as he cannot stirre forward.' 5 Hard with falsehood is hard by being often griped with frequent change of hands. 6 Empery is a word signifying sovereign command, now obsolete. Shakspeare uses it in King Richard III.:- ' Your right of birth, your empery your own.' The beggary of his change ; but 'tis your graces That, from my mutest conscience, to my tongue, Charms this report out. Imo. Let me hear no more. lach. O, dearest soul ! your cause doth strike my heart With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, 6 Would make the great'st king double ! to be part- ner'd With tomboys, 7 hir'd with that self-exnibition Which your own coffers yield ! with diseas'd ventures, That play with all infirmities for gold, Which rottenness can lend nature ! such boil'd stuff, 8 As well might poison poison ! Be reveng'd ; Or she, that bore you, was no queen, and you Recoil from your great stock. Imo. Reveng'd ! How should I be reveng'd ? If this be true, (As I have such a heart, that both mine ears Must not in haste abuse,) if it be true, How should I be reveng'd ? lach. Should he make me Live like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, In your despite, upon your purse ? Revenge it. I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure ; More noble than that runagate to your bed ; And will continue fast to your affection, Still close, as sure. Imo. What ho, Pisanio * lach. Let me my service tender on your lips. Imo. Away ! — I do condemn mine ears, thathavo So long attended thee. — If thou wert honourable, Thou would'st have told this tale for virtue, not For such an end thou seek'st ; as base, as strange. Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far From thy report, as thou from honour ; and Solicit'st here a lady, that disdains Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio !— The king my father shall be made acquainted Of thy assault : if he shall think it fit, A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart As in a Romish 3 stew, and to expound His beastly mind to us ; he hath a court He little cares for, and a daughter whom He not respects at all. — What ho, Pisanio ! lach. O, happy Leonatus ! I may say ; The credit, that thy lady hath of thee, Deserves thy trust ; and thy most perfect goodness Her assur'd credit ! — Blessed live you long ! A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever Country call'd his ! and you his mistress, only For the most worthiest fit ! Give me your pardon. I have spoke this, to know if your affiance Were deeply rooted ; and shall make your lord, That which he is, new o'er ; And he is one The truest manner'd ; such a holy witch, That he enchants societies unto him: 10 Half all men's hearts are his. Imo. You make amends. 7 We still call a forward or rude hoyden a tomboy But our ancestors seem to have used the term for a wanton. ' What humorous tomboys be these ? — The only gallant Messalinas of our age.' Lady Mimony. S This allusion has been already explained. See Timon of Athens, Act ii. Sc. 3. 9 Romish for Roman was the phraseology of Shak- speare's age. Thus in Claudius Tiberius Nero, 1607 : — ' In the loathsome Romish stewes, Drant, in his trans- lation of the first epistle of the second book of Horace. 1567, has— ' The Romishe people wise in this, in this point only just.' And in other places we have the ' Romish cirque,' &c. 10 ' he did in the general bosom reign Of young and old, and sexes both enchanted- Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted 316 CYMBELINE. Act IX. Iach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended god : ' He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd To try your taking of a false report ; which hath Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment In the election of a sir so rare. Which, you know, cannot err : The love I bear him Made me to fan you thus ; but the gods made you, Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray your pardon. Imo. All's well, sir : Take my power i' the court for yours. Iach. My humble thanks. I had almost forgot To entreat your grace but in a small request, And yet of moment too, for it concerns Your lord ; myself, and other noble friends, Are partners in the business. Into. Pray, what is't? Iach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your lord, (The best feather of our wing, 2 ) have mingled sums, To buy a present for the emperor ; Which I, the factor for the rest, have done In France : 'Tis plate, of rare device ; and jewels, Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; And I am something curious, being strange, 5 To have them in safe stowage ; May it please you To take them in protection 7 Imo. Willingly ; And pawn mine honour for their safety : since My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them In my bed-chamber. Iach. They are in a trunk, Att( tided by my men: I will make bold To send them to you, only for this night ; I must abroad to-morrow. Imo. O, no, no. Iach. Yes, I beseech ; or I shall short my word, By lcngth'ning my return. From Gallia I cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise To see your grace. Imo. I thank you for your pains ; But not away to-morrow ? Iach. O, I must, madam : Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night : I have outstood my time ; which is material To the tender of our present. Imo. I will write. Send your trunk to me ; it shall safe be kept, And truly yielded vou : You are very welcome. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Court before Cymbeline's Palace.— Enter Cloten, and two Lords. Clo. Was there ever man had such luck ! when I kissed the jack upon an upcast, 4 to be hit away ! I had a hundred pound on't : And then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up for swearing ; as if I borrowed mine oaths of him, and might not spend them at my pleasure. 1 Ijord. What got he by that ? You have broke his pate with your bowl. 2 Lord. If his wit had been like him that broke it, it would have ran all out. [Aside. Clo. When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths : Ha ? 2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor [visidej crop the ears of them. 1 So in Chapman's version of the twenty-third book of the Odyssey : — ' — - as he were A god descended from the starry sphere.' And in Hamlet: — ' a station like the herald Mercury New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill.' 2 ' You are so great you would faine march in fielde, That world should judge you feathers of one wing." 1 Churchyard's Warning to Wanderers, 1593. 3 See note 10, p. 314, ante. 4 He is describing hia fate at bowls. The jack is the Clo. Whoreson dog! — I give him satisfaction? 'Would, he had been one of my rank ! 2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. 5 [Aside. Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in the earth, — A pox on't ! I had rather not be so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my mother: every jack-slave hath his belly full of righting, and I must go up and down like a ccck that nobody can match. 2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too ; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. 6 [Aside. Clo. Sayest thou ? 1 Ijord. It is not fit, your lordship should under- take ever)' companion 7 that you give offence to. Clo. No, I know that : but it is fit, I should com- mit offence to my inferiors. 2 Ijird. Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. Clo. Why, so I say. 1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's come to court to-night ? Clo. A stranger ! and I know not on't! 2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it not. [Aside. 1 Lord. There's an Italian come ; and, 'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. Clo. Leonatus ! a banished rascal ; and he's another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger ? 1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. Clo. Is it fit, I went to look upon him ? Is there no d< rogation in't ? 1 Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. Clo. Not easily, I think. 2 Lord. You are a fool granted ; therefore your issues being foolish, do not derogate. [Aside. Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian : Yvliat I have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. 2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. [Exeunt Cloten and first Lord. That such a crafty devil as is his mother Should yield the world this ass! a woman, that Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty for his heart, And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st! Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd; A mother hourly coining plots ; a wooer, More hateful than the foul expulsion is Of ih v dear husband, than that horrid act Of the divorce he'd make! The heavens hold firm The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd That temple, thy fair mind ; that thou may'st stand, To enjoy thy banish'd lord, and this great land ! [Exit. SCENE II. A Bedchamber ; in one part of it a Trunk. Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady attending. Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen ? Lady. Please you, madam. Imo. What hour is it ? Lady. Almost midnight, madam Imo. I have read three hours, then ; mine eyes are weak : — Fold down the leaf where I have left : To bed : Take not awav the taper, leave it burning ; And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. J Exit Lady. , s • small bowl at which the others are aimed: he who is nearest to it wins. 'To kiss the jack' is a state of great advantage. The expression is of frequent occurrence in the old comedies. The jack is also called the mis* tress. 5 The same quibble has occurred in As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 2 :— ' Touch. Nay, if I kept not my rank. Res. Thou losest thy old smell.'' 6 That is, in other words, you are a coxcomb. 7 The use of companion was the same as of fellov now. It was a word of contempt. ScfcNE in. CYMBfiLINE. 317 From fairies, ana the tempters of the night, Guard me, beseech ye! [Sleeps. Iachimo, from the Trunk. Iach. The crickets sing, and man's o'erlabour'd sense Repairs itself by rest : Our Tarquin thus Did softly press the rushes, 1 ere he waken'd The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea, How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily ! And vyhiter than the sheets ! That I might touch ! But kiss ; one kiss ! — Rubies unparagon'd, How dearly they do't !-°-'Tis her breathing that Perfumes the chamber thus : 2 The flame o' the taper Bows toward her ; and would underpeep her lids, To see the enclosed lights, now canopied Under these windows : 3 White and azure, lae'd With blue of heaven's own tmct. 4 — But my design ? To note the chamber : — I will write all down : — Such, and such, pictures : — There the window : — Such The adornment of her bed ; — The arras, figures, Why, such, and such: — And the contents o' the story, — Ay, but some natural notes about her body, Above ten thousand meaner moveables Would testify, to enrich mine inventory : O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! And be her sense but as a monument, Thus in a chapel lying ! — Come off, come off; — [Taking off her Bracelet. As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard ! — 'Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly, As strongly- as the conscience does within, To the madding of her lord. On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip : Here's a voucher, Stronger than ever law could make : this secret Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, and ta'en The treasure of her honour. No more. — To what end? Why should I write this down, that's riveted, Screw'd to my memory ? She hath been reading late The tale of Tereus ; 5 here the leaf's turn'd down, Where Philomel gave up : — I have enough : To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. Swift, swift, you dragons of the. night! 6 — that dawning May bare the raven's eye : I lodge in fear ; Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. [ Clock strikes. One, two, three, — Time, time ! [ Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. SCENE III. An Ante-Chamber adjoining Imo- gen's Apartment. Enter Cloten and Lords. 1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd up ace. Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 1 Lord. But not every man patient, after the noble temper of your lordship ; You are most hot, and furious, when you win. 1 It was anciently the custom to strew chambers with , rushes. This passage may serve as a comment on the 'ravishing strides' of Tarquin, in Macbeth, as it shows that Shakspeare meant ' softly stealing strides » 2 ' — - no lips did seem so fair In his conceit ; through which he thinks dothflie So sweet a breath that doth perfume the air.' Pygmalion's Image, by Marston, 1598. 3 That is, her eyelids. - So in Romeo and Juliet: ' Thy eyes' windows fall Like death when he shuts up the day of life.' 4 Warburton wished to read : — ' White with azure lae'd, The blue of heaven's own tinct.' But there is no necessity for change. It is sn exact de- scription of the eyelid of a fair beauty, which is white tinged with blue, and laced with veins of darker blue. By azure our ancestors understood not a dark blue, but a light glaucous colour, a tinct or effusion of a blue colour. 5 Tereus and Prognc is the second tale in A Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 4to lf"6. The story is related in Ovid, Metam. 1. vi. ; and by Gower in his Confessio Amantis, b. v. fol. 113, b. 6 The task of drawing the chariot of Night was as- Clo. Winning would put any mar. into courage : If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough : It's almost morning, is't not ? 1 Lord. Day, my lord. Clo. I would this music would come : I am advised to give her music o' mornings ; they say, it will penetrate. Enter Musicians. Come on ; tune : If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so ; we'll try with tongue, too . if none will do, let her remain ; but I'll never give o'er. First, a very excellent good-conceited thing ; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it, — and then let her consider. SONG. Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gale sings. 7 And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic\P flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes; With every thing that pretty bin : My lady sweet, arise ; Arise, arise. So, get you gone : If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better: 9 if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and cat-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to boot, can never amend. [Exeunt Musicians. Enter Cymbeline and Queen. 2 Lord. Here comes the kinc. Clo. I am glad, I was up so"late ; for, that's the reason I was up so early : He cannot choose but take this service I have done, fatherly.— Good mor- row to your majesty, and to my gracious mother. Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern daughter ? Will she not forth ? Clp. I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. Cym. The exile of her minion is too new ; She hath not yet forgot him : some more time Must wear the print of his remembrance out, And then she's yours. Queen. You are most bound to the king ; Who lets go by no vantages, that may Prefer you to his daughter : Frame yourself To orderly solicits ; and be friended With aptness of the season : 10 make denials Increase your services : so seem, as if You were inspir'd to do those duties which You tender to her ; that you in all obey her, Save when command to your dismission tends, And therein you are senseless. Cl°- Senseless ? not so. signed to dragons, on account of their supposed watch- fulness. Milton mentions 'the dragon yoke of ni^ht' in II Penseroso ; and in his Comus :— ' the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness.' Aga'in, In Obitum Prssulis Eliensis :— . ' — 77 sub pedibus deam Vidi triformem, dum coercebat snos Frasnis dracones aureis.' It may be remarked that the whole tribe of serpents sleep with their eyes open, and therefore appear to ex- ert a constant vigilance. 7 The same hyperbole occurs in Milton's Paradise Lost, book v. — ' ye birds That singing up to heaven's gate ascend.' And in Shakspeare's 29th Sonnet :— ' Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate.' 8 The morning dries up the dew which lies in the nips of flowers called calices, or chalices. The man- gold is one of those flowers which closes itself up al sunset. ' the day is waxen olde, And 'gins to shut up with the marigold.' Browne ; Britania's Pastorals. 9 i. e. I will pay you more amply for it. 10 ' With solicitations not only proper but well timed.' 318 CYMBEL1NE. Act lit Enter a Messenger. Mess. So like you, sir, embassadors from Rome ; The one is Caius Lucius. Cym. A worthy fellow, Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ; But that's no fault of his : We must receive him According to the honour of his sender ; And towards himself his goodness forespent on us We must extend our notice. 1 — Our dear son, When you have given good morning to your mistress, Attend the queen, and us ; we shall have need To employ you towards this Roman. — Come, our queen. [Exeunt Cym. Queen, Lords, and Mess. Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her ; if not, Let her lie still, and dream. — By your leave, ho ! — [Knocks. I know her women are about her ; What If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold Which buys admittance ; oft it doth ; yea, and makes Diana's rangers false 2 themselves, yield up Their deer to the stand of the stealer ; and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves the thief; Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man : What Can it not do, and undo? I will make One of her women lawyer to me ; for I yet not understand the case myself. By your leave. [Knocks. Enter a Lady. Lady. Who's there, that knocks? Clo. A gentleman. Lady. No more ? Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. Lady. That's more Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, Can justly boast of : What's your lordship's plea- sure ? Clo. Your lady's person : Is she ready ? Lady. Ay, To keep her chamber. Clo. There's gold for you : sell me your good report. Lady. How ! my good name? or to report of you What I shall think is good ? — The princess Enter Imogen. Clo. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your sweet hand. Imo. Good morrow, sir : You lay out too much pains For purchasing but trouble : the thanks I give, Is telling you that I am poor of thanks, And scarce can spare them. Clo. Still, I swear, I love you. Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me : If you swear still, your recompense is still That I regard it not. Clo. This is no answer. Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, being silent, I would not speak. I pray ;you, spare me : i' faith, I shall unfold equal discourtesy To your best kindness ; one of your great knowing Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 3 Clo. To lea ye you in your madness, 'twere my sin : I will not. « Imo. Fools are not rnad folks.* Clo. Do you call me fool? Imo. As I am mad, I do : If you'll be patient, I'll no more'be mad ; That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir You put me to forget a lady's manners, By being so verbal : i and learn now, for all, That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, By the very truth of it, I care not for you ; And am so near the lack of charily, (To accuse myself,) I hate you : which I had rather You felt, than niake't my boast. Clo. You sin against Obedience, which you owe your father. For The contract you pretend with that base wretch, (One, bred of alms, and foster'd with colu dishes, With scraps o' the court,) it is no contract, none : And thotrgh it be allow'd in meaner parties, (Yet who, than he, more mean ?) to knit their souls, (On whom there is no more dependency But brats and beggary,) in self-rigur'd knot ; 6 Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by The consequence o' the crown ; and must not soil The precious note of it with a base slave, A hilding' for a livery, a squire's cloth, A pander, not so eminent. Imo. Profane fellow ! Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base To be his groom : thou wert dignified enough, Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made, Comparative for your virtues, 8 to be styl'd The under-hangman of his kingdom ; and hated For being preferr'd so well. Clo. The south-fog rot him ! Imo. He never can meet more mischance than come To be but nam'd of thee. His meanest garment, That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer, In my respect, than all the hairs above thee, Were they all made such men. — How now, Pisanio? Enter Pisanio. Clo. His garment ? Now, the devil Imo. To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently:— Clo. His garment? Imo. I am spriehted 9 with a fool , Frighted, and anger'd worse : — Go, bid my woman Search for a jewel, that too casually Hath left mine arm ; it was thy master's : 'shrew me, If I would lose it for a revenue Of any king's in Europe. I do think I saw't this morning : Confident I am, Last night 'twas on mine arm ; I kiss'd it : I hope, it be not gone, to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he. Pit. 'Twill not be lost. Imo. I hope so: go, and search. [Exit Pis. Clo. You have abus'd me : — His meanest garment? Imo. Ay ; I said so, sir. If you will make't an action, call witness to't. Clo. I will inform your father. Imo. Your mother too : She's my good lady ; 10 and will conceive, I hope, But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, To the worst of discontent. [Exit. 1 That is, we must extend towards himself our notice of his goodness heretofore -shown to us. Shakspeare has many similar ellipses. Thus in Julius Caesar : — ' Thine honourable metal may be wrought From what it is dispos'd [to].' See the next Scene, note 5. 2 False is not here an adjective, but a verb. Thus in Tamburlaine, Part II. : — ' And make him false his faith unto the king.' Shakspeare has one form of the verb to jaise in The CWedy of Errors, Act ii. Sc. 2 :— ' Nay, not sure in a thing falsing.' ■ 3 i. e. ' a man of your knowledge, being taught for- bearance, should learn it.' 4 This, as Oloten very well understands it, is a covert mode of calling him a fool. The meaning implied is this : ' If I am mad, as you tell me, I am what you can never be.' ' Fools are not mad folks.' 5 i. e. so verbose, so full of talk. 6 In knots of their own tying. 7 A low fellow only fit to wear a livery. 3 ' If you were to be dignified only in comparison to your virtues, the under-hangman's place is too good for you.' Johnson says, that 'the rudeness of Cloten is not much undermanned' in that of Imogen ; but he forgeta the provocation her gentle spirit undergoes by this per- secution of Cloten's addresses, and the abuse bestowed upon the idol of her soul. 9 i. e. haunted by a fool as by a spright. 10 This is said ironically. ' My good lady' is equiva- lent to ' my good friend.' SCEHE IV. CYMBELINE. 319 Clo. I'll be reveng'd : — His meanest garment ? — Well. [Exit. SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Philario's House. Enter Posthumus and Philario. Post. Fear it not, sir : I would, I were so sure To win the king, as I am bold, her honour Will remain hers. Phi. What means do you make to him? Post. Not any ; but abide the change of time ; Quake in the present winter's state, and wish That warmer days would come : in these fear'd hopes, I barely gratify your love ; they failing, I must die much your debtor. Phi. Your very goodness, and your company, O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king Hath heard of great Augustus : Caius Lucius Will do his commission throughly : And, I think, He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, Or 1 look upon our Romans, whose remembrance Is yet fresh in their grief. Post. I do believe, (Statist 2 though I am none, nor like to be,) That this will prove a war ; and you shall hear The legions now in Gallia, sooner landed In our not-fearing Britain, than have tidings Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen Are men more order'd, than when Julius Caesar Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their courage Worthy his frowning at : Their discipline, (Now mingled with their courages,) will make known To their approvers, 3 they are people, such That mend upon the world. Enter Iachimo. Phi. See ! Iachimo ? Post. The swiftest harts have posted you by land : And winds of all the corners kiss'd your sails, To make your vessel nimble. Phi. Welcome, sir. Post. I hope the briefness of your answer made The speediness of your return. Iach. Your lady Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. Post. And, therewithal, the best ; or let her beauty .Look through a casement to allure false hearts, And be false with them. Iach. Here are letters for you. Post. Their tenor good, I trust. Jack. 'Tis very like. Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court, When you were there? 4 Iach. He was expected then, But not approach'd. Post. All is well yet. — Sparkles this stone as it was wont ? or is't not Too dull for your good wearing? Iach. If I have lost it, I should have lost the worth of it in gold. I'll make a journey twice as far to enjoy A second night of such sweet shortness, wTuch Was mine in Britain ; for the ring is won. Post. The stone's too hard to come by. Iach. Not a whit Your lady being so easy. Post. Make not, sir, Your loss your sport : I hope, you know that we Must not continue friends. Iach. Good sir, we must, If you keep covenant: Had I not brought The knowledge of vour mistress home, I grant We were to question further: but I now Profess myself the winner of her honour, Together with your ring ; and not the wronger Of her, or you, having proceeded but By both your wills. Post. If you can make't apparent That you have tasted her in bed, my hand, And ring is yours : if not, the foul opinion You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, Your sword, or mine ; or masterless leaves both To who shall find them. Iach. Sir, my circumstances, Being so near the truth, as I will make them, Must first induce you to believe : whose strength I will confirm with oath ; which, I doubt not, You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find You need it not. Post. Proceed. Iach. First, her bed-chamber (Where, I confess, I slept not ; but, profess, Had that was well worth watching, 6 J It was hang'd With tapestry of silk and silver ; the story, Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride : a piece of work So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive In workmanship, and value : which, I wonder'd, Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, Since the true life on't was" ■ Post. This is true ; And this you might have heard of here, by me, Or by some other. Iach. More particulars Must justify my knowledge. Post. So they must, Or do your honour injury. Iach. The chimney Is south the chamber ; and the chimney-piece, Chaste Dian, bathing : never saw I figures So likely to report themselves : the cutter Was as another nature, dumb ;* outwent her, Motion and breath left out. Post. This is a thing, Which you might from relation likewise reap ; Being, as it is, much spoke ot. Iach. The roof o' the chamber With golden cherubins is fretted. 8 Her andirons (I had forgot them,) were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands. 9 1 Or stands here for pre. Respecting the tribute here alluded to, see the Preliminary Remarks. y 2 i. e. statesman. 3 That is, ' to those who try them.' The old copy, by a common typographical error in the preceding line, has mingled instead of mingled, which odd reading Steevens seemed inclined to adopt, and explains it, ' their discipline borrowing wings from their courage.' 4 This speech is given to Posthumus in the old copy ; but Posthumus was employed in reading his letters, and was too much interested in the end of Iachimo' s journey o put an indifferent question of this nature. It was transferred to Philario at the suggestion of Steevens. 5 i. e. ' that which was well worth watching or lying awake [for].' See the preceding scene. 6 Mason proposes to read : — ' Such the true life on't was.' It is a typographical error easily made : and the emen- dation deserves a place in the text. Johnson observes, that ' Iachinio's language is such as a skilful villain would natural'iy use; a mixture of airy triumph and serious deposition. His gayety shows his seriousness to be without anxiety, and his serious ness proves his gayety to be without art.' 7 i. e. so near speech. A speaking picture is a com- mon figurative mode of expression. The meaning of the latter part of the sentence is : ' The sculptor was as na- ture dumb ; he gave every thing that nature gives but breath and motion. In breath is included speech.' S Steevens says, ' this tawdry image occurs in King Henry VIII.:— > their dwarfish pages were As cherubins all gilt.' By the very mention of cherubins his indignation is moved. ' The sole recommendation of this Gothic idea, (says he,) which is critically repeated by modern artists, seems to be, that it occupies but little room on canvass or marble ; for chubby unmeaning faces, with ducks' wings tucked under them, are all the circumstances that enter into such infantine and absurd representations of the choirs of heaven.' 9 It is well known that the andirons of our ancestors were sometimes costly pieces of furniture; the standards were often, as in this'instance, of silver, and represent- ing some terminal figure or device ; the transverse or horizontal pieces, upon which the wood was supported, were what Shakspeare here calls the 4rowrt, shall we find The sharded 16 beetle in a safer hold Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life Is nobler, than attending for a check ; Richer, than doing nothing for a brabe ;" 1 i. e. o, subordinate agent, as a vassal to his chief. A feodary, however, meant also 'a prime agent, or steward, who received aids, reliefs, suits of service, &c. due -to any lord.' — Glossographia Jlnglieana Nova, 1719. let after all, it may be doubted whether Shak- speare does not use it to signify a confederate or accom- plice, as he does federary in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. Sc.l:— ' Mote, she's a traitor, and Camillo is A federary with her.' 2 i. e. I am unpractised in the arts of murder. So in King Henry IV. Parti. :— ' O, I am ignorance itself in this.' 3 ^s is here used for that. See Julius Ctesar. Art i. Sc. 2. The word not in the next line, beinsr accidentally omitted in the old ropy, was supplied by Malone. 4 We should now write ' yours, increasing in love,' Your is to be joined in construction with Leo7iatus Posthumous, and not with increasing} the latter is a participle present, and not a noun. b i. e. her longing is further than beyond ; beyond any thing that desire can be said to be beyond. 6 i.e. ' speak quick.'' 7 That is 'in consequence of our going hence and returning back.' So in Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 1 : — ' He cannbt temperately support his honours From where he should begin and end.' 8 i. e. In fore the act is done for which excuse will be necessary. 9 This practice was, periiaps, not much 'ess preva- lent >n ShaKspeaje's time than it is at present. Fynes Wcryson, speaking of his brother's putting out money [ to lie paiJ with interest on his return from Jerusalem (or, as we should now speak, travelling thither//; a . | defends it OS an honest means of gaining the Charges of his journey, especially when ' no meant ind lords' sonnes, arid gentlemen in our court, I money upon a horse-race under themselves, ye.i, upon a journey afoote.' 10 It may be necessary to apprize the reader that the sand of an hour-glass used to measure time is meant. The figurative meaning is, swifter than the flight of time. 11 A franklin is a yeoman. 12 That is ! you'd best consider.' 13 'I see neither on this side nor on that, nor behind me; but find a fog in each of those quarters that my eye cannot pierce. The way to .Milford is alone clear and open: Let us therefore instantly set forward.' By ' what ensues,' Imogen means what will be the conse- quence of the step I am going to take. 14 Sfrut, walk proudly. So in Twelfth Night, ' How he jets under his advanced plumes.' The idea of a giant was, among the readers of romances, who were almost all the readers oi those times, always confounded with that of a Saracen 15 'In any service done, the advantage rises not from the act, but from the allowance '). e. approval) of it.' 16 i. e. scaly-winged beetle. See Antony and Cleo- patra, Art iii. Sc. 2. The epithet full-winged, applied to i lie eagle, sufficiently marks the contrast oi the poet's imagery: for whilst the bird ran soar beyond the reach of human eye, the insrrt ran but just rise above the surface of the earth, and that at the close of day. IT The old copy reads babe; the uncommon word brabe not being familiar to the compositor. A brabe is a ronieinptuoiis or proud look, word, or gesture ; qua&i, a brace. Scene IV. CYMBELINE, 323 Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such gain the cap of him, that makes him fine, Yet keens his book uncross'd ; no life to ours. 1 Gvi. Out of your proof you speak : we, poor unfledg'd, Have never wing'd from view o' the nest ; nor know not What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, If quiet life be best ; sweeter to you, That have a sharper known: well corresponding With your stiff age ; but, unto us, it is A cell of ignorance ; travelling a-bed ; A prison for a debtor, that not dares To stride a limit. 2 Arv. What should we speak of, 3 When we are old as you ? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away ? We have seen nothing : We are beastly ; subtle as the fox, for prey ; Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat : Our valour is, to chase what flies ; our cage We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, And sing our bondage freely. BeL How you speak! 4 Did you but know the city's usuries, And felt them knowingly : the art o' the court, As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb Is certain falling, or so slipperv, that The fear's as bad as falling : the toil of the war, A pain than only seems to seek out danger V the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the search ; And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, As record of fair act ; nay, many times, Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, Must court'sy at the censure : — 0, boys, this story The world may read in me : My body's mark'd With Roman swords ; and my report was once First with the best of note : Cymbeline lov'd me ; And when a soldier was the theme, my name Was not far off: Then was I as a tree, Whose boughs did bend with fruit : but in one night, A storm, or robbery, call it What you will, Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, And left me bare to weather. 5 Gui. Uncertain favour ! Bel. My fault being nothing, (as I have tcld you oft,) But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, I was confederate with the Romans : so, Follow'd my banishment ; and, this twenty years, This rock, and these demesnes, have been my world : Where I have liv'd at honest freedom ; paid More pious debts to heaven, than in all The fore-end of my time. — But, up to the mountains; This is not hunters' language : — He, that strikes The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast ; To him the other two shall minister ; And we will fear no poison, which attends 1 i. e. compared to ours. 2 To stride a limit is to overpass his bound. 3 'This dread of an old age unsupplied with matter for discourse and meditation, is a sentiment natural and .noble. No state can be more .destitute than that of him, ■who, when the delights of sense forsake him, has no pleasures of the mind.' — Johnson. 4 Otway seems to have taken many hints for the con- versation which passes between Acasto and his sons from the scene before us. 5 Thus in Timon of Athens : — ' That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves Do on the oak, have witli one winter's brush Fallen from their boughs, and left me, open, care, For every storm that blows.' € ' nulla aconita, bibuntur Kictilibus; tunc ilia time, cum pocula sumes GerniTiata, et lato Setinum ardebit in auro.' Juv. 7 ' Shakspeare seems to intend Belarius for a good character, yet he makes him forget the injury which he In place of greater state. 6 I'll meet you in the valleys. [Exeunt Gui. and Art. How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature ! These boys know little, they are sons to the king ; Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think, they are mine: and, though train'd up thus meanly I' the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces ; and nature prompts them, In simple and low things, to prince it, much Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom The king his father call'd Guiderius, — Jove ! When on my three-foot stool I sit, and teil The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story : say, — Thus mine enemy fell; And thus I set my foot on his neck ; even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, (Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure, Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more His own conceiving. Hark ! the game is rous'd ! — O, Cymbeline ! heaven, and my conscience, knows, Thou didst unjustly banish me : whereon, At three, and two years old, I stole these babes ;' Thinking to bar thee of succession, as Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse ; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave : 3 Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, They take for natural father. The game is up. [Exit. SCENE IV. Near Milford Haven. Enter Pisa- nio and Imogen. Imo. Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place Was near at hand : Ne'er long'd my mother so To see me first, as I have now : — Pisanio ! Man ' Where is Posthumus ? 9 What is in thy mind, That makes thee stare thus ? Wherefore breaks that sigh From the inward of thee ? One, but painted thus, Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd Beyond self-explication : Put thyself Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter ? Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with A look untender ? If it be summer news, Smile to't before : if winterly, thou need'st But keep that countenance still. — My husband's hand ! That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, And he's at some hard point. — Speak, man ; thy tongue May take off some extremity, which to read Would be even mortal to me. Pis. Please you, read ; And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing The most disdain'd of fortune. Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath playe the strumpet in my bed; the testimonies where/ He bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; has done to the young princes, whom he has robbed ol a kingdom, only to rob their father of heirs. Tlie letter part of this soliloquy is very inartificial, there being no particular reason why Belarius should now Cell to him self what he could not know better by telling it.' — John son. 9 i. e. to the grave of Euriphile ; or to the grave of ' their mother,' as they supposed it to be. The grammati cal construction requires that the poet should have writ ten ' to thy grave ;' .but we have frequent instances ot this changs of persms, not only in Shakspeare, but in. all the writings of his age. 9 The true pronunciation of Greek and La'.in names- was not much regarded by the wri'.ers of Shavcspeare's age. The poet has, however, differed "rova himself, and given the true pronunciation when the name first occurs, and in one other place : — ' To his protection ; call him Posthumus.' ' Struck, the maintop ! O, Posthumus !■ ajas, » 324 CTMBELINE. Act m. from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain as I expect my revenge. That part, thou, Pisanio, must act for me, if thy faitli be not tainted with the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her life : I shall give thee opportunities at Milford Haven : she hath my letter for the purpose ; Where, if thou fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me disloyal. Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper Hath cut her throat already. — No, 'tis slander ; Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms' of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, 2 Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters. — What cheer, madam? Jmo. False to his bed! What is it, to be false ? To lie in watch there, and to think on him? To weep 'twixt clock and clock I if sleep charge nature, To break it with a fearful dream of him, And cry myself awake ? that's false to his bed? Is it ? Pis. Alas, good lady I Imo. I false ? Thy conscience witness : — Iachimo, Thou didst accuse him of incontinency ; Thou then look'dst like a villain ; now, methinks, Thy favour's good enough. — Some jay of Italy, Whose mother was her painting, 3 hath betray'd him : Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion ; And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, 4 I must be ripp'd : — to pieces with me ! — O, Men's vows are women's traitors ! All good seeming, By thy revolt, O, husband, shall bo thought Put on for villany ; not born, where't grows ; But worn, a bait for ladies. Pis. Good madam, hear me. Imo. True honest men being heard, like false ^Eneas, Were, in his time, thought false : and Sinon's weeping Did scandal many a holy tear : took pity From most true wretchedness : So, thou, Post- humus, Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men ;• Goodly, and gallant, shall be false and perjur'd, From thy great fail. — Come, fellow, be thou honest: Do thou thy master's bidding : when thou seest him, 1 It has already been observed that worm was the general name for all the serpent kind. See Antony and Cleopatra, Act v. 8c. 2 2 i. e. persons of the highest rank. 3 Putta, in Italian, signifies both a jay and a whore. We have the word again in The Merry Wives of Wind- sor :- ' Teach him to know turth-s from jays.' Some jay of Italy, whose mot/ur was her painting, i. e. made by art ; the creature not of nature, but of painting. In this sense painting may be said to be her mother. Stee- vens met with a similar phrase in some old play : — ' A parcel of conceited feather-caps, whose fathers were their garments.'' 4 That is, to be hung up as useless among the neglect- ed contents of a wardrobe. So in Measure for Mea- sure : — ' That have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall.' Clothes were not formerly, as at present, made of slight materials, were not kept jn drawers, or given away as soon as lapse of time or change ol fashion had impaired their value. On the contrary, they were hung up on wooden pegs, in a room appropriated to the sole purpose of receiving them ; and though such cast off things as were composed of rich substances were occasionally ripped for domestic uses, articles of inferior quality were suffered to hang by the walls till age and moths had destroyed what pride would not permit to be worn by servants or poor relations : — ' Comitem horridulum trita donare lacerna,' seems not to have been customarv among our ancestors. When Queen Elizabeth died, she" was found to have left A little witness my obedience : Look! I draw the sword myself: take it ; and hit The innocent mansion of my love, my heart : Fear not : 'tis empty of all things, but grief; Thy master is not there ; who was, indeed, The riches of it ; Do his bidding ; strike. Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause ; But now thou sesm'st a coward. Pis. Hence, vile instrument ? Thou shalt not damn my hand. Imo. Why, I must die; And if I do not by thy hand, thou art No servant of thy master's : Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine, That cravens my weak hand. s Come, here's my heart ; Something's afore't : Soft, soft ; we'll no defence ; Obedient as the scabbard. — What is here ? The scriptures' of the loyal Leonatus, All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, Corrupters of my faith ! you shall no more Be stomachers to my heart J Thus may poor fools Believe false teachers : Though those that are be- tray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor Stands in worse case of wo. And thou, Posthumus, thon that didst set up My disobedience 'gainst the king my father, And make me put into contempt the suits Of princely fellows, 8 shalt hereafter find It is no act of common passage, but A strain of rareness : and I grieve myself, To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by her That now thou tir'st-' on, how thy memory Will then be pang'd by me. — Pr'ythee, despatch: The lamb entreats the butcher : Where's thy knife? Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, When I desire it too. Pis. O, gracious lady, Since I receiv'd command to do this business, I have not slept one wink. Imo. Do't, and to bed then. I'is. I'll wake mine eyeballs blind first. 10 Imo. Wherefore then Didst undertake it ? Why hast thou abus'd So many miles with a pretence ? this place ? Mine action, and thine own? our horses' labour? The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, For my being abserM ; whereunto I never Purpose return ? Why hast thou gone so far, To be unbent," when thou hast ta'en thy stand, The elected deer before thee ? above three thousand dresses behind her. Steevens once saw one of these repositories at an ancient mansion in Suffolk, which (thanks to a succession of old maids !) had been preserved with superstitious reverence for al- most a century and a hal£ 5 ' Wilt lay the legmen on all proper men.' The leaven is, in Scripture phraseology, ' the whola wickedness of our sinful nature.' See 1 Corinthians, v. 6, 7, 8. ' Thy failure, Posthumus, will lay falsehood to the charge of men without guile : make all suspected.' 6 ' That makes me afraid to put an end to my own life.' Hamlet exclaims : — ' O, that the everlasting had not fix'tf His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.' 7 Shakspeare here means Leoi.atus's letters, but there is an opposition intended between scripture, in its com- mon signification, and heresy. 8 Fellows for equals; those of the same princely rant with myself. 9 ' when thou shalt be disedg'd by her That now thou tir'st on.' It is probable that the first, as well as the last, of these metaphorical expressions is from falconry. A bird of prey may be said to be disedged when the keenness of its appetite is taken away by tiring, or feeding, upon some object given to it for that purpose Thus in Ham- let:— ' Oph. You are keen, my lord, you fire keen. Ham. It would cost you a groaning to take off mine edge.' 10 Blind, which is not in the old copy, was supplied by Hanmer. 11 To have thy bow unbent, alluding to a hunter So t*"i '■»:>»/' SCEUE V. CYMBELINE 325 Pis. But to win time To close so bad employment : in the which I have consider'd of a course ; Good lady, Hear me with patience. Imo. Talk thy tongue weary ; speak : I have heard, I am a strumpet : and mine ear, Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. Pis. Then, madam, I thought you would not back again. Imo. Most like; Bringing me here to kill me. Pis, Not so, neither: But if I were as wise as honest, then My purpose would prove well. It cannot be, But that, my master is abus'd : Some villain, ay, and singular in his art Hath done you both this cursed injury. Imo. Some Roman courtezan. Pis. No, on my life I'll give but notice you are dead, and send him Some bloody sign of it ; for 'tis commanded I should do so : You shall be miss'd at court ; And that will well confirm it. Imo. Why, good fellow, What shall Y do the while ? Where bide ? How live ? Or in my life what comfort, when I am Dead to my husband ? Pis. If you'll back to the court, Imo. No court, no father ; nor no more ado With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing:' That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me As fearful as a siege. Pis. If not at court, Then not in Britain must you bide. Imo. Where then ? Hath Britain all the sun that shines? 2 Day, night, Are they not but in Britain '/ I' the world's volume Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it ; In a great pool, a swan's nest ; Pr'ythee, think There's livers out of Britain. Pis. I am most glad You think of other place. The embassador Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford Haven To-morrow : Now, if you could wear a mind Dark as your fortune is ; s and but disguise That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be, But by self-danger ; you should tread a course Pretty, and full of view : 4 yea, haply, near The residence of Posthumus : so nigh, at least. That though his actions were not visible, yet Report should render him hourly to your ear, As truly as he moves. Imo. O, for such means ! Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, S would adventure. in one of Shakspeare's poems in The Passionate Pil- grim, 1599 : — 'When as thine eye hath chose the dame Jind statt'd the deer thai thou shouldst strike. \ This line requires some word of two syllables to complete the measure. Steevens proposed to read ; — 'With that harsh, noble, simple, nothing, Cloten; That Cloten,' &c. 2 The poet may have had in his muid a passage in Lyly's Euphues, which he has imitated in King Richard II. 3 To wear a dark mind is to carry a mind impene- trable to the search of others. Darkness, applied to the mind, is secrecy ; applied to the fortune, is obscurity. The next lines are obscure. ' You must (says Pisanio) disguise that greatness which, to appear hereafter in its proper form, cannet yet appear without great danger to itself.' 4 Futi of view appears to mean of ample prospect, affording a complete view of circumstances which it is your interest to know. Thus in Pericles, ' Full of face' appears to signify ' amply beautiful :' and Duncan as- sures Banquo that he will labour to make him 'full of growing,' i. e. of ' ample growth, ' 5 So in King Henry IV. Part I ' A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen As you are tossM with. This character of the iceasel is not mentioned by natu ealists Weasels were formerly, il appears, kept in Pis. Well, then, here's the point : You must forget to be a woman ; change Command into obedience; fear and niceness, (The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, Woman its pretty self,) into a waggish courage ; Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and As quarrellous as the weasel : 5 nay, you must Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, Exposing it, (but, O, the harder heart! Alack no remedy \ ) to the greedy touch Of common-kissing Titan ! B and forget Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein You made great Juno angry. Imo. Nay, be brief: I see into thy end, and am almost A man already. Pis. First, make yourself but like one, Fore-thinking this, I have already fit (Tis in my cloak-bag) doublet, hat, hose, all That answer to them : Would you, in their serving, And with what imitation you can borrow From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius Present yourself, desire his service, tell him Wherein you are happy,' (which you'll make him know, If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless, With joy he will embrace you ; for he's honourable, And, doubting that, most holy. Your means abroad You have me, 8 rich ; and I will never fail Beginning, nor supplyment. fmo. ' Thou art all the comfort The gods will diet me with. 9 Pr'ythee, away : There's more to be consider'd ; but we'll even 10 All that good time will give us: This attempt I am soldier to, 1 ' and will abide it with A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short farewell ' Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, Here is a box ; I had it from the queen What's ki't is precious ; if you are sick at sea, Or stornach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this Will drive away distemper. — To some shade, And fit you to your manhood: — May the gods Direct you to the best! Imo. Amen: I thank thee. [Exeunt. SCENE V. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace.— Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, Lucius, and Lords. Cym. Thus far; and so farewell. E.uc Thanks, royal sir. My emperor hath wrote ; I must from hence ; And am right sorry, that I must report ye My master's enemy. houses instead of cats, for the purpose of killing vermin. Pha?drus notices this their feline office in the first and fourth fables of bis fourth book. The poet, no doubt, speaks from observation ; while a youth he would have frequent opportunities to ascertain their disposition. Perhaps this note requires the apology which Steevens has affixed to it: — 'Rrivola ha?c fortassis cuipiam et nimis levia esse videantur sed curiositas nihil recusat.' — Vopiscus in Vita Jlureliani, c z. 6 Thus in Othello :— ' The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets.' So in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. iii. 'And beautifnl might have been if they had not suffered greedy Phcsbus over often and hard to kisse them.' 7 L e. wherein you are accomplished. 9 'As for your subsistence abroad, you may rely on me. 1 9 Sieevens has a note on this passage no less disgust ing than absurd, making the pure Imogen allude to the spare regimen prescribed in some diseases. The in- terpretation was at once gross and erroneous. When Iago talks of dieting his revenge, he certainly does not mean putting k on a spare diet. This, and a note on a former passage of this play by Mr. Whalley, which could only have been the offspring of impure imagina- tions, were justly stigmatized and degraded by the late Mr. Boswell, at the suggestion of Mr. Douce. 10 We'll make our work even with our time; we'll do what time will allow. Hie equal to, or have ability for k. 326 CYMBELINE. Act IIL Cym. Our subjects, sir, Will not endure his yoke : and for ourself To show less sovereignty than they, must needs Appear unkinglike. Jjuc. So, sir, I desire of you A conduct over land, to Milford Haven. — Madam, all joy befall your grace, and you P Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that office : The due of honour in no point omit : — So, farewell, noble Lucius. J MC . Your hand, my lord. Clo. Receive it friendly : but from this time forth I wear it as your enemy. Luc. Sir, the event Is yet to name the winner ; Fare you well. Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, Till he have cross'd the Severn. — Happiness ! [Exeunt Lucius, and Lords. Queen. He soes hence frowning: but it honours us, That we have given him cause. Clo. Tis all the better j Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor How it goes here. It fits us, therefore, ripely, Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness : The powers that he already hath in Gallia Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves His war for Britain. Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business ; But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly. Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus, Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, Where is our daughter ? She hath not appear'd Before the Roman, nor to us hath tcnder'd The duty of the day : She looks us like A thing more made of malice, than of duty : We have noted it. — Call her before us ; for We have been too slight in sufferance. [Exit an Attendant. Queen. Royal sir, Since the exile of Posthumus, most retir'd Hath her life been ; the cure whereof, my lord, 'Tis time must do. 'Beseech your majesty, Forbear sharp speeches to her : she's a lady So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, And strokes death to her. Re-enter an Attendant. Cym. Where is she, sir ? How Can her contempt be answer'd ? Alien. Please you, sir, Her chambers are all look'd ; and there's no answer That will be given to loud'st of noise we make. Quecit. My lord, when last I went to visit her, She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close ; Whereto con'strain'd by her infirmity, She should that duty leave unpaid to you, Which daily she was bound to proffer : this She wish'd me to make known ; but our great court Made me to blame in memory. Cym. Her doors lock'd ? Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I Fear 2 prove false ! , [Exit. Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, I have not seen these two days. Queen. Go, look after. — [Exit Cloten. Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus ! — He hath a drug of mine : I pray, his absence Proceed by swallowing that ; for he believes It is a thing most precious. But for her, Where is she gone ? Haply, despair hath seized her ; Or, wing'a (vith fervour of her love, she s flown To her desir'd Posthumus : Gone she is To death, or to dishonour ; and my end Can make good use of either : She being down, I have the placing of the British crown. Re-enter Cloten. How now, my son ? Clo. 'Tis certain, she is fled j Go in, and cheer the king ; he rages ; none Dare come about him. Queen. All the better ; May This night forestall him of the coming day ! 3 [Exit Queer Clo. I love and hate her ; for she's lair and royal ; And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite Than lady, ladies, woman ; 4 from every one The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, Outsells them all : I love her therefore - T But, Disdaining me, and throwing favours on The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment, That what's else rare, ischok'd ; and, in that point, I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools Enter Pisanio. Shall — Who is here? What! are you packing, sirrah ? Come hither: Ah, you precious pander ! Villain, Where is thy lady ? In a word ; or else Thou art straightway with the fiends. Pi's. O, good my lord !. Clo. Where is thy lady ? or % by Jupiter I will not ask again. Close villain, I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus ? From whose so many weights of baseness cannot A dram of worth be drawn. Pis. Alas, my lord, How can she be with him? When was she miss'd?' He is in Rome. Clo. Where is she, sir ? Come nearer ; No farther halting : satisfy me home, What is become of her? Pi's. O, my all-worthy lord I Clo. All-worthy villain ! Discover where thy mistress is, at once, At the next word, — No more of worthy lord, — Speak, or thy silence on the instant is Thy condemnation and thy death. Pi's. Then, sir, This paper is the history of my knowledge Touching her flight. [Presenting a letter*. Clo. Let's see't : — I will pursue hep Even to Augustus' throne. Pi's. Or this, or perish. 5 > She's far enough; and what he learns by this, > Aside. May prove his travel, not her danger. ) do. Humph ! Pis. I'll write to my lord she's dead. O, Imogen, Safe may'st thou wander, safe return again ! [Aside. Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? Pis. Sir, as I think. Clo. It is Posthumus' hand ; I know't, — Sirrah, if thou would'st not be a villain, but do me true service ; undergo those employments, wherein 1 should have cause to usa thee, with a serious indus- try, — that is, what villany soever P bid 1 thee do, to perform it directly and truly, — I would think thee an honest man : thou shouldest neither want my means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. Pis. Well, my good lord. Clo, Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently and constantly thou hast stack to the bare fortuna 1 We should apparently read 'Ai's grace and you,' or ' your grace and yours.'' ■2 jfear must be pronounced as a dissyllable to com- plete the measure. 3 i. e. may his grief this night prevent him from ever seeing another day, by anticipated and premature de- struction. Thus in Milton's Comus : — ' Perhaps forestalling night prevented them.' 4 Than any lady, than all ladies, than all woman- kind. There is a' similar passage in All's Well that Ends Well, Act ii. Sc. 3:— ' To any count ; to all counts ; to what is man.' 5 By these words it is probable Pisanio means ' I must either practise this deceit upon Cloten or perish by his fury.' Dr. Johnson thought the words shouts! t* iven to Cloten, Scene VI. CYMBELINE. 327 of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? Pis. Sir, I will. Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy possession ? Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit hither .; let it be thy first service ; go. Pis. I shall, my lord. [Exit. Clo. Meet thee at Milfc-rd Haven : — I forgot to ask him one thing ; I'll remember't anon : — Even there, thou villain, Posthumus, will I kill thee. — I >vould these garments were come. She said upon a time, (the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart,) that she held the very garment of Posthu- mus iu more respect than my noble and natural person, together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back, will I ravish her : First kill him, and in her eyes ; there shall she see rey valour, which will then be a torment to her con- tempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, — and when my lust hath dined, (which, as I say, to vex her, I will execute in the clothes that she so praised,) to the court I'll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my re- venge. Re-enter Pisanio, with the Clothes. Be those the garments ? Pis. Ay, nay noble lord. Clo. How long is't since she went to Milford Haven ? Pis. She can scarce be there yet. Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber ; that is the second thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, that thou sbalt be a voluntary mute tomy design. Be but duteous, and true preferment, shall tender itself to thee. — My revenge is now at Mil- ford ; 'Would, I had wings to follow it ! — Come, and be true. [JExit. Pis. Thou bidd'st me to my loss : for, true to thee, Were to prove false, which I will never be, To him that is most true. 1 — To Milford go, And find not her whom thou pursu'st. Flow, flow, You heavenly blessings, on her I This fool's speed Be cross'd with slowness ; labour be his meed ! [Exit. SCENE VI. Before the Cave of Belarius. Enter Imogen, in Boy's Clothes. Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one: I have tir'cl myself; and for two nights together Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, But that my resolution helps me. — Milford, When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, Thou wast within a ken : O, Jove ! I think, Foundations fly the wretched: 1 such, I mean, Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars told me, I could not miss my way : Will poor folks lie, That have afflictions on them ; knowing 'tis A punishment, or trial ? Yes ; no wonder, When rich ones scarce tell true : To lapse in fulness Is sorer, 5 than to lie for need ; and falsehood 1 Pisanio, notwithstanding his master's letter com- manding the murder of Imogen, considers him as true, supposing, as he has already said to her, that Posthu- mus was abused by some villain equally an enemy to .hem both. 2 Thus in the fifth jEneid :— 'Italiam sequimur fugientem.'' 3 i. e. is a greater or heavier crime. 4 Civil is here civilized, as opposed to savage, wild, tide, or uncultivated. ' If any one dwell here.'' 5 A woodtaan in its common acceptation, as here, signifies a hunter. So in The Rape of Lucrece : — ' He is no woodman that doth bend his bow Against a poor unseasonable doe.' 6 i. e our compact. 7 Uestie, which Steevens unwarrantably changed to Is worse in kings, than beggars. — My dear lord ! Thou art one o' the false ones : Now I think on thee My hunger's gone ; but even before, I was At point to sink for food. — But what is this ? Here is a path to it : 'Tis some savage hold : I were best not call ; I dare not call ; yet famine, Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards ; hardness ever Of hardiness is mother. — Ho ! who's here? If any thing that's civil, 4 speak ; if savage, Take, or lend. — Ho ! — No answer ? then I'll enter. Best draw my sword ; and if mine enemy But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. Such a foe, good heavens ! [She goes into the Cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. You, Polydore, have prov'd best wood- man, 4 and Are master of the feast : Cadwal, and I, Will play the cook and servant ; 'tis our match. The sweat of industry would dry, and die, But for the end it works to. Come ; our stomachs Will make what's homely, savoury : Weariness Can snore upon the flint, when restie* sloth Finds the down pillow hard. — Now, peace be here, Poor house, that keep'st thyself! Gui. I am thoroughly weary. Arv. I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. Gui. There is cold meat i' the cave ; we'll browze on that, Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. BeL Stay ; come not in : [Looking in. But that it eats our victuals, I should think Here were a fairy. Gui. What's the matter, sir? Bel. By Jupiter, an angel ! or, if not, An earthly paragon ! — Behold divineness No elder than a boy < Enter Imogen. Imo. Good masters, harm me not : Before I enter'd here, I call'd : and thought To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took: Good troth, I have stolen nought ; nor would not, though I had found Gold strew'd i' the floor. 8 Here's money for my meat : I would have left it on the board, so soon As I had made my meal ; and parted With prayers for the provider. Gui. Money, youth? Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those Who worship dirty gods. Imo. I see, you are angry : Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should Have died, had I not made it. Bel. Whither bound ? Imo. To Milford Haven. Bel. What is your name ? Imo. Fidele, sir : I have a kinsman, who Is bound for Italy ; he embark'd at Milford ; To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I am fallen in 9 this offence. Bel. Pr'ythee, fair youth, Think us no churls ; nor measure our good minds By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'dT restfpe, signifies here dull, heavy, as it is explained in Bullokar's Expositor, 1616. So Milton uses it in his Eicnnoclastes, sec. 24, ' The master is too res///, or too rich, to say his own prayers, or to bless his own table.' What between Malone's ' resty, rank, mouldy, ' and Steevens's 'restive, stubborn, refractory,'' the reader is misled and the passage left unexplained ; or what is worse, explained erroneously in all the variorum edi- tions. 8 Hanmer altered this to 'o' the floor,' but imneces. sarily — in was frequently used for on in Shakspeare'o time, as in the Lord's Prayer, 'Thy will be done in earth.' 9 In for into, as in Othello :— ' Fallen in the practice of a cursed slave ' 28 CYMBELINE. Act IT. 'Tis almost night : you shall have better cheer Ere you depart ; and thanks, to stay and eat it. — Boys, bid him welcome. Gui. Were you a woman, youth, I should woo hard, but be your groom. — In honesty, I bid for you, as I'd buy. Arv. I'll make't my comfort, He is a man ; I'll love him as my brother : — And such a welcome as I'd give to him, After long absence, such is yours: — Most welcome ! Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. Imo. 'Mongst friends, If brothers ! — 'Would, it had been so, that they Had been my father's sons ! then had my I j^ prize 1 Been less ; and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus. Bel. He wrings 2 at some distress. Gui. 'Would, I could free't ! Arv. Or I ; whate'er it be, What pain it cost, what danger ! Gods ! Bel. Hark, boys. [Whispering. Imo. Great men, That had a court no bigger than this cave, That did attend themselves, and had the virtue Which their own conscience seal'd them, (laying by That nothing gift of differing 3 multitudes,) Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods ! I'd change my sex to be companion with them, Since Leonatus false.* Bel. It shall be so : Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. — Fair youth, come in : Discourse is heavy, fasting ; when we have supp'd, We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, So far as thou wilt speak it. Gui. Pray draw near. Arv. The night to the owl, the morn to the lark, less welcome. Imo. Thanks, sir. Arv. I pray, draw near. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. Rome. Enter Two Senators and Tribunes. 1 Sen. This is the tenor of the emperor's writ ; That since the common men are now in action 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians ; And that the legions now in Gallia are Full weak to undertake our wars against The fallen off Britons ; that we do incite The gentry to this business : He creates Lucius pro-consul : and to you, the tribunes, For this immediate levy, he commands His absolute commission. 5 Long live Caesar! Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces? 2 Sen. Ay. Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? 1 Sen. With those legions Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy Must be supplyant: The words of your commission Will tie you to the numbers, and the time Of their despatch. Tri. We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. The Forest, near the Cave. Enter Cloten. Clo. I am near to the place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments serve me ! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not bo fit too? the rather, (saving reverence of the word,) for 6 'tis said, a woman s fitness conies by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, (for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer; m his own chamber, I mean,) the lines of my body are as well drawn as his ; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in for- tunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general ser- vices, and more remarkable in single oppositions : T yet this imperseverant thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is ! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy gar- ments cut to pieces before thy face : 8 and all this done, spurn her home to her father : who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage : but my mother, having power of his tt-stincss, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe : Out, sword, and to a sore purpose I Fortune, put them into my hand ! This is the very descrip- tion of their meeting-place : and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit. SCENE II. Before the Cave. Enter, from the Cave, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, and Imogen. Bel. You are not well : [To Imogen.] remain here in the cave : We'll come to you after hunting. Arv. Brother, stay here : [To Imogen. Are wc not brothers ? Imo. So man and man should be ; But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. Gui. Go you to hunting. I'll abide with him. Imo. So sick I am not ; yet I am not well : But not so citizen a wanton, as To seem to die, ere sick : So please you leave me , Slick to your journal course: the breach of custom Is breach of all. 9 I am ill ; but your being by me Cannot amend me : Society is no comfort To one not sociable : I'm not very sick, Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here : I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, Stealing so poorly. Gui. I love thee ; I have spoke it : How much the quantity, the weight as much, As I do love my father. Bel. What? how? how? Arv. If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 1 I have elsewhere observed that prize, prise, and price were confounded, or used indiscriminately by our ancestors. Indeed it is not now uncommon at this day, as Malone observes, to hear persons above the vulgar confound the words, and talk of hish-priz'd and low- j>riz'd goods. Prize here is evidently used for value, estimation. The reader who wishes to see how the words were formerly confounded, may consult Baret's Alvearie, in v. price. 2 To wring is to writhe. So in Much Ado about Nothing, Act v. Sc. 1 :— ' To those that wring under the load of sorrow.' 3 Differing multitudes are varying or trartring mul- titudes. So in the Induction to the Second Part of Kitiff Henry VI. :— 1 The still discordant wavering multitude," that he used ' since Leonatus' false' for ' since Leonatus is false.' Steevens doubts this, and says that the poet may have written ' Since Leonate is false,' as he carls Enobarbus, Enobarbe ; and Prospero, Prosper, in other places. 5 He co?nmands the commission to be given you. So. we say, I ordered the materials to the workmen. 6 i. e. cause. 7 ' In single combat.' So in King Henry IV. Fart I. Act i. Sc. 3 •— ' In single opposition, hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an honr In changing hardiment with great Glendower.' An opposite, in the language of Shakspeare's age, was the common phrase for an antagonist. Imperseverant probably means no more than perse- verant, like imbosomed, impassioned, immaskea. 8 Warburton thought we should read, ' before her face.' Malone says, that Shakspeare may have inten tionally given this absurd and brutal language to Cloten. The Clown ir The Winter's Tale saysj ' If thou'lt see a thing to talk of after thou art dead.' 9 ' Keep your daily course uninterrupted ; if the stated 4 Malone says, ' As Shakspeare has used in other places Meuelaus' te;,t, and thy mistress' ear for ' Mene- plan of life is once broken, nothing follows but coufu- probable 6ion.'— Johnson. auses tent,' and ' thy mistresses ear :' it is Scene II. CYMBELINE. 329 In my good brother's fault : I know not why I love this youth ; and I have heard you say, Love's reason's without reason ; the bier at door, And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, My father, not this youth. Bel. O, noble strain ! [Aside. O, worthiness of nature ! breed of greatness ! Cowards father cowards, and base things sire base : Nature hath meal, and bran ; contempt, and grace. I am not their father : yet who this should be, Doth miracle itself, lov'd before me. — 'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. Arv. Brother, farewell. Imo. I wish ye sport. Arv. You health. — So please you, sir. Imo. [Aside.] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies I have heard ! Our courtiers say, all's savage, but at court : Experience, O, thou disprov'st report ! The imperious 1 seas breed monsters; for the dish, Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. I am sick still ; heart-sick : — Pisanio, I'll now taste of thy drug. Gui. • I could not stir him ; He said, he was gentle, 2 but unfortunate ; Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. Arv. Thus did he answer me : yet said, hereafter I might know more. Bel. To the field, to the field : — We'll leave you for this time ; go in, and rest. Arv. We'll not be long away. Bel. P ra y» be not sick, For you must be our housewife. Imo. Well, or ill, I am bound to you. Bel. And shalt be ever. [Exit Imogen. This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears, he hath had Good ancestors. Arv. How angel-like he sings ! Gui. But his neat cookery ! He cut our roots in characters ; And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had been sick, And he her dieter. Arv. Nobly he yokes A smiling with a sigh ; as if the sigh Was that it was, for not being such a smile ; The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly From so divine a temple, to commix With winds that sailors rail at. Gui. I do note, That grief and patience, rooted in him both, Mingle their spurs 3 together. Arv. Grow, patience ! And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine His perishing root, with the increasing vine !* Bel. It is great morning. 5 Come; away. — Who's there ? Enter Cloten. Clo. I cannot find those runagates ; that villain Hath mock'd me : I am faint. Bel. Those runagates ! Means he not us? I partly know him ; 'tis Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. I saw him not these many years, and yet I know 'tis he : — We are held as outlaws : — Hence. 1 Here anain Malone asserts that ' imperious was used by Shakapeare for imperial.'' This is absurd enouah when we look at the context: what has impe- rial To do with seas ? Imperious has here its usual meaning of proud, haughty. See Troilus and Cres- sida, Act iv. Sc. 5. 2 ' I could not move him to tell his story.' Gentle is of a gentle race or rank, well born. 3 Spars are the longest and largest leading roots of trees. We have the word again in The Tempest :— ' The strong bas'd promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs Pluck 'd up the pine and cedar.' •1 How much difficulty has been made to appear in this simple figurative passage ! which to me appears sufficiently intelligible without a note. ' Let patience grow, and let the" stinking elder, grief, untwine his 2 R Gui. He is but one : You and my brother search What companies are near : pray you away ; Let me alone with him. [Exeunt Belarius and Arviragus. Clo. Soft ! What are you That fly me thus ? some villain mountaineers'/ I have heard of such. What slave art thou ? Gui. A thing More slavish did I ne'er, than answering A slave, without a knock. 6 Clo. Thou art a robber, A law-breaker, a villain : Yield thee, thief. Gui. To who ? to thee ? What art thou ? Have not I An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger ; for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. 7 Say, what thou art ; Why I should yield to thee? Clo. Thou villain base, Know'st me not by my clothes ? Gui. No, nor thy tailor, rascal, Who is thy grandfather ; he made those clothes, Which, as it seems, make thee. 8 Clo. Thou precious varlet, My tailor made them not. Gui. Hence, then, and thank The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; I am loath to beat thee. Clo. Thou injurious thief, Hear but my name, and tremble. Gui. What's thy name 1 Clo. Cloten, thou villain. Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, I cannot tremble at it ; were't toad, or adder, spider, 'Twould move me sooner. Clo. To thy further fear, Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know I'm son to the queen. Gui. I'm sorry for't ; not seeming So worthy as thy birth. Clo. Art not afeard ? Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear ; tho wise : At fools I laugh, not fear them. Clo. Die the death : When I have slain thee with my proper hand, I'll follow those that even now fled hence, And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads ■ Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, fighting. Enter Belarius and Arviragus. Bel. No company's abroad. Arv. None in the world : You did mistake him, sure. Bel. I cannot tell : Long is it since I saw him, But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour Which then he wore ; the snatches in his voice, And burst of speaking, were as his : I am absolute. 'Twas very Cloten. Arv. In this place we left them : I wish my brother make good time with him, You say he is so fell. Bel. Being scarce made up, I mean, to man, he had not apprehension Of roaring terrors ; for defect of judgment Is oft the cure 9 of fear : But see, thy brother. perishing root from those of the increasing vine, pa- tience.'' I have already observed, that with, from, and by, are almost always convertible winds. 5 The same phrase occurs in Troilus and Cressida, Act iv. Sc. 3. It is a Gallicism : — ' II est grand matin.' 6 i.e. than answering that abusive word slave. 7 So in Solyman and Perseda, 1599 : — ' I fightnol with, my tongue : this is my oratrix ' Macduff says to Macbeth : — ' 1 have no words ; My voice is in my sword.' 3 See a note on a similar passage in a former scene, p. 324, Act iii. Sc. 4. 9 The old copy reads, 'Is oft the cause of fear ;' but this cannot be right : Belarius is assigning a reason for Cloten's fool-hardy desperation, not accounting for h',3 cowardice. The emendation adopted is Hanmer'a 330 CYMBELINE. Act IV, Re-enler Guiderhts, with Cloten's Head. Gui. This Cloten was a fool : an empty purse, There was no money in't : not Hercules Could have knockM out his brains, for he had none : Yet, I not doing this, the fool had borne My head, as I do his. Bel. What hast thou done ? Gui. I am perfect, 1 what: cut off one Cloten's head ; Son to the queen, after his own report ; Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer ; and swore, With his own single hand he'd take us in, 2 Displace our heads, where, (thank the gods !) they grow, And set them on Lud's town. Bel. We are all undone. Qui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, But that he swore to take, our lives ? The law Protects not us : Then why should we be tender To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ; Play judge, and executioner, all himself; For 3 we do fear the law ? What company Discover you abroad ? Bel. No single soul Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason, [mour* He must have some attendants. Though his hu- Was nothing but mutation ; ay, and that From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, To bring him here alone : Although, perhaps, It may be heard at court, that such as we Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time May make some stronger head : the which he hearing, (As it is like him,) might break out, and swear He'd fetch us in ; yet is't not probable To come alone, either he so undertaking, Or they so suffering : then on good ground we fear, If we do fear this body hath a tail More perilous than the head. Arv. Let ordinance Come as the gods foresav it : howsoe'er, My brother hath done well. Bel. I had no mind To hunt this day : the boy Fidele's sickness Did make my way long forth. 4 Gui. With his own sword, Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en His head from him : I'll throw't into the creek Behind our rock ; and let it to the sea, And tell the fishes, he's the queen's son, Cloten : That's all I reck. [Exit. Bel. I fear, 'twill be reveng'd : 'Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done*'t ! though valour Becomes thee -well enough. Arv. . 'Would, I had done't, So the revenge alone pursued me ! — Polydore, I love thee brotherly ; but envy much, Thou hast robb'd me of this deed : I would, revenges, [through, That possible strength might meet, 6 would seek us And put us to our answer. 1 ' I am well informed what.' 2 i. e. conquer, subdue us. 3 For again in the sense of cause. See note on Act iv. Sc. 1. 4 The old copy reads, ' his honour.' The emenda- tion is Theobald's. Malone has shown that the words honour and humour have been erroneously printed for each other in other passages of the old editions. 5 ' Fidele's sickness made my walk forth from the cave tedious.' So in King Richard III. : — ' our crosses on the way Have made it tedious,' &c. 6 ' Such pursuit of vengeance as fell within any pos- sibility of opposition.' 7 ' To restore Fidele to the bloom of health, to recall the colour into his cheeks, I would let out the blood of a whole parish, or any number of such fellows as Clo- ten.' A parish is a common phrase for a great number. 'Hecven give you joy, sweet master Palatine. And to you, sir, a whole parish of children.' The Wits, by Davenant, p. 222. Bel. Well, 'tis done : — We'll hunt no more to-day, nor se-ek for danger Where there's no profit. I pr'ythee, to our rock ; You and Fidele play the cooks : I'll stav Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him To dinner presently. Arv. Poor sick Fidele ! I'll willingly to him : To gain his colour, I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,' And praise myself for charity. [Exit. Bel. O, thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchaf'd, as the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful, That an invisible instinct should frame them To royalty unlearn'd : honour untaught ; Civility not seen from other ; valour, That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop As if it had been sovv'd ! Yet still it's strange What Cloten's being here to us portends; Or what his death will bring us. Re-enler Guiderius. Gui. Where's my brother ? I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, In embassy to his mother ; his body's hostage For his return. \ Solemn music. Bel. My ingenious instrument ! Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion Hath Cadwal now to give it motion ! Hark ! Gui. Is he at home ? Bel. He went hence even now. Gui. What does he mean ? since death of my dear'st mother It did not speak before. All solemn things Should answer solemn accidents. The matter ? Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys. 8 Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys ; Is Cadwal mad ? Re-enkr Arviragus, hearing Imogen, as dead, in his arms. Bel. Look, here he comes, And brings the dire occasion in his arms, Of what we blame him for ! Arv. The bird is dead, That we have made so much on. I had rather Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, Than have seen this. Gui. O, sweetest, fairest lily ! My brother wears thee not the one half so well. As when thou grew'st thyself. Bel. O, melancholy ! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? find The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare 9 Might easiliest harbour in 7 — Thou blessed thing! Jove knows what man thou might'st have made V but I, 10 Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! — How found you him ? Arv. Stark," as you see : 8 Toys are trifles. 9 A crare was a small vessel of burthen, sometimes spelled craer, crayer, and even craye. The old copy reads, erroneously, ; thy sluggish care.' The emendation was suggested' by Sympson in a note on The Captain of Beaumont and Fletcher: — ' lee him venture In some decayed crare of his own. 10 We should most probably read, ' but ah '.' Jly is always printed ah ! in the first folio, and other books of the time. Hence, perhaps, /, which was used for the affirmative particle ay, crept into the text. 'Heaven knows (says Belarius) what a man thou wouklst have been hadsl thou lircd ; but, alas ! thou died'st of melan- cho:y, while yet only a most accomplished boy > 11 Start,- means entirely cold and stiff. ' And many a nobleman lies stark- — Under the hoofs of vaulting enemies." King Henry IV Fart I SCEHE II. CYMBELINE. 331 Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at : his right cheek Reposing on a cushion. Gui. Where ? Arv. O' the floor ; His arms thus leagu'd : I thought, he slept : and put My clouted brogues 1 from off" my feet, whose rude- ness Answer' d my steps too loud. Gui. Why, he but sleeps : 2 If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, And worms will not come to thee. 3 Arv. With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azur'd harebell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock* would, With charitable bill (O, bill, sore-shaming Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie Without a monument !) bring thee all this ; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground 5 thy corse. Gui. Pr'ythce, have done ; And do not play in wench-like words with that Which is so serious. Let us bury him, And not protract with admiration what Is now due debt. — To the grave. Arv. Say, where shall's lay him ? Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. Arv. Be't so : And let us, Polydore, though now our voices Have got the mannish crack, sine him to the ground, As once our mother ; use like note, and words, Save that Euriphile. must be Fidele. Gui. Cadwal, I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thee : For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse Than priests and fanes that lie. Arv. We'll speak it then. Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less : 6 for Cloten * 1 ' Clouted brogues' are coarse wooden shoes, strength- ened with clout or hob-nails. In some pans of England thin plates of iron, called clouts, are fixed to the shoes of rustics. 2 'I cannot forbear (says Steevens) to introduce a passage somewhat like this from Webster's White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona [1612,] on account of its singular beauty : — ' Oh, thou soft natural death ! thou art joint twin To sweetest slumber ! no rough-bearded comet Stares on thy mild departure : the dull owl Beats not against thy casement : the hoarse wolf Scents not thy carrion : — -pity winds thy corse, While horror waits on princes !' 3 Steevens imputes great violence to this change of person, and would read, 'come to him;' but there is no impropriety in Guiderius's sudden address to the body itself. It might, indeed, be ascribed to our author's careless manner, of which an instance like the present occurs at the beginning of the next act, where Posthu- mus says,* ' - you married ones, If each of you would take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves.' Douce. 4 The ruddock is the red-breast. 5 To winter-ground appears to mean to dress or deco- "ate thy corse with ' furred moss,' for a winter covering, when there are no flowers to strew it with. In Cornu- copia, or Divers Secrets, &c. by Thomas Johnson, 4to. 1596, sig. E. it is said, ' The robin red-breast „H' he finds a .man or woman dead, will cover all his face with mosse ; and some thinke that if the body should remain unb-uried that he would cover the whole body also.' The reader will remember the pathetic old ballad of the Children in the Wood. 6 So in a former passage of this play : ' a touch more rare Subdues all pangs and fears.' And in King Lear : — ' Where the greater malady is fix'd, The lesser is scarce felt.' Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys : And, though he came our enemy, remember, He was paid 7 for that : Though mean and inighty 3 rotting Together, have one dust ; yet reverence, 8 (That angel of the world,) doth make distinction Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely ; And though you took his life, as being our foe, Yet bury him as a prince. Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, When neither are alive. Arv. If you'll go fetch him, We'll say our song the whilst. — Brother, begin. [Exit Bklarius. Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; My father hath a reason for't. Arv. 'Tis true. Gui. Come on, then, and remove him. Arv. So, — begin. SONG. Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 3 Nor the furious winter's rages ; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke j Care no more to clothe, and eat ; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. 10 Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, Arv. JVor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; Gui. Fear not slander, censure rash ; Arv. Thou hast finished joy and moan : Both. All lovers young, all lovers must Consign 1 ' to thee, and come to dust. Gui. No exorciser 1 - harm thee! Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee ! Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! Arv. Nothing ill come near thee ! Both. Quiet consummation* J have; And renowned be thy grave ."* 7 i. e. punished. Falstaflf, after having been beaten, when in the dress of an old woman, says, 'Ipay'd nothing for it neither, but icas paid for my learning.' 8 Reverence, or due regard to subordination, is the power that keeps peace and order in the world. 9 This is the topic of consolation that nature dictates to all men on these occasions. 10 ' The poet's sentiment seems to have been this : — All human excellence is equally subject to the stroke of death : neither the power of kings, nor the science of scholars, nor the art of those whose immediate study is the prolongation of life, can protect them from the final destinv of man.'- — Johnson. 11 To ' consign to thee' is to ' seal the same contract with thee ;' i. e. add their names to thine upon the regis- ter of death. So in Romeo and Juliet : — ' seal A dateless bargain to engrossing death. 12 It has already been observed that exorciser ancient- ly signified a person who could raise spirits, not one who lays them. 13 Consummation is used in the same sense in King Edward III. 1596 :— ' My soul will yield this castle of my flesh, This mingled tribute, with all willingness. To darkness, consummation, dust, and worms.' Milton, in his Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winches, ter, is indebted to the passage before us: — ' Gentle lady, may thy grave Peace and quiet ever have.' 14 ' For the obsequies of Fidele (says Dr. Johnson) a song was written by my unhappy friend, Mr. William Collins of Chichester, a man of uncommon learning and abilities. I shall give it a place.at the end. in honour of his memory. S32 CYMBELINE. Act IV. Re-enter Belarius, wkh the Body of Cloten. Gui. We have done our obsequies : Come lay him clown. Bel. Here's a few flowers, but about midnight, more : The herbs, that have on them cold dew o' the night, Are strewings fitt'st for graves. — Upon (heir faces :' You were as flowers, now wither'd : even so These herb'lets shall, which we upon you strow. — Come on, away : apart upon our knees. The ground, that gave them first, has them again; Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. [Exeunt Bel. Gui. and Art. Jmo. [Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford Haven ; Which is the way? — I thank you. — By yon bush ? — Pray,how far thither ? 'Ods pittikins! 2 — can it be six miles yet? I have gone all night: — 'Faith, I'll lay down and sleep. But, soft ! no bedfellow : — O, gods and goddesses ! [Seeing the Body. These flowers are like the pleasures of the world ; This bloody man, the care on't. — I hope, I dream ; For, so, I thought! was a cave-keeper, And cook to honest creatures : But 'tis not so : 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, Which the brain makes of fumes. Our very eyes Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, I tremble still with fear : But if there be Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it ! The dream's here still ; even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me ; not imagin'd, felt. A headless man ! — The garments of Posthumus ! I know the shape of his leg ; this is his hand ; His foot Mercurial ; his Martial thigh ; The brawns of Hercules : but his Jovial 3 face — Murder in heaven ? — How ? — 'Tis gone. — Pisanio, All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, And mine to boot, be darted on thee ! Thou, Conspir'd with that irregulous 1 devil, Cloten, Hast here cut off my lord. — To write, and read, Be henceforth treacherous ! — Damn'd Pisanio Hath with his forged letters, — damn'd Pisanio — From this most bravest vessel of the world Struck the main-top ! — O, Posthumus ! alas, Where is thy head ? where's that ? Ah me ! where's that ? Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, And left this head on. 5 — How should this be ? Pisanio ? 'Tis he, and Cloten : malice and lucre in them Have laid this wo here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant ! 6 The drug he gave'me, which, he said, was precious And cordial to' me, have I not found it Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it home : This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's ! O ! — Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, 1 Malone observes, that ' Shakspeare did not recol- lect when he wrote these words, that there was but one face on which the flowers could be strewed.' It is one of the poet's lapses of thought,' and will countenance the passage remarked upon in Act iv. Sc. 1. 2 This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's pity, by the addition of kin. In this manner we have also 'Od^s bodikhis. 3 ' Jovial face' here signifies such a face as belongs to Jove. The. epithet is frequently so used in the old dramatic writers ; particularly Hey wood : — ' Alcides here will stand To plague you all with his high Jorial hand.' The Silver Age. 4 Irregulous must mean lawless, licentious, out of rule. The word has not hitherto been met with else- where : but in Reinolds's God's Revenge against Adul- tery, ed. 1671, p. 121, we have Urregutated lust.' 5 This is another of the poet's lapses, unless we at- tribute the error to the old printers, and read, ' thy head en.' We must understand by ' this head,' the head of Tosthumus ; the head that did belong to this body. 6 i. e. 'tis a ready, apposite conclusion. 7 Shakspeare appears to have meant brother to the That we the horrider may seem to those Which chance to find us : O, my lord, my lord ! Enter Lucius, a Captain, and other Officers, and a Soothsayer. Cap. To them the legions garrison'd in Gallia, After your will, have cross'd the sea ; attending You here at Milford Haven, with your ships : They are here in readiness. Luc. But what from Rome ? Cap. The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners, And gentlemen of Italy ; most willing spirits, That promise noble service ; and they come Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, Sienna's brother. 7 Luc. When expect you them? Cap. With the next benefit o' the wind. Luc. This forwardness Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present numbers Be muster'd ; bid the captains look to't. — Now, sir, What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's purpose ? Sooth. Last night the very gods show'd me * vision : 8 (I fast, 9 and pray'd, for their intelligence,) Thus :- I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd From the spungy 10 south to this part of the west, There vanish'd in the sunbeams : which portends Unless my sins abuse my divination,) Success to the Roman host. Luc. Dream often so, And never false. — Soft, ho ! what trunk is here, Without his top ? The ruin speaks, that sometime It was a worthy building. — How ! a page ! — Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather: For nature doth abhor to make his bed With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. — Let's see the boy's face. Cap. He is alive, my lord. Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. — Young one, Inform us of thy fortunes : for it seems, They crave to be demanded : Who is this, Thou mak'st thy bloody pillow ? Or who was he, That, otherwise than noble nature did,' 1 Hath alter'd that good picture ? What's thy interest In this sad wreck? How came it ? Who is it? What art thou ? Imo. I am nothing : or if not, Nothing to be were better. This was my master, A very valiant Briton, and a good, That here by mountaineers lies slain : — Alas ! There are no more such masters : I may wander From east to Occident, cry out for service, Try many, all good, serve truly, never Find such another master. Luc. 'Lack, good youth Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining, than Thy master in bleeding : Say his name, good friend. Imo. Richard du Champ. 12 If I do lie, and do prince of Sienna. He was not aware that Sienna was a republic, or possibly did not heed it. 8 It was no common dream, but sent from the very gods, or the gods themselves. 9 Fast for fasted, as we have in another place of this play lift for lifted. In King John we have heat for heated, iraft for xcafted, &c. Similar phraseology will be found in the Bible, Mark, i. 31 ; John, xiii. 13 ; Exodus, xii. 8, &c. ' . 10 Milton has availed himself of this epithet in Co mus : — ' Thus I hurl My dazzling spells into the spungy air.' 11 Who has altered this picture, so as to make it other wise than nature did it? Olivia, speaking of her own beauty as of a picture, asks Viola if ' it is not well done ." 12 Shakspeare was indebted for his modern names (which sometimes are mixed with ancient ones), as well as for his anachronisms, to the fnshionable novels of his time. Steevens cites some amusing instances from a Petite Palace of Pettie his Pleasure, 1576. But the absurdity was not confined to novels : the drama would afford numerous examples. ScEKTE IV. CYMBELINE. 333 No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope [Aside. They'll pardon it. Say you, sir ? Luc. Thy name ? Imo. Fidele, sir. Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very same : Thy name well fits thy faith ; thy faith, thy name. Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say, Thou shalt be so well master'd ; but, be sure, No less belov'd. The Roman emperor's letters, Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner Than thine own worth prefer thee : Go with me. Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep As these poor pickaxes' can dig ; and when With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have strew'd his grave, And on it said a century of prayers, Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh ; And, leaving so his service, follow you, So please you entertain me. Luc. Ay, good youth ; And rather father thee, than master thee.— My friends, The boy hath taught us manly duties : Let us Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, And make him with our pikes and partizans A grave : Come, arm him. 2 — Boy, he is preferr'd By thee to us ; and he shall be interr'd, As soldiers can. Be cheerful ;• wipe thine eyes : Some falls are means the happier to arise. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A Room, in Cymbeline's Palace. Enter Cymbeloe, Lords, and Pisanio. Cym. Again ; and bring me word, how 'tis with her. A fever with the absence of her son : A madness, of which her life's in danger : — Heavens, How deeply you at once do touch me ! Imogen, The great part of my comfort, gone : my queen Upon a desperate bed ; and in a time When fearful wars point at me, her son gone, So needful for this present : It strikes me, past The hope of comfort. — But for thee, fellow, Who needs must know of her departure, and Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee By a sharp torture. Pis. Sir, my life is yours, I humbly set it at your will : But, for my mistress, I nothing know where she remains, why gone, Nor when she purposes return. 'Beseech your highness, Hold me your loyal servant. 1 Lord. Good my liege, The day that she was missing, he was here : I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform All parts of bis subjection loyally. For Cloten, — There wants no diligence in seeking him, And will, 3 no doubt, be found. \. 1 Meaning her fingers. 2 That is ' take him up in your arms.' So in Flet- cher's Two Noble Kinsmen : — ' Jlrm your prize, I know you will not lose her.' The prize was Emilia. 3 Perhaps we should read, ' he'll no doubt be found.' But thin omission of the personal pronoun was by no means uncommon in Shakspeare's age. There are several other instances in these plays, especially in King Hi;nry VIII. : take one example : — ' which if eranted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife into him. 1 See Lear, Act ii. Si. 4. 4 'My suspicion is yet undetermined ; If I do not con- demn you, I likewise have not acquitted you.' We now say, the caiise is depending. 6 i. e. confounded by a variety of business. 6 * Your forces are able to face such an army as we Aear the enemy will bring against us.' 7 Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, ' I've had no letter.' Cym. The time's troublesome : We'll slip you for a season ; but our jealousy [To Pisanio, Does yet depend.* 1 Jjord. So please your majesty, The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, Are landed on your coast ; with a supply Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. Cym. Now for the counsel of my son, and queen ! — I am amaz'd with matter. 5 I Lord. Good my liege, Your preparation can affront 6 no less Than what you hear of: come more, for mors you're ready : The want is, but to put those powers in motion, That long to move. Cym. I thank you : Let's withdraw j And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear not What can from Italy annoy us ; but We grieve at chances here. — Away. [Exeunt. Pis. I heard no letter' from my master, since I wrote him, Imogen was slain : 'Tis strange : Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise To yield me often tidings ; Neither know I What is betid to Cloten ; but remain Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work : Wherein I am false, I am honest ; not true, to be true. These present wars shall find I love my country, Even to the note 8 o' the king, or I'll fall in them. All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd : Fortune brings in some boats, that are not steer' d. [Exit. SCENE W. Before the Cave. Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Gui. The noise is round about us. Pel. Let us from it. Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it From action and adventure ? Gui. Nay, what hope Have we in hiding us ? this way, the Romans Must, or for Britons slay us ; or receive us For barbarous and unnatural revolts, 9 During their use, and slay us after. Bel. Sons, We'll higher to the mountains ; there secure us. To the king's party there's no going ; newness Of Cloten s death (we being not known, no! muster'd Among the bands) may drive us to a render 10 Where we have liv'd ; and so extort from us That which we've done, whose answer would be death Drawn on with torture. Gui. This is, sir, a doubt, In such a time, nothing becoming you, Nor satisfying us. Arv. It is not likely, That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, Behold their quarter'd fires," have both their eyes And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, That they will waste their time upon our note, To know from whence we are. But perhaps ' no letter'' is here used to signify ' no tidings,' not a syllable of reply. S ' I will so distinguish myself, the king shall remark my valour.' 9 i. e. revolters. As in King John : — ' Lead me to the revolts of England here.' 10 ' An account of our place of abode.' This dialogue is a just representation of the superfluous caution of an old man. Render is used in a similar sense in a future scene of this play : — ' My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring.' 11 i. e. the fires in the respective quarters of the Roman army. Their beacon or watch fires. So in King Henry V.:— ' Fire answers fire : and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber'd face ' &31 CYMBELINE. Act "V. Bel. O, I am known Of many in the army : many years, Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him From my remembrance. And, besides, the king Hath not deserv'd my service, nor your loves ; Who find in my exile the want of breeding, The certainty of this hard life ;' ay, hopeless To have the courtesy your cradle promis'd, Uut to be still hot summer's tanlings, and The shrinking slaves of winter. Gui. Than be so, Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army : I and my brother are not known ; yourself So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, Cannot be question'd. Arv. By this sun that shiner, I'll thither : What thing is it, that I never Did see man die ? scarce ever look'd on blood, But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison? Never b. strid a horse, save one, that had A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel Nor iron on his heel ? I am asham'd To look upon the holy sun, to have The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining So long a poor unknown. Gui. By heavens, I'll go : If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, I'll take the better care ; but if you will not, The hazard therefore due fall on me, by The hands of Romans ! Arv. So say I ; Amen. Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you set So slight a valuation, should reserve My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys : If in your country wars you chance to die, That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie : Lead, lead. — The time seems long ; their blood thinks scorn, [Aside. Till it fly out, and show them princes born. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. A Field between the British and Ro- man Camps. Enter Posthumus, vitih a bloody Handkerchief. 2 Post. Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee ; for I wish'd Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones, If each of you would take this course, how many Must murder wives much better than themselves, For wrying 3 but a little ? — O, Pisanio ! Every good servant does not all commands : No bond, but to do just ones. — Gods ! if you Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never Had liv'd to. put on 4 this : so had you saved The noble Imogen to repent ; and struck Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But, alack, 1 That is, ' the certain consequence of this hard life.' 2 The bloody token of Imogen's death, which Pisa- nio, in the foregoing act, determined to send. 'This is a soliloquy of nature, uttered when the effer- vescence of a mind agitated and perturbed, spontaneous- ly and inadvertently discharges itself in words. The speech throughout all its tenor, if the last conceit be excepted, seems to issue warm from the heart. He first condemns his own violence ; then tries to disburden himself by imputing part of the crime to Pisanio ; he next sooths his mind to an artificial and momentary tranquillity, by trying to think that he has been only an instrument of the gods for the happiness of Imogen. — He is now grown reasonable enough to determine that, having doneso much evil, he will do no more ; that he will not fight against the country which he has already injured ; but, as life is no longer supportable, he will die in a just cause, and die with the obscurity of a man w'lio does not think himself worthy to be remembered.' — Johnson. 3 This uncommon verb is used by Stanyhurst in the third book of the translation of Virgil : — ' — — the mayfters wrye their vessells.' And in Sidney's Arcadia, lib. i. ed. 1633, p. 67 : — ' That from the right line of virtue are wryed to these crooked eshllu > You snatch some hence for little faults ; that's love To have them fall no more : you some permit To second ills with ills, each elder worse : b And make them dread it to the doer's shrift. 6 But Imogen is your own : Do your best wills, And make me bless'd to obey ! — I am brought hither Among the Italian gentry, and to fight Against my lady's kingdom: 'Tis enough That, Britain, 1 have kill'd thy mistress ; peace! I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, Hear patiently my purpose : I'll disrobe me Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight Against the part I come with ; so I'll die For thee, O, Imogen, even for whom my life Is, every breath, a death . and thus, unknown, Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. Le< me make men know More valour in me, than my habits show. Gods put the strength o' the Leonati in me ! To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin The fashion, less without, ?nd more within. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. Enter at one side, Lucius, Iachimo, and the Ro'.nan Army; at the other side, the British Army ; Leonatus Posthumus following it, like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. Alarums. Then enter again in skir- mish, Iachimo and Posthumus : he vanquisheth and dkarmeth Iachimo, and then leaves him. lack. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood : I have belied a lady, The princess of this covritry, and the air on't Revengingly enfeebles me ; Or could this carl,' A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me, In my profession ? Knighthoods and honours, borno As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. [Exit. The Battle continues; the Britons,/?)/; Cymbeline is taken : then enter to his rescue, Belarius, Guiderius, and Arviragus. Bel. Stand, stand ! We have the advantage o t the ground ; The lane is guarded : nothing routs us, but The villany of our fears. Gui. Arv. Stand, stand, and fight! Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons : They rescue Cvmbeline, and exeunt. Then, enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen. Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such As war were hoodwink'd. Iach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely : or betimes Let's reinforce, or fly. [Exeunt. 4 To put on is to incite, instigate. 5 The last deed is certainly not the oldest; but Shak- speare calls the deed of an elder man an elder deed. Where corruptions are, they grow with years, and the oldest sinner is the greatest. 6 The old copy reads : — ' And make them dread it to the doer's thrift.' Which the commentators have in vain tormented them- selves to give a meaning to. Mason endeavoured to give the sense of repentance to thrift : but his explana- tion better suits the passage as it now stands : — ' Some you snatch hence for liule faults : others you suffer to heap ills on ills, and afterwards make them dread hav- ing done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers.' Shrift is confession and repentance. The typographic-il error would easily arise in old printing, sh and th were fre- quently confounded. 7 Carl or churl, is a clown or countryman, and is used by our old writers in opposition to a gentleman. Palsgrave, in his Eclaircissement de la Langue Fran- coise, 1530, explains the words carle, chorle, churle, by vilain, vilain lourdier ; and churlyshnesse by vilaine, rus/icite. The thought seems to have been imitated in Philaster : — ' The gods take part against me ; could this boor Have held me thus else ?> Scene IV. CYMBELINE. S35 SCENE HI. Another Part of the Field. Enter Posthumus and a British Lord. Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made the stand '! Post. I did : Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. Ij>rd. I did. Post. No blame be to you, sir ; for all was lost, But that the heavens fought : The king himself Of his wings destitute, 1 the army broken. And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying Through a strait lane ; the enemy full-hearted, Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling Merely through fear; that the strait pass was damm'd With dead men, hurt behind) and cowards living To die with lengthen'd shame. Lord. Where was this lane ? Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf; Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, — An honest one, I warrant ; who deserv'd So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, In doing this for his country ; — athwart the lane, He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run The country base, 2 than to commit such slaughter ; With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer Than those for preservation cas'd, or shame, 3 ) Made good the passage ; cry'd to those that fled, Our Britain's liearts die flying, not our men : To darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards ! Stand ! Or we are Romans, and will give yuu that Like beasts, which you shun beastly ; and may save, Put to look back in frown : stand, stand. — These three, Three thousand confident, in act as many, (For three performers are the file, when all The rest do nothing,) with this word, stand, stand, Accommodated by the place, more charming, With their own nobleness, (which would have turn'd A distatf to a lance,) gilded pale looks, Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd ; that some, turn'd coward But by example, (O, a sin in war, Damn'd in the first beginners!) 'gan to look The way that they did, and to grin like lions Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began A stop i' the chaser, a retire ; anon, A rout, confusion thick : Forthwith they fly Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles ; slaves, The strides they victors made : and now our cowards, (Like fragments in hard voyages,) became The life o' the need ; having found the back-door open Of the unguarded hearts, Heavens, how they wound ! Some, slain before ; some, dying ; some, their friends O'erborne i' the former wave : ten, chas'd by one, Ave now each one the slaughter-man of twenty : Those, that would die or ere resist, are grown The k mortal bugs 4 o' the field. Lord. This was strange chance : A narrow lane ! an old man, and two boys ! Post. Nay, do not wonder at it : You are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear, 1 The stopping of the Roman. army by three persons is an allusion to the story of the Hays, as related by Ho- linshed in his History .of Scotland, p. 155 ; upon which Milton once intended to have formed a drama. Shak- speare was evidently acquainted with it: — ' Haie be- holding the Icing, with the most part of the nobles fight- ing with great valiancie in the middle-ward, now desti- tute of the wings,'' &.c. 2 A country game called prison bars, vulgarly pri- son-base. 3 Shame, for modesty, or shamrfacedt/ess. 4 i. e. terrors, bugbears. See King Henry VI. Part III. Act v. Sc. -2. ' For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.' 5 Alluding to the common superstition of charms being powerful enough to keep men unhurt in battle. Than to work any. Will you rhyme itpon't, And vent it for a mockery ? Here is one : Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane. Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. Post. 'Lack, to what end ? Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend : For if he'll do, as he is made to do, I know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. You have put me into rhyme. Lord. Farewell, you are angry. [Exit. Post. Still going?— This is a lord! O, noble misery ! To be i' the field, and ask, what news, of me ! To-day, how many would have given their honours To have sav'd their carcasses ? took heel to do't, And yet died too ? I, in mine own wo charm'd, 5 Could not find death, where I did hear him groan ; Nor feel him, where he struck : Being an ugly monster, 'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we That draw his knives i' the war. — Well, I will find him: For being now a favourer to the Roman, No more a Briton, I have resum'd again The part I came in : Fight I will no more, But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is Here made by the Roman ; great the answer 6 be Britons must take ; For me, my ransom's death ; On either side I come to spend my breath ; Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again, But end it by some means for Imogen. Enter Two British Captains, and Soldiers. 1 Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd ! Lucius is taken . 'Tis thought, the old man and his sons were angels. 2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, 7 That gave the affront 8 with them. 1 Cap. So 'tis reported : But none of them can be found. — Stand! who is there ? Post. A Roman ; Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds Had answer'd him. 2 Cap, Lay hands on him ; a dog ! A leg of Rome shall not return to tell What crows have peck'd them here. He brags his service As if he were of note : bring him to the king. Enter Cymbeline, attended : Belarius, Guide- rius, Arviragus, Pisanio, and Roman Cap- tives. The Captains present Posthumus to Cym- beline, who delivers him over to a Gaoler : after which, all go out. 9 SCENE IV. A Prison. Enter Posthumus, and Two Gaolers. 1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you have locks upon you ; 1U So graze, as you find pasture. 2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. \ Exeunt Gaolers. Post. Most welcome, bondage ! for thou art a way, I think, to liberty : Yet am I better Than one that's sick o' the gout : since he had rather Groan so in perpetuity, than be cur'd By the sure physician, death ; who is the key 6 i. e. retaliation. As in a former scene : — ' That which we've done, whose answer would be death.' 7 Silly is simple or rustic. Thus in the novel of Boc caccio, on which this play is formed: — 'The servant, who had no great good will to kill her, very easily grew pitifull, took off her upper garment, and gave her a poore ragged doublet, a silly chapperone.' 8 i. e. the encounter. 9 This stage direction for 'inexplicable dumb show' is probably an interpolation by the players. Shak- speare has expressed his contempt for such mummery in Hamlet. 10 The wit of the Gaoler alludes to the custom of put ting a lock on a horse's leg when he is turned out to pas ture. S35 CYMBELINE. Act V. To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou art fetter'd More than my shanks, and wrists •. You good gods, give me The penitent instrument, to pick that bolt, Then, free for ever ! Is't enough, I am sorry ? So children temporal fathers do appease ; Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent ? I cannot do it better than in gyves, Desir'd, more than constrain'd : to satisfy, If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take No stricter render of me, than my all. ' I know, you are more clement than vile men, Who of their broken debtors take a third, A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again On their abatement ; that's not my desire : For Imogen's dear life, take mine ; and though 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life ; you coin'd it : 'Tween man and man, they weigh not every stamp ; Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake : You rather mine, being yours : and so, great powers, If you will take this audit, take this life, And cancel these cold bonds. 2 O, Imogen ! I'll speak to thee in silence. [He sleeps. Solemn Music. 3 Enter, as an Apparition, Sicilius Leonatus, Father to Posthumus, an old Man, attired like a JVarrior ; leading in his hand an an- cient Matron, his Wife, and Mother to Posthu- Mus, with Music before them. Then, after other Music, follow the Two young Leonati, Brothers to Posthumus, with wounds, as they died in the Wars. They circle Posthumus round, as he lies sleeping . Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show, Thy spite on mortal flies : With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, That thy adulteries Rates and revenges. Hath my poor boy done aught but well, Whose face I never saw ? I died, whilst in the womb he stay'd Attending Nature's law. Whose father then, (as men report, Thou orphans' father art,) Thou should'st have been, and shielded him From this earth-vexing smart. Moth. Lucina lent not mo her aid, But took me in my throes ; That from me was Posthumus rip'd, Came crying 'niongst his foes, A thing of pity ! Sici. Great nature, like his ancestry Moulded the stuff so fair, That he deserv'd the praise o' the world, As great Sicilius' heir. 1 Bro. When once he was mature for man, In Britain where was he That could stand up his parallel; Or fruitful object be In eye of Imogen, that best Could deem his dignity ? Moth. With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, To be exil'd and thrown From Leonati' seat, and cast 1 This passage is very obscure, and I must say with Malone. that I think it is so rendered either by the omis- sion of a line, or some other corruption of the text. I have no faith in Malone's explanation : that which Steevens offers is not much more satisfactory ; but I have nothing better to offer. ' Posthumus questions whether contrition he sufficient atonement for guilt. Then to sa- tisfy the offended gods, he desires them to take no more than his present all, that is, his life, if it is the main part, the chief point, or principal condition of his Ireedom, i. e. of his freedom from future punishment.' 2 So in Macbeth :— ' Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond That keeps me pale.' There is an equivoque between the legal instrument and Dnnds of steel ; a little out of its place in a passage of pathetic exclamation. 3 This Scene is supposed not to be Shakspeare's, bu foisted in bv the players for mere show. The great poet, who has conducted his fifth Act with such matchless From her his dearest one, Sweet Imogen ? Sici. Why did you suffer Iachimo, Slight thing of Italy, To taint his nobler heart and brain With needless jealousy : And to become the geek* and scorn O' the other's villany ? 2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came, Our parents, and us twain, That, striking in our country's cause, Fell bravely, and were slain ; Our fealty, and Tenantius' right, With honour to maintain. 1 Bro. Like hardiment Posthumus hatn To Cymbeline perform'd : Then Jupiter, thou king of gods, Why has thou thus adjourn'd The graces for his merits due ; Being all to dolours tum'd ? Sici. Thy crystal window ope ; look out , No longer exercise, Upon a valiant race, thy harsh And potent injuries: 31oth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good, Take off his miseries. Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion, help: Or we poor ghosts will cry To the shining synod of the rest, Against thy deity. 2 Bro. Help, Jupiter ; or we appeal, And from thy justice fly. Jupiter descaids in Thxinder and Lightning, sitting upon an Eagle: he throws a Thunder-bolt. The Ghosts fall on their knees. Jup. No more, you petty spirits of region low, Offend our hearing ; hush '. How dare you, ghosts, Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, Sky-planted, batters all rebelling coasts ? Poor shadows of Elysium, hence ; and rest Upon your never withering banks of flowers . Be not with mortal accidents opprest ; No care of yours it is, you know, 'tis ours. Whom best I love, I cross ; to make my gift, The more delay'd, delighted. 5 Be content ; Your low-laid son our god-head will uplift: His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in Our temple was ne married. — Rise, and fade'— He shall be lord of lady Imogen, And happier much by his affliction made. This tablet lay upon his breast ; wherein Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine ; And so, away : no further with your din Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. — Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline, f Ascends. Sici. He came in thunder ; his celestial breath Was sulphurous to smell : the holv eagle Stoop'd, as to foot us : G his ascension is More sweet than our bless'd fields ; his royal bird Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys' his beak, As when his god is pleas'd. All. Thanks, Jupiter ! Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd skill, could never have designed the vision to be twice described by Posthumus, had this contemptible nonsense been previously delivered on the stage. It appears that the players indulged themselves sometimes in unwar rantable liberties of the same kind. Nashe, in his Len- ten Stuffe, 1590, assures us, that in a play of his, called the Isle of Dogs, four acts, without his consent, or the least guess of his drift or scope, were supplied by the players. Seethe Prolegomena to Malone's Shakspeare, vol. ii. ; article Sliakspeare, Ford, and Jonson. 4 The fool. 5 Delighted for delightful, or causing delight. 6 i. e. to grasp us in his pounces. ' And till they foot and clutch their prey.' Herbert. 7 In ancient language, the cleys or dees of a bird or beast are the same with claws in modem speech To claw their beaks is an accustomed action wili hawks and eagles. ■&JE-JCB V. CYMBELINE. 337 His radiant roof: — Away! and, to be blest, Let us with care perform his great behest. [Ghosts vanish. Pest. [IVaking.] Sleep, thou hast been a grand- sire, and begot A father to me : and thou hast created A mother and two brothers : But (O, scorn!) Gone ! they went hence so soon as they were born. And so I am awake. — Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favour, dream as I have done ; Wake, and find nothing. — But, alas, I swerve : Many dream not to find, neither deserve, And yet are steep'd in favours ; so am I, That have this golden chance, and know not why. What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O, rare one ! Be not, as is our fangled 1 world, a garment Nobler than that it covers : let thy effects So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, As a good promise. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old slock, and freshly grow ; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. 'Tis still a dream ; or else such stuff" as madmen Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, The action of my life is like it, which I'll keep, if but for sympathy. Re-enter Gaolers, Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death ? Post. Over-roasted rather : ready long ago. Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be ready for that, you are well cooked. Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the specta- tors, the dish pays the shot. Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern bills ; which are often the sad- ness of parting, as the procuring of mirth : you come in faint for the want of meat, depart reeling with too much drink ; sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry that you are paid 2 too much ; purse and brain both empty : the brain the heavier for being too light, the purse too light, being drawn of heavi- ness : O ! of this contradiction you shall now be quit. — O, the charity of a penny cord! it sums up thousands in a trice : you have no true debitor and creditor but it ; of what's past, is, and to come, the discharge : — Your neck, sir, is pen, book, and coun- ters ; so the acquittance follows. Post. I am merrier to die, than thou art to live. Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache : But a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer ; for, look you, sir, Vuu know not which way you shall go. Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. GaoL Your death has eyes in's head, then ; I nave not seen him so pictured : you must either be 1 i. e. trifling. Hence new-fangled, still in use for new toys or ti i ties. 2 Paid, here means subdued or overcome by the liquor. 3 i. e. hazard. 4 Prone here signifies ready, prompt. As in Measure for Measure, Act i. Sc. 3. ' in her youth There is a pi-one and speechless dialect, Such as moves men.' Thus also in L'ucan's Pharsalia, translated by Sir Ar- thur Gorges, b. vi. — ' Thessalian fierie steeds, For use of war so prone and fit.' And in Wilfride Holme's poem, entitled The Fall and Evil Success of Rebellion, &c. 1537: — ' With bombaru and basilisk, with men prone and vigorous.' 55 directed by some that take upon them to know ; or take upon yourself that,' which I am sure you do not know ; or jump' the after-inquiry on your own peril : and how you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll never return to tell one. Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to direct them the way I am going, but such as wink, and will not use them. Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a man should have the best use of eves, to see the way of blindness ! I am sure, hanging s the way of winking. Enter a Messenger, Mess. Knock off his manacles; bring your priso- ner to the king. Post. Thou bringest good news ; — I am called to be made free. Gaol. I'll be hanged then. Post. Thou shall be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. [Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger. Gaol. Unless a man would marry a gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so prone. 4 Yet, on my conscience, there are verier knaves de- sire to live, for all he be a Roman : and there be some of them too, that die against their wills ; so should I, if I were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good ; O, there were desolation of gaolers and gallowses ! I speak against my pres- ent profit, but my wish hath a preferment m't. [Exeunt. SCENE V. 6 Cymbeline's Tent. Enter Cymbe- line, Belarius, Guiderius, Arviragus, Pi- sanio, Lords, Officers, and Attendants. Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made Preservers of my throne. Wo is my heart, That the poor soldier that so richly fought, Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked breast Stepp'd before targe of proof, cannot be found : He shall be happy that can find him if Our grace can make him so. Bel. I never saw Such noble fury in so poor a thing ; Such precious deeds in one that promis'd nought But beggary and poor looks. Cym. No tidings of him? Pis. He hath been search'd among the dead and living, But no trace of him. Cym. To my grief, I am The heir of his reward ; which I will add To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, [To Belarius, Guiderius, and Art. By whom, I grant, she lives ; 'Tis now the time To ask of whence you are : — report it. Bel. Sir, In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen : Further to boast, were neither true, nor modest, Unless I add, we are honest. Cym. Bow your knees • Arise, my knights o' the battle : 6 I create you Companions to our person, and will fit you With dignities becoming your estates. Eider Cornelius and Ladies. There's business in these faces. 7 — Why so sadly Greet you our victory ? you look like Romans, And not o' the court of Britain. Cor. Hail, great king ! 5 ' In the scene before us, all the sir viving characters are assembled; and at the expense of whatever incon- gruity the former events may have been produced, per- haps little can be discovered on this occasion to offend the must scrupulous advocate for regularity : and as little is found wanting to satisfy the spectator by a catas- trophe which is intricate without confusion, and not more rich in ornament than nature.' — Steetoens. 6 Thus in Sjowe's Chronicle, p. 164, edit. 1615:- ' Philip of France made Arthur Plantagonet Knight of the Fielde.' 7 So in Macbeth: — ' The business of this man looks out of him S3S CYMBELINE. Act ?s To sour your happiness, I mus 1 repoit The queen is dead. Cym. Whom worse than a physician Would this report become? But I consider, Bv medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death Will seize the doctor too,' — How ended she ? Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life ; Which, being cruel to the world, concluded Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd, I will report, so please you : These her women Can trip me, if I err : who, with wet cheeks, Were present when she finish'd. Cy7n. Pr'ythee, saj. Cor. First, she confess'd she never loy'd you ; only Affected greatness got by you, not you : Married your royalty, was wife to your place ; Abhorr'd your person. Cym. She alone knew this : And, but she spoke it dying, I would not Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand 2 to love With such integrity, she did confess Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, But that her flight prevented it, she had Ta'en off by poison. Cym. O, most delicate fiend ! Who is't can read a woman ? — Is there more ! Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, she had For you a mortal mineral ; which, being took, Should by the minute feed on life, and, ling'rintr. By inches waste you : In which time she purpos'd, By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to O'ercorne you with her show : yes, andin time (When she had fitted you with her craft,) to work Her son into the adoption of the crown. But failing of her end by his strange absence, Grew shameless desperate ; open'd, in despite Of heaven and men, her purposes ; repented The evils she hatch d were not etfected ; so Despairing, died. Cym. Heard you all this, her women '! Lady. We did, so please your highness. Cym. Mine eyes Were not in fault, for she was beautiful ; Mine ears, that heard her flattery ; nor my heart, That thought her like her seeming; it had been vicious, To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! That it was folly in me, thou may'st say, And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all ! Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the Soothsayer, and other Roman Prisoners, guarded : Posthumus behind, and Imogen. Thou coms't not, Caius, now for tribute ; that The Britons have raz'd out, though with the loss Of many a bold one ; whose kinsmen have made suit, That their good souls may be appeas'd with slaughter Of you their captives, which ourself have granted ; So, think of vour estate. Luc Consider, sir, 'the chance of war: the day Was yours by accident ; had it gone with us, We should not, when the blood was cool, have threaten'd Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives May be call'd ransom, let it come : sufficeth, A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer : Augustus lives to think on't : And so much For my peculiar care. This one thing only I will entreat ; My boy, a Briton born, Let him be ransom'd : never master had A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, So tender over his occasions, true, So feat, 3 so nurselike : let his virtue join With my request, which, I'll make hold, your high- ness Cannot deny ; he hath done no Briton harm, Though he have serv'd a Roman : save him, sir, And spare no blood beside. Cym. I have surely seen him : His favour 4 is familiar to me.— Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into rny grace, And art mine own. — I know not why, nor wherefore, To say live, boy : 5 ne'er thank thy master ; live : And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it ; Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, The noblest ta'en. Imo. I humbly thank your highness. Luc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad ; And yet, I know, thou wilt. Imo. No, no : alack, There's other work in hand : I see a thing Bitter to me as death : your life, good master, Must shuil'.e for itself. Luc. The boy disdains me, He leaves me, scorns me : Briefly die their joys, That place them on the truth of girls and boys. Why stands he so perplex'd '! Cym. What would'st thou, boy ? I love thee more and more ; think more and more What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on ? speak, Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin ? thy friend ? Imo. He is a Roman ; no more kin to me, Than I to your highness ; who, being born your vassal, Am something nearer. Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so ? Imo. I'll tell you, sir, in private, if yon please To give me hearing. Cym. Ay, with all my heart, And lend my best attention. What's thy name? Imo. Fidele, sir. Cym. Thou art my good youth, my page ; I'll be thy master : Walk with me; speak freely. [Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart. Bel. Is not this boy reviv'd from death ? Arv. One sand another Not more resembles : That sweet rosy lad, Who died, and was Fidele: — What think you? Giri. The same dead thing alive. Bel. Peace, peace ! see further ; he eyes us not ; forbear ; Creatures may be alike : were't he, I am sure He would have spoke to us. Gui. But we saw him dead, Bel. Be silent ; let's see further. Pis. It is my mistress : f Aside. Since she- is living, let the time run on, To good, or bad. [Cymbeline and Imogen come forward. Cym. Come, stand thou by our side ; Make thy demand aloud. — Sir, [To Iach.] step you forth ; Give answer to this boy, and do it freelv ; Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it, Which is our honour, bitter torture shall Winnow the truth from falsehood. — On, speak to him. Imo. My boon is, that this gentleman may render Of whom he had this ring. Post. What's that to him ? [Aside. Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say, How came it yours ? Iach. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. Cym. How ! me ? Iach. I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that which 1 This observation has already occurred in the Fune^ ral Song, p. 33-3 :— • The scepqre, learning, pfiysit, must AH follow this, and come to dust.' 2 'To bear in hand' is 'to delude by false appear ances.' 3 Feat is ready, dexterous. 4 Countenance. 5 'I know not what should induce me to say, Jive, Doy.' The word nor was inserted by Rowe. Scene V. CYMBELINE. 333 Torments me to conceal. By villany I got this ring ; 'twas Leonatus' jewel ; Whom thou didst banish ; and (which more may grieve thee, As it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 'Twixt skv and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my ford? Cym. All that belongs to this. Iach. That paragon, thy daughter, — For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits Quail' to remember, — Give me leave; I faint. Cym. My daughter ! what s>{ her ? Renew thy strength : I had rather thou should'si Hve while nature will, Than die ere I hear more : strive man and speak. Iach. Upon a time (unhappy was the clock That struck the hour !) it was in Rome (accurs'd The mansion where !) 'twas at a feast, (O 'would Our viands had been poison'd ! or, at least, Those which I heav'd to headl) the good Post- humus, (What should I say ? he was too good to be Where ill men were ; and was the best of all Amongst the rar'st of good ones,) sitting sadly, Hearing us praise our loves of Italy For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast Of him that best could speak : for feature, 2 laming The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva, Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition, A shop of all the qualities that man Loves womaa for; besides, that hook of wiving, Fairness which strikes the eye; Cym, I stand on fire ; Come to the matter. Jack. All too soon I shall, Unless thou woukPst grieve quickly. — This Post- humus (Most like a noble lord in love, and one That had a royal lover,) took his hint; And, not dispraising whom we prais'd (therein He was as calm as virtue,) he began His mistress' picture ; which by his tongue being made, And then a mind put in't, either our brags Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his description Prov'd us unspeaking sots. Cym, Nay, nay, to the purpose. Iach. Your daughter's chastity — there it begins. He spake of her as 3 Dian had hot dreams, And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch! Made scruple of his praise ; and wager'd with him Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore Upon his honour d finger, to attain In suit the place of his bed, and win this ring By hers and mine adultery : he, true knight, No lesser of her honour confident Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; And would so, had it been a carbuncle Of Phoebus' wheel ; and might so safely, had it Been all the worth of his car. 4 Away to Britain Post I in this design : Well may you, sir, Remember me at court, where I was taught Of^your chaste daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 'Gan in your duller Britain operate Most vilely ; for my vantage, excellent; And to be brief, my practice so prevail'd, That I return'd with similar proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad, By wounding his belief in her renown With tokens thus, and thus ; averring notes 5 Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet, (O, cunning, how I got it!) nay, some marks Of seoeC on her person, that he could not But ti.ir.k her bond of chastity quite crack'd, I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon, Mothinks, I see him now, Past. Ay, so thou dost, ( Corning forward. Italian fiend ! — Ah me, most credulous fool, Egregious murderer, thief, any thing That's due to all the villains past, in being, To come! — O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, Some upright justicer ! 6 Thou, king, send out For tenures ingenious: it is I That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend By being worse than they. I am Posihumus, That kill'd thy daughter : — villain like, I lie ; That caus'd a lesser villain than myself A sacrilegious thief, to do't : — the temple Of virtue was she ; yea, and she herself. 7 Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set The dogs o' the street to bay me : every villain Be call'd Posthumus Leonatus ; and Be villany less than 'twas ! — O, Imogen ! My queen, my life, my wife! 0, Imogen, Imogen, Imogen ! Imo. Peace, my lord ; hear, hear Post. Shall's have a play of this ? Thou scornful page, There lie thy part. [Striking her ; she falls. Pis. O, gentlemen, help, help, Mine, and your mistress : — O, my lord Posthumus ! You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now: — Help, help! — Mine honour'd lady ! Cym. Does the world go round ? Post. How comes these staggers 3 on me ? Pis. Wake, my mistress ! Cym, If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy. Pis. How fares my mistress ? Imo. O, get thee from my sight ; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence ! Breathe not where princes are. Cym. The tune of Imogen ! Pis. Lady, The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me A precious thing ; I had it from the queen. Cym. New matter still ? Imo. It poison'd me. Cor. O, gods . I left out one thing which the queen confess'd, Which must approve thee honest : If Pisanio Have, said she, given his mistress that confection Which I gave him for a cordial, she is serv'd As I would serve a rat. Cym. What's this, Cornelius' Cor. The queen, sir, very oft importun'd me To temper 9 poisons for her ; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge, only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs Of no esteem : I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present power of life : but, in short time, All offices of nature should again Do their due functions. — Have you ta'en of it? Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. Bel. My boys, There was our error. Gui. This is sure, Fidele. Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you ? Think, that you are upon a rock ; and now Throw me again. 10 [Embracing him. 1 To quail, is to faint, or sink into dejection. 2 Feature is here used for proportion. 3 Jls for as if So in The Winter's Tale :-- ' he utters them as he had eaten ballads.' 4 ' He had deserved it, were it carbuncled Like Phoebus' car.' Jlntony and Cleopatra. 5 i. e. such marks of the chamber and pictures, as averred or confirmed my report. 6 Justicer was anciently used instead of justice. — Shakspeare has the word thrice in King Lear. And Warner, in his Albion's England, 1602, b. x. ch. 45 :- • ' Precelling his progenitors, a justicer upright.' 7 ' Not only the temple of virtue, but virtue herself- S i. e. this wild and delirious perturbation. It is still common to say ' it stagger'd me,' when we have been moved by any sudden emotion of surprise. 9 Mix, compound. 10 Imogen comes up to Posthumus as soon as she knows thai the error is cleared up ; and, hanging fondly 340 CYMBELINE. Act f Pou, Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die ! ■ Cym. How now, my flesh, my child ? What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act 1 Wilt thou not speak to me? Jmo. Your blessing, sir, [Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not ; You had a motive for't. [To Gin. and Akt. Cym. My tears that fall, Prove holy water on thee ! Imogen, Thy mother's dead. Jmo. I am sorry for't, my lord. Cym. O, she was naught : and 'long of her it was, That we meet here so strangely : But her son Is gone, we know not how, nor where. Pis. My lord r Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me With his sword drawn ; foam'd at the mouth, and swore, If I discover'd not which way she was gone, It was my instant death : By accident, I had a feigned letter of my master's Then in my pocket ; which directed him To seek her on the mountains near to Milford ; Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts With unchaste purpose, and with oath to violate My lady's honour : what became of him, I further know not. Gui. Let me end the story ; I slew him there. Cym. Marry, the gods forefend ! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence : pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again. Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a prince. Gui. A most uncivil one : The wrongs he did me Were nothing princelike ; for he did provoke me With language that would make me spurn the sea, If it could roar so to me ; I cut off's head ; And am right glad, he is not standing here To tell this tale of mine. Cym. I am sorry for thee : By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must Endure our law : Thou art dead. Imo. That headless man I thought had been my lord. Cym. Bind the offender, And take him from our presence. Bel. Stay, sir king : This man is better than the man he slew, As well descended as thyself; and hath More of thee merited than a band of Clotens Had ever scar for. — Let his arms alone ; [To the Guard. They were not born for bondage. Cym. Why, old soldier, Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, By tasting of our wrath? 1 How of descent As good as we ? on him, says, not as upbraiding him, but with kindness ami good humour, : How could you treat your wife thus ?' in that endearing tone which most readers, who are fa hers ami husband", will understand, who will add poor so wife. She then adds, Now you know who I am, suppose we were on the edge of a precipice, and throw me from you ; meaning, in the same endearing irony, to say, I am sure it is as impossible for you to be intentionally unkind to me, as it is for you to kill me. Perhaps some very wise persons may smile at part of this note : but however much black-letter books may be necessary to elucidate some parts of Shakspeare, there are others which require some acquaintance with those familiar pages of the book of Nature : ' Which learning may not understand, And wisdom may disdain to hear.' Pye. 1 The consequence is taken for the whole action ; by tasting is by furring us to make thee to taste. 2 As there is no reason to imagine that Belarius had assumed the appearance of being older than he really Arv. In that he spake too far. Cym. And thou shalt die for't. Bel. We will die all three* : But I will prove, that two of us are as good As I have given out him. — My sons, I must, For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, Though, haply, well for you. Arv. Your danger is Ours. Gui. And our good his. Bel. Have at it, then. — By leave ; — Thou hadst, great king, a subject, whff Was call'd Belarius. Cym. What of him ? he is A banish'd traitor. Bel. He it is, that hath Assuwi'd this age : 2 indeed, a banish'd man ; I know not how, a traitor. Cym. Take him hence ; The whole world shall not save him. Bel. Not too hot j First pay me for the nursing of thy sons ; And let it be confiscate all so soon As I have receiv'd it. Cym. Nursing of my sons ? Bel. I am too blunt and saucy : Here's my knee ; Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons ; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me father. And think they are my sons, are none of mine ; Thev are the issue of your loins, my liege, And blood of your begetting. Cym. How ! my issue ? Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : Your pleasure was my mere offence,' my punish- ment Itself, and all my treason ; that I suffer'd, Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes (For such, and so they are) these twenty year Have I train'd up : those arts they have, as I Could put into them ; my breeding was, sir, as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children Upon my banishment : I mov'd her to't; Having receiv'd the punishment before, For that which I did then : Beaten for loyalty Excited me to treason : Their dear loss, The more of you 'twas fell, the more it shap'd Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, Here are your sons again ; and I must lose Two of the sweet'st companions m the world: — , The benedictions of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew ! for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars. 4 Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st 8 The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st : I lost my children; If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. Bel. Be pleas'd a while. — This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius j This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, Your younger princely son ; he, sir, was lapp'd In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand was, it must have a reference to the different appearance which he now makes in comparison with that when Cymbeline last saw him. 3 The old copy reads '■rttere offence ;'' the emenda- tion is by Mr. Tyrwhilt. Belarius means to say 'My crime, my punishment, and all the treason that I com- mitted, originated in, and were founded on, your caprice only.' 4 ' Take him and cut him into little stars, And he will make the face of /teamen so fine,' Skc. Romeo and Juliet. 5 ' Thy tears give testimony to the sincerity of thy relation ; and I have the less reason to be incredulous / because the actions which you have done within my knowledge are more incredible than the story which you relate' The king reasons very justly — John- son. SCEHK V. CYMBELINE. Ml Of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce. Cym. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star: It was a mark of wonder. BeL This is he ; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp; It was wise nature's end in the donation, To be his evidence now. Cym. Q, what am I A mother to the birth of three ? Ne'er mother Rejoic'd deliverance more : — Bless'd may you be, That after this strange starting from your orbs, You may reign in them now! — O, Imogen, Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. Ims. No, my lord ; I have get two worlds by't. — O, my gentle brother, Have we thus met ? O, never say hereafter, But I am truest speaker : you call'd me brother, When I was but your sister ; I you brothers, When you were so indeed. Cym. Did you e'er meet ? Arv. Ay, my good lord. GuL And at first meeting lov'J ; Continued so, until we thought he died. Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. Cym. O, rare instinct ! When shall I hear all through? This fierce 1 abridg- ment Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. 2 — Where? how Iiv'd you? And when came you to serve our Roman captive ? How parted with your brothers ? hew first met them ? Why fled you from the court ? and whither ? These, And your three motives 3 to the battle, with I know not how much more, should be demanded ; And all the other by-dependencres, From chance to chance ; but »or the time, nor place, Will serve our long intergatories.* See, Posthumus anchors upon Imogen ; And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye On him, her brothers, me, her master ; hitting Each object with a joy ; the counterchange 2s severally in alL Let's quit this ground, And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. — > Thou art my brother ; So we'll hold thee ever. [To Belarius. Imo. You are my father too 7 and did relieve me, To see this gracious season. Cym. All o'erjoy'd Save these in bonds ; let them be joyful too, For they shall taste our eorufort. Imo. My good master, 1 will yet do you service. Luc. Happy be you ! Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grae'd The thankings of a king. Post. I am, sir, The soldier that did company these three Sn po^or beseeming; 'twas a fitment for 1 Fierce is vehement, rapid. 2 i. e. which ought to be rendered distinct by an ample narrative. 3 ' Your three motives' means ' the motives of you three.' So in Romeo and Juliet, 'both our remedies' means 'the remedy for us both.' 4 Intergatories was frequently used for interrogato- ries, and consequently as a word of only five syllables. In The Merchant of Venice, near the end, it is also thus used : — ' And charge us there upon intergatories. 41 5 Spritely shows are groups of sprites, ghostly ap- pearances. 6 A collection is a corollary, a consequence deduced from premises. So iu Bavies's poem on The Immor- tality of the Soul :— ' When she from sundry arts one skill doth draw ; Gath'ring from divers sights one act of war; From many cases like one rule of law : Xfeese hex collections, not the senses are.' The purpose I then follow'd ; — Thai I was he, Speak, Iachimo ; I had you down, and might Have made you finish. lack. I am down attain : [Kneeling But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech T "y° u » Which I so often owe : but, your ring first And here the bracelet of the truest princess, That ever swore her faith. Post. Kneel not to me ; The power that I have on you, is to spare you ; The malice towards you, to forgive you : Live, And deal with others better. . Cym. Nobly doom'd : We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law ; Pardoa's the word to alL Arv. You holp us, sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother ; Joy'd are we, that you are. Post. Your servant, princes. — Good my lord of Rome, Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, methought, Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows* Of mine own kindred : when I wak'd, I found This label on my bosom ; whose containing Is so from sense in hardness, that I can Make no collection 6 of it ; let him 6how His skill in the construction. Luc. Philarmonus, Sooth. Here, my good lord. Luc. Read, and declare the meaning. Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, without seeking find, and be em- braced by a piece of tender air ; and when from a stately cedar shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many years shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly grow ; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty. Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's wlielp ; The fit and apt construction of thy name, Being Leo-natus, doth import so much : The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, [To Cymbeline. Which we call mollis aer ; and mollis aer We term it mulier : which mulier I divine, Is this most constant wife : who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air. Cym. This hath some seeming. Sooth The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee ; and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth : who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd ; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty- Cym. Well, My peace we will begin :' — And, Caius Lucius, Although the victor, we submit to Caesar, And to the Roman empire ; promising To pay our wonted tribute, from the which We were dissuaded by our wicked queen ; Whom heavens, in justice (both on her and hers,) Have laid most heavy hand. 8 So the Queen in Hamlet says : — ' Her speech is nothing. Yet the unsnaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection.'' Whose containing means the contents of which. 7 It should apparently be, ' By peace we will begin. The Soothsayer says, that the label promised to Britain ' peace and plenty.' To which Cymbeline replies, ' We will begin with peace, to fulfil the prophecy.' 8 i. e. have laid most heavy hand on. Many such elliptical passages are found in Shakspeare. Thus in The Rape of Lucrece : — ' Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, And dotes on whom he looks [on] gainst law and duty.' So in The Winter's Tale :— ' The queen is spotless in that which you accuse hex [oj] » 312 IITUS ANDRONICUS. Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do tune The harmony of this peace. Tho vision Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant [s full accomphsh'd : For the Roman eagle, From south to west on wing soaring aloft, Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun So vanish'd : which foreshow'd our princely eagle, The imperial Cassar, should again unite His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, Which shines here in the west. Cym. Laud we the gods ; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars ! Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward : Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together : so through Lud's town march : And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'il ratify : seal it with feasts. — Set on there : — Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace-. I ' runt. THIS play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To re- mark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system cf life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbe- cility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.* JOHNSON. * Johnson's remark on the gross incongruity of names and manners in this play is just, hut it was the common error of the age; in The Wife for a Month, of Beau- mont and Fletcher, we have Frederick and Alphonso among a host of Greek names, not to mention the firing of a pistol by Demetrius Poliocortes in The Humorous lieutenant. — Pye. It is hardly necessary to point out the extreme injus- A SONG, SUNG BY GUIDERJUS AND ARVIRAGUS OVER 1FS» DELE, SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD. BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. To fair Fidele's granny tomb, Soft main's and village hinds shall bring Each ripening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove ," But shepherd latls assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No wither' 'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew : The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress tliy grave with pearly dew. The redbreast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, JVith hoary ?noss, and gather 'a I flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds, and beating rain, In tempests shake the sylvan cell. Or midst the chase on every plain, The tender thought cm thee shall dwell. £arh lonely scene shall thee restore ,* For thee the tear be duly shed ; Helov'd till life could charm no more ; And monrn'd till pity , s self be dearl. ticeof the unfounded severity of Johnson's animadver sions upon this exquisite drama. The antidote will be- found in the reader's appeal lo his own feelings after reiterated perusal. It is with satisfaction I refer to the; more just and discriminative opinion of a foreign critie,. to whom every lover of Shakspeare is deeply indebted!, cited in the preliminary remarks. S. W. S. TITUS ANDRONICUS. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. (~)N what principle the editors of the first complete " edition of Shakspeare's works admitted this play .nto their volume, cannot now be ascertained. The most probable reason that can be assigned is, that he wrote a few lines in it, or gave some assistance to the author in revising it, or in some way or other aided in bringing it tin-ward on the stage. The tradition men- . ioned by llavenscrofe, in the time of King Jarnes 11., warrants us in making one or other of these supposi- tions. ' I have been told (says lit-, in his preface to an alteration of this play, published in 1687,) by some anciently conversant with the stage, that it was not originally his, but brought by a private author to be acted, and he only gave some master touches to ons or two of the principal parts.' ' A booke, entitled A Noble Roman Historie of Tims Andronicus,' was entered at Stationers' Hall, by John Danter, Feb. 6, 1593-^.' This was undoubtedly the play, as it was printed in that year (according to Lang- baine, who alone appears to have seen the first edition,) and acted by the servants of the Earls of Pembroke, Derby, and Sussex. It is observable that in ihe entry no author's name is mentioned, and that the play was originally performed by the same company of eome- dians who exhibited the old drama, entitled The- Con- tention of the Houses of Yorke ana Lancaster, The old Taming of a Shrew, and Marlowe's King Edward II. ; by whom not one of Shakspeare's plays is said to have been performed. From Ben Jonson's Induction to Bartholomew Fair, 1614, we learn that Andronicus had been exhibited twenty-five or thirty years before ; that is, according to the lowest computation, in 1589 - or, taking a middle period, which is perhaps more just, in 1587. ' To enter into a long disquisition to prove this piece not to have been written by Shakspeare would be an idle waste of time. To those who are not conversant with bis writings, if particular passages were ex- amined, more words would be necessary than the sub ject is worth ; those who are well acquainted with his works cannot entertain a doubt on the question. I will, however, mention one mode by which it may be easily ascertained. Let the reader only peruse a tew lines of Appius and Virginia, Tancreil and Gietuund, The Bat- tle of Alcazar, Jeronimo, Selimus Emperor of the Turks, The Wounds of Civil War, The Wars of Cy- rus, Locrine, Arden of Feversham, King Edward 1., The Spanish Tragedy, Solyrnan and Perseda, King Leir, the old King John, or any other of the pieces thaS were exhibited before the time of Shakspeare, and he will at once perceive that Titus Andronicus was coined in the same mint. ' The testimony of Mercs, [who attributes it to Shak- speare in his Paliadis Tainia, or the Second Part of Wits Common Wealth, 159S,] remains to be considered. His enumerating this among Shakspeare's plays may be accounted for in the same way in which we may ac- count for its being printed by his fellow comedians irj the first folio edition of his works. Meres was, in 1598, when his book first appeared, intimately connected with Drayton, and probably acquainted with some of the dramatic poets of the lime, from some or other of whom he might have heard that Shakspeare interested him- self about this tragedy, or had written a few lines for the author. The internal evidence furnished by the piece itself, and proving it not to have been the produc- tion of Shakspeare, greatly outweighs any single testi- mony on the other side. Meres might ha/e been mis- informed, or inconsiderately have given credit to the rumour of the day. In short, the high antiquity of the piece, its entry on the Stationers' books, and being afterwards printed without the name of Shakspeare, its being performed by the servants of Lord Pembroke, &c. ; the stately march of the versification, the whole colour of the composition, its resemblance to several ot our most ancient dramas, the dissimilitude of the styla Scene. I. TITUS ANDRONICUS. 343 from oar author's undoubted plays, and the tradition mentioned by Ravenscroft when some of bis conteaa- poraries had not tong been dead (lor Lpwin and Taylor, two of his fellow comedians, were aiive a few years be- fore the Restoration, and SirWm. Davenantdid not die till April, 1603 ;) all these circumstances combined, prove with irresistible force that the play of Titus Andronicus has been erroneously ascribed to Shak- speare.'— Malum: • Mr. Maione, in the preceding note, has expressed his opinion that Shakspeare may have written a few lines in this play, or given some assistance to the au- thor in revising k. Upon no other ground than this has it any claim to a place among our poet's dramas: Those passages in which he supposed the hand of Shakspeare may be traced, he marked with inverted commas. This system of seizing upon every line pos- sessed of merit, as belonging of right to our great dra- matist, is scarcely doing justice to his contemporaries ; and resembles one of the arguments which Theobald lias used in his preface to The Double Falsehood : — " My partiality for Shakspeare makes me wish that every thing which is good or pleasing in our tongue had "been owing to his pen." Many of the writers of that day were men of high' poetical talent ; and many individual speeches are found in plays, which, as plays, are of no value, which would not have been in any way unworthy of Shakspeare himself; of whom, Dr. John- son has observed, that "his real power is not shown in the splendour of particular passages, but by the pro- gress of the fable and the tenour of his dialogue ; and Chat he that tries to recommend him by select quota- tions will succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen." Dr. Farmer has ascribed Titus Andronicus to Kyd, and placed it on a level with Lo- crine ; but it appears to be much more in the style of Marlowe. His fondness for accumulating horrors upon other occasions, will account for the sanguinary cna- racter of this play ; and it would not, 1 think, be diffi- cult to show by extracts from his other performances, that there is not a line in it which he was not fully capable pf writing.' — Boswell. ' The author, whoever he was, might have borrowed the story, &c. from an old ballad which is entered in the books of the Stationers' Company immediately after the play to John Danter, Feb. 6, J593 : and again entered to Tho. Pavyer, April 19, 1602. The reader will find it in Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. Painter, in his Palace of Pleasure, torn, ti. speaks of the story of Titus as well known, and par- .tcularly mentions the cruelty of Tamora. And there ;s an allusion to it in A Knack to Know a Knave, 1594. ' I have given the reader a specimen (in the notes) of the changes made in this play by Ravenscroft; and may add, that when the Empress stabs her child, he has supplied the Moor with the following lines : — " She has undone me, ev'n in mine own art, Outdone me in murder, kili'd her own child ; Give it me, I'll eat it." ' It rarely happens that a dramatic piece is altered with the same spirit that it was written ; but Titus An- dronicus has undoubtedly fallen into the hands of one whose feelings and imagination were congenial with those of the author. ' It was evidently the work of one who was acquainted with Greek and Roman literature. It is likewise de- ficient in such internal marks as distinguish the trage- dies of Shakspeare from those of other writers ; I mean that it presents no struggles to introduce the vein of humour so constantly interwoven with the business of his serious dramas. It can neither boast of his striking excellencies, nor of his acknowledged defects; for it offers not a single interesting situation, a natural cha- racter, or a string of quibbles, from first to last. That Shakspeare should have written without commanding our attention, moving our passions, or sporting with words, appears to me as improbable as that he should have studiously avoided dissyllable and trisyllable ter- minations in this play and in no other. 'Let it be likewise remembered that this piece was not published with the name of 'Shakspeare till after his death. The quartos [of 1600] and 1611 are anony- mous. ' Could the use of particular terms, employed in no other of his pieces, be admitted as an argument that he was not Us author, more than one of these might be found ; among which is palliament for robe, a Latinism, which I have not met with elsewhere in any English writer, whether ancient or modern ; though it must have originated from the mint of a scholar. I may add, that Titus Andronicus will be found on examination to con- tain a greater number of classical allusions, &c. than are scattered over all the rest of the performances on which the seal of Shakspeare is indubitably fixed. — Not to write any more about and about this suspected thing, let me observe, that the glitter of a few passages in it has, perhaps, misled the judgment of those who ought to have known that both sentiment and descrip- tion are more easily produced than the interesting fabric of a tragedy. Without these advantages many plays have succeeded ; and many have failed, in which they have been dealt about with lavish profusion. It does not follow that he who can carve a frieze with minuteness, elegance, and ease, has a conception equal to the extent, propriety, and grandeur of a temple. 'Whatever were the motives of Heming and Condell for admitting this tragedy among those of Shakspeare, all it has gained by their favour is, to be delivered down to posterity with repeated remarks of contempt — a Therskes babbling among heroes, and introduced only to be derided.' — Steevens. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Saturninus, Son to the late Emperor of Rome, and afterwards declared Emperor himself. Bassi anus, Brother to Saturainus ; in love with La- vinia. Titus Andronicus, a noble Roman, General against the Goths. Marcus Andronicus, Tribune ef the People; and Brother to Titus. Lucius, ~) jr T 'V Sons to Titus Andronicus. Martius, I Mutius, j Young Lucius, a Boy, Son to Lucius. Puelius, Son to Marcus the Tribune. JRmilivs, a noble Roman. Alarbus, 3 Chiron, > Sons to Tamora. Demetrius, \ Aaron, a Moor, beloved by Tamora. A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown ; Ro- mans. Goths and Romans. Tamora, Queen of the Goths. Lavinia, Dauglner to Titus Andronicus. A Nurse, and a Black Child. Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, Officers,. Soldiers and Attendants. SCENE — Rome; and the Country near it. ACT I. SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. The Tomb of the Andronici appearing ; the Tribunes and Senators aloft, as in the Senate. Enter, be- low, Saturninus and his Followers, on one side • and Bassianus and his Followers on the other; vrith Drum and Colours. Saturninus. Noble patricians, patrons of my right, Defend the justice of my cause with arms ; And, countrymen, my loving followers, Plead my successive title 1 with your swords: I am his first-born son, that was the last That ware the imperial diadem of Rome ; Then let my father's honours live in me, Nor wrong mine age 2 with this indignity. 1 i. e. my title to the succession. ' The empire being elective and not successive, the emperors in being made profit of their own times.' — Raleigh. 2 Saturninus means his seniority in point of age. In sw TITUS ANDRONICUS. Act 1. lias. Romans, — friends, followers, favourers of my right, — If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, W ere gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, Keep then this passage to the Capitol ; And suffer not dishonour to approach The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, To justice, continence, and nobility : But let desert in pure election shine ; And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft, with the Crown. Mar. Princes that strive by factions, and by friends, Ambitiously for rule and empery, — Know, that the people of Rome, for whom we stand A special party, have, by common voice, In election for the Roman empery, Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius, For many good and great deserts to Rome ; A nobler man, a braver warrior, Lives not this day within the city walls: He by the senate is accited' home, From weary wars against the barbarous Goths ; That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms. Ten years are spent, since first he undertook This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms Our enemies' pride : Five times he hath relurn'd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons In coffins from the field ; And now at last, laden with honour's spoils, Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. Let us entreat, — By honour of his name, Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed, And in the Capitol and senate's right, Whom you pretend to honour and adore, — That you withdraw you, and abate your strength ; Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should, Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. Sal. How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts • Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy In thy uprightness and integrity, And so I love arid honour thee and tnine, Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons, And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, That I will here dismiss my loving friends ; And to my fortunes, and the people's favour, Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. [Exeunt the Followers of Bassjanus. Sat. Friends that have been thus forward in my right, I thank you all, and here dismiss you all ; And to the love and favour of my country Commit myself, my person, and the cause. [Exeunt the Followers of Saturninus. Rome, be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee. — Open the gates, and let me in. Bas. Tribunes ! and me, a poor competitor [Sat. and Bas. go into the Capitol, and exeunt with Senators, Marcus, 8/-c. SCENE II. The same. Enter a Captain, and others. Cap. Romans, make way ; the good Andronicus, Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, Successful in the battles that he fights, With honour and with fortune is return'd, From where he circumscribed with his sword, And brought to yoke the enemies of Rome. MourUh of Trumpets, <$-c. Enter Mutius and Martius ; after them two Men bearing a Coffin covered with black ; then Quintus and Lucius. After them, Titus Andronicus ; and then Ta- a subsequent passage Tainora speaks of him as a very SKmng man. 1 Summoned. 2 Jupiter, to whom the Capitol was sacred. 3 Earthy. Ed 160.0. mora, with Alarbus, Chiron. Demetrius, Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners ; Soldiers ana People following. The Bearers set down the Cof- fin, and Titus speaks. Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds J Lo, as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught, Returns with precious lading to the bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, To re-salute his country with his tears ; Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. — Thou great defender of this Capitol, 2 Stand gracious to the rights that we intend I- Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, Half of the number that king Priam had, Behold the poor remains alive, and dead ! These, that survive, let Rome reward with love; These that I bring unto their latest home, With burial amongst their ancestors : Here Goths have given me leave to sheath my sword. Titus, unkind, and careless of thine own, Why sutfer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx ? — Make way to lay them by their brethren. [The Tomb is opened. There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars! O, sacred receptacle of my joys, Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, How many sons of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt never render to me more? Luc. Give us the proudest prisoner of ihe Goths,, That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile, Ad manes fratrum sacrifice, his flesh, Before this earthly 3 prison of their bones ; That so the shadows be not unappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth." Tt. \ give him you ; the noblest that survives, The eldest son of this distressed queen. [queror, Tarn. Stay, Roman brethren; — Gracious con- Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, A mother's tears in passion 5 for her son : And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, O, think my son to be as dear to me. Sufficed) not, that we are brought to Rome, To beautify thy triumphs, and return, Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke ; But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, For valiant doings in their country's cause? O! if to fight for king and commonweal Were piety in thine, it is in these. Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood : Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods 7 Draw near them then in being merciful : Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge ; Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-born son. Tit. Patient 6 yourself, madam, and pardon me. These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld Alive, and dead ; and for their brethren slain, Religiously they ask a sacrifice : To this your son is mark'd ; and die he must, To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. Luc. Away with him ! and make a fire straight ; And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean consum'd. [Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, an Aside. Lest then the people, and patricians too, ) Aside. Upon a just survey, take Titus' part And so supplant us for ingratitude, (Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin,) Yield at entreats, and then let me alone: I'll find a day to massacre them all, And raze their faction, and their family, The cruel father, and his traitorous sons, To whom I sued for my dear son's life ; And make them know, what 'tis to make a queen Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace in vain. Come, come, sweet emperor, — Come, Andronicus, Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. Sat. Rise, Titus, rise ; my empress hath prevail'd, Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my lord : These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. Tarn. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily, And must advise the emperor for his good. This day all quarrels die, Andronicus ; — And let it be mine honour, good my lord, That I have reconcil'd your friends and you.— For you, prince Bassianus, I have pass'd My word and promise to the emperor, That you will be more mild and tractable. — And fear not, lords, — and you, Lavinia ; By my advice, all humbled on your knees, You shall ask pardon of his majesty. Luc. We do ; and vow to heaven, and to his highness, That, what we did, was mildly, as we might, Tend'ring our sister's honour, and our own. Mar. That on mine honour here I do protest. Sat. Away, and talk not ; trouble us no more.—' Tarn. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends : The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ; I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look hack. Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's here, And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, I do remit these young men's heinous faults. Stand up. Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, I found a friend ; and sure as death I swore, I would not part a bachelor from the priest. Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides, You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends : This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. Tit. To-morrow, an it please your majesty, To hunt the panther and the hart with rne, With horn and hound, we'll give your grace honjovr. Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. [Exeunt. time of Shakspeare. In that piece Agamemnon con- sents at last to allow Ajax the rites of sepulture, and Ulysses is the pleader whose arguments prevail in favour of his remains.' — Steevens. 1 This is evidently a translation of the distich of En- uius :- ' Nemo me laerumeis rtecoret : nee funera fletu Fascit quur? volito vivu' per ora virum.' ACT II. 3 SCENE I. Rome. Before the Palace. Entti Aaron. Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, Safe out of fortune's shot : and sits aloft, Secure of thunder's crack, or lightning's flash ; Advanc'd above pale envy's threat'ning reach. As when the golden sun salutes the morn, And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, And overlooks the highest-peering hills ; So Tamora. Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, And mount her pitch ; whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains ; And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes, 2 To play a prize was a technical term in the ancierji fencing schools. 3 In the quarto of 1600 the stage direction is ' Souna trumpets, manet Moore.'' In the quarto of 101 1 die direction is ' Manet Jlaron,' 1 and he is before made to enter with Tamora, though he says nothing. This scene ought to continue the first aci.—Julmson. 348 TITUS ANDRONICUS. Act II. Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. Awav with slavish weeds, and servile thoughts! I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, To wait upon this new-made emperess. To wait, said I ? to wanton with this queen, This goddess, this Semiramis ; — this nymph, This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, And see his shipwreck, and his commonweal's. Holloa ! what storm is this ? Enter Chikon and Demetrius, braving. Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge, And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd : And mav, for aught thou know'st, affected be. Chi. Demetrius, thou dost overween in all: And so in this, to bear me down with braves. 'Tis not the difference of a year, or two, Makes me less gracious, thee more fortunate : I am as able, and as fit, as thou, To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace ; And that my sword upou thee shall approve, And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. Aar. Clubs, clubs!' these lovers will not keep tin- peace. Dem. Why, boy, although our mother, unadvis'd, Gave you a dancing-rapier* by your side, Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends ? Go to ; have your lath glued within your sheath Till \<>u know better how to handle it. Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, Full well shah thou perceive how much [ dare. Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave ? [They draw. Aar. Why, how now, lords '! So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, And maintain such a quarrel openly? Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge ; I would not for a million of gold, The cause were known to them it most concerns : Nor would your noble mother, for much more, Be so dishonour'^ in the court of Rome. For shame, put up. Dem. Not I : till I have sheath'd My rapier in his bosom, and, withal, Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat, That he hath bi-eath'd in my dishonour here. Chi. For that I am prepar'd and full resolv'd, — Foul-spoken coward ! that thuuder'st with thy tongue, 3 And with thy weapon nothing dar'st perform. Aar. Away, I say. — New by the gods, that warlike Goths adore, This petty brabble will undo us all. — Why, lords, — and think you not how dangerous It is to jut upon a prince's right? What, is Lavinia then become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd, Without controlment, justice, or revenge ? Young lords, beware ! — an should the empress know This discord's ground, the music would not please. 1 This was the usual outcry for assistance, when any riot in the street happened. 2 It appears that a light kind of sword, more for show than use, was worn bv gentlemen, even when dancing, in the reign of Elizabeth. So in All's Well that Ends Well :— ' no sword worn Bui one to dance with.' 1 And Greene in his Q.uip for an Upstart Courtier : — • One of them carrying his cutting sword of choller the other his danrins-rapier of delight.' 3 This phrase appears to have been adopted fromVir- gil, jEneid xi. 383 :— ' Proiude tuna eloqufo, soliium tihi — ' 4 Chiron appears to mean, 'that, had he a thousand lives, such was his love for Lavinia, he would pro- pose to venture them all to achieve her.' Thus in the Taming of the Shrew :- — ' Tranio, I burn, I bum, I pine, I perish, Tranio, If I achieve not this young modest cirl.' 5 These two lines occur, with very little variation, in the First Part of King Henry VI. :— ' She's beautiful', and therefore to be woo'd ; She is a woman, tnerelbre to be won.' Chi. I care not, I, knew she and. all the world; I love Lavinia more than all the world. Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice : Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. Aar. Why, are ye mad ? or know ye not, in Rome How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brook competitors in love ? I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths By this device. Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love.* Aar. To achieve her ! — How ? Dem. Why mak'st thou it so strange ? She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd ; She is a woman, therefore may be won ; s She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. What, man! more water glideth by the mill 6 Than wots the miller of; and easy it is Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know : Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, Better than he have yet worn Vulcan's badge. Aar. Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. [Aside Dem. Then why should he despair, that knows tc court it With words, fair looks, and liberality ? What, hast thou not full often struck a doe, And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? 7 Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch, or so, Wonld serve your turns. Chi. Ay, so the turn were serv'd. Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. Aar. 'Would, you had hit it too; Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. Why, hark ye, hark ye, — And are you such fools, To square 8 for this ? Would it offend you then That both should speed ? Chi. I'faith, not me. Dem. Nor me, So I were one. Aar. For shame, be friends ; and join for that you jar. 'Tis policy and stratagem must do That von affect ; and so must you resolve ; That what you cannot, as you would, achieve, You must perforce accomplish as you may. Take this of me, Lucrece was not more chaste Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. A speedier course than lingering languishment .Must we pursue, and I have found the path. My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand ; There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: The forest walks are wide and spacious ; And many unfrequented plots there are, Fitted by kind 9 for rape and villany: Single you thither then this dainty doe, And strike her home by force, if not by words : This way, or not at all, stand you in hppe. Come, come, our empress, with her sacred 10 wit, To villany and vengeance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all that we intend ; This circumstance has given rise to a conjecture that the author of the present play was also tbe writer ofthe original King Henry VI. Ritson says that he 'should take Kyd to have been the author of Titus Andronicus, because he seems to delight in murders and scraps ol Latin, though it must be confessed that in the first ol those good qualities Marlowe's Jew of Malta may fairly dispute precedence with the Spanish Tragedy.' 6 There is a Scottish proverb, ' Mjckle water goes by the miller when he sleeps,' 3Von omnem molitorquse Unit urida videt. The subsequent line is also a northern proverb, ' It is safe taking a skive of a cut loaf.' 7 Mr. Holt is willing to infer that Titus Andronicus was one of Shakspeare's early performances, because the stratagems ofthe profession traditionally given to his youth seem here to have been fresh in the writer's mind. But. when we consider how common allusions to sports of the field are in all the writers of that ago there seems to be no real ground for the conclusion. 8 Quarrel. 9 By natu) e. 10 Sacred here signifies accursed; aLatinism. Scene III. Titus andronicus. 349 And she shai! fi!e our engines with advics, 1 That will not suffer you to square yourselves, But to your wishes' height advance you hoth. The emperor's court is like the house of fame, The palace full of tongues, of eyes, of cars : The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull ; There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turns : There serve your lust, shadow'd from heaven's eye, 4nd revel in Lavinia's treasury. Chi. Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits, Per Slyga, per manes vehor. 2 [Exeunt. SCENE II. 3 A Forest near Rome. A Lodge seen at a distance. Morns, and cry of Hounds heard. Enter Titus Andronicus, with Hunters, fyc. Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, otw/Martius. Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and gray, The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green : Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, And rouse the prince ; and ring a hunter's peal, That all the court may echo with the noise. Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, To tend the emperor's person carefully : I have Deen troubled in my sleep this night, Cut dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd. Horns wind a Peal. Enter Saturninus, Ta- mora, Basjianus, Lavinia, Chiron, Deme- trius, and Attendants. Tit. Many good morrows to your majesty ; — Madam, to you as many and as good ! — I promised your grace a hunter's peal. Sat. And you have rung it lustily, my lords, Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. Has. Lavinia, how say you? Lav. I say, no ; I have been broad awake two hours and more. Sat. Come on, then, horse and chariots let us have, And to our sport : — Madam, now shall ye see Our Roman hunting. [To Tamora. Mar. I have dogs, my lord, '•Vill rouse the proudest panther in the chase, And climb the highest promontory top. Tit. And I have horse will follow where the game Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. [Exeunt. SCENE III. A desert Part of the Forest. Enter Aaron, with a Bag of Gold. Aar. He, that had wit, would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit 4 it. Let him, that thinks of me so abjectly, Know, that this gold must coin a stratagem ; Which, cunninglv effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villany ; And so repose, sweet, gold, for their unrest, [ Hides the That have their alms out ot the empress' chest. 5 iold. Enter Tamora. Tarn. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look 7 st thou sad, c 1 The allusion is to the operation of the rile, which, by giving smoothness, facilitates :iie motion of the parts of an engine or piece of machinery. •2 These scraps of Latin are taken, though not exactly, from some of Seneca's tragedies. 3 ' The division of this play into acts, which was first made in the folio of 16-23, is improper. There is here an interval of action, and here the second act ought to have begun.' — Johnson. 4 i. e. possess 5 ""hjs is obscure It seems to mean only, that they When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? The birds chant melody on every bush ; The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground : Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And — whilst the babbling echo mocks the hound3, Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, — Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise And — after conflict, such as was suppos'd The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, When with a happy storm they were surpris'd, And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber ; Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds, Be unto us, as is a nurse's song Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your desires, Saturn is dominator over mine : What signifies my deadly standing eye, My silence, and my cloudy melancholy ? My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls Even as an adder, when she doth unroll To do some fatal execution ? No, madam, these are no venereal signs ; Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. Hark, Tamora, — the empress of my soul, Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, This is the day of doom for Bassianus ; His Philomel' must lose her tongue to-day Thy sons make pillage of her chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. Seest thou this letter ? take it up, I pray thee, And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll : — Now question me no more, we are espied ; Here comes a parcel" of our hopeful booty, Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. Tarn. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life. Aar. No more, great empress, Bassianus comes '. Be cross with him ; and I'll go fetch thy sons To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. [Exit. Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. Bas. Who have we here ? Rome's royal emperess Unfurnish'd of her well-btseeming troop ? Or is it Dian, habited like her ; Who hath abandoned her holy groves, To see the general hunting in this forest ? Tarn. Saucy controller of our private steps ! Had I the power, that, some say, Dian had, Thy temples should be planted presently With horns, as was Actaeon's ; and the hounds Should drive upon thy new transformed limbs, Unmannerly intruder as thou art ! Lav. Under your patience, gentle emperess, 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning ; And to be doubted, that your Moor and you Are singled forth to try experiments : Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day ! 'Tis pity, they should take him for a stag. Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimme- rian 9 Doth make your honour of his body's hue, Spotted, detested, and abominable. Why are you sequester'd from all your train Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, If foul desire had not conducted you ? who are to come at this gold of the empress are to suffer by it. — Johnson. 6 Malone remarks, that there is much poetical beamy in this speech of Tamora ; he thinks it the only part of the play which resembles the style of Shakspeare. 7 See Ovid's Metamorphoses, book vi. 9 i. e. a part. 9 Svarlh is dusky. The Moor is called Cimmerian from the affinity of blackness to darkness. S30 TITUS ANDRONICUS. Act II. Lav. And, being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my noble lord be rated For sauciness. — I pray you, let us hence, And let her 'joy her raven-colour'd love ; This valley fits the purpose passing well. Bas. The king, my brother, shall have note of this. Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him noted long: 1 Good king ! to be so mightily abus'd ! Tanu Why have I patience to endure all this ? Enter Chiron and Demetrius. Dcm. How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother, Why doth your highness look so pale and wan ? Tarn. Have I not reason, think you, to look pale ? These two have 'tic'd me hither to this place, A barren detested vale, you see, it is : The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, O'ercome with moss, and baleful mistletoe. Here never shines the sun, 2 here nothing breeds, Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit, They told me, here, at dead time of the night, A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, 3 Would make such fearful and confused cries, As any mortal body, hearing it, Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly.* No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But straight they told me, they would bind me here Unto the body of a dismal yew ; And leave me to this miserable death. And then they call'd me, foul adulteress, Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms That ever ear did hear to such effect. Ami, had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed : Revenge it, as vou love your mother's life, Or he ye not henceforth call'd my children. Dem. This is a witness that I am thy son. [Stabs Bassiancs. Chi. And this for me, struck home to show my strength. [Slabbing him likewise. Lav. Ay come, Semiramis, 5 — nay, barbarous Tamora ! For no name fits thy nature but thy own ! 2'om. Give me thy poniard ; you shall know, my boys, Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. Dcm. Stay, madam, here is more belongs to her ; First, thrash the corn, then after burn the straw : This minion stood upon her chastity, Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, And with that painted hone G braves your mightiness: And shall she carry this unto her grave? Chi. An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. Tarn. But when you have the honey you desire, Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. Chi. I warrant you, madam ; we will make that sure. — Come, mistress, now perforce, we will enjoy That nice-preserved honesty of yours. Lav. O, Tamora ! thou bear'st a woman's face, — Tarn. I will not hear her speak ; away with her. Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. Dem. Listen, fair madam : Let it be your glory To see her tears : but be your heart to them, A.s unrelenting flint to drops of rain. 1 He hail yet been married hut one night. The true reading may be ' made her,' i. e. Tamora. 2 Rowe seems to have thought on this passage in his T ane Shore : — ' This is the house where the sun never dawns, The bird of night sits screaming o'er its roof, Grim- spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, And nought is heard but waitings and lamentings.' 3 Hedgehogs. Lav. When did the timer's young ones teach the dam ? O, do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee : The milk, thou suck'dst from her, did turn to marble; Even at thy teat ihou hadst thy tyranny. — Yet every mother breeds not sons alike ; Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. [To Chiroct. Chi. What ! would'st thou have me prove myself a bastard? Lav. 'Tis true ; the raven doth not hatch a lark: Yet I have heard, (O, could I find it now !) The lion mov'd with pity, did endure To have his princely paws par'd all away. Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, Nothing so kind, butsomelhing pitiful! Tarn. I know not what it means ; away with her. Lav. O, let me teach thee : for my father's sake, That gave thee life, when well he might have slain thee, Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. Tarn. Had thou in person ne'er offended me, Even for his sake am I pitiless : — Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, To save your brother from the sacrifice ; But fierce Andronicus would not relent. Therefore away with her, and use her as you will , The worse to her, the better lov'd of me. Lav. O, Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, And with thine own hands kill me in this place : For 'tis not life, that I have begg'd so long ; Poor I was slain, when Bassianus died. Tarn. What begg'st thou, then .' fond woman, let me go. Lav. 'Tis present death I beg ; and one thing more, That womanhood denies my tongue to tell : O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit; Where never man's eye may behold my body : Do this, and be a charitable murderer. Tarn. So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee : No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too long. Lav. No grace ? no womanhood ? Ah, beastly creature ! The blot and enemy to our general name ! Confusion fall Chi. Nay, then I'll stop your mouth : — Bring thou her husband : [Dragging off Lavinia. This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. [Exeunt. Tarn. Farewell, my sons ; see that you make her sure : Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, Till all the Andronici be made away. Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, And let my spleenful sons this trull deflower. [Exit. SCENE IV. The same. Enter Aaron u,ith Quintus and Martius. Aar. Come on, my lords ; the better foot before : Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit, Where I espy'd the panther fast asleep. Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. Mart. And mine, I promise you ; were't not for shame, Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. [Martius falls into the Pit. 4 This is said in fabulous physiology of those that hear the groan of the mandrake when torn up. The. same thought, and almost the same expression, occur in Ro meo and Juliet. 5 The propriety of this address will be best understood by consulting Pliny's Nat. Hist. ch. 42. The inconti- nence of Semiramis has been already alluded to in the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew, Sc. ii. 6 Painted hope is only specious hope, or ground oj confidence, more plausible, than solid. Steevens thought tha*t the word hope was interpolated, the sense being complete and the line more harmonious without it. ScEaE V TITUS ANDRONICUS. Mi Quin. What, art thou fallen ? What subtle hole is this, Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briars ; Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood, As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers / A very fatal place it seems to me : — Speak, bro'her, hast thou hurt thee with the fall ? Mart. O, brother, with the dismall'st object hurt That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament. Aar. [Aside.] Now will I fetch the king to find them here : That he thereby may give a likely guess, How these were they that made away his brother. [Exit Aaron. Marl, Why dost not comfort me, and help me out From this unhallow'd and blood-stained hole? Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear : A chilling sweat o'erruns rny trembling joints ; My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. Mart. To prove thou hast a true divining heart, Aaron and thou look down into this den, And see a fearful sight of blood and death. Quin. Aaron is gone ; and my compassionate heart Will not permit mine eyes once to behold The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise: O, tell me how it is ; fur ne'er till now Was I a child, to fear I know not what. Mart. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, All on a heap like to a slaughter'd lamb, In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. Quin. If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he V Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, 1 Which, like a taper in some monument, Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, And shows the ragged entrails of this pit: So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. O, brother, help me with thy fainting hand, — If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, — Out of this fell devouring receptacle, As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. Quin. Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out; Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. Mar. Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. Quin. Thy hand once more ; I will not loose again, Till thou art here aloft, or I below: Thou canst not come to me, I come to thee. [Falls in. Enter Saturninus and Aaron. Sat. Along with me : — I'll see what hole is here. And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. Say, who art thou, that lately didst descend Into this gaping hollow of the earth ? Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus ; Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, To find thy brother Bassianus dead. Sat. My brother dead ? I know, thou dost but jctst : He and his lady both are at the lodge, Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 'Tis not an hour since I left him there. Mart. We know not where you left him all alive, But, out alas! here have we found him dead. Enter Tamora, v)ith Attendants ; Titus Andro- nicus, and Lucius. Tarn. Where is my lord, the king? Sat. Here, Tamora ; though griev'd with killing grief. 1 Old naturalists assert that there is a gem called a carbuncle, which emits not reflected but native light. Boyle believed in the reality of'its existence. It is often alluded to in ancient fable. Thus in the Gesta Roma- norum :— ' He farther beheld and saw a carbuncle that lighted all the house.' And Drayton in The Muse's Elysium :— Tarn. Where is thy brother Bassianus ? Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound ; Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. 'Tarn. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ. [Giving a Letter, The complot of this timeless* tragedy ; And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. Sat. [Reads.] An if we miss to meet him hand somely,' — Sweet huntsman, Bassianus , tis, we mean, — Do thou so much as dig the grave for him; Thou know' st our meaning: Eookfor thy reward Among the nettles at the eider tree,' Which overshades the mouth of that same pit, IV here we decreed to bury Bassianus. Do this, and purchase, us thy lasting friends. O, Tamora! was ever heard the like? This is the pit, and this the elder tree Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out That should have murder'd Bassianus here. Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. [Showing it. Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tit., fell curse of bloody kind, Have here bereft my brother of his life : — Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison ; There let them bide, until we have devis'd Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. Tarn. What, are they in this pit ? O, wondrous thing ! How easily murder is discovered ! Tit. High emperor, upon my feeble knee I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed sons, Accursed, if the fault be prov'd in them, Sat. If it be prov'd ! you see, it is apparent.— Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? Tarn. Andronicus himself did take it up. Tit. I did, my lord : yet let me be their bail : For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow, They shall be ready at your highness' will, To answer their suspicion with their lives. Sat. Thou shalt not bail them : see, thou follow me. Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain ; For, by my soul, were ther? worse end than death. That end upon them should be executed. Tarn. Andronicus, I will entreat the king ; Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. Tit. Come, Lucius, come : stay not to talk with them. [Exeunt severally, SCENE V. The same. Enter Demetrius and Chiron, with Lavinia, ravished; her Hands cut off, and Tongue cut out. Dem. So now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so : And, if thy stumps will let thee, play the scribe. Dem. See how with signs and tokens she can scowl. Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash : And so let's leave her to her silent walks. Chi. An 'twere my case, I should go hang my- self. Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. ' Is that admired mighty stone, The carbuncle that's named ; AVhich from it such a flaming light And radiancy ejecteth, That in the very darkest night The eye to it directeth. 2 i. e. untimely So in King Richard II. : — 1 The bloody office of his timeless end.' 354 TITUS ANDRONICUS. Act III Enter Marcus. Mar. Who's this,— my niece, that flies away so fast '/ Cousin, a word ; Where is your husband 7 — If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me ! ' If I do wake, some planet strike me. down, That I may slumber in eternal sleep ! — Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches 7 those sweet ornaments, Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in > , And might not gain so great a happiness, As half thy love? Why dost not speak to me? — Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, Coming and going with thy honey breath. But, sure, some Tereus hath deflour'd thee ; And, lest thou should'st detect him, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame ! And notwithstanding all this loss of blood, — As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, — Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. Shall I speak for thee ? shall I say, 'tis so? O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, That I might rail at him to ease my mind ! Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind ; But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee ; A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could have better sew'd than Philomel. O, had the monster seen those lily hands Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, And make the silken strings delight to kiss them ; He would not then have touch'd them for his life : Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony, Which that sweet tongue hath made, He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. Come, let us go, and make thy father blind : For such a sight will blind a father's eye : One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads ; What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes V Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee ; O, could our mourning ease thy misery ! [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. Rome. A Street. Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of Justice, with Martius andQuiNTUs, bound, passing on to the Place of Execution; Titus going before, pleading. Tit. Hear me, grave fathers ! noble tribunes, stay ! For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept ; For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed ; For all the frosty nighti that I have watch'd ; And for these bitter tears, which now you see Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ; Be pitiful to my condemned sons, Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought ! For two and twenty sons I never wept, Because they died in honour's lofty bed. For these, good tribunes, in the dust I write [ Throwing himself on the Ground. Mv heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad tears. Let mv tears stanch the earth's dry appetite ; My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. [Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, $-c. with the Prisoners. O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, That shall distil, from these two ancient urns, 2 Than youthful April shall with all his showers; In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still ; In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow, And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. Enter Lucius, with his Sword drawn. O, reverend tribunes ! gentle aged men ! Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death ; And let me say that never wept before, My tears are now prevailing orators. Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain ; The tribunes hear you not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrows to a stone. Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead : Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you. Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did mark, They would not pity me ; yet plead I must, All bootless unto them. Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ; Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they're better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale : When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me ; And, were thev but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these. A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hcerd than stones : A stone is silent, and offendeth not ; And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn ? Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their death : For which attempt, the judges have pronoune'd My everlasting doom of banishment. Tit. O, happy man ! they have befriended thee. Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive, That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey, But me and mine : How happy art thou, then, Froai these devourers to be banished ? But who comes with our brother Marcus here? Enter Marcus and Latinia Mar. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep ; Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break ! I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. Til. Will it consume me 7 let me see it, then. Mar. This was thy daughter. Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. Luc. Ah me ! this object kills me ! Til. Faint-hearted boy r arise, and look upon her : — Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee (landless in thy father's sight ! What fool hath added water to the sea? Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy ? My grief was at the height before thou cam'st, And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. — Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too ; For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain , And they have nurs'd this wo, in feeding life ; In bootless prayer have they been held up, And they have serv'd me to effectless use ; Now, all the service I require of them Is, that the one will help to cut the other. — 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands ; For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath marty r'd thee ? Mar. O, that delightful engine of her thoughts,* That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage: Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed ? 1 ' If this be a dream, I wouM give all my posses- sions to be delivered from it by waking.' 2 The old copies read, 'two ancient rimes. , The emendation is by Sir T. Hanmer 3 This piece furnishes scarce .my resemblances to Shakspeare's works ; this one expression, however, is found in his Venus and Adonis :— Once more Ihe engine of her thoughts began ' Scene I TITUS ANDRONICUS. 353 Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the park, Seeking to h?de herself, as doth the deer, That hath recciv'd some unrecuring wound. Tit. It was my deer ; and he, that wounded her, Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me dead : For now I stand as one upon a rock, Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, Expecting ever when some envious surge Will in Ins brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sons are gone ; Here stands my other son, a banish'd man ; And here, my brother, weeping at my woes ; But that, which gives my soul the greatest spurn, Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. — Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, It would have madded me ; What shall I do Now I behold thy lively body so ? Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears ; Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee : Thy husband he is dead : and, for his death, Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this : — Look, Marcus ! ah, son Lucius, look on her : When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears Stood on her cheeks ; as doth the honey dew Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they kill'd her husband : Perchance, because she knows them innocent. Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful, Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. — No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ; Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. — Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips ; Or make some sign how I may do thee ease : Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks How they are stain'd ? like meadows, yet not dry With miry slime left on them by a flood ? And in the fountain shall we gaze so long, Till the fresh taste he taken from that clearness, And make, a brine pit with our bitter tears ? Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine ? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows Pass the remainder of our hateful days ? What shall we do ? let us, that have our tongues, Plot some device of further misery, To make us wonder'd at in time to come. Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears ; for, at your grief, See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. Mar. Patience, dear niece j — good Titus, dry thine eyes. Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus ! brother, well I wot, Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark ! I understand her signs : Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee ; His napkin with his true tears all bewet, Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. O, what a sympathy of wo is this ! As far from help as limbo' is from bliss ! Enter Aaron. Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor Sends thee this word, — That, if thou love thy sorts, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand, And send it to the king : he, for the same, Will send thee hither both thy sons alive ; And that shall be the ransom for their fault. Tit. O, gracious emperor ! O, gentle Aaron ! Did ever raven sing so like a lark, That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? 1 The Llmbtts patrum, as it was called, is a place that the schoolmen supposed to be in the neighbourhood of hell, where the souls of the patriarchs were detained, and those good men who died before our Saviour's re- 56 With all my heart, I'll send the emperor My hand: Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? Luc. Stay, father ; for that noble hand of thine, That hath thrown down so many enemies, Shall not be sent : my hand will serve the turn : My youth can better spare my blood than you ; And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft the bloody battlcaxe, Writing destruction on the enemy's castle ?- O, none of both but are of high desert: My hand hath been but idle ; let it serve To ransom my two nephews from their death ; Then have I kept it to a worthy end. Aar. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go along, For fear they die before their pardon come. Mar. My hand shall go. Luc. By heaven, it shall not go. Tit. Sirs, strive no more ; such wither'd herbs as these Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son. Let me redeem my brothers both from death. Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mother's, Now let me show a brother's love to thee. Tit. Agree between you ; I will spare my hand. Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe. Mar. But I will use the axe. [Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. Tit. Come hither, Aaron ; I'll deceive them both ; Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. Aar. If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, And never, whilst I live, deceive men so : — But I'll deceive you in another sort, [Aside. And that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. [He cuts off" Titus's Hand, Enter Lucius and Marcus. Tk. Now, stay your strife : what shall be, is despatch d. — Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand : Tell him it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers ; bid him bury it ; More hath it merited, that let it have. As for my sons, say, I account of them As jewels purchas'd at an easy price ; And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. Aar. I go, Andronicus : and for thy hand, Look by-and-by to have thy sons with thee : — Their heads, I mean. — O, how this villany [Aside. Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it ! Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, Aaron will have his soul black like his face. [Exit. Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, And bow this feeble ruin to the earth : If any power pities wretched tears, To that I call : — What, wilt thou kneel with me? [To Lavinia. Do then, dear heart ; for heaven shall hear our prayers ; Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds. When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. Mar. O ! brother, speak with possibilities, And do not break into these deep extremes. Tit. Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom ? Then be my passions bottomless with them. Mar. But yet let reason govern thy lament. Tit. If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I bind my woes : When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'er flow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with hisbig-swoln face? And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? surrection. Milton gives the name of Limbo to his Paradise of Fools. •2 It appears from Grose on Antient Armour, that a castle was a kind of close helmei, probably so named irom casjuetel, old French. S54 TITUS ANDRONICUS. Act III. I am the sea ; hark, how her sighs do blow • She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my sea be moved with her sighs ; Then must my earth with her continual tears Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd : For why ? my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them. Then give me leave ; for losers will have leave To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. Enter a Messenger, with two Heads and a Hand. Mesa. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. Here are the heads of thy two noble sons ; Arid here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back ; Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd : That wo is me to think upon thy woes, More than remembrance of my father's death. [Exit. Mar. Now let hot ./Etna cool in Sicily, And be my heart an ever-burning hell ! These miseries are more than may be borne ! To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal, But sorrow flouted at is double death. Luc. Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrink thereat ! That ever death should let life bear his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ! [Lavinia kisses him. Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless, As frozen water to a starved snake. Tit. When will this fearful slumber have an end? Mar. Now, farewell, flattery : Die, Andronicus ; Thou dost not slumber : see, thy two son's heads ; Thy warlike hand : thy mangled daughter here ; Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, Even like a stony image, cold and numb. Ah ! now no more will I control thy griefs : Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal sight The closing up of our most wretched eyes ! Now is a time to storm ; why art thou still? Tit. Ha, ha, ha! Mar. Why dost thou laugh ? it fits not with this hour. i Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed : Besides this sorrow is an enemy, And would usurp upon my watery eyes, And make them blind with tributary tears ; Then which way shall I find revenge's cave? For these two heads do seem to speak to me; And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, Till all these mischiefs be return'd again, Even in their throats that have committed them. Come, let me see what task I have to do. — You heavy people, circle me about ; That I may turn me to each one of you, And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. The vow is made. — Come, brother take a head ; And in this hand the other will I bear: Lavinia, thou shall be employed in these things ; Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. As for thee boy, go, got thee from my sight ; Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay : Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there : And, if you love me, as I think you do, Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. [Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father ; The woful'st man that ever liv'd in Rome ! Farewell, -proud' Rome! till Lucius come again, He leaves his pledges dearer than his life. Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister ; O, 'would, thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been ! But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives, But in oblivion, and hateful griefs, If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs , And make proud Saturninus and his empress Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. [Exit. SCENE II. 1 A Room in Titus's House. A Ban- quet set out. Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and young Lucius, a Boy. Tit. So, so ; now sit : and look, you eat no more Than will preserve just so much strength in us As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot ; 2 Thv niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, And cannot passionate 5 our tenfold grief With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; And when my heart, all mad with misery, Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, Then thus I thump it down. — Thou map of wo, that thus dost talk in signs ! [To Lavinia. When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. Wound it with sighing, girl ; kill it with groans ; Or get some little knife between thy teeth, Ant! just against thy heart make thou a hole ; That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, May run into that sink, and, soaking in, Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. Mar. Fie, brother, fie ! teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands upon her tender life. Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote al ready ? Why, Marcus, no man should be mad hut I. What violent hands can she lay on her life ? Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; To bid ^Eneas tell the tale twice o'er, How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable ? O, handle hot the theme, to talk of hands ; Lest we remember still, that we have none.— Fie, fie, how franticlv I square my talk ! As if we should forget w'e had no hands, If Marcus did not name the word of hands! — Come, let's fall to: and, gentle girl, eat this: — Here is no drink ! Hartt, Marcus, what she says ;— I can interpret all her martyr'd signs, — She savs she drinks no other drink but tears, Rrew'd with her sorrows, mesh'd 5 upon her cheeks! Speechless complaincr, I will learn thy thought ; In th) dumb action wiil I be as perfect As begging hermits in their holy prayers : Thou Shalt not sigh nor hold thy stumps to heaven, Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet, And, by still practice, learn to know thy meaning. Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep lamen's : Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. Tit. Peace, tender sapling : thou art made o« tears, And tears will quickly melt thy life away. — [Marcus strikes the Dish with a Knife, What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife ? Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord ; a fly. Tit. Out on thee, murderer ! thou kill'st my heart ; Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: A deed of death, done on the innocent, Becomes not Titus' brother : Get thee gone ; I see, thou art not for my company. Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. 1 This scene, which does not contribute any thing to the action, yet seems to be by the same author as the reel, is wanting in the quarto copies of 1600 and mil, but found in the folio of 1623. 2 So in The Tcmpe-t :— ' — sitting, Hi= arms in this sad knot.'* 3 This obsolete verb is likewise found in Spenser: 'Great pleasure rnix'd with pitiful regard, That godly king and queen did passionate ' 4 So in Troilus and Cressida :— ' . thou Handlist in thy discourse, O that her hand' 5 A very coarse allusion to brewing. 'Scene H. TITUS ANDR0N1CUS. 555 Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother ?' How would he hang his slender gilded wings, And buzz lamenting doings in the air? Poor harmless fly ! That, with his pretty buzzing melody, "Came here to make us merry ; and thou hast kill'd him. Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill-favour'd Like to the empress' Moor ; therefore I kill'd him. Tit. O, G, O, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a charitable deed. Give me thy knife, I will insult on him ; Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, Come hither purposely to poison me. — There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. — Ah, sirrah ! 2 — Yet I do think we are not brought so low, Hut that, between us, we can kill a fly, That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. Mar. Alas, poor man ! grief has so wrought on him, He takes false shadows for true substances. Tit. Come, take away. — Lavinia, go with me: I'll to thy closet ; and go read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. — Come, boy, and go with me ; thy sight is young, And thou shalt read, when mine begins to dazzle. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. Tlie same. Before Titus's House. Enter Titus and Marcus. Then enter Young Lucius, Lavinia running after him. Boy. Help, grandsire, help ! my aunt Lavinia Follows me every where, I know not why : — Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes ! Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. Mar. Stand by me, Lucius ; do not fear thine aunt. Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. Boy. Av, when my father was in Rome, she did. Mar. What means iny niece Lavinia by these signs ? Tit. Fear her not, Lucius : — Somewhat doth she mean: See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of thee ; Somewhither would she have thee go with her. Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, Sweet poetry, and Tully's Orator. 3 Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her : For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, Extremity of griefs would make men mad ; And I have* read that Hecuba of Troy Ran mad through sorrow : That made me to fear ; Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, And would not, but in fury, fright my youth : Which made me down to throw my books, and fly ; Causeless, perhaps : But pardon me, sweet aunt : And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, ■ I will most willingly attend your ladyship. Mar. Lucius, I will. [Lavinia turns over the Books which Lucius has let fall. Tit. How now, Lavinia ?— Marcus, what means this ? Some book there is that she desires to see : — 1 Steevens conjectures that the words ' and mother' should be omitted. Ritson proposes to read the line thus : — ' But ! How if that fly had a father, brother." 2 This was formerly not a disrespectful expression. Poins uses the same address to the Prince of Wales in King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2. 3 Tully's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator. 4 Succession. Which is it, girl, of these ? — Open them, boy.— But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd ; Come, and take choice of all my library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. — Why lifts she up her arms in sequence 4 thus ? Mar. I think, she means, that there was more than one Confederate in the fact : — Ay, more there was :— Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphosis ; My mother gave't me. Mar. For love of her that's gone, Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. Tit. Soft ! see, how busily she turns the leaves ! Help her: — What would she find? — Lavinia, shall I read? This is the tragic tale of Philomel, And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape ? And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. Mar. See, brother, see ; note how she quotes 4 the leaves. Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surpris'd, sweet girt, Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, Forc'd in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods ?-- See, see! — Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, (0, had we never, never, hunted there!) Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, By nature made for murders, and for rapes. Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a den, Unless the gods delight in tragedies! Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, — for here are nore but friends, — What Roman lord it was durst do the deed : Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed ? Mar. Sit down, sweet niece ; — brother, sit down by me. — Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, Inspire me, that I may this treason find ! — My lord, look here ; — Look here, Lavinia : This sandy plot is plain ; guide, if thou canst, This after me, when I have writ my name Without the help of any hand at all. [He writes his Name with his Staff, and guides it with his Feet and Blouth. Curs'd be that heart, that forc'd us to this shift ! — Write thou, good niece : and here display, at last, What God will have discover'd for revenge ! Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, That we may know the traitors and the truth ! [Slie takes the Staff" in her Mouth, and guides it with her Stumps, and writes. Tit. O, do you read, my lord what she hath writ ? Stuprum — Chiron — Demetrius. Mar. What, what ! — the lustful sons of Tamora Performers of this heinous, bloody deed ? Tit. Magne Dominator poli, s Tarn lentus audis scelera ? tarn lentus vides ? Mar. O, calm thee, gentle lord ! although, I know, There is enough written upon this earth, To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. My lord, kneel down with me : Lavinia, kneel ; And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope ; And swear with me, — as with the woful feere, 7 And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape,— That we will prosecute, by good advice, Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, And see their blood, or die with this reproach. 5 To quote, is to observe. 6 Magne Regnator Deum, &c. is the exclamation o' Hippolytus when Phasdra discovers the secret of her incestuous passion, in Seneca's Tragedy. 7 Feere signifies a companion, and here metaphori cally a husband, as in the old romance of Sir Eglamour of Artoys, sig. A 4 : ' Christabele, your daughter fre,e, When shall she have a fere ?' 35S TITUS ANDRONICtfS. Tit. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how, But if you hurt these bear- whelps, then beware : The dam will wake ; and, if she wind you once, She's with the lion deeply still in league, And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list. You're a young huntsman, Marcus ; let it alone ; And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, And with a gad 1 of steel will write these words, And lay it by : the angry northern wind. Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, 2 And where's your lesson then ? — Boy, what say you ? Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man, Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. Mar. Ay, that's my boy ! thy father hath full oft For this ungrateful country done the like. Boy. And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. Tit. Come, go, with me into mine armoury ; Lucius, I'll fit thee ; and, withal, my boy Shall carry from me to the empress' sons Presents, that I intend to send them both : Come, come ; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grand- sire. Tit. No, boy, not so ; I'll teach thee another course. Lavinia, come : — Marcus, look to my house ; Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court ; Ay, marry, will we, sir : and we'll be waited on. [Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Boy. Mar. heavens, can you hear a good man groan, And not relent, or not compassion him ? Marcus, attend him in his ecstacy ; That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield : But yet so just, that he will not revenge : — Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus ! [Exit. SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius, at one Door ; at another Door, Young Lucius, and an Attendant, with a Bundle of XVeapons, and Ver- ses n-rit upon them. Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius ; He hath some message to deliver to us. Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad grand- father. Boy. My lords, with all the humbleness I may, I greet your honours from Andronicus ; — And pray the Roman gods confound you both. [Aside. Dem. Gramercy, 3 lovely Lucius ; What's the news? Boy. That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, For villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.] May it please you, My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me The goodliest weapons of his armoury, To gratify your honourable youth, The hope of Rome ; for so he bade me say ; And so I do, and with his gifts present Your lordships, that whenever you have need, You may be armed and appointed well : And so' I leave 'you both, [aside] like bloody villains. [Exeunt Boy and Attendant. Dem. What's here? A scroll ; and written round about? Let's see ; Integer litre, scelerisque purus, Non egel Mauri jaculis, nee arcu. Chi. O, 'tis a verse in Horace ; I know it well : I read it in the grammar long ago. Act. I? right, you 1 Aside, 1 A gad, in Anglo-Saxon, signified the point of a spear. It is here used for a similar pointed instrument. "2 ' Foliis tantum ne Carolina manda, Ne lurbata volent rapidis ludibria ventis.' * JEn. vi. 75. Aar. Ay, just! — a verse in Horace have it. Now, what a thing it is to be an ass ! Here's no sound jest ! 4 the old man hath found their guilt ; And sends the weapons wrapp'd about with lines, That wound, beyond their feeling, to the f quick. But were our witty empress well a-foot, She would applaud Andronicus' conceit. But let her rest in her unrest awhile. — And now, young lords, was't not a happy star Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, Captives, to be advanced to this height? It did me good, before the palace-gate To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. Dem. But me more good, to see so great a lord Basely insinuate, and send us gifts. Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius ? Did you not use his daughter very friendly ? Dem. I would, we had a thousand Roman dames At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love. Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand more. Dem. Come, let us go: and pray to all the gods For our beloved mother in her pains. Aar. Pray to the devils ; the gods have given us o'er. [Aside. Flourish. Dem. Why do 'the emperor's trumpets flourish thus ? CM. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. Dem. Soft j who comes here ? Enter a Nurse, with a Blaxk-a-moor Child in her Arms. Nur. Good morrow, lords-: O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor ? Aar. Well, more, or less, or ne'er a whit at all, Here Aaron is : and what with Aaron now ? Nur. O, gentle Aaron, we are all undone ! Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep? What dost llioii wrap and fumble in thine arms ? Nur. O, that which I would hide from heaven's eve > Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace-; She is deliver'd, lords, she is deliver'd. Aar. To whom? Nur. I mean, she's brought to bed. Aar. Well, Gad Give her good rest ! What hath he sent her ? Nur. A devil. Aar. Why, then she's the devil's dam ; a joyful issue. Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, aud sorrowful issue : Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. Aar. Out, out, you whore ! is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. Dem. Villain, what hast thou done ? Aar. Done ! that which thou Canst not undo. Chi. Thou hast undone our mother. Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother. Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice ! Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend ! Chi. It shall not live. Aar. It shall not die. Nur. Aaron, it must : the mother wills it so. Aar. What, must it, nurse ? then let no man but I, Do execution on my flesh and blood. 3 i. e. grand merci ; great thanks. 4 This mode of expression was common formerly. So in King Henry IV. Part I. :— ' Here's no fine villany V EcENE III. TITUS ANDRONICUS. 357 Dem. I'll broach 1 the tadpole on my rapier's point ; Nurse, give it me ; my sword shall soon despatch it. Aar Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up, [Takes the Cliild from the Nurse, and draws. Stay, murderous villains ! will you kill your brother? Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, That shone so brightly when this boy was got, He dies upon my scymetar's sharp point, That touches this my first-born son and heir ! I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, 2 With all his threat' ning band of Typhon's brood, Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. What, what ; ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys ! Ye white-lim'd walls! ye alehouse painted signs ! Coal black is better than another hue, In that it scorns to bear another hue: For all the water in the ocean Can never turn a swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood. Tell the emperess from me, I am of age To keep mine own ; excuse it how she can. Dem. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus ? Aar. My mistress is my mistress ; this, myself: The vigour, and the picture of my youth : This, before all the world, do I prefer ; This, maugre all the world, will I keep safe, Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. Dem. By this our mother is for ever sham'd. Chi. Rome will despise her for this foul escape. 3 Nur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death. Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy.* Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: Fie, treacherous hue ! that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the heart I 5 Here's a young lad fram'd of another leer : 6 Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father ; As who should say, Old lad, I am thine own. He is your brother, lords ; sensibly fed Of that self-blood that first gave life to you ; And, from that womb, where you imprison'd were, He is enfranchised and come to light: Nay, he's your brother by the surer side, Although my seal be stamped in his face. Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress ? Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy advice ; Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult. My son and I will have the wind of you : Keep there : Now talk at pleasure of your safety. [They sit on the Ground. Dem. How many women saw this child of his ? Aar. Why, so, brave lords ', When we all join in league, I am a lamb : but if you brave the Moor, The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.— But, say aaain, how many saw the child ? JVur. Cornelia the midwife, and myself, And no one else, but the deliver'd empress. Aar. The emperess, the midwife, and yourself: Two may keep counsel, when the third's away : T Go to the empress; tell her, this I said : — [Stabbing her. Weke, weke ! — so cries a pig, prepar d to the spit. Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron ? Wherefore didst thou this ? 1 In Lust's Dominion, by Marlowe, a play in its style bearing a near resemblance to Titus Andronicus, Elea- zar, the Moor, a character of unmingled ferocity, like Aaron, and, like him, the paramour of a royal mistress, exclaims : — ' Run, and with a voice Erected high as mine, say thus, thus threaten To Roderigo and the Cardinal, Seek no queens here ; Til broach them, if they do, Upon my falchion's point.' 3 A giant, the son of Titan and Terra. Zi e. this foul illegitimale t child. So in King John: — ' JSo scape of Nature.' Aar. O, lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: Shall she live to betray this guilt or ours ? A long-tongu'd babbling go.ssip ? no, lords, no. And now be it known to you my full intent. Not far, one Muliteus lives, 8 my countryman. His wife but yesternight was brought to bed ; His child is like to her, fair as you arc : Go pack 3 with him, and give the mother gold, And tell them both the circumstance of all ; And how by this their child shall be advanc'd And be received for the emperor's heir, And substituted in the place of mine, To calm this tempest whirling in the court ; And let the emperor dandle him for his own. Hark ye, lords, ye see, that I have given her physic, [Pointing to the Nurse. And you must needs bestow her funeral ; The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms : This done, see that you take no longer days, But send the midwife presently to me. The midwife, and the nurse, well made away, Then let the ladies tattle what they please. CM. Aaron, I see, thou wilt not trust the air With secrets. . Dem. For this care of Tamora, Herself, and hers, are highly bound to thee. [Exeunt Dem. and Chi. bearing qff'theNurse. Aar. Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies ; There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, And secretly to greet the empress' friends. — Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence ; For it is you that puts us to our shifts : I'll make you feed on berries, and on roots, And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, And cabin in a cave ; and bring you up To be a warrior, and command a camp. [Exit. SCENE III. The same. A public Place. Enter Titus, bearing Arrows, with Letters at the ends of them; with, him Marcus, Young Lucius, and other Gentlemen, with Bows. Tit. Come, Marcus, come ; — Kinsmen, this is the way : — Sir boy, now let me see your archery ; Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight : Terras Astrcea relkpiit: Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled Sir, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets j Happily you may find her in the sea ; Yet there's as little justice as at land : — No ; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it ; 'Tis you must dig with mattock, and with spade, And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: Then, when you come to Pluto's region, I pray you deliver him this petition : Tell him, it is for justice, and for aid : And that it comes from old Andronicus, Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. — Ah, Rome ! — Well, well ; I made thee miserable, What time I threw the people's suffrages On him that thus do:h tyrannize o'er me. — Go, get you gone ; and pray be careful all, And leave you not a man of war unsearch'd ; This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence, And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case, To see thy noble uncle thus distract ? Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns, 4 i. e. ignominy. 5 Thus also in Othello : — ' They are close denotements working from the heart.' 6 Complexion. 7 This proverb is introduced in Romeo and Juliet, Act ii. 8 The word lives, which is wanting in the old copies, was supplied by Rowe. Steevens thinks Muliteus a corruption for ' Muly lives.' 1 9 To pack is to contrive insidiously. So in King Lear : — ' Snuffs and packings of the dukes ' 358 TITUS ANDRONICUS Act IV* By day and night to attend him carefully ; And feed his humour kindly as we may, Till time beget some careful remedy. Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. Join with the Goths ; and with revengeful war Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. Tit. Publius, how now ? how now, my masters ? What, Have you met with her ? Pub. No, my good lord : but Pluto sends you word [f you will have revenge from hell, you shall : Marry, for Justice she is so emplov'd, He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or some where else, So that perforce you must needs stay a time. Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with delays. I'll dive into the burning lake below, And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. — Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we ; No big-bon'd men, fram'd of the Cyclop's size : But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back ; Yet wrung with wrongs, more than our backs can bear : And sith there is no justice in earth nor hell, We will solicit heaven ; and move the gods, To send down justice for to wreak 1 our wrongs : Come, to this gear. 2 You are a good archer, Marcus. [He gives them the Arrows. Ad Jovem, that's for you : — Here, ad Apollimm. — Ad Mnrlem, that's for myself; — Here, boy, to Pallas : — Here, to Mercury : To Saturn, Caius,' not to Saturnine, — You were as good to shoot against the wind. — To it, boy. Marcus, loose you when I bid : O' my word, I have written to effect ; There's not a god left unsolicited. Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court : 4 We will afflict the emperor in his pride. Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoct] O, well said, Lucius! Good boy, in Virgo's lap ; give it Pallas. Mar. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon ; Your letter is with Jupiter by this. Tit. Ha! Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot ofF one of Taurus' horns. Mar. This was the sport, my lord : when Pub- lius shot, The bull bring gall'd, gave Aries such a knock, That down fefl both the ram's horns in the court ; And who should find them but the empress' villain ? She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not choose But give them to his master for a present. Tit. Why, there it goes : God give your lord- ship joy. Enter a Clown, untk a Basket and two Pigeons. NV'ws, news from heaven ! Marcus, the post is come. Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? Clo. Ho ! the gibbet-maker ? he says, that he hath taken them down again, for the man must not be hang'd till the next wlek. Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter ; I never drank with him in all my life. Tii. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? Clo. Av, of my pigeons, sir ; nothing else. Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? 1 Revenge. 2 Gear is here put for matter, business. 3 Cuius appears to have been one of the kinsmen of Titus. Publius and Cains are again mentioned, Act v. Sc. 2. Steevens would read Coitus, as there was a Ro- man deity of that name. 4 In the an< ient ballad, Titus Andronicus's Complaint, is the following passage: — ' Then past releife I upp and downe did gne, And with my teares wrote in the dust my woe : I shot my arrowes towards heaven hie, And for revenge to hell did often cry. 1 Clo. From heaven ? alas, sir, I never came there : God forbid, I should be so bold to press to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, 5 to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men. Mar. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be, to serve for your oration ; and let him deliver the pigeons to the emperor from you. Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor with a grace ? Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. Tit. Sirrah, come hither : make no more ado, But give your pigeons to the emperor : By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. Hold, hold ; — mean while, here's money for thy charges. Give me a pen and ink. — Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a supplication' Clo. Av, sir. Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. Anil when you come to him, at the first approach, you must kneel; then kiss his foot; then deliver up. your pigeons ; and then look for your reward, I'll be at hand, sir : see you do it bravely. Clo. I warrant you, sir ; let me alone. Til. Sirrah, hast thou a knife ? Come, let me see it. Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration ; For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant: — And when thou hast given it to the emperor, Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. Clo. God be with you, sir ; I will. Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go; — Publius, follow me. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace. Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Chiron, Demetrius^ Lords, and others ; Sat(trninus with the Arrow* in his Hand that Titus shot. Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these Was- ever seen An emperor of Rome thus overborne, Troubled, confronted thus : and, for the extent Of egal 6 justice, us'd in such contempt ? My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods, However these disturbers of our peace Buzz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd,. But even with law, against, the wilful sons Of old Andronicus. And what an if His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness ? And now he writes to heaven for his redress : See, here's to Jove, ami this to Mercury ; This to Apollo j this to the god of war : Sweet scrolls to flv about the streets of Rome' What's this, but libelling against the senate, And blazoning our injustice every where? A goodly humour, is it not, my lords ? As who would say, in Rome no justice were. But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages: • But he and his shall know, that justice lives In Saturnimis' health ; whom, if she sleep, He'll so awake, as she in fiirv shall Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. Tarn. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnim?. Lord of mv life, commander of my thoughts, Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, Whose loss hath piere'd him deep, and scarr'd his heart ; And rather comfort his distressed plight, Supposing the ballad to have been written before the play, this may be only a metaphorical expression, taken from Psalm lxiv. 3 : — ' They shoot out their arrows, even bitter words.' 5 The Clown means to say, plebeian tribune ; i. e. tri- bune of the people. Haunier supposes that he mean» tribunus plebs. , H i'.o ..i : ' Scene IV TITUS ANDRONICUS. S59 Than prosecute the meanest, or the best, For these contempts. Why, thus it shall become High-witted Tamora to gloze' with all : [Aside. But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick, Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. — Enter Clown. How now, good fellow ? would'st thou speak with us ? Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be imperial. Tarn. Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. Clo. 'Tis he. — God, and saint. Stephen, give you good den: — I have brought you a letter, and a cou- p.e of pigeons here. [Sat. reads the Letter. Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him presently. Clo. How much money must I have ? Tarn. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. Clo. Hang'd ! By'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded. Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! Shall I endure this monstrous villany ? I know from whence this same device proceeds ; May this be borne ? — as if his traitorous sons, That died by law for murder of our brother, Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully. — Go, drag the villain hither by the hair ; Nor age, nor honour, shall shape privilege: For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughterman ; Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, En hope thyself should govern Rome and me. Enter .ZEmilius. What news with thee, iEmilius ? JEmiL Arm, arm, my lords ; Rome never had more cause! The Goths have gather'd head ; and with a power Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, They hither march amain, under conduct Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do As much as ever Coriolanus did. Sat. Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths ? These tidings nip me ; and I hang the head As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with storms. Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach : 'Tis he the common people love so much ; Myself hath often overheard them say (When I have walked like a private man,) That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, And they have wish'd that Lucius were their em- peror. Tarn. Why should you fear ? is not your city strong ? Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius : And will revolt from me, to succour him. Tim. King, be thy thoughts imperious, 2 like thy name. Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby ; Knowing that with the shadow of his wings, He can at pleasure stint 3 their melody : Even so may'st thou the giddy men of Rome. Then cheer thy spirit ; for know, thou emperor, I will enchant the old Andronicus, With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks 4 to sheep ; When as the one is wounded with the bait, The other rotted with delicious feed. Sat. But he will not entreat-his son for us. Tarn. If Tamora entreat him, then he will : For I can smooth and fill his aged ear J Flatter. 2 See note on Troilus and Cressida, Act iv. Sc. 5 ; and Cvmbeline, Act iv. Sc. 1. 3 i. e. stop their melody. So in Romeo and Juliet: — ' — it stinted, and cried — ay.' 4 If by honey-stalks plover flowers are meant, it is an error to suppose that they produce the rot in sheep. ■- Cows ami oxen will indeed overcharge themselves with clover and die. 5 Srath is harm. 6 ' Shakspeare has so perpetually offended against With go'den promises ; that were his heart Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. — Go thou before, be our embassador; [To ./Emil. Say, that the emperor requests a parley Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting, Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. Sat. j53milius, do this message honourably : And if he stand on hostage for his safety, Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. JEmil. Your bidding shall I do effectually. [Exit ^Emilius. Tarn. Now will I to that old Andronicus ; And temper with him all the art I have, To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, And bury all thy fear in my devices. Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to him. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE I. Plains near Rome. Enter Lucius, and Goths, with Drum and Colours. Luc. Approved warriors, and mv faithful friends, I have received letters from great Rome, Which signify, what hate they bear their emperor, And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs ; And, wherein Rome hath done you any scath. 4 Let him make treble satisfaction. 1 Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the great An- dronicus, Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort ; Whose high exploits, and honourable deeds, Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, Be bold in us : we'll follow where thou lead'st, — Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day, Led by their master to the flower'd fields, — And be avenged on cursed Tamora. Gotlis. And, as he saith, so say we all with him. Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth ? Enter a Goth, leading Aaron, voilh his Child m his Arms. 2 Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd, To gaze upon a ruinous monastery j 6 And as I earnestly did fix mine eye Upon the wasted building, suddenly I heard a child cry underneath a wall : I made unto the noise ; when soon I heard The crying babe controll'd with this discourse : Peace, tawny slave ; half me, and half thy dam ! Did not thy hue bewray vihose brat thou art, Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, Villain, thou might'st have been an emperor : But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, They never do beget, a coal-black calf. Peace, villain, peace ! — even thus he rates the babe^ For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth ; IVho, when he knov>s thou art the empress' babe, Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, Surpris'd him suddenly ; and brought him hither, To use as you think needful of the man. Luc. O, worthy Goth ! this is the incarnate devil,. That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand : This is the pearl that pleas'd your empress' eye ; T chronology, that no very conclusive argument can be deduced from the particular absurdityof these anachro- nisms relative to the authenticity of Titus Andronicus.. And yet the ruined monastery, the popish tricks, &c. that Aaron talks of, and especially the French saluta- tion from the mouth of Titus, are altogether so very much out of place, that I cannot persuade myself that even our hasty poet could have been guilty of their insertion, or would have permitted them to remain, had he corrected the performance of another.' — Steevens. 7 Alluding to the proverb, ' A black man is a pearl in a fair woman's eye.' 3bl> TITUS ANDR0N1CU& Act 7, And here's the base fruit of his burning lust. — Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither would'st thou convey This growing image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speak? What! deaf? No; not a word ? A halter, soldiers ; hang him on this tree, And by his side his fruit of bastardy. Aar. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood. Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good. — First, hang the child, that he may see it sprawl ; A sight to vex the father's soul withal. Get me a ladder. [A Ladder is brought, which Aaron is obliged to ascend. Aar. Lucius, save the child ; And bear it from me to the emperess. If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things, That highly may advantage thee to hear : If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, I'll speak no more ; But vengeance rot you all ! Luc. Say on ; and, if it please me which thou speak'st, Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. Aar. An if it please thee ? why, assure thee, Lucius, 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak ; For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massacres, Acts of black night, abominable deeds, Complots of mischief, treason ; villanies Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd :' And this shall all be buried by my death, Unless thou swear to me, my child shall live. Luc. Tell on thy mind ; I say, thy child shall live. Aar. Swear, that he shall, and then I will begin. Luc. Who should I swear by ? thou believ'at no r™ god ' That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? Aar. What if I do not ? as, indeed, I do not} Yet, for I know thou art religious, And hast a thing within thee, called conscience ; With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, Which I have seen thee careful to observe, — Therefore I urge thy oath : — For that, I know, An idiot holds his bauble 2 for a god, And keeps the oath, which by that god he swears ; To that I'll urge him : — Therefore, thou shaft vow- By that same god, what god soe'er it be, That thou ador'st and hast in reverence, — To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up ; Or else I will discover nought to thee. Luc. Even by my god, I swear, to thee I will. Aar. First, know thou, I begot him on the em- press. Luc. O, most insatiate, luxurious* woman! Aar. Tut, Lucius ! this was but a deed of charity, To that which thou shalt hear of nie anon: 'Twas her t\yo sons that murder'd Bassianus ; They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her, And cut her hands ; and trimm'd her as thou saw'st. Luc. O, detestable villain ? call'st thou that trim- ming ? Aar. Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and trimm'd ; and 'twas Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. Luc. O, barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them ! That codding 4 spirit had they from their mother, As sure a card as ever won the set : 1 i. e. performed in a manner exciting commiseration. 2 Steevens thinks that the allusion is to a custom men- tioned in Genesis, xxiv. 9. 3 i. e. lascivious. 4 That love of bed-sports. a An allusion to bull-dogs ; whose generosity and Courage are always shown by meeting the bull in front. ' Amongst the dogs and beares he goes, Where, while he skipping cries — To head, — to head.'' Dnvies's Epigrams. fi Perhaps Young had this speech in his thoughts When he made his Moor say: — ' I urg'd Don Carlos to resign his mistress ; I fnrg'd the letter ; I dispos'd the picture ; I hated, I despis'd, and I destroy.' That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of rne, As true a dog as ever fought at head. 5 — Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole, Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay : I wrote the letter that thy father found, 6 And hid the gold within the letter mention'd, Confederate with the queen and her two sons ; And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it ? I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand ; And, when I had it, drew myself apart, And almost broke my heart with extreme laughte/. I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall, When for his hand, he had his two sons' heads ; Beheld his tears, and laiigh'd so heartily, That both mine eyes were rainy like to his; And when I told the empress of this sport, She swounded 7 almost at my pleasing tale, And, for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. Goth. What ! canst thou say all this, and never blush ? Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. Luc. Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. Even now I curse the day (and yet, I think, Few come within the compass of my curse,) Wherein I did not some notorious ill ; As kill a man, or else devise his death ; Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it ; Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself: Set deadly enmity between two friends ; Make poor men's cattle bieak their necks ; Set fire on barns and haystacks in the night, And bid the owners quench them with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, And set them upright at their dear friends doors, Even when their sorrows almost were forgot And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, Have with my knife carved, in Roman letters, Let not your sorrow die though 1 am dead. Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things, As willingly as one would kill a rlv ; And nothing grieves me heartily indeed, But that I cannot do ten thousand more. 8 Luc. Bring down the devil ; for he must not die 9 So sweet a death as hanging presently. Aar. If there be devils, 'would I were a devil, To live and burn in everlasting fire ; So I might have your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue ! Luc. Sirs, stop his mouth and let him speak rw more. Enter a Goth. Goth. My lord, there is a messenger from Rone, Desires to be admitted to your presence. Luc. Let him come near. — Enter ^Emilius. Welcome, .rEmilius, what's the news from Rome ? JEmil. Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths. The Roman emperor greets you all by me: And-, for he understands you are in arms, He craves a parley at your father's house, Willing you to demand your hostages, And they shall be immediately deliver'd. 1 Goth. What savs our general? Luc. ^Emilius, let the emperor give his pledges Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, And we will come. — March away. l0 [Exeunt. I 7 The verb to swound, which we now write swoon was anciently in common use. 8 Marlowe has been supposed to be the author af tflfs play ; and whoever will read the conversation betwee.% Barabas and Ithimore, in the Jew of Malta, Act ii. Mid compare it with these sentiments of Aaron, will perceive much reason for the opinion. 9 It appears from these words that the audience were entertained with part of the apparatus of an execution/, and that Aaron was mounted on a ladder, as ready to ba turned off. ^10 Perhaps this is a stage direction crept into tba tear. Scene 11. TITUS ANDRONICUS. 36] SCENE II. Rome. Before Titus's House. En- ter Tamora, Chiron, aud Demetrius, dis- guised. Tarn. Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, I will encounter with Andronicus ; And say, I am Revenge, sent from below, To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge ; Tell him, Revenge is come to join with him, And work confusion on his enemies. [They knock. Enter Titus, above. Tit. Who doth molest my contemplation ? Is it your trick, to make me ope the door ; That so my sad decrees may fly away, And all my study be to no effect ? You are deceiv'd : for what I mean to do, See here, in bloody lines I have set down ; And what is written shall be executed. Tarn. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. Tit. No ; not a word : How can I grace my talk, Wanting a hand to give it action? Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more. Tarn. If thou didst know me, thou would'st talk with me. Tit. I am not mad ; I know thee well enough : Witness this wretched stump, witness these crim- son lines ; Witness these trenches, made by grief and care; Witness the tiring day, and heavy night ; Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud empress, mighty Tamora : Is not thy coming for my other hand ? Tarn. Know thou, sad man, I am not Tamora ; She is thy enemy, and I thy friend : I am Revenge ; sent from the infernal kingdom, To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. Come down, and welcome me to this world's light ; Confer with me of murder and of death: There's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place, No vast obscurity, or misty vale, Where bloody murder, or detested rape, Can couch for fear, but I will find them out ; And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. Tit. Art thou Revenge ? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine enemies ? Tarn. I am ; therefore come down and welcome me. Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to thee. Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stands ; Now give some 'surance that thou art Revenge, Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels ; And then I'll come, and be thy wagoner, And whirl along with thee about the globes. Provide thee proper palfreys, black as jet, To hale thy vengeful wagon swift away, And find out murderers in their guilty caves : And, when thy car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel- Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; Even from Hyperion's rising in the east, , Until his very downfall in the sea. And day by day I'll do this heavy task, So thou destroy Rapine 1 and Murder there. Tarn. These are my ministers, and come with me. Tit. Are them 2 thy ministers ? what are they call'd ? Tarn. Rapine and Murder ; therefore called so, 'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. Tit. Good lord, how like the empress' sons they are ! And you the empress ! But we worldly men 1 Rape arut rapine appear to have been sometimes Used anciently as synonymous terms. Gower, De Con- fessione Amaiuis, lib. v ver. 116, uses ravyne in the same sense :- ' For if thou be of suche covine To get of love by ravyne, Thy love,' &c. 2 V Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. O, sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee : And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, I will embrace thee in it by and by. [Exit Titus, from above Tarn. This closing with him fits his lunacy: Whate'er I forge, to feed his brain-sick fits, Do yo'u uphold and maintain in your speeches For now he firmly takes me for Revenge ; And being credulous in this mad thought, I'll make Turn send for Lucius, his son ; And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, I'll find some cunning practice out of hand, To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, Or, at the least, make them his enemies. See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. Enter Titus. Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee • Welcome, dread fury, to my woful house ; Rapine, and Murder, you are welcome too : — How like the empress and her sons you are ! Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor : — Could not all hell afford you such a devil ?— For, well I wot, the empress never wags, But in her company there is a Moor ; And, would you represent our queen aright, It were convenient you had such a devil : But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? Tarn. What would'st thou have us do, Androni- cus ? Dent. Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. Chi. Show me a villain, that hath done a rape, And I am sent to be reveng'd on him. Tarn. Show me a thousand, that hath done thee wrong, And I will be revenged on them all. Tit. Look round about the wicked streets oJ Rome ; And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself, Good Murder, stab him ; he's a murderer. — Go thou with him ; and when it is thy hap, To find another that is like to thee, Good Rapine, stab him ; he is a ravisher.— Go thou with them ; and in the emperor's court There is a queen, attended by a Moor : Well may'st thou know her by thy own proportion, For up and down she doth resemble thee ; I pray thee, do on them some violent death, They have been violent to me and mine. Tarn. Well hast thou lesson'd us ; this shall we do But would it please thee, good Andronicus, To send for Lucius, thy thrice valiant son, Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, And bid him come and banquet at thy house : When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, I will bring in the empress and her sons, The emperor himself, and all thy foes ; And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. What says Andronicus to this device ? Tit. Marcus, my brother ! — 'tis sad Titus calls Enter Marcus. Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius ; Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths : Bid him repair to me, and bring with him Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths ; Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are: Tell him, the emperor and the empress too Feast at my house : and he shall feast with them. This do thou for my love ; and so let him, As he regards his aged father's life. Mar. This will I do, and soon return again. [Exit. Tarn. Now will I hence about thy business, And take my ministers along with me. Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me ; 2 Similar violations of syntax, according to modern notions, are not unfrequent in our elder writers. Thus Hobbes, in his History of the Civil Wars :— 'If the king give us leave, you or I may as lawfully preach as them that do ' 382 TITUS ANDRONICUS Or else I'll call my brother back again, And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. Tarn. What say you, boys? will you abide with him, Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor, How I have govern'd our determin'd jest? Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, [Aside. And tarry with him, till I come again. Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me mad ; And will o'er-reach them in their own devices, A pair of cursed hell-hounds, and their dam. [Aside. Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us here. Tarn. Farewell, Andronicus : Revenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy foes. [Exit Tamora. Tit. I know, thou dost ; and, sweet Revenge, farewell. Chi. Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd ? Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to do. — Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine ! Enter Publius, and others. Pub. What's your v ill ? Tit. Know you these two? Pub. Th' empress' sons, J take them, Chiron and Demetrius. Tit. Fie, Publius, fie ! thou art too much de- ceiv'd ; The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name : And therefore bind them, gentle Publius ; Cuius, and Valentine, lay hands on them : Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, And now I find it ; therefore bind them sure ; . And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. [Exit Titus. Pubmus, 4*c. lay hold on Chiron and Demetrius. Chi. Villains, forbear : we are the empress' sons. Pub. And therefore do we what we are com- manded. — Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word : Is he sure bound ? look, that you bind them fast. Re-enter Titus Andronicus, with Lavinia ; she bearing a Bason, and he a Knife. Tit. Come, come, Lavinia ; look, thy foes are bound ; — Sirs, stop their mouth?, let them not speak to me ; But let them hear what fearful words i utter. — O, villains, Chiron and Demetrius ! Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud ; This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. You kill'd her husband ; and, for that vile fault, Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death : Mv hand cut otf, and made a merry jest : Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that, more dear Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, Inhuman traitors, vou constraint and forc'd. What would vou say, if I should let you speak? Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. Hark, wretches, how I rnean to martyr you. This one hand yet is left to cut your throats ; Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold The bason, that receives your guilty blood. You know, your mother means to feast with me, And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad, — Hark, villains ; I will grind your bones to dust, And with your blood and it, I'll make a paste ; And of the paste a coffin 1 I will rear, And make two pasties of your shameful heads ; 1 A coffin is the term for the crust of a raised pie. 2 i. e. her own produce. ' The earth's increase' is .he produce of the earth. ' Then shall the earth bring forth her increase.* Psalm Ixvii. 6. So in the Tem- pest, Act iv. Sc. 1 : ' Earth's increase and foison plenty.' 3 'And our content runs parallel with thine, be. the consequence of our coming to Rome what it may.' 4 i. e. beijin the parley." We yet say, he breaks his mind. Act V. And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam, Like to the earth, swallow her own increase. 2 This is the feast that I have bid he' to, And this the banquet she shall surfi it on ; For worse than Philomel you us'd my daughter, And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd : And now prepare your throats. — Lavinia, come, [He cuts their Throats, Receive the blood : and, when that they are dead, Let me go grind their bones to powder small, And with this hateful liquor temper it ; And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd. Come, come, be every one officious To make this banquet ; which I wish may prove More stern and bloody than the Centaur's feaet. So, now bring them in, for I will play the cook, And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. [Exeunt, bearing the dead Bodies. SCENE III. The same. A Pavilion, with Tables, $~c. Enter Lucius, Marcus, and Goths, with Aaron, Prisoner. Luc. Uncle Marcus, since 'tis my father's mind, That I repair to Rome, I am content. 1 Goth. And ours, with thine, 3 befall what fortune will. Imc. Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil ; Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, Till he be brought unto the empress' face, For testimony of her foul proceedings : And see the ambush of our friends be strong : I fear, the emperor means no good to us. Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth The venomous malice of my swelling heart ! Luc. Away, inhuman dog ! unhallow'd slave!— Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. — [Exeunt Goths, with Aaron. Flourish. The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. Enter Saturninus and Tamora, with Tribunes, Senators, and others. Sat. What, hath the firmament more suns than one? Luc. What boots it thee, to call thyself a sun ? Mar. Rome's emperor, and nephew, break* the parle ; These quarrels must be quietly debated. The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome : Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places. Sat. Marcus, we will. [Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at Table. Enter Titus, dressed like a Cook, Lavinia, veiled, Young Lucius, and others. Titus places the Dishes on the Table. Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord : welcome, dread queen ; Welcome, ye warlike Goths ; welcome, Lucius ; And welcome, all : although the cheer be poor, 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. Snt. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus ? Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well, To entertain your highness and your empress. Tarn. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus. Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, you were. My lord the emperor resolve me this ; Was it well done of rash Virginius, To slay his daughter with his own right hand, Because she was enfore'd, stain'ti, and deflour'd?' 5 Rowe may have availed himself of this passage in The Fair Penitent, where Scinlto asks Calista : — ' Hast thou not heard what brave Vireinius did ? With his own hand he slew his only daughter,' &c. Titus Andronicus (as Steevens observes) is incorrect in his statement of this occurrence, tor Virginia died un- violated. Mr. Boswell seems to think this is qualified by his saying that he had more cause to slay hia daughter than Virginius. Scene III. TITUS ANDRONICUS. 363 Sat. It was, Andronicus. Tit. Your reason, mighty lord ! Sat. Because the girl should not survive her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrows. Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual ; A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, For me, most wretched, to perform the like : — Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee ; [He kills Lavinia. And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die ! Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural, and unkind! Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. I am as woful as Virginius was : And have a thousand times more cause than he To do this outrage ; — and it is now done. Sat. What, was she ravish'd ? tell, who did the deed. Tit. Will't please you eat ? will't please your highness feed ? Tarn. Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus ? Tit. Not I; 'twas Chiron, and Demetrius: They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue, And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently. Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that pie ; Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred.' 'Tis true, 'tis true ; witness my knife's sharp point. [Kilting Tamora. Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed. [Killing Titus. Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed ? There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. [Kills Saturninus. A great tumult. The People in confusion disperse. Marcus, Lucius, and their Partisans ascend the Steps before Titus's House. Mar. You sad-fae'd men, people and sons of Rome, By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, O, let me teach you how to knit again This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, These broken limbs again into one body. Sen. Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, Do shameful execution on herself. But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, Grave witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, — Speak, Rome's dear friend ; [To Lucius] as erst our ancestor, When with his solemn tongue he did discourse To lovesick Dido's sad attending ear, The story of that baleful burning night, When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's Troy ; Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears, Or who hath brought the fatal engine in, That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. — My heart is not compact of flint, nor steel ; Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, But floods of tears will drown my oratory, And break my very utterance ; even i the time When it should move you to attend me most, Lending your kind commiseration : Here is a captain, let him tell the tale ; Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were they that murdered our emperor's brother ; And they it were that ravished our sister : For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded ; Our father's tears despis'd ; and basely cozen'd 2 1 The additions made by Ravenscroft to this scene are much of apiece with it: — ' Thus cramm'd, thou"n bravely fatten'd up for hell, 4ud thus to Pluto I do serve thee up.' [S — ' Both heralds bearing the oslents of war.' S The old copy reads, 'Who once no more,' &c. The emendation is by Steevens. Malone reads, ' Who wants no more,' &c. 9 i. e. the breath of flattery. The word spark, was here accidentally repeated by the comjositor in the old copy. 10 A near kinsman of this gentleman is mentioned ii- The Winter's Tale :— ' And his pond fished by his nex» neighbour, by Sir Smile.' J 370 PERICLES, PRINCE OP TYRfc. Act L Sit down, sit down ; thou art no flatterer : I thank thee for it ; and high heaven forbid, That kings should let their ears hear, their faults Kid! 1 Fit counsellor, and servant for a prince, Who by thy wisdom mak'st a prince thy servant, What would'st thou have me do ? Hel. With patience bear Such griefs as you do lay upon yourself. Per. Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus ; Who minister'st a potion unto me, That thou would'st tremble to receive thyself. Attend me then : I went to Antioch, Where, as thou know'st, against the face of death, I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty, From whence an issue I might propagate, Are arms to princes, and bring to subjects joys. 2 Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder ; The rest (hark in thine ear,) as black as incest ; Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father Seem'd not to strike, but smooth : 3 but thou know'st this, 'Tis time to fear, when tyrants s^em to kissl Which fear so grew in me, I hi r fled, Under the covering of p careful i.ut, Who seem'd mv good protector ; and being here, Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. I knew him tyrannous ; and tyrants' fears Decrease not, but grow faster than their years • And should he doubt it, 4 (as no doubt he doth,) That I should open to the listening air, How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, — To lop that doubt; he'll till this land with arms, And make pretence of wrong that I have done him ; When all, tor mine, if I may call't ott'ence, Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence: Which love to all (of which thyself art one, Who now reprov'st me for it) Hel. Alas, sir ! Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks, Musings into my mind, a thousand doubts How I might stop this tempest, ere it came ; And finding little comfort to' relieve them, I thought it princely charity to grieve, them. 5 Hel. Well, my lord, since you have given me 'eave to speak, Freely I'll speak. Antiochus you fear, And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, Who, either by public war, or private treason, Will take away your life. Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, Till that his rage and anger be forgot, Or Destinies do cut his thread of life. Your rule direct to any ; if to me, Day serves not light in. ire faithful than I'll be. Per. I do not doubt thy faith j- But should he wrong my liberties in absence 1 'Forbid it, heaven, that kings should suffer their ears to hear their feelings palliated !' 2 'From whence I might propagate an issue that are arms,' &c. Steevens reads : — , ' Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys.' S To smooth is to sooth, coax, or flatter. Thus in Aing Richard III. :— ' Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog.' So in Titus Andronicus : — ' Yield to his humour, smooth, and speak him fair.' The verb to smooth is frequently used in this sense by our elder writers ; for instance, by Stubbes in his Ana- tomie of Abuses, 15S3: — ; If you will learn to derjde, scoffe, mock, and tiowt, to flatter and smooth,'' &c. 4 The quarto of 1609 reads, ' And should he dml,' Sec. ; from which the reading of the text has been formed. 1 Should he be in doubt that I shall keep his secret, (ad there is no doubt but he is,) why, to' lop that doubt,' i. e. to gei rid of that painful uncertainty, he will strive to make me appear the aggressor, by attacking me first as she author of some supposed injury to himself.' 5 That is. to lament their fate. The first quarto reads, ' to grieve for them.' 6 Tins transfer of authority naturally brings the first Bcene of Measure for Measure to our mind. Hel. We'll mingle bloods together in the earth, From whence we had our being and our birth. Per. Tyre, I now look from thee, then, and to Tharsus Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee ; And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. The care I had and have of subjects' good, On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength can bear it. s I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath ; Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack both : But in our orbs 7 we'll live so round and safe, That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince,' Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. 9 [Exeunt. SCENE III. Tyre. An Ante-Chamber in the Palace. Enter Thaliard. Thai. So, this is Tyre, and this is the court. Here must I kill king Pericles ; and if I do not, I am sureto be hang'd at home: 'tis dangerous. — Well, I perceive he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that being bid to ask what he would of the king,desired he might know none of his secrets. 10 Now do I see he had some reason for it : for if a king bid a man be a villain, he is bound by the in- denture of his oath to be one. — Hush, here come the lords of Tyre. Enter Helicanus, Escanes, and other Lords. Hel. You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, Further to question of your king's departure. His se'al'd commission, left in trust with me, Dolh speak sufficiently, he's gone to travel. Tftal. How ! the king gone! [Aside, Hel. If further yet you will he satisfied, Why, as it were unlicens'd of your loves, He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. Being at Antioch Tim!. What from Antioch ? [Aside Hi I. Royal Antiochus, (on what cause I know not,) Took some displeasure at him ; at least he judg'd so : And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd, To show his sorrow, would correct himself; So pufs himself 11 unto the shipman's toil, With whom each minute threatens life or death. Thai. Well, I perceive * [Aside. I shall not be hang'd now, although I would ; Hut since he's gone, the king it sure must please, He scap'd the land, to perish on the seas. 12 — But Til present me. Peace to the lords of Tyre ' Hel. Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome. Thai. From him I come, With message unto princely Pericles ; But, since my landing, as I have understood Your lord has took himself to unknown travels, My message must return from whence it came. Hel. We have no reason 1, to desire it, since 13 Commended to our master, not to us: 7 i. e. in our different spheres. ' in seipso totius teres atque rotundus.' 8 Overcome. 9 This sentiment is not much unlike that of Falstaff: — ' I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true'prince.' The same idea is more clearly expressed in King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2 :— ' A loyal subject is Therein illustrated.' 10 Who this wise fellow was, may berknown from the following passage in Barnabie Riches Souldier's Wishe to Briton's Welfare, or Captaine Skill and Captaine Pill, H;n4, p. 27 : — 'I will therefore commende the poet PhilipideS, who being demaunded by King Lisimachus, what favour he might doe unto him for that he loved him, made this answereto the king— That your majesty would never impart unto me any of 'jour ssrrets.' 11 Steevens has thought this phrase wanted illustra- tion ; but it is of very common occurrence. ' To-pail hinvselfe in daunger of his life ; In periculum caput se inferre.' — Barct. 12 The old ropy reads : — ' But since he's gone the king's seas must please: He scap'd the land, to perish at the sea.' nendation is by Dr. Percy. 13 The ad verb */'/"■''. which is wanting in the old copy, was supplied by Steevens for the take of sense and metre. £CEKE IV. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 371 Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, — As fiieHds to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in tJie Governor's Mouse. Enter Clf.on, Dionyza, ami Attendants, Cle. My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, And by relating tales of others' griefs, See if 'twill teach us to forget our own? Dio. That were to blow at fire, in hope to quench it ; For who digs hills because they do aspire, Throws down one mountain, to cast up a higher. O, my distressed lord, even such our griefs ; Here they're but felt, and seen with mistful eyes, 1 But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise. Cle. O, Dionyza, Who wantelh food, and will not say he wants it, Or can conceal his hunger, till he famish ? Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep our woes Into the air ; our eyes do weep, till lungs Fetch breath that may proclaim them louder ; that, If the gods slumber, 2 while their creatures want, They may awake their helps to comfort them. I'll then discourse our woes, felt, several vears, And wanting breath to speak, help me with tears. Dio. I'll do my beat, sir. Cle. This Tharsus, o'er which I have government, A city, on whom plenty held full hand (For riches strew'd herself even in the streets ;) Whose towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd the clouds, And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonder'd at ; Whose men- and dames so jetted 1 and adorn'd, Like one another's glass to trim them by:* Their tables were stor'd full, to glad the sight, And not so much to feed on, as delight; All poverty was scorn 1 d, and pride so great, The name of help grew odious to repeat. Dio. O, 'tis too true. Cle, But see what heaven can do ! By this our change, These mouths, whom but of late, earth, sea, and air, Were all too little to content and please, Although they gave their creatures in abundance, As houses are defil'd for want of use, They are now starv'd for want of exercise : Those palates, who not yet two summers younger, 6 Must have inventions to delight the taste, Would now be glad of bread and beg for it ; Those mothers who, to nousle 6 up their babes, Thought nought too curious, are ready now, To eat those little darlings whom they lov'd. So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife Draw lots, who first shall die to lengthen life : 1 The old copy reads : — ' and,seen with mischiefs eye.' The alteration was made by Steevens, who thus ex- plains the passage : — ' Withdrawn as we now are from the scene we describe, our sorrows are simply felt, and appear indistinct, as through a mist.'' Malone reads : — ' unseen with mischief's eyes.' . ' i. e. 'unseen by those who would feel a malignant plea- sure in our misfortunes, and add to them by their triumph over us.' 2 The eld copy reads, ' If heaven slumber,' &c. This was probably an alteration of the licencer of The press. Sense and grammar require that we should read, ' If tlie gods,' &c. 3 To jel is to strut, to walk proudly. 4 Thus in the Second Part of King Henry IV.: — < He was indeed the glass,- Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves.' Again in Cymbeline : — ' A sample to the youngest, to the more mature Jl glass thatfeated them.' 5 The old copy has : — ' who not yet too sailers younger.' The emendation.was proposed by Mason. Steevens re- marks that Shakspeare computes time by the 'same numbs r of summers in Romeo and Juliet : — ' Let two more summers wither in their pride,' &c. Malone reads : — ' who not used to hunger's savour.' 6 Steevens thought that this word should be nursle ; bu' the ■ i "" ptvt ■:. ' ii "'T nlrl ■> : Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping ; Here many sink, yet those which see them fall, Have scarce strength left to give them burial. Is not (his true '! Dio. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it. Cle. O, let those cities, that of Plenty's cup And her prosperities so largely taste, With their superfluous riots, hear these tears ! The misery of Tharsus may be theirs. Enter a Lord. Lord. Whereas the lord governor ? Cle. Here. Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st, in haste, For comfort is too far for us to expect. Lord. We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore, A portly sail of ships make hitherward. Cle. I thought as much. One sorrow never comes, but brings an hen, That may succeed as his inheritor ; And so in ours : some neighbouring nation, Taking advantage of our misery, Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power, To beat us down, the which are down already ; And make a conquest of unhappy me,* Whereas 9 no glory's got to overcome. Lord. That's the least fear : for, by the semblance Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace, And come to us as favourers, not as foes. Cle. Thou speak'st like him 10 untutor'd to repeat, Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. But bring they what they will, what need we fear ? The ground's the low'st, and we are halfway there. 1 ' Go tell their general, we attend him here, To know for what he comes, and whence he comes, And what he craves. Lord. I go, my lord. [Exit. Cle. Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist : '2 If wars, we are unable to resist. Enter Pericles, with Attendants. Per. Lord governor, for so we hear you are, Let not our ships, and number of our men, Be, like a beacon fir'd, to amaze your eyes. We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, And see the desolation of your streets ! Nor come we to add sorrow to vour tears, But to relieve them of their heavy load ; And these our ships you happily may think Are like the Trojan horse, war-sturF'd within, ters to show that the text is right. Thus in New Cus- tom ; Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. i. p. 234 : — ' Borne to all wickedness, and misled in all evil ' So Spenser, Faerie Queene, i. vi. 23 : — 'Whom, till to ryper years he gan aspyre, He nousled up in life and maners wilde.' ' It were a more vauntage and profit by a great dele that yonge children's wyttes were otherwyse sette a warke, than nossel them in suche errour.' — HormaiVs Vul- garis, 1519, fo. 96. ' Nousleed in virtuous disposition, and framed to an honest trade of living.' — Udal's Apopthegmes, fo. 75. So in The Death of King Arthur, 1601, cited by Ma- lone : — ' Being nuzzled in effeminate delights.' 7 Hollow, applied to ships, is a Homeric epithet. See Iliad, v. 26. By power is meant forces. 8 A letter has been probably dropped at press : we may read, 'of unhappy mew.' 9 It has been already observed that whereas was some- times used for where ; as well as the converse, where for whereas. 10 The quarto of 1609 reads : — ' Thou speak'st like hi nines untutor'd to repeat.' ' Like him untutor'd,' for ' like him who is untutored ' ' Deluded by the pacific appearance of this navy, you talk like one who has never learned the common adage, — that the fairest outsides are most to be suspected.'' 11 The quarto of 1619 reads : — ' But bring they what they will, and ichat they can, What need we fear? The ground's the low'st, and we are halfway there' 372 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Act Jin With bloodv views, expecting overthrow, 1 Are stor'd with corn, to make your needy bread, And give them life, who are hunger-starv'd, half dead. All. The. gods of Greece protect you ! And we'll pray for you. Per. Rise, I pray you, rise ; We do not look for reverence, but for love ; And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men. Cle. The which when any shall not gratify, Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils'. Till whrn (the which, I hope, shall ne'er be seen,) Your grace is welcome to our town and us. Per. Which welcome we'll accept ; feast here a while, Until our stars that frowo, lend us a smile. [Exeunt. ACT II. Enter Gower. Gow. Here have you seen a mighty king His child, I wis, to incest bring : A better prince, and benign lord, Prove awful both in deed and word. 2 Be quiet, then, as men should be, Till lie hath pass'd necessity. I'll show you those in trouble's reign, Losing a mite, a mountain gain. The >;ood in conversation, (To whom I give my benizon,) Is still at Tharsus, where each man 3 Thinks all is writ he spoken can : 4 And, to remember what he does, \- Gild his statue to make it glorious :' J But tidings to the contrary Are brought your eyes ; what need speak I? Dumb Show. Enter at one Door Pericles, talking with Cleon ; all the Train with them. Enter at another Door, a Gentleman with a Letter to Pericles ; Peri- cles shows the letter to Cleon ; then gires the Messenger a reward, and knights him. Exeunt Pericles, Cleon, $-c. severally. Gow. Good Helicane, that staid at home, G (Not to eat honey, like a drone, From others' labours ; for though he strive To killen bad, keep good alive ; Ami, to fulfil his prince' desire,) Sends word of all that haps in Tyre ;' ■ How Thaliard came full bent with sin, And hid iqtcnt, to murder him ; And that in Tharsus was not best Longer for him to make his rest t 1 The old copy reads : — ' And these our ships you happily may think Are like the Trojan horse, was stuffd" within With bloody tieinea,' &c. The emendation is Steevens's. Mr. Boswell says that the olit reading may mean, elliptical!/, ' which was stuffed.' 2 i. e. 'you have seen a better prince, &c. that will prove awful,' i. e. reverent. The verb in the first line is carried on to the third. 3 ' The good in conversation (To whom I give my benizon,) Is still at Tharsus, where' Gower means to say, 'The good prince (on whom I bestow my best wishes) is still engaged at Tharsus. where every man.' &c. Conversation is conduct, be- ll, i in ir. See the Second Epistle of St. Peter, iii. 11. 4 ' Pays as much respect to whatever Pericles says, as if it were Holy Writ.' 5 This circumstance, as well as the foregoing, is found in the Confessio Amantis : — ' That thei for ever in remembrance Dliuli' a figure in resemblance Of hym, and in a common place Thei set it up ; so that his face Might every maner man beholde, ll was of laton over gylte,'' 8cc. He knowing so, put forth to seas, Where when men been, there's seldom ease % For now the wind begins to blow ; Thunder above, and deeps below, Make such unquiet, that the ship Should house hrm safe, is wreck'd and split ; And he, good prince, having all lost, By waves from coast to coast is tost : All perishen of man, of pelf, Ne aught escapen but himself; Till fortune, tir'd with doing bad, Threw him ashore, to give him glad : And here he comes : what shall be next, — Pardon old Gower ; this 'longs the text. 8 \Exti. SCENE I. Pentapolis. An open Place by the Sea Side. Enter Pericles, wet. Per. Yet cease your ire, ye angry stars of heaven ! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you ; And I, as fits my nature, do obey you ; Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath Nothing to think on, but ensuiifg death : Let it suffice the greatness of your powers, To have bereft a prinGe of all his fortunes ; And having thrown him from vour watery grave, Here to have death in peace, is all he'll crave. Enter Three Fishermen. 1 Fish. What, ho, Pilche »» 2 Fish. Ho ! come, and bring away the nets. 1 Fish. What, Patch-breed^, I say! 3 Fish. What say you, master ? 1 Fi*h. Look how thou stirrcst now ! come away, or I'll fetch thee with a wannion. 10 3 Fish. 'Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that were cast away before us, even now. 1 Fish. Alas, poor souls, it griev'd my heart to hear what pitiful cries they made to us, to help them, when, well-a-day, we could scarce help our- selves. 3 Fish. Nay, master, said not I as much, when I saw the porpus, how he bounced and tumbled? 11 they say, they are half fish, half flesh : a plague on them, they ne'er come, but I look to be wash'd. Master, I marvel how the fishes live in the sea. 1 Fish. Why, as men do a-land ; the great ones eat up the little ones : I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale; 'a plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, 12 and at hist devours tin m all at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard on a' the land, who never leave gaping till they've swallow'd the whole parish, church, steeple, bells and all. Per. A pretty moral. 3 Fish. But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have been that day in the belfry. 2 Fish. Why, man ? 3 Fish. Because he should have swallow'd me too: and when I had been in his belly, I would 6 Thus the old copy. SteevensTeails : — 1 Good Helicane hath staid at home.'" 7 Old copy : — < Sav'd one of all,' &c. The emenda- tion is Steevens's. S ' Pardon old Gower from telling what ensues, it belongs to the text, not to- his province as chorus.' — Steevens justly remarks, that 'the language of our fictitious Gower, like that of the Pseudo-Rowley, is so often irreconcilable to the practice of any age, that criticism on such bungling imitations is almost thrown away.' 9 The old copy reads : — ' What to pelche.' The emendation was suggested by Mr. Tyrwhitt, who remarks that Pilche is a leathern coat. 10 This expression, which is equivalent to with a mischief, or irith a vengeance, is of very frequent oc- currence in old writers. 11 Sailors have observed, that the playing of por- poises round a ship is a certain prognostic of a violent gale of wind. 12 So in Coriolanus :— ' — like scaled sculls Before the belching whale.' Steke I. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. S73 ihave kept such a jangling of the bells, that he should never have left, till he cast bells, steeple, church, and |>arish, up again. But if tlio good king Simonides were of my mind Per. Simonides ? 3 Fish. We would purge the land of these drones, th at rob 'he bee of her honey. Per. How from the finny subject of the sea These fishers tell the infirmities of men ; And from their watery empire recollect All that may men approve, or men detect ! Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. 2 Fish. Honest! good fellow, what's that? if it be a day fits you, scratch it out of the calendar, and no body will look after it. 1 Per. Nay, see, the sea hath cast upon your coast 2 Fish. What a drunken knave was the sea ; to cast thee in our way ! Per. A man whom both the "waters and the wind, In that vast tennis-court, hath made the ball For them to play upon, 2 entreats you pity hira ; He asks of you, that never us'd to beg. 1 Fish. No, friend, cannot you beg ? here's them in our country of Greece, gets more with begging, than we can do with working. 2 Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes then? Per. I never practis'd it. 2 Fish. Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure : for here's nothing to be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't. Per. What I have been, I have forgot to know ; But what I am, want teaches me to think on : A man shrunk up with cold : my veins are chill, And have bo more of life, than may suffice To give my tongue that heat, to ask your help ; Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, For that I am a man, pray see me buried. 1 Fish. Die, quoth-a? Now, gods forbid! I have a gown here ; come, put it oh ; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow ! Come, thou shalt go home, and we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and, moreover, puddings and flap-jacks, 3 and thou shalt be welcome. Per. I thank you, sir. 2 Fish. Hark, you, my friend, you said you could not beg. Per. I did but crave. 2 Fish. But crave ? Then I'll turn craver, too, and so I shall 'scape whipping. Per. Why, are all your beggars whipped, then ? 2 Fish. O, not all, my friend, not all ; for if all your beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office, than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the net. [Exeunt two of the Fishermen. Per. How well this honest mirth becomes their labour ! 1 Fish. Hark you, sir ! do you know where you are ?- • Per. Not well. 1 Fish. Why, I'll tell you : this is called Penta- polis, and our king, the good Simonides. Per. The good king Simonides, do you call him? 1 The old copy reads, ' If it be a day fits you search out of the calender, and nobody' look after iV The preceding speech of Pericles affords no apt introduction to the reply of the fisherman. Some remark upon the day appears to have been omitted. Steevens supplied it thus : — ' Per. Peace be at your labour, honest fisherman ; The day is rough, and thwarts your occupation.'' The following speech of Perieles is equally abrupt and inconsistent: — ' Y ' may see the sea hath cast me upon your coast.' The emendation is by Steevens. Dr. Farmer thinks that there may be an allusion to the dies honestissimus cf Cicero. The lucky and un- lucky days are put Sown in the old calendars. 2 Thus in Sidney's Arcadia, book v. : — 'In such a shadow, &c. mankind lives, that neither they know how to foresee, nor what to fear, and are, like tenis bals. tossed by the racket of the higher poiocrs.' 3 Flap-jacks are pancakes. Thus in Taylor's Jack £ LeuL:—' Until at last, by the skill of the cooke, it is 1 Fish. Ay, ^ir ; and he deserves to be so call'd, for his peaceable reign, and good government. Per. He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects the name of good, by his government. How far is his court distant from this shore '.' 1 Ftsh. Marr}', sir, half a day's journey ; and I'll tell you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-mor- row is her birth-day ; and there are princes and knights come from all parts of the world, to just and tourney for her love. Per. Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish to make one there. 1 Fish. O, sir, things must be as they may ; and what a man cannot get, he may lawfully deal for- his wife's soul. 4 Re-enter the Two Fishermen, draviing up a Net. 2 Fish. Help, master, help ; here's a fish hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the law ; 'twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on't,* 'lis come at last, and 'tis turned to a rusty armour. Per. An armour, friends ! I pray you, let rne see it. Thanks, fortune, yet, that after all my crosses, Thou giv'st me somewhat to repair myself; And, though it was mine own, 6 part of mine he- ritage, Which my dead father did bequeath 1o me, With this strict charg.e, (even as he left his life,) Keep it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield ''Twixt me and death (and pointed to this brace : 7 ) For that it sav'd me, keep it : in like necessity, The which the gods protect thee from ! it may defend thee. It kept where I kept, I so dearly lov'd it ; Till the rough seas, that spare not any mart, Took it in rage, though calm'd, have given it again, I thank thee for't ; my shipwreck's now no ill, Since I have here my father's gift in his will. 1 Fish. What mean you, sir '! Per. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth, For it was sometime target to a king .; I know it by this mark. He lov'd me dearly, And for his sake, I wish the having of it ; And that you'd guide me to your sovereign's court, Where with't I may appear a gentleman ; And if that ever my low fortunes better, I'll pay your bounties ; till then, rest your debtor. 1 Fish. Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady ? Per. I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms. 1 Fish. Why, do ye take it, and the gods give thee good on't ! 2 Fish. Ay, but hark you, my friend ; 'twas wc that made up this garment through the rough seams of the waters : there are certain condolements, cer- tain vails. I hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remem- ber from whence you had it. Per. Believe't, I will. Now, by your furtherance, I am cloth'd in steel ; And spite of all the rupture 8 of the sea, This jewel holds his biding 9 on my arm ; transformed into the form of a Jlap-jack, which in our translation, is caSd a pancake.' 1 4 ' Things must be' (says the speaker,) as they are appointed to be ; and what a man is not sure to compass, he has yet a just right to attempt.' The Fisherman may then be supposed to begin a new sentence — ' His wile's soul ;' but here he is interrupted by his comrades ; and it would be vain to conjecture the conclusion of his speeeh. 5 This comic execration was formerly used in the room of one less descent. The bots is a disease in horses produced by worms. 6 i. e. and / thank you, though it was mine own. 7 The brace is the armour for the arm. So in Troilus and Cressida: — 'I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, And in my vant brace put this wither'd brawn.' 8 The rupture of the sea may mean the breaking of the sea, as Malone suggests ; but I would rather read rapture, which is often used in old writers for violent seizure, or the act of carrying away forcibly. As in the example excited by Malone. 9 The old copy reads, 'his building ;' but biding 374 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE, Act K. Unto thy value will I mount myself Upon a courser, whose delightful steps Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. — Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided Of a pair of bases. 1 2 Fish. We'll sure provide : thou shalt have my best gown to make thee a pair ; and I'll bring thee to- the court myself. Per. Then honour be but a goal to my will ; This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. A public Way, or Plat- form, hading to the Lists. A Pavilion by the side of it, for Ike reception cf the King, Princess, Lords, fyc. Enter Simohides, Thais.*, Lords, and Attendants. Sim. Are the knights ready to begin the triumph 1 1 Lord. They are, my liege ; And stay your coming to present themselves. Sim. Return them, 2 we are ready j and our daughter, In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat For men to see, and seeing wonder at. [Exit a Lord. Thai. It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express My commendations great, whose merit's less. Sim. 'Tis fit it should be so ; for princes are A model, which heaven makes like to itself: As jewels lose their glory, if neglected, So princes their renown, if not r.-spveted. 'Tis now your honour, 3 daughter, to explain The labour of eacli knight, in his device. Thai. Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll per- form, Enter a Knight r he passes over the Stage, and ftis Squire presents ?iis Shield to the Princess. Sim. Who is the first that doth prefer himself? Thai. A knight of Sparta, my renowned father ; And the device he bears upon his shield Is a black iEthiop, reaching at the sun ; The word, 11 Lux tua vita 7mhi. Sim. He loves you well, that holds his life of you. [The sscoiul Knieht^ttsaes. Who is the second, that presents himself? Thai. A priuce of Macedon, my royal father ; And the device lie bears upon his shield Is an arm'd knight, that's conquer'd by a lady r The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu per dulcura que per fuerca.> [The third Knight passes. Sim. And what's the third ? Thai. The third, of Antioeh ; And his device, a wreath of chivalry : The word, J)le pompm provexit apex.* [The fourtii Knight passe*. Sim. What is the fourth ? Thai. A burning torch, that's turned upside down ; The word, Quod me alit, me exlin>:uit. was probably the poet's word. A similar expression occurs in Othello: — ' look, I have a weapon, A better never did 'sustain itself Upon a soldier's thigh.' Any ornament of enchased gold was anciently styled a jewel. I Bases we-re a sort of petticoat that hung dowa to the knees, and were suggested by the Roman military dress, in which they seem to have been separate paral- lel slips of cloth or leather. In Rider's Latin Diction- ary, bases are rendered pallhluvi curium. The High- landers wear a kind of bases at this day. In Massin- ger's Picture, Sophia, speaking of Hilario's disguise, says to Corisca : — ' 1 You, minion, Had a hand in it too, as it appears Your petticoat serves for bases to this warrior.' 9 i. e. return them notice that we are ready, &c. 3 The sense would be clearer were we to substitute both in this and in the following instance office for ho- iiaur. Honour may however mean her situation as queen of the feast, as she is afterwards called. The idea of this scene may have been derived from the third book of the Iliad, where Helen describes the Gre- C/.a-n leaders to her father-in-law Priam. ' Sim. Which shows that beauty hath his powe? and will, Which can as well inflame, as it can kill. [The fifth Knight passes, Thai. The fifth, an hand environed with clouds j Holding out gold, that's by the touchstone tried : The motto thus, Sic spectqnda fides. [The sixth Knight pusses* Sim. And what's the sixth and last, which th* knight himself With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd ? Thai. He seems to be a stranger ; but his present is A wither'd branch, that's only green at top j The motto, In hoc spe vivo." 1 Sim. A pretty moral ; From the dejected state wherein he is, He hojies by you his fortunes yet may flourish. 1 Lord. He had need mean better than his out- ward show Can any way speak in his just commend : For, by his rusty outside, he appears To have practis'd more the whipstock, 8 than the lance. 2 Lord. He well may be a stranger, for he comes- To an honor'd triumph, strangely furnished. 3 Lord. And on set purpose let his armour rusi Until this dav, to scour it in the dust. 9 Sims Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan Tin- outward habit by the inward man. 10 But stav, the knights are corning ; we'll withdraw lute the gallery. [Exeunt. [Great shouts, and ail cry, The mean knight, SCENE III. The same. A Hull of State. A Banquet prepared. Enter Si.mdmdes, Tha'.sa, Lords, Knights, and Attendants. Sim. Knights, To say you are u -k-ome, were superfluous. To place qpoii the volun>e of your deeds, As in a title-page, your worth in arms, Were more than you expect, or more thau's fit, Since every worth in show conamends itself. Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast : You are princes, and my guests. Thai. But you, ray knight and gqest;. To whom this wreath of victory I give, And crown you king of this day's happiness. Per. 'Tis more bj fortune, lady, than my merit, Sim. Call it by what you will, the dav is yours; And here, I hope, is none that envies it. In framing artists, art hath thus decreed, To make some good, Kit others to exceed ; And you're her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o' the feast (For r daughter, so you are,) here take your place r Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. Knights. We are honour'd much by good Simo- nides. 4 i. e. the mot or motto. See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5 :— ' ?>" w to my word.' 5 i. e. more by sweetness than by fnree. It should be ' Mas per daleura,' &c. . Phi is Italian not Spanish. 6 The work which appears to have furnished the author of the play with this and the two subsequent de» vices of the knights, has the following title : — ' The he~ roical Devices of M. Claudius Parafiin, canon of Beau- gen ; whereunto are added the Lord Gabriel Symeo'rs. and others. Translated out of Latin into En"' P. S.' 1591, 24rno. Mr. Douce has given copies of some of them in his Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 126. 7 This device and motto may have been taken from Daniel's translation of Paulus Jovius, 1585 ; in which is will be found at sig. H 7. h. 8 i.e. the carter's whip. It was sometimes used as a term of contempt ; as in Albumazar. 1615 : — < out Carter, Hence, dirty whipstock.'' 9 The idea of this ill-appointed knight appears to have been taken from the first book of Sidney's Arca- dia : — ' His armour of as old a fashion, beside th« rustic poornesse,&c. so that all that looked on measured his length on the earth already,' &c. 10 i. e. ' that makes as scan the inward man by ths outward habit ' Such inversions are not uncommon \& old writers. ScttfE IV. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. S7.5 Sim. Your presence glads our days ; honour we love, For who hates honour, hates the gods above. 3Iarsh. Sir. yond's your place. Per. Some other is more fit. I Knight. Contend not, sir-, for we. are gentlemen, That neither in our hearts, nor outward eyes, Envy the great, nor do the low despise. Per. You are right courteous knights. Sim. Sit, sit, sir ; sit. Per. By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, These cates resist me,. 1 be not thought upon. Thai. By Juno, that is queen Of marriage, all tke viands that eat Do seem unsavoury, wishing him my meat ; Sure he's a gallant gentleman. Sim. He's but A country gentleman ; He has done no more than other knights have done ; Broken a staff, or so; so let it pass. Thai. To me he seems like diamond to glass. Per. Yon king's to me, like to my father's picture, Which tells me, in that glory once he was ; Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne, And he the sun, for them to reverence. None that beheld him, but like lesser lights, Did vail 2 their crowns to his supremacy ; Where 3 now his son's a glowworm in the night, The which hath fire in darkness, none in light j Whereby I see that time's the king of men, For he's their, parent, and he is their grave,* And gives them what he will, not what they crave. Sim. What, are you merry, knights ? 1 Knight. Who can be other, in this royal pre- sence ? Sim. Here, with a cup that's stor'd unto the brim, (As you do lore, fill to your mistress' lips,) We drink this health to you. Knights. We thank your grace. Sim. Yet pause awhile ; Yon ksight, methinks, doth sit too melancholy, As if the entertainment in our court Had not a. show might countervail his worth. Note it not you, Thaisa ? Thai. What is it To me, my father ? Sim. 0, attend, my daughter ; Princes, in this, should live like gods above, Who freely give to every one that comes To honour them : and princes, not doing so, Are like to gnats, which make a sound, but kill'd Are wonder' d at. 5 Therefore to make his entrance 6 more sweet, Here say, we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him. Thai. Alas, my father, it befits not me Unto a stranger knight to be so bold ; He may my proffer take for an offence, Since men take women's gifts for impudence. Sim. How ! Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. Thai. Now, by the gods, he could not please me better. [Aside. Sim. And further tell him, we desire to know, Of whence he is, his name, and parentage. 1 i. e. '..these delicacies go against nr stomach.' — The old copy gives this speech to Simonides, and reads, L he not thought upon.' Gower describes Apollinus, the Pericles of this play, under the same circumstances : — ' That he sat ever stille and thought. As he which of no meat rougkV 2 Lower. 3 Where is here again used for whereas. The pecu- liar property of the glowworm, upon which the poet has here employed a line, is happily described in Hamlet in a single word : — 'The glowworm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire.' 4 So in Romeo and Juliet : — ■ ' The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ; What is her burying grave, that is her womb.' Milton has the same thought : — Thewitch'd my daughter, and thou art A villain. Per. By the gods, I hare not, sir. Never did thought of mine levy offence ; Nor never did my actions yet commence A deed might gain her love, or your displeasure. Sim. Traitor, thou liest. Per. Traitor ? Sim. Ay, traitor, sir. Per. Even in his throat (unless it be the king,) That calls me traitor, I return the lie. Sim. Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. [Asidt. Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts. That never relish'd' of a base descent. I came unto your court, for honour's cause, And not to be a rebel to her state ; And he that otherwise accounts of me. This sword shall prove his honour's enemy. Sim. No !— Here comes my daughter, she can witness it Enter Thaisa. Per. Then as you are as virtuous as fair, Resolve your angry father, if my tongue Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe To any syllable that made love to you ? Thai. Whv, sir, say if you had, Who takes offence at that would make me glad. 6 ' It were to be wished, (says Steevens,) that Simo- nides, who is represented as a blameless character, nad hit on some mure ingenious expedient for ehe dismission of these wooers. Here he tells them, as a solemn truth, what he knows to be a fiction of his own.' 7 So in Hamlet : — ' That has no relish of salvation in it.' And in Macbeth : — ' So well thy words become thee as thy wounds, They smack of honour both.' Scene V. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. m Sim. Yea, mistress, are. you so peremptory ? — I am glad of it with all my heart. [Aside.] I'll tame you ; I'll bring you in subjection. — Will you, not having my consent, bestow Your love and your affections on a stranger ? (Who, for aught I know to the contrary, Or think, may be as great in blood as I.) [Aside. Hear, therefore, mistress ; frame your will to mine, — And you, sir, hear you. — Either be rul'd by me, Or I will make you — man and wife. — Nay, come ; your hands and lips must seal it too. — And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy ; — And for a further grief, — God give you joy ! What, are you both pleas'd ? Thai. Yes, if you love me, sir. Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters it. 1 Shn. What, are you both agreed ? Both. Yes, please your majesty. Sim. It pleaseth me so well, I'll see you wed ; Then, with what haste you can, get you to bed. [Exeunt. ACT III. Enter Gower. Gow. Now sleep yslaked hath the rout j No din but snores, the house about, Made louder by the o'er-fed breast 2 Of this most pompous marriage-feast. The cat, with evne of burning coal, Now couches 'fore the mouse's hole ; And crickets, sing at th' oven's mouth, As the blither for their drouth. Hymen hath brought the bride to bed, Where, by the loss of maidenhead, A babe is moulded ; — Be attent, And time that is so briefly spent, Wiih your fine fancies quaintly eche ; 3 What's dumb in show, I'll plain with speech. Dumb Show. Enter Pericles and Simonides at one door, with Attendants : a Messenger meets them, k?ieels, and gives Pericles a Letter, Pericles shows it to Simonides ; the Lords kneel to the former. 11 Then enter Thasia with child, and Lychorida. Si- monides shows his Daughter the Letter ; she re- joices : she and Pericles take leave of her Father, and depart. Then Simonides, fyc. retire. Gow. By many a deam and painful perch 5 1 The quarto oi'l(>19 reads : — 'Even as my life or blood that fosters it.' We have the same thought most exquisitely expressed in Julius Cajsar : — ' As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.' 2 So Virgil, speaking of Rhamnes, who was killed in the midnight expedition of Nisus and Euryalus : ' Rhamneten aggreditur, qui forte tapetibus aids Extructus, toto proflabat pectore soninum." 1 3 Eke out. 4 The Lords kneel to Pericles, because they are now, for the first time, informed by this letter, that he is king of Tyre. 'No mart,' says Gower, in his Qonfessio Amantis : — ' knew the soth cas, But he hym selfe ; what man he was.' By the death of Antiochus and his daughter, Pericles has also succeeded to the throne of Antioch, in consequence of having rightly interpreted the" riddle proposed to him. a Deam sisnifies lonely, solitary. A perch is a measure of five yards and a half . 'The careful search of Paricles is made by many a dearn and painful perch, by the four opposing coignes which join the world to- gether ; with all due diligence.' 6 i. e. help, befriend or assist the search. So in Measure for Measure : — ' can you so stead me To bring me to the sight of Isabella?' 7 i. e. to suppress : opprimere. 8 An exclamation equivalent to well-a-day. 5 'The further consequences of this storm I shall not describe; what ensues maybe conveniently exhibited in action ; but action could not well have displayed all tb.3 <3?2nts that I have now related.' 2X Of Pericles the careful search By the four opposing coignes, Which the world together joins, Is made with all due diligence, That horse, and sail, and high expense, Can stead the quest, At last from Tyre, (Fame answering the most strong inquire,) To the court of King Simonides Are letters brought; the tenor these : Antiochus and his daughter's dead : The men of Tyrus, on the head Of Helicanus would set on The crown of Tyre, but he will none : The mutiny there he hastes t' oppress , Says to them, if King Pericles Come not home, in twice six moons, He, obedient to their dooms, Will take the crown. The sum of this, Brought hither to Pentapolis, Y-ravished the regions round, And evpry one with claps 'gan sound. Our heir apparent is a king : IVho dream'd, who thought of such a thing ? Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre : His queen, with child, makes her desire, (Which, who shall cross '!) along to go ; (Omit we all their dole and wo ;) Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, And so to sea. Their vessel shakes On Neptune's billow ; half the flood Hath their keel cut ; but fortune's mood Varies again ; the grizzled north Disgorges such a tempest forth, That, as a duck for life that dives, So up and down the poor ship drives. The lady shrieks, and, well-a-near ! a Doth fall in travail with her fear : And what ensues in this fell storm Shall, for itself, itself perform. I nill relate ; action may Conveniently the rest convey : Which might not what by me is told.* In vour imagination hold This stage, the ship, 10 upon whose deck. The sea-tost Pericles appears to spea*t. [Ex*i SCENE I. Enter Pericles, on a Slap at Sea. Per. Thou God of this great vast, 11 rebuke theso surges. 10 It is clear from these lines that when the play was originally performed, no attempt was made to exhibit either a sea or a ship. The ensuing scene and some others must have suffered considerably in the repre- sentation, from the poverty of the stage apparatus in the time of the author. 11 It should be remembered that Pericles is supposed to speak from the deck. Lychorida, on whom he Calls is supposed to be in the cabin beneath. ' This great vast' is ' this wide expanses This speech is exhibited in so strange a form in the old editions, that it is here given to enable the reader to judge in what a corrupt state it has come down to us, and be induced to treat the at- tempts to restore it to integrity with indulgence : — ' The God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou that hast Upon the windes commaund, bind them in brasse ; Having call'd them from the deepe, o still Thy deafning dreadful thunders, gently quench Thy nimble sulphirous flashes, o How Lychorida ! How does my queene : thou storm venemously, Wilt thou speat all thyself? the sea-mans whistle Is as a whisper in the eares of death, Unheard Lychorida ? Lucina oh ! Divinest patrioness and my wife gentle To those that cry by night, convey thy deitie Aboard our daunting boat, make swift the pangues Of my queenes travayles ? now Lychorida ?> Pericles, having called to Lychorida, without thepovtei to make her hear on account of the tempest, at last with frantic peevishness addresses himself to it : — ' Thou storm thou .' venemously Wilt thou spit all thyself?' — Having indulged himself in this question, he grows cooler, and observes that the very boatswain's whistle has no more effect on the sailors than the voices of those who speak to the dead. He then repeats his inquiries W8 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Act m. Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou, that hast Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, Having call'd them from the deep ! O still thy deaf'ning, Thy dreadful thunders ; gently quench thy nimble Sulphureous Hashes ! — O how, Lychorida, How does my queen ! — Thou storm, thou ! venom- ously 1 Wilt thou spit all thyself? — The seaman's whistle Is as a whisper in the ears of dea'h, Unheard. — Lychorida ! — Lucina, O Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle To those that cry by night,- convey thy deity Aboard our dancing boat ; make swift the pangs Of my queen's travails ! — Now, Lychorida — -— Enter Lychorida, with an Infant. Lye. Here is a thing Too young for such a place, who if it had Conceit 2 would die as I am like to do. Take in your arms this piece of your dead queen. Per. How ! how, Lychorida ! Lye. Patience, good sir ; do not assist the storm. Here's all that is left living of your queen,— A little daughter ; for the sake of it, Be manly, and take comfort. Per. O, you gods ! Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, And snatch them straight away 7 We, here below, Recall not what we give, and therein may Vie 3 honour with you. Lye Patience, good sir, Even for this charge. Per. Now, mild may be thy life ! For a more blust'rotis birth had never babe : Quiet and gentle lliv conditions! 4 For thou art the ruddiest wclcom'd to this world, That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows ! Thou hast as chiding 5 a nativity, As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, To herald thee from the womb : even at the first, Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, 6 With all thou canst find here. — Now the good gods Throw their best eyes upon it ! Enter Two Sailors. 1 Sail. What coura«e, sir? God save you. Per. Courage enough : I do not far the. Haw ;' It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, I would, it would be quiet. 1 Sail. Slack the bolins 8 there ; thou wilt not, wilt thou? Blow and split thyself. 2 Sail. But sea-room, an "the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, I care not. 1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard ; the sea works high, the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead. Per. That's your superstition. of Lychorida, bm receiving no answer, Concludes with a prayer for his queen. 1 Maliciously. 2 i. e. ' who if it had thought. 1 3 That is, ' contend with 'you in honour.' The old copv reads: — ' Use honour with you.' _ 4 Conditions are qualities, dispositions of mind. 5 i. e as noisy a one. 6 i. e. thou hast already lost more (by the death of thy mother) than thy safe arrival at the port of life can counterbalance, with all to boot that we can give thee. Portage is here used for conveyance into life. 7 A flaw is a stormy gust of wind. See Coriolanus, Act v. Sc. 3. • 8 Bolins or bowlines are ropes by which the sails of a ship are governed when the wind is unfavourable : they are slackened when it-is high. Thus in The Two No- ble Kinsmen : — ' the wind is fair ; Top the bowling.' 9 The old copy reads, ' strong in easterner The emendation is Mr. Boswell's. 10 Old copy, ' in oare." 1 11 The old copies erroneously read : — ' The atr-remainirig lamps.' Tie emendation is Malune's. The propriety of it will 1 Sail. Pardon us, sir ; with us at sea it still hath been observed ; and we are strong in custom. 9 Therefore briefly yield her ; for she must overboard straight. Per. Be it as you think meet. — Most wretched queen ! Lye. Here she lies, sir. Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear, No light, no fire ; the unfriendly elements Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time To give thee hallovv'd to thy grave, but straight Must cast thee, scarcely coflin'd, in the ooze ;'° Where, for a monument upon thy bones, And aye-remaining" lamps, the belching whale, And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, Lving with simple shells. Lychorida, Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper, My casket and my jewels ; and bid Nicander Bring me the satin coffer : 12 lay the babe Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. [Exit Lychorida, 2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulk'd and bitumed ready. Per. I thank thee. Mariner, say, what coast is this? 2 Sail. We are near Tharsus. Per. t Thither, gentle mariner, Alter thy course for Tyre. 13 When canst thou reach it? 2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. Per. O, make for Tharsus. There will I visit Cleon, for the babe Cannot hold out to Tvrus ; there I'll leave it At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner ; I'll bring the body presently. [Exeuni SCENE II. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon'.o House. Enter Cerimon, a Servant, and some Persons who have been shipwrecked. Cer. Philemon, ho ! Enter Philemon. Phil. Doth my lord call ? Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men ; It has been a turbulent and stormy night. Sen. I have been in many ; but such a night as this, Till now I ne'er endur'd. Cer. Your master wi)l be dead ere you return ; There's nothing can be minister'd to nature, That can recover him. Give this to the 'pothecary, And tell him how it works. 14 [To Philemon [Exeunt Philemon, Servant," and those who had been shipierecked. Enter Two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Good morrow, sir. 2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. Cer. Gentlemen, Why do you stir so early ? be evident if we recur to the author's leading thought, which is founded on the customs observed in the pomp of ancient sepulture. Within old monuments and re- ceptacles for the dead perpetual (i. e. aye-remaining) lamps were supposed to be lighted up. Thus Pope, in his Eloisa : — ' Ah hopeless lasting flames, like those that burn To light the dead, and warm th' unfruitful urn !' 'Instead of a monument erected over thy bones, and per- petual lamps to burn near them, the spouting whale shall oppress thee with his weight, and the mass of waters shall roll with low heavy murmur over thy head.' \i The old copies have coffin. Pericles does not mean to bury his qoeen in this coffer (which was probably o*e lined with satin,) but to take from thence the clo'h of state, in which she was afterwards shrouded. 13 ' Change thy course, which is now for Tyre, and go to Tharsus. , 14 The precedent words show that the physic cannnt be designed for the master of the servant here introduced. Perhaps the circumstance was introduced for no other reason than to mark more strongly the extensive bene- volence of Cerimon. It could not be meant for the poor men who have just left the stage, to whom he has ordered kitchen physic. SeENE II. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE 373 1 Gent. Sir, Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, Shook, as the earth did quake ; The very principals 1 did seem to rend, And all to topple ; 2 pure surprise and fear Made me to quit the house. 2 Gent. That is the cause we trouble you so early ; 'Tis not our husbandry. 3 Cer. O, you say well. 1 Gent. But I much marvel that your lordship, having Rich tire 4 about you, should at these early hours Shake off the golden slumber of repose. It is most strange, Nature should be so conversant with pain, Being thereto not compell'd. Cer. I held it ever, Virtue and cunning 5 were endowments greater Than nobleness and riches ; careless heirs May the two latter darken and expend ; But immortality attends the former, Making a man a god. : Tis known, I ever Have studied physic, through which secret art, By turning o'er authorities, I have (Together with my practice,) made familiar To me and to my aid, the blest infusions That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones ; And I can speak of the disturbances That nature works, and of her cures ; which give me A more content in course of true delight Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, Or tie my (reasure up in silken bags, To piease the fool and death. 6 2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth Your charity, and hundreds call themselves Your creatures, who by you have been restor'd : And not your knowledge, personal pain, but even Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon Such strong renown as time shall never Enter Two Servants with a Chest. Serv. So ; lift there. Cer. What is that ? Serv. Sir, even now Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 'Tis of some wreck. Cer. "Set't down, let's look on it. 2 Gent. 'Tis like a coffin, sir. Cer. Whate'er it be, 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight ; If the sea's stomach be o'ercharg'd with gold, It is a good constraint of fortune, that It belches upon us. 2 Gent. 'Tis so, my lord. Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitum'd ! — Did the sea cast it up? Sens. I never saw so huge a billow, sir, As toss'd it upon shore. Cer. Come, wrench it open , Soft, soft ! — it smells most sweetly in my sense. 2 Gent. A delicate odour. Cer. As ever hit my nostril ; so, — up with it. O, you most potent god ! what's here ? a corse ! 1 Gent. Most strange ! Cer. Shrouded in ck-th of state ; balm'd and en« treasur'd With bags of spices full ! A passport too ! Apollo, perfect me i' the characters ! [Unfolds a Scroll, Here I give to understand [Reads. (//e'er this coffin drive a-land,) 7 1, king Pericles, have lost This queen, ivorth all our mundane cost. Who finds her, give her burying, She was the daughter of a king : Besides this treasure for a fee. The gods requite his charity ! If thou liv'st, Pericles, thou hast a heart That even cracks for wo !— This chane'd to-night. 2 Gent. Most likely, sir. Cer. Nay, certainly to-night ; For look how fresh she looks! — They were too rough, That threw her in the sea. Make fire within ; Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. Death may usurp on nature many hours, And yet the fire of life kindle again The overpressed Spirits. I have heard Of an Egyptian, had nine hours lien dead, By good appliance was recover'd. Enter a Servant, with Boxes, Napkins, and Fire, Well said, well said ; the fire and the cloths. — The rough and woful music that we have, Cause it to sound, 'beseech you. The vial once more ; — how thou stirr'st, thou block 2 The music there. — I pray you, give her air: — Gentlemen, This queen will live : nature awakes ; a warmth Breathes out of her ; she hath not been entrane'd Above five hours. See, how she 'gins to blow Into life's flower again ! 1 Gent. The heavens, sir, Through you, increase our wonder, and set up Your fame for ever. Cer. She is alive ; behold, Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels Which Pericles hath lost, Begin to part their fringes of bright gold ; 8 The diamonds of a most praised water Appear to make the world twice rich. O, live, 1 The principals are the strongest rafters in the roof of a building. 2 Ml-to is a common augmentative in old language. The word topple, which means tumble, is used again in Macbeth:— ' Though castles topple on their warders' heads.' 3 Husbandry here signifies economical prudence. So in Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 3 :— < borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.'' And in Henrv V.: — 'For our bad neighbours make us early stirrers, Which is both heathful and good husbandry.' 4 The gentlemen rose early because they were in lodgings, wliich stood exposed near the sea. They wonder to find Lord Cerimon stirring, because he had rich, lire about him, meaning perhaps a bed more richly and comfortably furnished, where he could have slept warm and secure in defiance of the tempest. Steevens thinks that the reasoning of these gentlemen should have led them rather to say, ' such lowers about you,' i. e. a house or castle that could safely resist the as- saults of the weather. 5 i. e. knowledge. 6 Mr. Steevens had seen an old Flemish print in which Death was exhibited in the act of plundering a miser of his bae-s, and the Fool (discriminated by. his bauble, &c.) was standing behind and grinning at the process. The Dance of Death appears td'have been anciently a popular exhibition. A venerable and aged clergyman informed Mr. Steevens that he had once been a spectator of it. The dance consisted of Death's contrivances to surprise the Merry Andrew, and of the Merry Andrew's efforts to elude the stratagems of Death, by whom at last he was overpowered ; his finale being attended with such circumstances as mark the exit of the Dragon of Wantley. It should seem that the general idea of this serio-comic pas-de-deux had been borrowed from the ancient Dance of Machabre, com monly called the Dance of Death, which appears to havs been anciently acted in churches like the Moralities. The subject was a frequent ornament of cloisters both here and abroad. The reader will remember the beautiful series of wood-cuts of the Dance of Death, attributed, (though erroneously,) to Holbein. Mr. Douce is in pos- session of an exquisite set of initial letters, representing the same subject ; in one of which the Fool is engaged in a very stout combat with his adversary, and is actually buffeting him with a bladder filled with peas or pebbles, an instrument used by modern Merry Andrews. 7 In Twine's translation of the story of Apollonius of Tyre this uncommon phrase, a-land, is repeatedly used In that version it is to Cerimon's pupil, Machaon, and not to Cerimon himself, that the lady is indebted for hei recovery. 8 So in the Tempest : — ' The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond ? *80 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Act IV. And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, Rare as you seem to be ! [She moves. Thai. O, dear Diana, Where am I ? Where's my lord ! What world is this? 1 2 Gent. Is not this strange ? 1 Gent. Most rare. Cer. Hush, gentle neighbours ; Lend me your hands : to the next chamber bear her. Get linen ; now this matter must be look'd to, For her relapse is mortal. Come, come, come ; And jEsculapius guide us ! , [Exeunt carrying Thaisa away. SCENE III. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. Enter Pericles, Cleon, Dionyza, Lychori- da, and Marina. Per. Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone ; My twelve months are expir'd, and Tyrus stands In a litigious peace. You, and your ladv, Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods Make up the rest upon you ! Cle. Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, 2 Yet glance full wand'ringly on us. Dion. O, your sweet queen ! That the strict fates had pleas'd you had brought her hither, To have bless'd mine eyes! Per. We cannot but obey Tin- powers above us. Could I rage and roar As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end Must be as 'tis. My babe Marina (whom For she was born at sea, I have nam'd so) here I charge your chanty withal, and leave her The infant of your care ; beseeching you To give her princely training, that she may be Manner' d as she is bom. Cle. Fear not, my lord, but think 3 Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, (For which the people's prayers still fall upon you,) Must in your child be thought on. If neglectiun Should therein make me vile, the common body, By you reliev'd, would force me to my duty: But if to that my nature need a spur, The gods revenge it upon me and mine, To the end of generation ! Per. I believe you ; Your honour and your goodness teach me credit, 4 Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, Bv bright Diana, whom we honour all, Unscissar'd shall this hair of mine remain, Though I show will 4 in't. So I take mv leave. 1 Tiiis is from the Confessio Amantis: — ' And first tin- even iip she caste, And when she more of strength caught, Her amies both forth she straughte ; Held up hir honde, and pile She spake, an 1 said. Where am I? Whi re is my lurde .' What tcorldc is this ." 2 The old copy reads :— 'Your shu/.es of fortune, though they haunt you mortally. Yet glance full iDond'ringly,' &c. The folios have ' though jhey hale you.' The emenda- tion is by Steevens, who cites the following illustra- tions : — ' Omnibus tetis fortunes proposita sit vita nos- tra.' — Cicero Epist. Fam. ' The shot of accident or dart of chance.'' Othello. ' The slings and arrows of ourageous/orififte. 5 Hamlet. ' I am glad, though you have taken a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.' Merry Wires of Windsor. The sense .of the passage seems to be, all the malice of fortune is not confined to yourself, though her arrows strike deeply at. you, yet wandering from their mark, they sometimes glance on us; as at present,, when the uncertain state of Tyre deprives us of your company at Tharsus. 3 i. e. be satisfied that we cannot forget the benefits you have bestowed on us. 4 The old copy reads, 'teach me to it :' the alteration was made hy Steevens. - 5 i. e. appear wilful, perverse by such conduct. The old copy reads in the preceding line : — ' U/tsister'd shall this heir of mine,' &c. Good madam, make me blessed in your care In bringing up my child. Dion. I have one myself, Who shall not be more dear to my respect, Than yours, my lord. Per. Madam, my thanks and prayers. Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge a the shore ; Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune ; G and The gentlest winds of heaven. Per. I will embrace Your offer. Come, dear'st madam. — O, no tears, Lychorida, no tears : Look to your little mistress, on whose grace You may depend hereafter. — Come, my lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's House. Enter Cerimon and Thaisa. Cer. Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, Lay with you in' your coffer : which are now At vour command. Know you the character ? Thai. It is my lord's. That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, Even on my eaning' time ; but whether there Delivered or no, hy the holy gods, I cannot rightly say : But since King Pericles, My wedded lord, I tie'er shall see again, A vestal livery will I take me to, And never mure have joy. Cer. Madam, [f this you purpose as you speak, Diana's temple is not distant far, Where you may 'bide until your date expire 8 Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine Shall there attend you. Thai. Mv recompense is thanks, that's all: Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. [Exeunt, ACT IV. Enter Gower. 9 Goto. Imagine Pericles arriv'd at Tyre, Welcom'd and settled to his own desire. His wofuj queen leave at Ephesus, - Unto Diana there a votaress. Now to Marina bend your mind, Whom our fast growing scene must find 10 At Tharsus, and by Cleon train'd In music, letters ; who hath gain'd Of education all the grace, Which makes her both the heart and place" The Corruption is obvious, as appears from a subsequent passage : — 1 This ornament, that makes me look so dismal Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form,' Sic. 6 i. e. Insidious waves that wear a treacherous smile ' Subdola qoem ridet placidi pe liana ponti.' I.iirnt. ii. v. 559. 7 The quarto, 1619, and the folio, 1664, which was pro- bably printed from it, both read eaning. The first quar- to reads learning. Steevens asserts that eaning is a term only applicable to sheep when they produce their young, and substituted '■yearning,' which he interprets • her groaning time.' But it should be observed that to in, i or i/ian, in our elder language, as in the Anglo Saxoji, signified to bring forth young, without any par ticular reference to sheep. I have therefore preferred the reading in the text to Steevens's conjecture. 8 i. e. until you die. So in Romeo and Juliet: — ' The date is out of such prolixity.' Again, in the same play : — ' and expire the term Of a despised life.' And in the Rape of Lucrece :-— ' An expir'd date, cancell'd ere wel'. begun.' 9 This chorus, and the two following scenes, in the old editions, are printed as part of the third act. 10 The same expression occurs in the chorus to The Winters Tale:— ' your patience this allowing, I turn my glass, and give my scene such groicing As you had slept between.' It The old copies read— ' Which makes high both the art and place.' The emendation is by Steevens. We still use the heart ScEHE I. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. SSI Of general wonder. But alack ! That monster envy, oft the wrack Of earned praise, Marina's life Seeks to take off by treason's knife. And in this kind hath our Cleon One daughter, and a wencli full grown, Even ripe for marriage fight ; this maid Hight Philoten : and it is said For certain in our story, she Would ever with Marina be : Be't when she weav'd the sleided 1 silk With fingers long, small, white as milk ; Or when she would with sharp neeld 2 wound The cambric, which she made more sound By hurting it ; or when to the lute She sung, and made the night-bird mute, That stiil records 3 with moan ; or when She would with rich and constant pen Vail 4 to her mistress Dian ; still This Philoten contends in skill With absolute 5 Marina : so With the dove of Paphos might the crow Vie feathers white. Marina gets All praises, which are paid as debts, And not as given. This so darks In Philoten all graceful marks, That Cleon's wife, with envy rare, A present murderer does prepare For good Marina, that her daughter Might stand peerless by this slaughter. The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, Lychorida, our nurse, is dead ; And cursed Dionyza hath The pregnant 6 instrument of wrath Prest for this blow. The unborn event I do commend to your content:' Only I carry winged time Post on the lame feet cf my rhyme ; Which never could I so convey, Unless your thoughts went on my way. — of oak for the central part of it, and the heart of the land in much such another sense. Place here signifies resi- dence. So in A Lover's Complaint : — 'Love lack'd a dwelling, avid made him her place.' 1 ' Sleided silk' is im wrought silk, prepared for weav- ing by passing it through the weaver's sley or reed- comb. 2 The old copies read needle, but the metre shows that we should rea.dneeld. The word is thus abbrevia- ted in a subsequent passage in the first quarto. See King John, Act v. Sc. 2. 3 To record anciently signified to sing. Thus in Sir Philip Sydney's Ourania, by [Nicholas Breton] 1606:— ' Recording songs unto the Deitie.' The word is still used by bird fanciers. 4 Vail is probably a misprint. Steevens suggesis that we should read ' Hail. 1 Malpne proposes to. substitute ' wail.' o i. e. highly accomplished, perfect. So in Antony and Cleopatra : — ' at sea He is an absolute master.' And in Green's Tu Quoque : — ' From an absolute and most complete gentleman, to a most absurd, ridiculous, and fond lover.' 6 Pregnant in this instance means apt, quick. Prest is ready. 7 ' I do commend to your content.' Steevens conjectures that the poet wrote consent instead of content : but observes that perhaps the passage as it stands may mean ' I wish you to find content in that por- tion of our play which has not yet-been exhibited.' 5 The first quarto reads : — ' — — . — Let not conscience, Which is but cold, inflaming thy love bosome, Enflame too nicelie, nor let pitie,' &.c. Malone reads : — ' Let not conscience, Which is but cold, Inflame love in thy bosom, Inflame too nicely, nor let pity,' &c. Steevens proposed to omit the words, ' Inflame too nice- ly,' and ' which even,' adding the pronoun that, in the following manner : — ' Let not conscience, Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom ; Nor let that pity women have cast off Melt thee, but be a soldier to thy purpose.' Dionyza does appear, With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit. SCENE I. Tharsus. An open Place near the Sea- shore. Enter Dionyza and Leonine. Dion, Thy oath remember ; tbou hast sworn to do it ; 'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. Thou canst not do a thing i' the world so soon, To yield thee so much profit. Lei not conscience, Which is but cold, inflaming love, thy bosom Inflame too nicely ; 8 nor let pity, which Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be A soldier to thy purpose. Eeon. I'll do't ; but yet she isa goodly creature, Dion. The fitter then- the gods should have her Here Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. 9 Thou art resolv'd ? Leon. I am resolv'd. Enter Marina, with a Basket of Flowerg. Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed, To strew thy green 10 with flowers: the yellows, bluesj, The purple violets, and marigolds, Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave, While summer days do last.' ' Ah me ! poor maid Born in a tempest, when my mother died, This world to me is like a lasting storm, Whirring 12 me from my friends. Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?' 3 How chance mv daughter is not with you ? Do not Consume your blood with sorrowing: 14 you have A nurse of me. Lord ! how your favour's 1 * chang'd With this unprofitable wo ! Come, come ; Give me your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea mar it- Walk forth with Leonine ; 1S the air is quick there Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come : Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. Mar. No, I pray you ; I'll not bereave you of your servant. Dion. Come, come ; I love the king your father, and yourself, The reading I have given is sufficiently intelligible, and deviates less from the old copy. Nicety here means ten- derly, fondly. 9 The old copy reads : — ' Here she comes weepins for her onely mistresse death.' As Marina had been trained in music, letters, &c. and had gained all the graces of education, Lychorida could not have been her only mistress. The suggestion and emendation are Dr. Percy's. 10 This is the reading of the quarto copy ; the folio reads grave. Weed, in old language, meant garment. 11 So in Cymbeline : — ' with fairest flowers, While summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave.' The old copy reads, ' Shall as a carpet hang,' &c. The emendation is by Steevens. 12 Thus the earliest copy. The second quarto, and all subsequent impressions, read : — ' Hurrying me from my friends.' Whirring or whirrying had formerly the same mean- ing; a bird that flies with a quick motion is still said to whirr away. The verb to whirry is used in the ballad of Robin Goodfellow, Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 203:— ' More swift than winds away I go, O'er hedge and lands, Thro' pools and ponds, I whirry, laughing ho, ho, ho.' Whirring is often used by Chapman in his version of the Iliad ; so in book xvii. : — ' through the Greeks and Ilians they rapt The whirring chariot.' 13 So in Macbeth : ' How now, my lord ! why do you keep alone . p ' And in King Henry IV. Part II. ' How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother ? ' Milton employs a similar form of words in Comus, v. 508:— ' How chance she is not in your company ." 14 In King Henry VI. Part II. we have 'blood-con- suming sighs.' 15 Countenance, look. 16 i. e. ere the sea by the coming in of the tide mar your walk. £82 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Act IV With more than foreign heart. 1 We every day Expect him here : when he shall come, and find Our paragon to all reports, 2 thus blasted, He will repent the breadth of his great voyage ; Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta'en No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you, Walk, and be cheerful once again ; reserve 3 That excellent complexion, which did steal The eyes of young and old. Care not for me ; I can go home alone. Mar. Well, I will go ; But yet I have no desire to it. Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you, Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least ; Remember what I have said. Leon. I warrant you, madam. Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while ; Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood : What! I must have a care of you. Mar. Thanks, sweet madam. — [Exit Dionyza. Is this wind westerly that blows ? Leon. South-west. Mar When I was born, the wind was north. Leon. Was'tso? Mhr. My father, as nurse said, did never fear, But cry'd, Good seamen ! to the sailors, galling His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes ; And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea That almost bur-st the deck. Leon. When was this ? Mar. When I was born : Never was waves nor wind more violent ; And from the ladder-tackle washes off A canvass-climber. 4 Ha ! says one, wilt out ? And with a dropping industry they skip From stem to stern : the boatswain whistles, and The master calls and trebles their confusion. 4 Leon. Come, say your prayers. Mar. What mean you ? Leon. If you require a little space for prayer, I grant it : Pray ! but be not tedious, For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn To de my work with haste. Mar. Why will you kill me ? Leon. To satisfy my lady. Mar. Why should she have me kill'd ? Now, as I can remember, by my troth, I never did her hurt in all my life ; I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn To any living creature : believe me, la, I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: I trod upon a worm against my will, But I wept for it. How have I offended, Wherein my death might vield her profit, or My life imply her danger ? "Leon. ■ My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. Dlar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope. You are well-favour'd, and vour looks foreshow You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, 1 That is, with the same warmth of affection as if I was his countryman. 2 Our fair charge, whose beauty was once equal to all that fame said of it. So in Othello : — ' He hath achiev'd a maid That paragons description and wild fame.'' 3 Reserve has here the force of preserve. So in Shakspeare's thirty-second Sonnet :— ' Reserve them for my love, not for their rhymes.' 4 i. e. a sailor, one who climbs the mast to furl or unfurl the canvass or sails. 5 Mr. Steevens thus regulates and reads this passage : ' That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-tackle Washed off a canvas-climber. Ha ! says one, Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry They skip from stem to stern : The boatswain whistles, The master calls, and trebles their confusion. Le.on. And when was this? Mar. It teas when I was born : Never was waves nor wind more violent. Leon. Come, say your prayers speeddy.' 1 6 Old copy reads ' roguing thieves.'' 1 The Spanish armada perhaps furnished this name. When you caught hurt in parting two that fought : Good sooth, it show'd well in you : do so now : Your lady seeks my life : come you between, And save poor me, the weaker. Leon. I am sworn, And will despatch. Enter Pirates, whilst Marina is struggling. 1 Pirate. Hold, villain! [Leonine runs away. 2 Pirate. A prize ! a prize* ! 3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. Come, let's have her aboard suddenly. [Exeunt Pirates with Marina. SCENE II. The same. Re-enter Leonine. Leon. These roving 6 thieves serve the great pirate Valdes ; 7 And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go : There's no hope she'll return. I'll swear she's dead, And thrown into the sea. — But I'll see further ; Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, Not carry her aboard. If she remain, Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain. [Exit. SCENE III. Mitylene. A Room in a Brothel. Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult. Pand. Boult. Boult. Sir. Pand. Search the market narrowly ; Mitylene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart, by being too wenchless. Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do ; and with continual action are even as good as rotten. Pand. Therefore, let's have fresh ones, what e'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be used in every trade, we shall never prosper. Bawd. Thou say'st true : 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards, as I think I have brought up some eleven Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down again. 8 But shall I search the market? Bawd. What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so piti- fully sodden. Pand. Thou say'st true ; they are too unwhole- some o' conscience. The poor Transilvanian is Jead, that lay with the little baggage. Boult. Ay, she quickly pooped liim ; she made him roast meat for worms : — hut I'll go search the market. [Exit Boult. Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. Bawd. Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old ? Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the com- modity ; nor the commodity wages not with the danger ; 9 therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep Don Pedro de Valdes was an admiral in that fleet, and had the command of the great galleon of Andalusia. His ship being disabled, he was taken by Sir Francis Drake on the 22d of July, 1588, and sent to Dartmouth This play was not written, we may conclude, till after that period. The making one of this Spaniard's ances- tors a pirate, was probably relished by the audience in those days. There is a particular account of this Valdes in Robert Greene's Spanish Masquerade, 1589. He was then prisoner in England. 8 I have brought up (i. e. educated,) says the bawd, some eleven. Yes, answers Boult, to eleven, (i. e. as far as eleven years of age,) and then brought them down again. The latter clause of the sentence requires no explanation. In the play of The Weather, by John Heywood, 4to. blk. 1. Merry Report says :— ' Oft tyme is sene both in court and towne, Longe be women a bryngymge up, and seme brought doicn.' 9 i. e. is not equal to it. So in Othello : — ' To wake and wage a danger profitless.' And in Antony and Cleopatra, vol. viii :— ' his taunts and honours Wag^d equal with him.' Scene HI. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 383 our door hatch'd. 1 Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods, will be strong with us lor giving over. Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we. Pawl. As well as we ! ay, and better too ; we offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade ; it's no calling : — but here comes Boult. Enter the Pirates, and Boult, dragging in Marina. Boult. Come your ways. [To Marina. J — My masters, you say she's a virgin ? 1 Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it.not. Boult. Master,, I have gone thorough 2 for this piece, you see : if you like her, so ; if not, I have lost my earnest. Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities ? Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes ; there's no further necessity of qualilies can make her be refused. Bawd. What's her price, Boult? Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces. Pand. Well, follow me, my masters ; you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in ; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw 3 in her entertainment. [Exeunt Pander and Pirates. Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her ; the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity ; and cry, He that will give most, shall have her first. Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you. Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit Boltlt. Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow ! (He should have struck, not spoke ;) or that these pirates (Not enough barbarous) had not overboard Thrown me, to seek my mother ! Baied. Why lament you, pretty one ? Mar. That I am pretty. Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in you. Mar. I accuse them not. Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where you are like to live.' Mar. The more my fault, To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die. Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. Mar. No. Bawd. Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste gentle- men of all fashions. You shall fare well ; you shall have the difference of all complexions. What ! do you stop your ears ? Mar. Are you a woman ? Bawd. What would you have me be, an I be not a woman 1 Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. Bawd. Marry, whip thee, gosling : I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you are a 1 A hatch is a half door,- sometimes placed within a street door, preventing access farther than the entry of a house. When the top of a hatch was guarded by a row of spikes, no person could reach over arm undo its fastening, which was always within side, and near its bottom. This domestic portcullis perhaps was neces- sary to our ancient brothels. Secured within such a barrier, Mrs. Overdone could parley with her custom- ers, refuse admittance to the "shabby visitor, bargain with the rich gallant, defy the beadle, or keep the con- stable at bay. From having been her usual defence, the hatch became the unequivocal denotement of her trade ; for though the hatch vjith a flat top was a con- stant attendant on butteries in great families, colleges, &c. the hatch with spikes on it was peculiar to early houses of amorous entertainment, and Mr. Steevens was informed that the bagnios of D ublin were not long since so defended Malone exhibited a copy eta wood cut, prefixed to an old pamphlet entitled Holland's Leaguer, 4to. 1632, in which is a representation of a celebrated brothel, on the Bank side, near the Globe play-house, in which he imagined the hatch was deli- neated Steevens has pleasantly bantered him upon it. young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you. Mar. The gods defend me ! Bawd. If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir you up. — Boult's returned. Enter Boult. Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market ? Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs ; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort ? Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they would have hearkened to their father's testament. There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to her very description. Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on. Boult. To-night, to night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers 4 i' the hams ? Bawd. Who ? Monsieur Veroles ? Boult. Ay ; he offered to cut a caper at the pro- clamation ; but he made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow. Bawd. Well, well ; as for him, he brought his disease hither : here he does but repair it. 5 I know, he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in t,he sun. 6 Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a travel- ler, we should lodge them with this sign. 7 Bawd. Pray you, come hither awhile. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you must seem to do that fearfully, which you commit wil- lingly ; to despise profit, where you have most gain. To weep that you live as you do. makes pity in your lovers : Seldom, but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere 8 profit. Mar. I understand you not. Boult. O, take her horn?, mistress, take her home : these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice. Bawd. Thou say'st true, i' faith, so they must : for your bride goes to that with shame, which is her way to go with warrant. Boult. 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint, Bawd. Thou may'st cut a morsel off the spit. Boult. I may so. Bawd. Who should deny it ? Come, young one, I like the manner of your garments well. Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet. Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town : re port what a sojourner we have : you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature framed this piece, she meant thee a good turn ; therefore say what a pa- ragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report. The reader may see the cut and the raillery in the variorum Sha'kspeare. 2 i. e. bid a high price for her. 3 i. e. unripe, unskilful. So in Hamlet : — ' And yet but raid neither in respect of his full sail.' 4 To cower is to sink or crouch down. Thus in King Henry VI. :— 1 The splitting rocks coxo^rd in the sinking sands.' Again in Gammer Gurton's Needle : — ' They coioer so o'er the coles, their eies be blear'd with smoke.' 5 i. e. renovate it. So in Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 2. :— ' O, disloyal thing ! Thou shouid'st repair my youth.' 6 The allusion is to the French coin ecus de solcil crowns of the sun. The meaning of the passage is merely this, ' That the French knight will set-k the shade of their house to scatter his money there.' 7 ' If a traveller from every part of the globe were to assemble in Mitylene, they would all resort to this house, while we had such a sign to it as this virgin ' A similar eulogv is pronounced on Imogen in Cymbel je : 'She's a good sign; but I have seen small refieofron of her wit.' S i. e. an absolute, a certain profit. 384 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Act IV. Boult. I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels, 1 as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night. Bawd. Come your ways ; follow me. I\Iar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. Diana, axl my purpose ! Bavxi. What have we to do with Diana ? Pray you, will you go with us ? [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in Cleon's House. Enter Cleox and Dionyza. , Dion. Why, are you foolish ? Can it be undone ? Cle. O, Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon ! Dion. I think You'll turn a child again. Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world, I'd give it to undo the deed. 2 O, lady, Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess To equal any single crown o' the eartn, I' the justice of compare ! O, villain Leonine, Whom thou hast poison'd too ! If thou had'st drunk to him, it had been a kindness Becoming well thy feat : ' what canst thou say, When noble Pericles shall demand his child ? Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates To foster it, nor ever to preserve. She died at night ; I'll say so. Who can cross it ? Unless you play the impious innocent, 4 And for an honest attribute, cry out, She died by foul play. Cle. O, go to. Well, well, Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods Do like this worst. Dion. Be one of those, that think The pretty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence, And open this to Pericles. I do shame To think of what a noble strain you are, And of how coward a spirit. Cle. To such proceeding Who ever but his approbation added, Though not his pre-consent, he did not flow From honourable courses. Dion. Be it so, then : Yet none docs know, but you, how she came dead, Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. She did distain 5 my child, and stood between Her and her fortunes : None would look on her, But cast their gazes on Marina's face ; Whilst ours was blurted 6 at, and held a malkin, 7 Not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me thorough ; And though you call my course unnatural, You not your child well loving, yet I find, It greets me 8 as an enterprise of kindness, Perform'd to your sole daughter. Cle. Heavens forgive it! Dion. And as for Pericles, What should he say ? We wept after her hearse, And even yet we mourn ; her monument Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs In glittering golden characters express A general praise to her, and care in us At whose expense 'tis done. Cle. Thou art like the harpy, Which, to betray, doth with thine angel's face Seize with thine eagle's talons. 9 Dion. You are like one, that superstitiously Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies; 10 But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeunt. Enter Gower, before the Monument of Marina at Tharsus. Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short ; Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't ; Making 1 ' (to take your imagination,) From bourn to bourn, region to region. By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime To use one language, in each several clime, Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you, To learn of me, who stand i' the gap to teach you The stages of our story. Pericles Is now again thwarting the wayward seas 12 (Attended on by many a lord and knight,) To see his daughter, all his life's delight. Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late 13 Advanc'd in time to great and high estate, Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, Old Helicanus goes along behind. Well sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have brought This king to Tharsus (think this pilot-thought ;'* So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on, 5 To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. 1 * 1 Thunder is supposed to have the effect of rousing eels from the mud, and so render them more easy to take in stormy weather. Maiston alludes to this in his Satires : — • They are nought but eeles that never will appeare Till that tempestuous winds, or thunder, teare Their slimy beds.' 2 So in Macbeth : — ' Wake Duncan with this knock- ing: — Ay, 'would, thou couldst !' In Pericles, as in Macbeth, the wile is more criminal than the husband, whose repentance follows immediately on the murder. 3 Tne old copy reads face. The emendation is Ma- son's. Feat is deed, or exploit. 4 An innoci nt was formerly a common appellation for an idiot. She calls him an impious simpleton, because such a discovery would touch the life of one of his own family, his wile. This is the ingenious interpretation of Malone ; but I incline to' think with Mason that we should read, ' the pious innocent.' o The old copy reads, 'She did disdain my child.' But Marina was not of a disdainful temper. Her ex- cellence indeed eclipsed the meaner qualities of her com- panion, i. e. in the language of the poet, distainedthem. In Tarquin and Lucrece we meet with the same verb again : — ' Were Tarquin night, (as he is but night's child,) The silver-shining queen he would distain.'' The verb is several times used by Shakspeare in the sense of to eclipse, to throw into the shade ; and not in that of to disgrace, as Steevens asserts. The same cause for Dionyza's hatred to Marina is also alleged in Twine's translation : — ' The people be- holding the beautie and comlinesse of Tharsia, said — Happy is the father that hath Tharsia to his daughter ; but her companion that goeth with her is foule and ill- favoured. When Dionisiades heard Tharsia commend- ed, and liei owne daughter, Philnmacia. so dispraised, she returned home wonderful wrath,' Stc. 6 This contemptuous expression frequently occurs \t our ancient dramas. So in King Edward III. 1596 : — ' This day hath set derision on the French, And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.' 7 A coarse wench, not worth a good morrow. 8 ' It greets me' appears to mean it salutes me, or is grateful to me. So in Kin? Henry VIII': — ' 'Would, I had no being, If this salute my blood a jot.' 9 'With thine angel's face,' &c. means ' You having an angel's face, a look of innocence, have at the same time an eagle's talons.' 10 This passage appears to mean, ' You are so affect- edly humane, that you would appeal to heaven against the cruelly of winter in killing the flies. Superstitious is explained by Johnson, scrupulous beyond need.'^- Boswell. 11 So in a former passage:— ' O, make for Tharsus. Making, &c. is travelling (with the hope of engaging your attention) from one division or boundary of the world to another ; i. e. we hope to interest you by the variety of nur scene, and the different countries through which we pursue our story.— We still use a phrase ex- actly corresponding with lake your imagination; i. e. ' to take one's fancy.' 12 So in King Henry V.:— ' and there being seen, Heave him away upon your winged thoughts Mhwart the seas.' 13 These lines are strangely misplaced in the old copy The transposition and corrections are by Steevens. 14 This is the reading of the old copy, which Malone altered to 'Ats pilot thought.' I do not see the necessity of the cha' ge. The passage as it is will bear the inter pretation jiven to the correction :— ' Let your imagina tion steer with him, be his pilot, and, by accompanying him in his voyage, think this pilot-thought.' 15 Who has left Tharsus before her father's arrival there. ScEIJE IV. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 38S Like motes and shadows see them move awhile ; Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. Dumb Show. Enter at one Door, Pericles, with his Train; Cleon and Dionyza at the other. Cleon shows Pericles the Tomb of Marina ; whereat Peri- cles makes lamentation, puts on Sackcloth, and in a mighty passion departs. Then Cleon and Dionfza retire. Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul show ! This borrow'd passion stands for true old wo ;' And Pericles^ in sorrow all devour'd, With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'er- show'r'd, Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs ; He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears A tempest, which his mortal vessel 2 tears, And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit 3 The epitaph is for Marina writ By wicked Dionyza. [Reads the Inscription on Marina's Monument. The fairest, sweet'st,* and best, lies here, Who withered in her spring of year. She was of Tyrus, the king's daughter, On whom foul death hath made this slaughter, Marina was she calVd ; and at her birth, Thetis, b being proud, swallowed some part o' the earth: Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erfiow'd, Hath Thetis birth-child on the heavens bestow'd : Wherefore she does {and swears she'll never stint,) s Make raging battery upon shores of flint. No visor does become black villany, So well as soft and tender flattery. Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, And bear his courses to be ordered By lady fortune ; while our scenes display His daughter's wo and heavy well-a-day, In her unholy service. Patience, then, And think vou now are all in Mitylen. [Exit. SCENE V. Mitylene. A Street before the Brothel. Enter, from the Brothel, Two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like ? 2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone. 1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there ! did vou ever dream of such a thing? 2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy- houses : shall we go hear the vestals sing? 1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous ; but I am out of the road of rutting, for ever. [Exeunt. SCENE VT. The same. A Room in the Brothel. Enter Pander, Bawd, and Bottlt. Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her, she had ne'er come here. Bawd. Fie, fie upon her : she is able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We 1 i. e. for such tears as were shed when the world being in its infancy, dissimulation was unknown. .Per- haps, however, we ought to read, ' true told wo.' 2 So in King Richard III. : — ' O, then began the tempest of my soul.' What is here called his mortal vessel (i. e. his body) is styled by Cleopatra her mortal house. 3 ' Now be pleased to know.' So in Gower : — ' In which the lorde hath to him writte That he would understand and witte.' 4 SweeVst must be read here as a monosyllable, as highest in the Tempest : — ■ Highest queen of state,' &c. Steevens observes that we might more elegantly read, omitting the conjunction and — ' The fairest, sweetest, best, lies here.' 5 The inscription alludes to the violent storm which accompanied the birth of Marina ; at which time the sea, proudly overswelling its bounds, swallowed, as is usual in such hurricanes, some part of the earth. The poet ascribed the swelling of the sea to the pride which Thetis felt at the birth of Marina in her element ; and supposes that the earth, being afraid to be overflowed, bestowed this birth-child of Thetis on the heavens ; and 58 must either get her ravish'd, or be rid of her. When she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master-reasons, her prayers, her knees ; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. Boult. 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfur- nish us of all our cavaliers, and make all our swear- ers priests. Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me! Bawd. 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, but by the way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Ly- simachus, disguised. Boult. We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would but give way to cus- tomers. Enter Lysimachus. Lys. How now ? How' a dozen of virginities ? Bawd.'Now, the gods to-bless 8 your honour ! Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good health. Lys. You may so ; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now, wholesome iniquity ? Have you that a man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon? Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she would but there never came her like in Mitylene. Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou would'st say. Bawd. Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough. Lys. Well ; call forth, call forth. Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red you shall see a rose ; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but Lys. What, pr'ythee ? Boult. O, sir, I can be modest. Lys. That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it gives a good report to an anchor 9 to bo chaste. Enter Marina. Bawd. Here comes that which grows to the stalk • — never plucked yet, I can assure you. Is she not a fair creature ? Lys. 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea. Well, there's for you ; — leave us. Bawd. I beseech your honour, give me leave : a word, and I'll have done presently. Lys. I beseech you, do. Bawd. First, I would have you note, this is an honourable man. [To Mar. whom she takes aside. Mar. I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him. Bawd. Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man whom I am bound to. Mar. If he govern the country, you are bound to him indeed ; but how honourable he is in that, I know not. Bawd. 'Pray you, without any more virginal 11 ' that Thetis, in revenge, makes raging battery against the shores. — Mason. 6 i. e. never cease. 7 This is Justice Shallow's mode of asking the price of a different kind of commodity : — ' How a score of ewes now ?' 8 The use of to in composition with verbs is very common in Gower and Chaucer. 9 The old copy, which both Steevens and Malone con sidered corrupt in this place, read's, ' That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it gives good report to a number to be chaste.' I have ventured to substitute an anchor, i. e. hermit, or anchoret. The word being f or merly written ancher, anchor, and even anker, it is evi. dent that in old MSS. it might readily be mistaken for « number. The word is used by the Player Queen in Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2 :— ' An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope.' It is evident that some character contrasted to bawd is required by the context. 10 This uncommon adjective is again used in Coruv lanus : — ' the virginal palms of your daughters.' / 388 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Ac* I Tl fencing, wiK you use him kindly ? He will line your apron with £old. Mar. What he will do graciously, I will thank- fully receive. Lys. Have you done ? Bawd. My lord, she's not paced' yet ; you must take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will leave his honour and her together. [Exeunt Bawd, Pander, and Boult. I-ys. Go thy ways. — Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade ? Mar. What trade, sir? Lys. What I cannot name but I shall offend. Mar. I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it. Lys. How long have you been of this profession ? Mar. Ever since I can remember. Lys. Did you go to it so young ? Were you a gamester 2 at five, or at seven ? Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, proclaims you to be a creature of sale. Mar. Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, and will come into it? I hear say, you are of honourable parts, and are the governor of this place. Lys. Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am? Mar. Who is my principal? Lys. Why, your herb-woman: she that sets seeds and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard something of my power, and so stand aloof for more serious wooing. But I protest to thee, firetty one, my authority shall not see thee, or else, ook friendly upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place. Come, come. Mar. If you were born to honour, show it now ; If put upon you, make the judgment good That thought you worthy of it. Lys. How's this? how's this? — Some more; — be sage. 3 Mar. For me, That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune Hath plac'd me here within this loathsome stie, Where, since I came, diseases have been sold Dearer than physic, — O, that the good gods Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, Though they did change me to the meanest bird That tlies i' the purer air* Lys. I did not think Thou could'st have spoke so well ; ne'er drearn'd thou could'st. Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for . thee : Perscver still in that clear* way thou goest, And the gods strengthen thee! Mar. The gods preserve you ! Lys. For me, be you thoughten That I come with no ill intent ; for to me The very doors and windows savour vilely. Farewell. Thou art a piece of virtue, 5 and I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. — 1 A term from the equestrian art ; but still in familiar language applied to persons, chiefly in a bad sense, with its compound thorough-paced. 2 i. e. a wanton. 3 Lysimachus must be supposed to say this sneering- ly — ' Proceed with your fine moral discourse.' 'i Clear is pure, innocent. Thus in The Two Noble Kinsmen : — For the sake Of clear virginity, be advocate For us and our distresses.' So in The Tempest : — ' nuthing but heart's sorrow, And a clear life ensuing.' 5 ' thy mother was Apiece of virtue.' Tempest. So in Antony and Cleopatra, alluding to Octavia: — ' Let not the piece of virtue, which is set Betwixt us.' 6 i. e. under the cope or canopy of heaven. 7 Steeyens thinks that there may be some allusion Hold ; here's more gold for thee.— A curse upon him, die he like a thief, That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou hear si from me, It shall be for thy good. [As Lysimachus is putting up his Purse, Boult enters. Boult. I beseech your honour, one piece for me. Lys. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper ! Your house, But for this virgin that doth prop it up, Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away ! [Exit Lysimachus, Boult. How's this ? We must take another course with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope, 6 shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways. Mar. Whither would you have me : Botdt. I must have your maidenhead taken off", or the common hangman shall execute it. Come your way. We'll have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say. Re-enter Bawd. Bawd. How now ! what's the matter ? Boult. Worse and worse, mistress ; she has here spoken holy words to the Lord Lysimachus. Bawd. 0, abominable ! Bnult She makes our profession as it were, to stink afore the face of the gods. Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever! Boult. The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a snowball ; saying his prayers too. Bawd. Boult, take her away: use her at thy pleasure : crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable. 7 Boult. An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. 8 Mar. Harl<, hark, you gods ! Bawd. She conjures : away with her. . 'Would, she had never come within my doors ! Marry, hang you ! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the way of womankind 1 Marry come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays ! 3 [Exit Bawd. Boult. Come, mistress ; come your way with me. Mar. Whither would you have me ? Boult. To take from you the jewel you hold so dear. Star. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first. Boult. Come now, your one thing. 10 Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? Boult. Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress. Mar. Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art, Since they do better thee in their command. Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend Of hell would not in reputation change : Thou'rt the damn'd door-keeper to every coystrel.' 1 here to a fact recorded by Dion Cassius, and by Pliny, b. xxvi. cli. xxvi. ; but more circumstantially by Petro- nius. Var. Edit. p. 189. A skilful workman, who had discovered the an of making glass malleable, carried a specimen of it to Tiberius, who asked him if he alone was in possession of the secret. He replied in the af- firmative : on which the tyrant ordered his head to be struck off immediately, lest his invention should have proved injurious to the workers in gold, silver, and other metals. The same story, however, is told in the Gesta Romanorum, c. 44. 8 Thus also in Antony and Cleopatra :— ' She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed, He ploughed her, and she cropp'd.' 9 Anciently many dishe3 were served up with this garniture, during the season of Christmas. The Bawd means to call her a piece of ostentatious virtue. 10 So in King Henry IV. Part 11.:— 'P. Hen. Shall 1 tell thee one thing, Poms ? Poins. Go to, I stand the push of your one thing.'' 1 1 A coystrel is a low mean prison. Tib was a common name for a strumpet. ' They wondred much at Tom, but at Tib more ; Faith (quoth the vicker) 'tis an exlent w ' Nosce Te, by Richard Turner. 1607 Spews V. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 387 That hither comes inquiring for his tib ; To the choleric fisting of each rogue thy ear Is liable ; thy very food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs. 1 Boult. What would you have me ? go to the wars, would you ? where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one ? Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty Old receptacles, common sewers, of filth ; Serve by indenture to the common hangman ; Any of these ways are better yet than this : For that which thou professest, a baboon, Could he speak, would own a name too dear.* that the gods would safely from this placd Deliver me ! Here, here is gold for thee. If that thy master would gain aught by me, Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance, With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast ; And I will undertake all these to teach. 1 doubt not but this populous city will Yield many scholars. Boult But can you teach ail tbfs you speak of? Mar. Prove that I cannct, take me home again, And prostitute me to the basest groom That doth frequent you; house. Boult . Well, I will see what I can do for thee : if I can place thee, Twill. Mar. But, amongst honest women? Boult. 'Faith, ny acquaintance lies little amongst them. But sin^e my master and mistress have bought you, there's no going but by their consent : therefore I will make them acquainted with your purpose, ar?d I doubt not but I shall find them tracta- ble enough. Come, I'll do for thee what I can ; come your ways. [Exeunt ACT V. Enter Gower. Grow. Marina thus the brothel scapes, and chances Into an honest house, our story says. She sings like one immortal, and she dances As goddess-like to her admired lays : Deep clerks she dumbs, 3 and with her neeld 4 com- poses Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry ; That even her art sisters the natural roses : Her inkle 5 silk, twin with the rubied cherry : That pupils lacks she none of noble race, Who pour their bounty on her ; and her gain She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place ; And to her father turn our thoughts again, Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost ; Whence driven before the winds, he is arriv'd Here where his daughter dwells ; and on this coast Suppose him now at anchor. The city striv'd 6 1 Steevens observes that Marina, who is designed as a character of juvenile innocence, appears much too knowing in the impurities of a brothel; nor are her expressions more chastised than her ideas. i That is, a baboon would think his tribe dishonour- ed by such a profession. Iago says, ' Ere I would drown myself, &c. I would change my humanity with a baboon.' In this speech Steevens has made some trifling regulations to improve the metre. 3 The following passage from A Midsummer Night's Dream is adduced only on account of the similarity of expression, the sentiments being very different. The- seus confounds those who address him, by his superior dignity ; Marina silences the learned persons, with whom she converses, by her literary superiority. ' Where I have come great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes ; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practis'd accents in their fears, And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome.' We have the verb to dumb again in Antony and Cleo patra :— ' that what I would have spoke Was beastly dumb by him ' 4 Needle. God Neptune's annual feast to keep : from whence Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense And to him in his barge with fervour hies. In your supposing once more put your sight ; T Of heavy Pericles think this the bark : Where, what is done in action, more, if might, 8 Shall be discover'd ; please you, sit, and hark. [Exit. SCENE I. On board Pericles' Ship, oJfMity- lene. A close Pavilion on deck, with a Curtain before it ; Pericles within it, reclined on a Couch. A Barge lying beside the Tyrian Vessel. Enter Two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian Vessel, the other to the Barge ; to them Helicanus. Tyr. Sail. Where's the Lord Helicanus ? he can resolve you. [To the Sailor of Mitylene. O, here he is. Sir, there's a barge put off from Mitylene, And in it is Lysimachus the governor, Who craves to come aboard. What is your will? HeL That he have his. Call up some gentlemen, Tyr. Sail. Ho, gentlemen ! my lord calls. Enter Two Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Doth your lordship call ? Hel. Gentlemen, There is some of worth would come aboard ; I pray y° u > To greet them fairly. [The Gentlemen and the Two Sailors descend, and go on board the Barge. Enter, from thence, Lysimachus and Lords ; the Tyrian Gentlemen, and the Two Sailors. Tyr. Sail. Sir, This is the man that can, in aught you would, Resolve you. Lys. Hail, reverend sir ! the gods preserve you ! Hel. And you, sir, to outlive the age I am, And die as I would do. Lys. You wish me well. Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs, Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, I made to it, to know of whence you are. Hel. First, sir, what is your place ? Lys. I am governor of this place you ho before. Hel. Sir, Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king : A man, who for this three months hath not spoken To any one, nor taken sustenance, But to prorogue 3 his grief. Lys. Upon what ground is his distemperatme ? Hel. Sir, it would be too tedious to repeat ; But the main grief of all springs from the loss Of a beloved daughter and a wife. Lys. May we not see him, then ? Hel. You may, indeed, sir But bootless is your sight ; he will not speak To any. Lys. Yet, let me obtain my wisn. 5 Inkle appears to have been a particular kind of silk thread or worsted used in embroidery. Rider translates inkle by Jilum textile. 6 Steevens thinks that we should read, ' The city's hiv'd,' i. e. the citizens are collected like bees in a hive. We have the verb in the Merchant of Venice :— 'Drones hive not with me.' 7 ' Once more put your sight under the guidance of your imagination. Suppose you see what we cannot exhibit to you ; think this stage the bark of the me- lancholy Pericles.' 8 'Where all that may be displayed in action shall be exhibited; and more should be shown, if our stage would permit.' The poet seems to be aware of the difficulty of representing the ensuing scene. Some modern editions read, ' more of might ;' which, if there was authority for it, should seem to mean ' more of greater consequence.' 9 To lengthen or prolong his grief. Prorogued is used in Romeo and Juliet for delayed : — ' My life were better ended by their hate, XhRn de^th prprnn r "•■■ Mfsoftby love.' 388 PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. Act T, Hel. Behold him, jir: [Pericles discovered.*] this was a goodly person, Till the disaster, that, one mortal night, 8 Drove him to this. Lys. Sir, king, all hail! the gods preserve you! Hail, Hail, royal sir ! Hel. It is in vain ; he will not speak to you. 1 Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene, I durst wager, Would win some words of him. 3 Lys. 'Tis well bethought. She, questionless, with her sweet harmony And other choice attractions, would allure, And make a battery through his deafen'd parts,* Which now are midway stopp'd : She is all happy as the" fairest of all, And, with her fellow maids, is now upon 5 The leafy shelter that abuts against The island's side. [He whispers one of the attendant Lords. — Exit Lord, in the Barge of Lysimachus. Hel. Sure all's effectless ; yet nothing we'll omit That bears recovery's name. But since your kind ness, We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you further, That for our gold we may provision have, Wherein we are not destitute for want, But weary for the staleness. Lys. ' O, sir, a courtesy, Which if we should deny, the most just God For every graff would send a caterpillar, And so inflict our province. 6 — Yet once more Let me entreat to know at large the cause Of vour king's sorrow. Hel. Sit, sir, I will recount it ; — But see, I am prevented. Enter, from tiie Barge? Lord, Marisa, and a Young Lady. Lys. O, here is The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one ! Is't not a goodly presence ? Hel. A gallant lady. Lys. She's such, that were I well assur'd she came Of gentle kind, and noble stock, I'd wish No better choice, and think me rarely wed. Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty? 1 Expect even here, where is a kingly patient * If that thy prosperous and artificial feat* Can draw him but to answer thee in aught, Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay As thy desires can wish. Mar. Sir, I will use My utmost skill in his recovery, Provided none but I and my companion Be suffer'd to come near him. Lys. Come, let us leave her. And the gods make her prosperous ! [Marina sings.'® Lys. Mark'd he your music ? Mar. No, nor look'd on us. Lys. See, she will speak to hisn. Mar. Hail, sir ! my lord, lend ear : Per. Rum ! ha ! Mar. I am a maid, My lord, that ne'fcr before invited eyes, But have been gaz'd on, like a comet: she speak?, My lord, that, mjy be, hath endur'd a grief Might equal yours, if feoth were justly weigh'd. Though wayward fortune did malign my state, My derivation was from ancestors Who stood equivalent with inighty kings :" But time hath rooted out my 'parentage, And to the world and Itrkwaw 9 casualitie3 Bound me in servitude. — I will desist ; But there is something glows upoti my cheek, And whispers in mine ear, Go not till he speak. [Aside. Per. My fortunes — parentage — good parentage — To equal mine ? — was it not thus 7 vha*, sav you ? Mar. I said, my lord, if you did know my pa- rentage, You would not do me violence. n Per. I do thmk so. I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me.— - You are like something that — What countrywoman I Here of these shores ?'* Mar: No, nor of any shorts : Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am No other than I appear. Per. I am great with wo, and shall deliver weeping. I Few of the stage-directions, that have been given m this and the preceding acts, are found in the old copy. In the original it presentation Pericles was probably placed in the back part of the stage, concealed by a curtail), which was here drawn open. The ancient narratives represented him as remaining m the cabin of his ship ; but as in such a situation fericles would not be visible to the audience, a different stage-direction is now given. ■2 The old copies read, ' one mortal wight.'' The emendation is Malone's. Mortal is here used for dearth/, destructive. 3 This circumstance resembles another in All's Well that Ends Well, where Lafeu gives an account of He- lena's attractions to the king before she is introduced to attempt his cure. •1 The old copy reads, ' defend parts,' Malone made the alteration, which he explains thus : i. e. ' his ears, which are to be assailed by Marina's melodious voice.' Stee.vens would read, 'deafen'd ports,' meaning ' the oppilated doors of hearing.' 5 Steevcns prints this passage in the following man- ner: corrected and amended so as to run smooth no doubt, but with sufficient license : — ' She all as happy as of all the fairest, Is with her fellow maidens now icit/iin.' Difficulties have been raised about this passage as it stands'; but surely it is as intelligible as many others in this play. ' Upon a leafy shelter,' which is the great stumbling-block, appears to mean 'Upon a spot which is sheltered.' 6 There can be but little doubt that the poet wrote :— ' And so afflict our province.' — We have no example of to inflict used by itself for to punish. 7 It appears that when Fericles was originally per- formed the theatres were furnished with no such appa- ratus as, by any stretch of imagination, could be supposed to present either a sea or a ship ; and that the audience were contented to behold vessels sailing in and out of port in their mind's eye only. This licence befng once granted to the poet, the lord, in the instance now before us, walked off the stage-, and returned again in a few minutes, leading in Marina without any sen- sible impropriety ; and the present drama exhibited be- fore such Indulgent spectators was not more incommo- dious in the representation than any other would have been. See Malone's Historical Account of the English Stage. 8 The quarto of 1609 reads :— ' Fair on all goodness that consists in beauty,' Ste. The present circumstance puts us in mind of what passes between Helena and the King, in All's Well that Ends Well 9 The old copy has 'artificial fate.'' The emenda- tion is by Dr. Percy. 10 This song (like most of those that were sung in the old plays) has not been preserved. It may have been formed on the lines in the Gesta Romanonim. The reader desirous of consulting the Latin hexameters, or Twine's translation of them, may consult the Variorum Shakspeare. There was not merit enough in them to warrant their production in this abridged commentary, 11 So in Othello :— ' 1 fetch my birth From men of royal siege.' 12 Jlickieard is adverse. So in King Henry VI., Part II.:— ' And twice by awkward wind from England's bank Drove back again.' 13 This seems to refer to a part of the story that is made no use of in the present scene. Thus in Twine's trans- lation : — ' Then Appolonius fell in rage, and forgetting all courtesie, &c. rose up sodainly and stroke the maid- en,' &c. Pericles however afterwards says — 'Did'st thou not say, when I did push thee hack, (Which was when I perceiv'd thee,) that thou cam'st From good descending." 14 This passage is strangely corrupt in the old copies :- ' Per. I do think so, pray you turne your eyes upoa 5? Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow. Awake, and tell thy dream. [Diana disappear*. Per. Celestial Dian, goddess argentine, 7 I will obey thee ! — Helicanus ! Enter Lysimachus, Helicanus, ana! Marina. Hel. Sir. Per. My purpose was for Tharsus, there to strike The inhospitable Cleon ; but I am For other service first : toward Ephesus Turn our blown 8 sails ; eftsoons I'll tell thee why.— [To Helicanus. Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, And give you gold for such provision As our intents will need ? Lys. With all my heart, sir ; and when you come ashore, I have another suit. Per. You shall prevail, Were it to woo my daughter ; for it seems You have been noble towards her. Lys. Sir, lend your arm. Per. Come, my Marina. [Exeunt. Enter Gower, before the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus. Gow. Now our sands are almost run ; More a little, and then done. 9 This, as my last boon, give mc, (For such kindness must relieve mc,) That you aptly will suppose What pageantry, what feats, what shows, What minstrelsy, and pretty din, The regent made in IMitylin, To greet the king. So he has thriv'd, That he is promis'd to be wiv'd To fair 3Iarina ; but in no wise Till he 10 had done his sacrifice, As Dian bade: whereto being bound, The interim, pray you, all confound." In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, And wishes fall out as they're will'd. At Ephesus, the temple see, Our king, and ail his company. That he can hither come so «;oon Is by your fancy's thankful boon. [Exit SCENE III. The Temple o/Diana at Ephesus ; Thaisa standing near the Altar, as High Priest ess; a number of Virgins on each side ; Ceri mon and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending. Enter Pericles, with his Train; Lysimachus, Helicanus, Majuna, and a Lady. Per. Hail Dian ! to perform thy just command, I here confess myself the king of Tyre ; Who, frighted from my country, did wed The fair Thaisa, at Pentapolia. At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth A maid-child call'd Marina ; who, O goddess, Steevens contends for the text as it stanils, remarking that ' Lysimachus is much in love with Marina, and supposing himself to be near the gratification of hi* wishes, with a generosity common to noble natures on such occasions, is desirous to make his friends and companions partakers of his happiness.' 5 This vision appears to be founded on a passage in Gower. 6 In the old copy we have here like for life again. — The passage appears to mean : — ' Draw such a picture as shall prove itself to have been copied from real, not from pretended calamities ; such a one as shall strike the hearers with all the lustre of conspicuous truth.' 7 i. e. regent of the silver moon. In the language of alchemy, which was well understood when this p)ay was written, Luna or Diana means silver, as Sol doea gold. S That is, 'our swollen sails.' So in Antony and Cleopatra : — ' A vent upon her arm, and something blown.' 9 The old copy reads dum. And in the last line o! this chorus doom instead of boon. 10 i. e. Pericles. 11 Confound here signifies to consume. » He did confound the best part of an hour, Exchanging hardiment with great Glendow'r.' Kmg flenru JZ . Scene III. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 391 Wears yet thy silver livery.' She at Tharsus Was nurs'd with Cleon ; whom at fourteen years He sought to murder : but her better stars Brought her to Mitylene : against whose shore Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she Made known herself my daughter. Thai. Voice and favour ! — You are — you are — O, royal Pericles! 2 — [She faints. Per. What means the woman? she dies, help, gentlemen ! Cer. Noble sir, If you have told Diana's altar true, This is your wife. Per. Reverend appearer, no ; I threw her overboard with these very arms. Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you. Per. 'Tis most certain. Cer. Look to the lady ; — O, she's but o'erjoy'd ! Early, one blust'ring morn, this lady was Thrown on this shore. I op'd the coffin, and Found there rich jewels ; recover'd her, and plac'd her Here in Diana's temple. 8 Per. May we see them ? Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house,* Whither I invite you. Look ! Thaisa is Recover'd. Thai. O, let me look ! If he be none of mine, my sanctity Will to my sense 5 bend no licentious ear, But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, Are you not Pericles? Like him you speak, Like him you are : Did you not name a tempest, A birth, and death ? Per. The voice of dead Thaisa! Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead, And drown'd. 6 Per. Immortal Dian ! Thai. Now I know you better. When we with tears parted Pentapolis, The king, my father, gave you such a ring. [Shows a Ring. Per. This, this ; no more, you gods ! your pre- sent kindness Makes my past miseries sport: 7 You shall do well, That on the touching of her lips I may 1 i.e. her white robe of innocence, as being yet under the protection ofihe goddess of chastity. ■2 The similitude between this scene and the dis- covery in the last act of The Winter's Tale, will strike every reader. In the fragment of the Old Metrical Romance, for- merly in Dr. Farmer's possession, mentioned in the Preliminary Remarks, this is told with simplicity and jmthos. I lay it before the reader as a philological cu- Siosity : — ' The whiles he expounede thus hys lyf W' sorwe &. stedfast thouzt, He tolde hit to hys owene wyf, Sche knew him [though] he hire nought, Heo caught hym in hire armes two, For joye sche ne myght spek a word, The kyng was wroth & pitte her fro ; Heo cryede loude — 'ye beth my lord, I am youre wyf, youre leof yore, Archistrata ye lovede so, The kynges doughtry was bore,. Arehistrat&s he ne hadde na mo.' Heo clipte hym & eft'* * * kysse And saJda thus by fore hem alle Ze seeth Appolyn the kyng My maystt that taugt me all my good' Cetera desunt. 3 The same situation occurs again in the Comedy of irrors, where .Kgeon loses his wife at sea, and finds ft«rstia8tui a nunnery. 4 This circumstance hears some resemblance to the meeting of Lecntes and Hermione in The Winter's Tale. "The office of Cerimon is not unlike that of Pau- lina. 5 Sense is here used for senstcal passion. 6 Drown'd in this instance does not signify suffocated by water, but overwhelmed in it. Thus Knolles, His- Melt, and no more be seen. 8 O, come, be buried A second time within these arms. Mar. My heart Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. [Kneels to Thaisa. Per. Look, who kneels here ! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa ; Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina, For she was yielded there. Thai. Bless'd and mine own ! Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen ! Thai. I know you not. Per. You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre, I left behind an ancient substitute. Can you remember what I call'd the man? I have nam'd him oft. Thai. 'Twas Helicanus, then Per. Still confirmation : Embrace him, dear Thaisa : this is he. Now do I long to hear how you were found ; How possibly preserv'd ; and whom to thank, Besides the gods, for this great miracle. Thai. Lord Cerimon, my lord ; this man Through whom the gods have shown their power , that can From first to last resolve you. 1 Per. Reverend sir, The gods can have no mortal officer More like a god than you. Will you deliver How this dead queen relives ? Cer. I will, my lord. Beseech you, first go with me to my house. Where shall be shown you all was found with her ; How she came placed here within the temple ; No needful thing omitted. Per. Pure Diana ! I bless thee for thy vision, and will offer My night oblations to thee. Thaisa, This prince, the fair-betrothed 9 of your daughter, Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, This ornament that makes me look so dismal, Will I, my lov'd Marina, clip to form ; And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify. 10 Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, Sir, that my father's dead. 1 ■ tory of the Turks: — ' Galleys might be drowned in the harbour with the great ordhance, before they could ba rigged.' 7 So in King Lear: — ' It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt.' 9 This is a sentiment which Shakspeare never fails to introduce on occasions similar to the present. So in the 39th Psalm :— ' O spare me a little, that I may re- cover my strength before I go hence, and be no more seen.' 1 The same thought is expressed by Perdita, in the Winter's Tale :— ' Not like a corse ; — or if— not to be buried But quick, and in mine arms.' 9 i. e. fairly contracted, honourably affianced. 10 The author has here followed Gower, or the Gesta Romanorum : — < this a vowe to God I make That I shall never for hir sake, My berdefor no likynge shave, Till it befalle that I have In convenable time of age Besette her unto marriages The poet has, however, been guilty of a slight inadver- tency. If Pericles made the vow almost immediately after the birth of Marina, it was hardly necessary for him to make it again, as he has done, when he arrived ' 11 In the fragment of the Old Metrical Romance, the father dies in his daughter's arms. ' Zitt was hys fader-in-lawe a ly ve Archistrates the goud kyng, Folk come ageynes hym so blyve As eny mysht by oth r ihyng ; They song daunsede & were blythe, That ever he tnyghte that day yseo, And thonked God a thousand sythe, The kynge was gladdest ever be ye. 392 KING LEAR. Per. Heavens make a star of him! 1 Yet there, my queen, We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves Will in that kingdom spend our following days ; Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay, To hear the rest untold. — Sir, lead the way. [Exeunt. Enter Gower. Gow. In Antioch, 2 and his daughter, you have heard Of monstrous lust the due and just reward : Tho he saw hem alle by fore Hys dought' & hys sone in lawe, And hys dought 1 so fair y core, A kyngis wife heo was wel fawe, And her chyld iher also Al clehe of kyngis blod, He buste hem, ho wa9 glad tho But the okle kynge so goud. He made hem dvvelle that yer Jlnd deyde in hys dought" arm.'' 1 This notion is borrowed from the ancients, who ex- pressed their mode of conferring divine honours and immortality on men, by placing them among the stars. 2 i. e. the king of Antioch. The old copy reads Jin- tiochus. Steevens made the alteration, observing that in Shakspeare's other plays we have France for the king of France ; Marocco for the king of Morocco, Sic In Pericles, his queen ana daughter, seen (Although assail d with fortune fierce and keen,} Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast- Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last. In Helicanus may you well descry A figure oTtruth ? of faith, of loyalty: In reverend Cerimon there well appears, The worth that learned charity aye wears. For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'* name Of Pericles, to rage the city turn ; That him and his they in his palace burn. The gods for murder seemed so content To punish them ; although not done, but meant. So on your patience evermore attending, New joy wait on you ! Here our play has ending. [Exit Goweji, THAT this tragedy has some merit, it were vain ta deny; but that it is the entire composition of Shak speare, is more than can be hastily grained. I shall nol venture with Dr. Farmer, to determine lhat the hand of our great poet is only visible in the last act: for I think: it appears in several passages dispersed over each of these divisions. I find it difficult, however, to persuade myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, OJ the author of every dialogue, chorus, &c. STEEVENS. KING LEAR. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. THE story of King Lear and his three daughters was originally told Dy Geffrey of Monmouth, from whom HoUnsned transcribed it; and in his Chronicle Shakspeare had certainly read it : but he seems to have t>een more indebted to the old anonymous play, enti- tled The True Chronicle Hystorie of Leire. King of England, and his Three Daughters Gonorill, Ragan,, and Cordelia, 1605. A play with that title was entered on the Stationers' books by Edward White, May 14, 1594 ; ami there are two other entries of the same piece, May 9, 1605 ; and Nov. 26, 1607. From the Mirror of Magistrates, Shakspeare has taken the hint foT the be haviour of the Steward, and the reply of Cordelia to her father, concerning her future marriage. The Epi- sode of Gloucester and his sons must have been bor- rowed from Sidney's Arcadia, no trace of it bciiiL' limrid in the other sources of the fable. The reader will also find the story of King Lear in the second book and tenth canto «f Spenser's Faerie Queene, and in the fif- teenth chapter of the third book of Warner's Albion's England. Camden, in his Remaines, under the head of Wise Speeches, tells a similar story to this of Lear, of Ina, King of the West Saxons ; which, if the thing ever happened, probably was the real origin of the fa- ble. The story has found its way into many ballads . and other metrical pieces ; one ballad will be found in Dr. Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. 3d edit. The story is also to be found in the unpub- lished Gesta Romanornin, and in the Romance of Perccforest. The whole of this play could not have been written till after 1603. Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures, to which it contains so many re- ferences, and from which the fantastic names of several spirits are borrowed, was not published till that year. It must have been produced before the Christmas of 1606 ; for in the entry of Lear on the Stationers' Re- gister, on the 26th of November, 1607, it is expressly recorded to have been played, during the preceding Christmas, before his majesty at Whitehall. Malone places the date of the composition in 1605; Dr. Drake in 1604. 'Of this noble tragedy, one of the first productions of the noblest of poets, it is scarcely possible to express' our admiration in adequate terms. Whether considered as an effort of art, or as a picture of the passions, it is entitled to the highest praise The two portions of which the fable consist?, involving the late of Lear and lis daughters, and of Gloster and his sons, influence each other in so many points, and are blended with such consummate skill, that whilst the imagination ia delighted by diversity of circumstances, the judgment is equally gratified in viewing their mutual co-opera- tion towards the final result ; the coalescence being so , as nol only to preserve the necessary unity pf action, but to constitute one of the greatest beauties of the piece. ' Such, indeed, is the interest excited by the struc- ture and concatenation of the story, that the attention is not once suffered to flag. By a rapid succession of incidents, by sudden and overwhelming vicissitudes, by the most awful instances of misery and destitution, by the boldest contrariety of characters, are curi- osity and anxiety kept progressively increasing, and with an impetus so strong as nearly to absorb every fa- culty of the mind and every feeling of the heart. ' Victims of frailty, of calamity, or of vice, in an age remote and barbarous, .the actors in this drama are brought forward with a strength of colouring which, had the scene been placed in a more civilized era, might have been justly deemed too dark and ferocious ; hut id not -discordant with the earliest heathen age of Britain. The effect of this style of characterisation is felt occa- sionally throughout the entire play ; but it is particu- larly visible in the delineation of the vicious personages of the drama, the parts of Goneril, Regan, Edmund, and Cornwall, being loaded not only with ingratitude of the deepest dye, but with cruelty of the most savage and diabolical nature ; they are the criminals, in fact, of an age where vice may be supposed to reign with law less and gigantic power, and in which the extrusion of Gloster's eyes might be such an event as not unfre- quently occurred. Had this mode of casting his cha- racters in the extreme been applied to the remainder of the dramatis persona, we should have lost some of the finest lessons of humanity and wisdom that ever is- sued from the pen of an tininspired writer ; hut with the exception of a few coarsenesses, which remind us of the barbarous period to which the story is referred, and of a few incidents rather revolting to credibility, but which could not he detached from the original narrative, the virtuous agents of the play exhibit the manners and the feelings of civilization, and are of that mixed fabric which can alone display a just portraiture of the natura and composition of our species. 'The characters of Cordelia and Edgar, it is true, approach nearly to perfection; but the filial virtues aj Scene I. KING LEAR. S93 the former are combined with such exquisite tender- ness of heart, and those of the latter with such bitter humM.ation and suffering, that grief, indignation, and pity are instantly excited. Very striking representa- tions are also given of the rough fidelity of Kent, and of the hasty credulity of Gloster ; but it is in delineating the passions, feelings, and afflictions of Lear that our poet has wrought up a picture of human misery which has never been surpassed, and which agitates the soul ■with the most overpowering emotions of sympathy and compassion. ' The conduct of the. unhappy monarch having heen founded merely on the impulses of sensibility, and not on any fixed principle or rule of action, no sooner has he discovered the baseness of those on whom he had relied, and '.he fatal mistake into which he had been hurried by the delusions of inordinate fondness and ex- travagant expectation, than he feels himself bereft of all consolation and resource. Those to whom he had given all, for whom he had stripped himself of dignity and power, and on whom he had centred every hope of comfort and repose in his old age, his inhuman daughters, having not only treated him with utter cold- ness and contempt, but sought to deprive him of all the respectability, and even of the very means of existence, what, in a mind so constituted as Lear's, the sport of in- tense and ill regulated feeling, and tortured by the re- flection of having deserted the only child who loved him, what but madness could be expected as the re- sult ? It was, in fact, the necessary consequence of the reciprocal action of complicated distress and morbid sensibility; and in describing the approach of this dread- ful infliction, in tracing its progress, its height, and subsidence, our poet has displayed such an intimate knowledge of the workings ol the human intellect, under all its aberrations, as would afford an admirable study for the inquirer Into mental physiology. He has also in this play, as in that of Hamlet, finely discrimi- nated between real and assumed insanity. Edgar, amidst all the wild imagery which his imagination has accumulated, never touching on the true source of his misery, whilst Lear, on the contrary, finds it associated with every object and every thought, however distant or dissimilar. Not even the Orestes of Euripides, or the Clementina of Richardson, can, as pictures of dis- ordered reason, be placed in competition with this of Lear ; it may be pronounced, indeed, from its truth and completeness, beyond the reach of rivalry.'* An anonymous writer, who has instituted a compari- son between the Lear of Shakspeare and the CEdipus of Sophocles, and justly given the palm to the former, closes his essay with the following sentence, to which every reader of taste and feeling will subscribe : — ' There is no detached character in Shakspeare's writ- ings which displays so vividly as this the hand and mind of a master ; which exhibits so great a variety of excel- lence, and such amazing powers of delineation ; so in- timate a knowledge of the human heart, with such ex- * Drake's Shakspeare and his Times, vol. ii. p. 460. act skill in tracing the progress and the effects of its more violent and more delicate passions. It is in the management of this character more especially that ha fills up that grand idea of a perfect poet, which we de- light to image to ourselves, but despair of seeing re- alised, 'f In the same work from whence this is extracted will be found an article, entitled ' Theatralia,' attributed to the pen of Mr. Charles Lamb, in which are the follow- ing striking animadversions on the liberty taken in changing the catastrophe of this tragedy in representa- tion. ' The Lear of Shakspeare cannot be acted. The contemptible machinery with which they mimic the storm he goes out in, is not more inadequate to repre- sent the horrors of the real elements, than any actor can be to represent Lear. The greatness of Lear i3 not in corporal dimension, but in intellectual : the ex- plosions of his passions are terrible as a volcano ; they are storms turning up and disclosing to the bottom that rich sea, his mind, with all its vast riches : it is his mind which is laid bare. This case of flesh and blood seems too insignificant to be thought on ; even as he himself neglects it. On the stage we see nothing but corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence of age ; while we read it we see not Lear, but we are Lear; — we are in his mind ; we .are sustained by a grandeur, which baffles the malice of his daughters and storms ; in the aberrations of his reason, we dis cover a mighty irregular power of reasoning, unme- thodised from the ordinary purposes of life, but exert ing its powers, as the wind blows where it listeth, at will on the corruptions and abuses of mankind, What have looks or tones to do with that sublime identifica tion of his age with that of the, heavens themselves, when, in his reproaches to them for conniving at the injustice of his children, he reminds them that ' they themselves are old 1" What gesture shall we appro priate to this ? What has voice or the eye to do with such things ? But the play is beyond all art, as the tamperings with it show ; it is too hard and stony ', it must have love-scenes, and a happy ending. It is not enough that Cordelia is a daughter, she must shine as a lover too. Fate has put his hook in the nostrils of this Leviathan, for Garrick and his followers, the showmen of the scene, to draw it about more easily. A happy ending !— as if the living martyrdom that Lear had gone through, the flaying of his feelings alive, did not make a fair dismissal from the stage of life the only- decorous thing for him. If he is to live and be happy after, if he could sustain this world's burden after, why all this pudder and preparation— why torment us with all this unnecessary sympathy ? As if the childish pleasure of getting his gilt robes and sceptre again, could tempt him to act over again his misused station, — ■as if at his years, and with his experience, any thing was left but to die.' t The Reflector, vol. ii. p. 139, on Greek and Eng- lish Tragedy. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Lear, King of Britain. King o/~France. Duke of Burgundy. Duke o/Cornwall. Duke of Albany. Earl o/Kent. Earl o/Gloster. Edgar, Son to Gloster. Edmund, Bastard Son to Gloster, * Curan, a Courtier. Old Man, Tenant to Gloster. Physician. Fool. Oswald, Steward to Goneril. An Officer, employed by Edmund. Gentleman, Attendant on Cordelia. A Herald. Servants to Cornwall. Goneril, Regaj CORDEI Knights attending on the King, Officers, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants. SCENE— Britain. SRIL, ) in, s n 3ELIA, ) aughters to Lear. ACT I. SCENE I. A Room of State in King Lear's Palace. Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmund. Kent. 1 thought the king had more affected the duke of Albany, than Cornwall. 1 There is something of obscurity or inaccuracy in this preparatory scene. The king has already divided his kingdom, anil yet when he enters, he examines his daughters to discover in what proportions he should di- vide it. Perhaps Kent and Gloster only were privy to 2 Z Glo. It did always seem so to us : but now, in the division of the kingdom, 1 it appears not which of the dukes he values most ; for equalities are so weigh'd, that curiosity 2 in neither can make choice of either's moiety. 3 Kent. Is not this your son, my lord ? his design, which he still kept in his own hands, to be changed or performed as subsequent reasons should de- termine him. — Johnson. 2 Curiosity is scrupulous exactness, finical precision, 3 Moiety is used by Shakspeare for pan or portion. 394 KING LEAR. Act I. Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge : I have so often blush'd to acKnowledge him, that How I am brazed to it. Kent. I cannot conceive you. Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could : whereupon she grew round-wombed ; and had, in- deed, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a hus- band for her bed. Do you smell a fault ? Kent, I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue or it being so proper. 1 Glo. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year 2 elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account : though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair ; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. — Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord. Glo. My lord of Kent : remember him hereafter as my honourable friend. Earn. My services to your lordship. Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better. Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again : — The king is coming. [Trumpets sound vitltin. Enter Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants. Lear. Attend the lords of Franco and Burgundy, Gloster. Glo. I shall, mv liege. [Exeunt Gloster, cmd Bdmuwd. Lear. Mean time we shall express our darker 3 purpose. Give me the map there. — Know, that we have divided, In three, our kingdom : and 'tis our fast intent* To shake all cares and business from our a<;e ; Conferring 5 them on younger strengths, while we Unburden'd crawl toward death. — Our son of Corn- wall, And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will 6 to publish Otw daughters, several dowers, that futon- strife May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Long in our court have made 1 1 >< ■ i r amorous sojourn, And here are to be answer'd. — Tell me, my daughters (Since now we will divest us, both of rule, Intrrest of territory, cares of state,") Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most ? That we our largest bounty may extend 1 Proper is comely, band 2 i.e. ' about a yew elder.* 3 ' We shall express our darker purpose ;' that is. ■ we have already made known our desire ofpartingthe kingdom ; we will now discover what has not been told befere, the reasons by which we shall regulate the par- tition.' This interpretation will justify or palliate the exordial dialogue.— Jbhnaon. 4 i. e. our determined resolution. The quartos read, 'first intent. 5 The quartos read, confirming. 6 Cousin/it will, which is a confirmation of the read- in? 'fast intent,' means a firm, determined will : K is the certa voluntas of Virgil The lines from while ue to prevented note are omitted in the quartos. 7 The two lines in a parenthesis are omitted in the quartos. 8 ' Beyond all assignable quantity. I love you beyond limits, and cannot say it is so much ; for how much so- ever I should name, it would yet be more.' Thus Rowe, in his Fair Penitent, Sc. 1 : — ' — : I can only Swear you reign here, but never tell hoir> much." 1 9 i. e. enriched^ So Drant in his translation of Ho- race's Epistles, 1567: — ' To rilch his country, let his words lyke flowing water fall.' 10 That is, ' estimate me at her value, my love has at least equal claim to your favour. Only she comes short (fme in this, that I profess myself an enemy to all other Where merit doth most challenge it. — Goneril, Our eldest-born, speak first. Gon. Sir, I Do lqve you more than words can wield the matter Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty ; Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour : As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found. A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable : Beyond all manner of so much I love you." Cor. What shall Cordelia do ? Love, and be silent. [Aside. Lear. Of all -these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, 9 With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady : To thine and Albany's issue Be this perpetual. — What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall ? Speak. Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister,. And prize me at her worth. 10 In my true heart I find, she names my very deed of love ; Only she comes too short, — that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys;, Which the most precious square of sense possesses ; And find I am alone felicitate In your dear highness' love. Cor. Then poor Cordelia ! [Aside. And yet not so ; since, I am sure, my love's More richer than mv tongue. Leai . To thee, and thine, hereditary ever, Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom ; No less ia space, validity, 1 ' and pleasure, Than that oonferr'd 13 on Goneril. — Now, our joy, ^Jthough the last, not least ; to whose young love The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, Strive to be interess'd : 13 what can you say, to draw A third mere opulent than your sisters ? Speak. Cor. Nothing, my lord. Lear. Nothing ? ' Cor. Nothing. Ijcar. Nothing can come of nothing : speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty Accordins to my bond ; nor more, nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia ? mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes. Cor. Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me : I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say, They love you, all ? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord, whose hand must take my plight,, shal carry Half my love with him, half my care, and duty :'* joys which the most precious aggregation of sense can bestow.' Square is here used for the whole complement! as circle is now sometimes used. 11 Validity is several times used to signify worth, riihn s, by Snakspeare. It does not, however, appear to have been peculiar to him in this sense. 'The. countenance of your friend is of less value than his council, yet both of very small validity.' — The Devil's Charter, 1607. 13 The folio reads conferred; the quartos, confirm'/}. So in a former passage we have in the quartos con- firming for conjerring. ' To confirm on a person is "certainly not English now (says Mr. Boswell ;) but it does not follow that such was the case in Shakspeare's time. The original meaning of the word to establish would easily bear such a construction.' 13 To interest and to inleresse are not, perhaps, dif ferent spellings of the same verb, but two distinct words, though of the"same import ; the one being derived from the Latin, the other from the French interesser. We have interess'd in Ben Jonson's Sejanus : — ' Our sacred laws and just authority Are i?iteress'd therein.' Drayton also uses the wordin the Preface to his Polyol Won. 14 So in the Mirror for Magistrates. 1537, Cordelia says--- Scene I. KING LEAR. 395 Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, To lave my father all. Lear. But goes this with thy heart ? Cor. Ay, good my lord. Lear. So young, and so untender ? Cor. So young, my lord, and true. Lear. Let it be so, — Thy truth then be thy dower : For, by the sacred radiance of the sun , The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; By all the operations of the orbs, From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee, from this, 1 for ever. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation 2 messes To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, As thou my sometime daughter. Kent. Good my liege, Lear. Peace, Kent ! Come not between the dragon and his wrath : I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my sight ! [To Cordelia. So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her father's heart from her! — Call France ; — Who stirs ? Call Burgundy. — Cornwall, and Albany, With my two daughters' dowers digest fhis third : Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. I do invest you jointly with my power, Pre-eminence, and all the large effects That troop with majesty. — Ourself, by monthly course, With reservation of a hundred knights, By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain The name, and all the additions 3 to a king ; The sway, Revenue, execution of the rest,* Beloved sons, be yours : which to confirm, This coronet part between you. [Giving the Crown. Kent. Royal Lear, Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, As my great patron thought on in my prayers,* Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart : be Kent unmannerly, When Lear is mad. What would'st thou do, old man ? Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honour's bound, ' Nature so doth bind rri e, and compel To love you as I ought, my father, well ; Yet shortly may I chance, if fortune will, To find in heart to bear another more good will : Thus much I said of nuptial loves that meant.' 1 i. e. from this time. 2 His children. 3 ' All the titles belonging to a king.' * 4 By ' the execution of the rest,' all the other functions of the kingly office are probably meant. 5 The allusion is probably to the custom of clergymen praying for their patrons in what is called the bidding prayer. 6 The folio reads, 'reserve thy state;' and has stoops instead of 'falls to folly.' The meaning of answer my life my judgment, is, Let my life be answer- able fur my judgment, or I will stake my life on my opinion. 1 This is perhaps a word of the poet's own, meaning the same as reverberates. 8 That is, ' I never regarded my life as my own, but merely as a thing of which I had the possession, and not the property ; and which was entrusted to me as a pawnor pledge, To be employed in waging war against your enemies.' ' To wage,'' says Bullokar, 'to under- take, or give security for performance of any thing.' The expression to wage against is used in a letter from Guil. Webbe to Root. Wilinot, prefixed to Tan- When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom ;• And, in thy best consideration, check This hideous rashness : answer my life my judg- ment, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ; Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sound Reverbs' no hollowness. Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more. Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thine enemies, 8 nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being the motive. Lear. Out of my sight! Kent. See better, Lear, and let me still remain The true blank 9 of thine eye. Lear. Now, by Apollo, Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. Lear. O, vassal ! miscreant ! [Laying his Hand on his Sword, Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear. Kent. Do; Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, I'll tell thee, thou dost evil. Lear. Hear me, recreant ? On thine allegiance, hear me ! — Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, (Which we durst never yet,) and, with stram'd pride, To come betwixt our sentence and our power, (Which nor our nature nor our place can bear;) Our potency made 10 good, take thy reward. Five days we do allot thee, for provision To shield thee from diseases 1 ' of the world ; And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom : if, on the tenth day following, Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death. Away ! By Jupiter, This shall not be revok'd. Kent. Fare thee well, king : since thus thou wilt appear, Freedom 12 lives hence, and banishment is here. The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, [To Cordelia That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said ! — And your large speeches, may your deeds approve, [To Regan and Goneril. That good effects may spring from words of love.— Thus Kent, O, princes, bids you all adieu ; He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. Re-enter Geoster ; with France, Burgundy, and Attendants. Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. Lear. My lord of Burgundy, We first address towards you, who with this king Hath rivall'd for our daughter ; What, in the least, credandGismund, 1592:— 'You shall not be able to wage against me in the charges growing upon this action.' George Wither, in his verses before the Polyolbion, says : — ' Good speed befall thee who hath wag^d a task That better censures and rewards doth ask.' 9 The blank is the mark at which met) shoot. ' See better,' says Kent, 'and let me be the mark to direct your sight, that you err not.' 10 ' As you have with unreasonable pride come be- tween our sentence and our power to execute it : that power shall be made good by rewarding thy contumacy with a sentence of banishment.' In Othello we nave nearly the same language : — ' My spirit and my place have in them power To make this better to thee.' One of the quartos reads, ' make good.' 11 Thus the quartos. The folio reads, disasters. By the diseases of the world are meant, the uneasinesses, inconveniences, and slighter troubles ordistresses of the world. So in King Henry VI. Part 1. Act ii. Sc. 5 : - ' And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease.'' The provision that Kent could make in five days might in some measure guard against such diseases of the world but could not shield him from its disas ters. 12 The quartos read, '■Friendship.' 1 And in the next line, instead of ' dear shelter,' 'protection ' 896 KING LEAR. Act I. Will you require in present dower with her, Or cease your quest of love ?' Bur. ' Most royal majesty, I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd, Nor will you tender less. Lear. Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so ; But now her price is fall'n : Sir, there she stands ; If aught within that little, seeming 2 substance, Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, She's there, and she is yours. Bur. I know no answer. Lear. Sir, Will you, with those infirmities she owes, 3 Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Dower' d with our curse,and stranger'd with our oath, Take her, or leave her ? Bur. Pardon me, royal sir ; Election makes not up 4 on such conditions. Lear. Then leave her, sir ; for, by the power that made me, I tell you al! her wealth. — For you, great king, [To France. I would not from your love make such a stray, To match you where I hate ; therefore beseech you To avert your liking a more worthier way, Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd Almost to acknowledge hers. France. This is most strange ! That she, that even but now was your best object, The :irgumeut of your praise, balm of your age, Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time Corami; a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of favour! Sure, her otTence Must be of such unnatural degree, That monsters it, s or your fore-vouch'd afTection Fall into taint : s which to believe of her, Must be a faith, that reason without miracle Could never plant in me. Cor. I yt't beseech your majesty, (If for' I want that glib and oily art, To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, No unchaste 8 action, or dishonour'd step, That hath depriv'd me of your gram and favour : But even for want of that," for which I am richer ; A still-solicit ins eve, and such a tongue That I am glad I have not, though not to have it, Hath lost me in your liking. Lear. Better thou Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better. France. Is it but this ? a tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke, 1 That is, 'your amorous pursuit.' A quest is a seeking or pursuit : the expedition in which, a knight was engaged is often so named in the Faerie Queen. 2 Seeming here means specious. Thus in The Merry Wives of Windsor :—' Pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming mistress Page.' 3 i. e. owns, is possessed of. 4 That is, ' Election is not accomplished upon such conditions,' I cannot decide rmake her upon such terms. 5 ' Such unnatural degree T/icit monsters it.' In the phraseology of Shakspeare's age that and as were convertible words. So in Coriolanus : — ' But with such words that are but rooted in Your tonsue.' See Julius Caisar, Act i. Sc. 2. The uncommon verb lo monster, occurs again in Coriolanus, Act ii. Sc. 2 : — ' To hear my nothings monster , d.'' 6 Her offence must be monstrous, or the former affection whieh you professed for her must fall into taint; that is, become the subject of reproach. Taint is here only an abbreviation of attaint. 7 i. e. ' If cause I want,' &.C. 8 The quartos read, ' no unclean action,' which in fact carries the same sense. 9 i. e. with cautious and pruden tial considerations. — The folio has regards. The meaning of the passage is, that his love wants something to mark its sincerity, — ' Who seeks for aught in love but love alone.' That it intends to do ? — My lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady ? Love is not love, When it is mingled with respects, 9 that stand Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry. Bur. Royal Lear, Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Duchess of Burgundy. . Lear. Nothing : I have sworn : I am firm. Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father That you must lose a husband. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife. France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor ; Most choice, forsaken ; and most lov'd, despis'd ! Thee, and thy virtues here I seize upon : Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away. Gods, gods ! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect, My love should kindle to inflam'd respect. — Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair Fiance : Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy Shall buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.— Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind : Thou loscsl here a -better where" 1 to find, [for we Lear. Thou hast her, France : let her be thine ; Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again : — Therefore be gone, Without our grace, our love, our benizon. — Come, noble Burgundy. [Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Corn- wall, Albany, Glosteh, and Attendants. France. Bid farewell to your sisters. Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes Cordelia leaves you ; I know you what you are : And, like a sister, am most loath to call Your faults, as they are navn'd. Use well our father: To your professed" bosoms I commit him : But vet, alas ! stood I within his grace, I would prefer him to a better place. So farewell to you both. Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. Reg. Let your study Be, to content your lord ; who hath receiv'd you At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted." Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited' 3 cunning hides ; Who cover faults, 1 * at last shame them derides. Well may you prosper! 10 Here and where have the power of nouns. 'Thou losest this residence, to find a better residence in another place.' So in Churchyard's Farewell to the World, 1592 :— ' That crowes not here, takes root in other where.'' 11 AVe have here professed for professing. It has been elsewhere observed that Shakspeare often uses one participle for another. Thus in the Merchant of Ve- nice, Act iii. Sc. 2, we have railed lor railing ; in other places, delighted for delighting, &c. A remarkable in stance of the converse occurs in Antony an All my estate or property. 7 It has already been shown that brach was a man- nerly name for a bitch. So Hotspur, in The Second Part of King Henry IV. says : — ' I would rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish.' 8 That is, ' do not lend all that thou hast.' To owe in ancient language is to possess. 9 To trow is to believe. The precept is admirable. Set in the next line means stake. 10 The passage in brackets is omitted in the folio, perhaps for political reasons, as it seem to censure tha monopolies, the gross abuses of which, and the cor- ruption and avarice of the courtiers, who went shares with the patentee, were more legitimate than safe ob- jects of satire. 11 ' There never was a time when fools were less in favour ; and the reason is, that they were never so little wanted, for wise men now supply their place.' — In Mother Bombie, a Comedy, by Lyly, 1594, we find ' I think gentlemen had never less vrit in a year.' It is remarkable that the quartos read ' less icit,' instead of ' less grace,'' which is the reading ol'the folio &CEWE IV. KING LEAR. «K gavest them the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches, Then they for sudden joy did weep. [Singing. And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play bo-peep, And go the fools among. 1 Pr'ythee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to lie ; I would fain learn to lie. Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. Fool. I marvel, what kin thou and thy daughters are : they'll have me whipp'd for speaking true, thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying ; and, sometimes, I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather be any kind of thing, than a fool : and yet I would not be thee, nuncle ; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, and left nothing in the middle : Here comes one o' the parings. <• Enter Goneril. Lear. How now, daughter ! what makes that frontlet 2 on ? Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow, when thou had'st no need to care for her frowning ; now thou art an O 3 without a figure : I am better than thou art now ; I am a fool, thou art nothing. — Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue ! so your face [To Gon.] bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, He that keeps nor crust nor crum, Weary of all, shall want some. That's a shealed peascod. 4 [Pointing to Lear. Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-iicens'd fool, But other of your insolent retinue Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, I had thought by making this well known unto you, To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful, By what yourself too late have spoke and done, That you protect this course, and put it on 5 By your allowance ; which if you should, the fault Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep ; Which in the tender of a wholesome weal, Might in their working do you that offence, Which else were shame, that then necessity Will call discreet proceeding. Fool. For you trow, nuncle, The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, That it had its head bit off by its young. So, out went the candle and we were left darkling. 6 1 So in the Rape of Lucrece, by Heywood, 160S: — ' When Tarquin first in court began, And was approved king, Some men for sodden joy gan iceep, j Jind I for sorrow sing.' 2 X frontlet, or forehead cloth, was worn by ladies of old to prevent wrinkles. So in George Chapman's Hero and Leander, ad finem : — ' E'en like the forehead cloth that in the night, Or when they sorrow, ladies us'd to wear.' Thus also in Zepheria, a collection of Sonnets, 4to. 1594 :— ' But now, my sunne, it fits thou take thy set And vayle thy face with froipneb as with a frontlet.'' And in Iiyly's Euphues and his England, 15S0: — ' The next day coming to the gallery where she was solitary walking, with her frowning cloth, as sicke lately of the Eullens,' &c. 3 i. e. a cipher. 4 Now a mere husk that contains nothing. The ro- bing of Richard II. 's elYtsy in Westminster Abbey is wrought v,mh peascods open and {he peas out; perhaps an allusion to his being once in full possession of sove- reignty, but soon reduced to an empty title. See Cam- den's Remaines, 1674, p. 453, edit. 1657, p. 340. 5 Put it on, that is, promote it, push it forward. Jll- lowance is approbation. 6 ' Shakspeare's fools are. certainly copied from the life. The originals whom he copied were no doubt men of quick parts ; lively and sarcastic. Though they were licensed to say any thing, it was still necessary, to prevent giving offence^ that every thing they said should have a playful air : we may suppose therefore that they had a custom of taking off the edge of too sharp a speech by covering it nastily with the end of an old song, or any glib nonsense that came into their mind. I know no other way of accounting for the incoherent 59 Lear. Are you our daughter? Gon. Come, sir,' I would you would make use of that good wisdom whereof I know you are fraught ; and put away these dispositions, which of late trans- form you from what you rightly are. Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse ? Whoop, Jug ! I love thee. Lear. Does any here know me ? — Why, this is not Lear: does Lear walk thus? speak thus ? Where are his eyes ? Either his notion weakens, or his dis- cernings arc lethargied. — Sleeping or waking?— Ha ! sure 'tis not so. — Who is it that can tell me who I am? Fool. Lear's shadow, Lear. [I would learn that ; for by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded I had daughters. Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.] Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman ? Gon. Come, sir ; This admiration is much o' the favour 9 Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright : As you are old and reverend, you should be wise : Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires , Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd, and bold, That this our court, infected with their manners, Shows like a riotous inn : epicurism and lust Make it more like a tavern or a brothel, Than a grae'd palace. The shame itself doth speak For instant remedy : Be then desir'd By her that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train : And the remainder, that shall still depend, 10 To be such men as may besort your age, And know themselves and you. Lear. Darkness and devils !— Saddle my horses ; call my train together. — Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee ; Yet have I left a daughter. [rabble Gon. You strike my people ; and your disorder'd Make servants of their betters. Enter Albany. Lear. Wo, that too late repents, 11 — O, sir, are you come? words with which Shakspeare often finishes this fool's speeches.' — Sir Joshua Reynolds. In a very old dra- ma, entitled The Longer thou Livest the more Foole thou art, printed about 1580, we find the following stage direction : — 'Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vaine ges- ture and a foolish countenance, singing the foote. of many songs, as fools were wont.'' 7 The folio omits these words, and reads the rest of the speech, perhaps rightly, as verse. 8 This passage has been erroneously printed in all the late editions. ' Who is it can tell me who I amr 1 says Lear. In the folio the reply, 'Lear's shadow,' is rightly given to the Fool, but the latter part of the speech of Lear is omitted in that copy. Lear heeds not what the Fool replies to his question, but continues : — 'Were I to judge from the marks of sovereignty, 6f knowledge, or of reason, I should be induced to think I had daugh- ters, yet that must be a false persuasion ;— it cannot be — .' The Fool seizes the pause in Lear's speech to continue his interrupted reply to Lear's question : he had before said, ' You are Lear's shadow ;' he now adds, ' which they (i. e. your daughters,) will make an obedient father.' Lear heeds him not in his emotion, but addresses Goneril with ' Your name, fair gentlewo man.' It is remarkable that the continuation of Lear's speech, and the continuation of the Fool's comment, is omitted in the folio copy. 9 i. e. of the complexion. So in Julius Caesar: — ' In favour's like the work we have in hand.' 10 i. e. continue in service. So in Measure for Mea sure : — 'Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending.' 11 One of the quar'o copies reads, ' We that too late repents us.' The others, ' We that too late repents." This may have been suggested by the Mirrour for Ma- gistrates : — ' They call him doting foole, all his requests debarr'd Demanding if with life he were not well cor tent: Then he too late his rigour did repent Gainst me.' Story of Qzjmw Cordelia. 402 KING LEAR. Act L Is it your will? [To Alb.] Speak, sir. — Prepare my horses. Ingratitude ! thou marble-hearted fiend, More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, Than the sea-monster! 1 Alb. 'Pray, sir, be patient. Lear. Detested kite ! thouliest: [To Gonerii,. My train are men of choice and rarest parts, That all particulars of duty know : And in the most exact regard support The worships of their name. — O, most small fault, How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show ! Which, like an engine, 2 wrench'd my frame of na- ture From the fix'd place ; drew from my heart all love, And added to the gall. O, Lear, Lear, Lear ! Beat at this gate that let thy folly in, [Striking his Head. And thy dear judgment out. — Go, go, my people. Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant Of what hath mov'd you. Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Hear, nature, hear ; Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase ; And from her derogate 3 body never spring A babe to honour her! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen ; that it may live, And be a thwart 4 disnatur'd torment to her ! Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ; With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks : Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits,* To laughter and Contempt ; that she may feel How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is* To have a thankless child ! — Away ! away ! [Exit. Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof comes this? Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause ; But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it. Re-enter Lear. Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap* Within a fortnight? Alb. What's the matter, sir ? Lear. I'll tell thee ; — Life and death ! I am asham'd That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus : [To GoNERIL. That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and fogs upon thee ! The untented 7 woundings of a father's curse Pierce every sense about thee ! — Old fond eyes, Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out ; And cast' you, with the waters that you lose, To temper clay. — Ha ! is it come to this ? 1 The sea monster is the hippopotamus, the hiero- glyphical symbol of impiety and ingratitude. Sandys, in his Travels, says, ' that he killeth his sire, and ra- visheth his own dam.' 2 By an engine the rack is here intended. So in The Night Walker, by Beaumont and Fletcher : — ' Their souls shot through with adders, torn on engines.' 3 Derogate here means degenerate, degraded. 4 Thwart as a noun adjective is not frequent in our language. It is to be found, however, in Promos and Cassandra, 157S : — ' Sith fortune thtvart doth crosse my joys with care.' Visnatured is wanting natural affection. So Daniel, in Hymen's Triumph, 1623: — 'I am not so disnatur'd a man.' 5 ' Pains and benefits,' in this place, signify mater- nal cares and good offices. 6 So in ¥salm cxl. 3 : — ' They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent ; adder's poison is under their lips.' The viper was the emblem of ingratitude. 7 The untented woundings are the rankling or never healing wounds inflicted by a parental malediction. Tents are well known dressings inserted into wounds as a preparative to healing them. Shakspeare quibbles upon ibis surgiial practice in Troilus and Cressida : — • Fatr. Who keeps the tent now ?' 1 1'her. The surgeon's box, or the patient's icound,'' Let it be so: — Yet have I left a daughter, Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable ; When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails She'll flay thy wolfish visage. Thou shalt find. That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.* [Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants Gon. Do you mark that, my lord ? Alb. I cannot be so partial, Gonerii, To the great love I bear you, Gon. 'Pray you, content. — What Oswald, ho ! You sir, more knave than fool, after your master. [To the Fool Fool. Nuncle Lear, nunclc Lear, tarry, and take the fool with thee. A fox, when one has caught her, And such a daughter, Should sure to the slaughter, If my cap would buy a halter ; So the fool follows after. [Exit. Gon. 3 [This man hath had good counsel : — A hundred knights ! 'Tis politic, and safe, to let him keep At point, 10 a hundred knights ! Yes, that on every dream, Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, He may enguard his dotage with their powers, And hold our lives in mercy.] Oswald, I say !- • Alb. Well, you may fear too far. Gon. Safer than trust too far : Let me still take away the harms I fear, Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart : What he hath utter'd, I have writ my sister ; If she sustain him and his hundred knights, When I have show'd the unfitness, — How now", Oswald ? Enter Steward. What, have you writ that letter to my sister ? Stew. Ay, madam. Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse : Inform her full of my particular fear ; And thereto add such reasons of your own, As may compact it more. Get you gone , And hasten your return. [Exit Stew.] No, no, my lord, This milky gentleness, and course of yours, Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon, You are much more attask'd 1 ' for want of wisdom, Than prais'd for harmful mildness. Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell ; Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. 12 Gon. Nay, then, Alb. Well, well ; the event. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Court before the same. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. Lear. Go you before to Gloster with these let- ters : acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you know, than comes from her demand out of the letter : If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there before you. 13 8 This speech is gleaned partly from the folios and partly from the quartos. The omissions in the one and the other are not of sufficient importance to trouble the reader with a separate notice of each. 9 All within brackets is omitted in the quartos. 10 Jit point probably means completely armed, and consequently ready at appointment on the slightest notice. 11 The word task is frequently used by Shakspeare and his contemporaries in the sense of tax. Gonerii means to say, that he was more taxed for want of wisdom, than praised for mildness. So in The Island Princess of Beaumont and Fletcher, Quisana says to Ituy Dias : — ' You are too saucy, too impudent, To task me with these errors.' 12 ' Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, To mar the subject that before was well ? 13 The word there in this speech shows that when the king says, 'Go you before to Glcster,' he means the town of Gloster, which Shakspeare chose to make the residence of the Duke of Cornwall, to increase the pro- bability of their setting out late from thence on a visit to Scene V. KING LEAR. 403 Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have de- livered your letter. [Exit. Fool. If a man's brains were in his heels, were't not in danger of kibes? Lear. Ay, boy. Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry ; thy wit shall not go slip-shod, Lear. Ha, ha, ha ! Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee kindly; 1 for though she's as like this as a crab is like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy ? Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell, why one's nose stands Pthe middle of his face ? Lear. No. Fool. Why, to keep his eyes on either side his nose ; that what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into. Lear. I did her wrong : 2 Fool. Can'st tell how an oyster makes his shell? Lear. No. Fool. Nor I neither ; but I can tell why a snail has a house. Lear, Why? Fool. Why, to put his head in : not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case. Lear. I will forget my nature. — So kind a father ! —Be my horses ready ? Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The rea- son why the seven stars are no more than seven, is a pretty reason. Lear. Because they are not eight ? Fool. Yes, indeed : Thou wouldest make a good fool. Lear. To take it again perforce! 3 — Monster in- gratitude ! Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time. Lear. How's that ? Fool. Thou should'st not have been old, before thou hadst been wise. Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven ! Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad ! — Enter Gentleman. How now ! Are the horses ready ? Gent. Ready, my lord. Lear. Come, boy. FooL She that is maid now, and laughs at my de- parture, Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter. 4 [Exeunt. the Earl of Gloster. Our old English earls usually resided in the counties from whence they took their titles. Lear, not finding his son-in-law and his wife at home, follows them to the earl of Gloster's casile. 1 The Fool quibbles, using the word kindly in two senses ; as it means affectionately, and like the rest of her kind, or after their nature. 2 He is musing on Cordelia. 3 The subject of Lear's meditation is the resumption of that moiety of the kingdom he had bestowed on Goneril. This was what Albany apprehended, when he replied to the upbraidings of his wife : — ' Well, well : the event.' What Lear himself projected when he left Goneril to go to Regan : — ' — Thou shalt find That Ttl resume the shape, which thou dost think T have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.' And what Curan afterwards refers to, when he asks Edmund : — ' Have you heard of no likely wars toward, twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ?' 4 This idle couplet (apparently addressed to the females present at the representation of the play) most probably crept into the playhouse copy from the mouth of some buffoon actor who ' spoke more than was set down for him ' The severity with which the poet animadverts upon the mummeries and jokes of the clowns of his time (see Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2) manifests that he had suffered by their indiscretion. Indecent jokes, which the applause of the groundlings occasion- ed to be repeated, would at last find their way into the ACT II. SCENE I. A Court within the Castle of the Earl tf Gloster. Enter E.dmvhd and Cvras, meeting. Edm. Save thee, Curan. Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice, that the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his duchess, will be here with him to- night. Edm. How comes that ? Cur. Nay, I know not : You have heard of the news abroad : I mean, the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments ? s Edm. Not I ; 'Pray you, what are they ? Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 8 'twi.xt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ? Edm. Not a word. Cur. You may, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. [Exit. Edm. The duke be here to-night ? The better ! Best ! This weaves itself perforce into my business ! My father hath set guard to take my brother ; And I have one thing, of a queasy' question, Which 1 must act : — Briefness, and fortune, work !— Brother, a word ; descend : — Brother, I say ; Enter Edgar. My father watches : — O, sir, fly this place ; Intelligence is given where you are hid ; You have now the good advantage of the night : — Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ? He's coming hither ; now, i' the night, i' the haste, And Regan with him ; Have you nothing said Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany ? 8 Advise 9 yourself. Edg. I am sure on't, not a word. Edm. I hear my father coming, — Pardon me :— • In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you : — Draw : Seem to defend yourself : Now quit you well. Yield : — come before my father ; — Light, ho, here ' Fly, brother ; — Torches ! Torches ! — So fareweL [Exit Edgak Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion [ Wounds his Arm. Of my more fierce endeavour : I have seen drunkards Do more than this in sport. 10 — Father! Father! Stop, stop! No help? Enter Gloster, and Servants with Torches. Glo. Now, Edmund, where's the villain ? Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon To stand his auspicious mistress: 11 — Glo. But where is he ? Edm. Look, sir, I bleed. Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund ? prompter's books, &c. Such liberties were indeed exer- cised by the authors of Locrine, &c. but such another offensive and extraneous address to the audience cannot be pointed out among all the dramas of Shakspeare. 5 Ear-kissing arguments means that they are yet in reality only whispered ones. 6 This and the following speech are omitted in the quarto B. 7 Queasy appears to mean here delicate, unsettled. So Ben Jonson, in Sejanus : — ' These times are rather queasy to be touched.- Have you not seen or read part of his book ?' Queasy is still in use to express that sickishness of stomach which the slightest disgust is apt to provoke. 8 Have you said nothing upon the party formed by him against the Duke of Albany? 9 i. e. consider, recollect yourself. 10 These drunken feats are mentioned in Marston's Dutch Courtezan : — ' Have I not been drunk for your health, eat glasses, drunk wine, stabbed arms, and done all offices of protested gallantry for your sake ?' 11 This was a proper circumstance to urge to Gloster who appears to have been very superstitious with regard to this matter, if we may judge by what passes jetween him and his son ia a foregoing scene KING LEAR, Act H„ Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could Glo. Pursue him, ho! — Go after. — [Exit Serv.] By no means, — what ? Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship ; But that I told him, the revenging gods 'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend ; Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond The child was bound to the father ; — Sir, in fine, Seeing how loathly opposite I stood To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, With his prepared sword, he charges home My unprovided body, lanc'd mine arm : But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to the encounter, Or whether gasted 1 by the noise I made, Full suddenly he fled. Glo. Let him fly far : Not in this land shall he remain uncaught ; And found — Despatch. 2 — The noble duke my mas- ter, My worthy arch 3 and patron, comes to-night : By his authority I will proclaim it, That he, which finds him, shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ; He, that conceals him, death. Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent, And found him night to do it, with curst speech ;* I threaten'd to discover him : He replied, Thou unpossessing bastard ! dost thou think, If I would stand against thee, would the reposal* Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee JHake thy words faith'd ! No : what I should deny, (As this I would ; ay, though thou didst produce illy very character*) I'd turn it all To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice : And thou must make a dullard of the world, If they not thought the profits of my death Were very pregnant and potential spurs 7 To make thee seek it. Glo. Strong and fastcn'd villain ; Would he deny his letter?— I never got him. [Trum]iits within. Hark, the duke's trumpets ! I know not why he comes : — All ports I'll bar ; the villain shall not 'scape ; The duke must grant me that : besides, his picture I will send fir and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him ; and of my land, Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means' To make thee capable. Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendant. Corn. How now, my noble friend ? since I came hither (Which. I can call but now,) I have heard strange news. Reg. If it be true, all venseance comes too short, Which can pursue the offender. How dost, myAord? Glo.O, madam, myoldheartiscrack'd,iscrack'd! 1 That is aghasted, frighted. Thus in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at Several Weapons :—' Either the sight of ihe lady has pasted him, or else he's drunk.' •2 'And found— Despatch. — The noble duke.' &c. — . The sense is interrupted. He shall be caught — and found, he shall be punished. Despatch. 3 i. e. chief : a word now only used in composition, as arch-ansel. arcli-duke, &c. So in Heywood's If You Know Not Me, You Know Nobody :— ' Poole, that arch of truth and honesty.' 4 * And found him pight to do it, with curst speech.' Pight is pitched, fixed, settled; curst is vehemently angry, bitter. ' Therefore my heart is surely pight Of her alone to have a sight.' Lusty Juvenilis, 1561. ' He did with a very curste taunte, checke, and re- buke the feloe.' — Erasmus's Jlpophthezmes, by N. Udal, h. 47. o i. e. would any opinion that men have reposed in thy trust, virtue, &c. The old quarto reads, ' could the reposure.' 6 i. e. my hand-writing, my signature. 7 The folio reads, ; potential 'spirits.' And in the ne.xt line but one, ' O strange and fastened villain.'— Reg. What, did my father's godson seek your life? He whom' my father nam'd ? your Edgar ? Glo. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid ! Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights That tend upon my father ? Glo. I know not, madam : It is too bad, too bad. — Edm. Yes, madam, he was. Reg. No marvel, then, though he were ill affected ; 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, To have the waste and spoil of his revenues. I have this present evening from my sister Been well inform'd of them ; and with such cautions, That, if they come to sojourn at my house, I'll not be there. Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father A child-like office. Edm. 'Twas my duty, sir. Glo. He did bewray his practioe, 3 and recerv'd This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. Corn. Is he pursued ? Glo. Ay, my good lord, he is. Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more Be fear'd of doing harm : make vour own purpose, How in my strength you please. — For you, Edmund, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours ; Natures of such deep trust we shall much need ; You we first seize on. Edm. I shall serve you, sir, Truly, however else. Glo. For him I thank your grace. Corn. You know not why we came to vrsft yon. Reg. Thus out of season ; threading dark-ey'd night. Occasions, noble Gloster, of some porze,' Wherein we must have use of your advice :— Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, Of differences, which I best thought it fit To answer from our home;" the several messengers From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend. Lay comforts to your bosom ; and bestow Your neodful counsel to our business, Which craves the instant use. Glo. I serve you, madam : Your graces are right welcome* [Exeunt, SCENE II. Before Gloster's Castle. Enter Kent and Steward, severally. Stem. Gooddawning 12 to thee, friend: Art of the house? Kent. Ay. Stew. Where may we set our horses? Km/. I' the mire. Slew. 'Pr'ythee, if thou love me, tell me. Ki nt. I love thee not. Slew. Why, then I care not for thee. Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold,' 3 I would make thee care for me. Strong is determined, resolute. Our ancestors often used it in an ill sense ; as strong thief, strong whore, &c. She. capable of succeeding to my land, notwithstand- ing the legal bar of thy illegitimacy. ' The king next demanded of him (he being a fool) whether he were capable to inherit any land,' &c. — Life and Death of Will Snmers, &c. 9 ' He did bewray his practice.' That is, he did be- tray or reveal his treacherous devices. So in the second book of Sidney's Arcadia :— ' His heart fainted and gat a conceit, that with bewraying his practice he might obtain pardon.' The quartos read betray. 10 i. e. of some weight, or moment. The folio and quarto B. TeaAjjrize. 11 That is, not at home, but at some other place. 12 The quartos read, 'gooderew.' Dawning is used again in Cymbeline, as a substantive, for morning. It is clear from various passages in this scene that the morning is just beginning to dawn. 13 i. e. Lipsbury pound. ' Lipsbury pinfold' may, perhaps, like Lob's pound, be a coined name ; but with what allusion does not appear. It is just possible (says Mr. Nares) that it might mean the teeth, as being the Scene II. KING LEAR. 405 Slew. Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee aot. Kent. Fellow, I know thee. Stew. What dost thou know me for? Kent. A knave ; a rascal, an eater of broken meats ; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three- suited,' hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave ; a lily-liver'd, action-taking knave ; a whor- son, glass-gazing, 'superserviceable, finical rogue ; one-irunk-inheriting slave ; one that would'st be a bawd, in way of good-service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch : one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny'st the least syllable of thy addition. 2 Stew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known of thee, lior knows thee '/ Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou know'st me? Is it two days ago, since I tripp'd up thy heels, and beat thee, before the king ? Draw, you rogue : for, though it be night, the moon shines ; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine 3 of you : Draw, you whorson cullionly barber-mon- ger, 4 draw. {Drawing his Sword. Stew. Away ; I have nothing to do with thee. Kent. Draw, you rascal ! you come with letters against the king ; and take vanity 5 the puppet's part, against the royalty of her father : Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks : — draw, you rascal : come your ways. Stew. Help, hoi murder! help! Kent. Strike, you slave ; stand, rogue, stand ; you neat slave, 6 strike. [Beating him. Stew. Help, ho ! murder ! murder ! Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants. Edm. How now ? What's the matter ? Part. Kent. With you goodman boy, if you please ; come, I'll flesh you ; come on, young master. Glo. Weapons ! arms ! What's the matter here ? pinfold within the lips. The phrase would then mean, ' If I had you in my teeth.' It remains for some more fortunate inquirer to discover what is really meant. 1 ' Three-suited knave' might mean, in an age of ostentatious finery like that of Shakspeare, one who had no greater change of raiment than three suits would furnish him with. So in Ben Jonson's Silent ■Woman : — ' Wert a pitiful fellow, and hadst nothing but three suits of apparel.' Ji one-trunk-inheriling Elave may be a term used to describe a fellow, the whole of whose possessions were confined to one coffer, and that too inherited from his father, who was no better provided, or had nothing more to bequeath to his'suc- cessor in poverty; a poor rogue hereditary, as Timon calls Apemantus. A icorsted-s/ocking k?iave is another reproach of the same kind. The stockings in England in the reign of Elizabeth were remarkably expensive, and scarce any other kind than silk were worn, even by those who had not above forty shillings a,year wages. This we learn from Stubbes in his Anatomie of Abuses, 1595. In an old comedy, called The Hog hath Lost its Pearl, by R. Tailor, 1614, it is said : — ' Good parts are no more set by, than a good leg in a woollen stocking.'' This term of reproach, as well as that of a hundred pound gentleman, occurs in The Phcenix, by Mitjdleton. fiction-taking knave is a fellow who, if you beat him, would bringan action for the as?,iult instead of resenting it like a man of" courage. j 2 i. e. thy titles. 3 An equivoque is here intended, by an allusion to the old dish of eggs in moonshine, which was eggs broken and boiled in sallad oil till the yolks became hard. It is equivalent to the phrases of modern times, 4 I'll baste you,'' or ' beat you to a mummy.'' 4 Barber-monger may mean dealer with the lower tradesmen ; a slur upon the Steward, as taking fees for a recommendation to the business of the family. 5 Alluding to the moralities or allegorical shows, in w-hich Vanity, Iniquity, and other vices were per- sonified. 6 Neat elave may mean you base cowherd, or it may mean, as Steevens suggests, you finical rascal, you assemblage of foppery and poverty. See Cotgrave, in Mirloret, Mistoudin, Mondinel ; by which Sherwood tenders a neate fellow 3 To disclaim in, for to disclaim, simply, was the Corn. Keep peace, upon your lives ; He dies, that strikes again : What is the matter ? Reg. The messengers from our sister and the king. Corn. What is your difference ? speak. Stew. I am scarce in breath, my lord. Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in T thee ; a tailor made thee. Corn. Thou art a strange fellow : a tailor make a man ? Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir ; a stone-cutter, or a painter, could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours at the trade. Corn. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ? Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd, At suit of his gray beard, Kent. Thou whorson zed! 8 thou unnecessary letter ! — My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted 3 villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a Jakes with him. — Spare my gray beard, you wagtail ? Corn. Peace, sirrah ! You beastly knave, know you no reverence ? Kent. Yes, sir; but anger has a privilege. Corn. Why art thou angry ? Kent. That such a slave as this should wear a sword, Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain Which are too intrinse 10 t' unloose : smooth every passion" That in the natures of their lords rebels ; Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods ; Renege, 12 affirm, and turn their halcyon 13 beaks With every gale and vary of their masters, As knowing nought, like dogs, but following. — A plague upon your epileptic visage ! Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool ? Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, I'd drive ye cackling home to Camelot. 14 phraseology of the poet's age. See Gifford's Ben Jon- son, vol. iii. p. 264. 8 Zed is here used as a term of contempt, because it is the last letter in the English alphabet : it is said to be an unnecessary letter, because its place may be sup- plied by S. Barer omits it in his Alvearie, affirming it to be rather a syllable than a letter. And Mulcaster says ' Z is much harder amongst us, and seldom seen. S is become its lieutenant-general. It is lightlie (i. e. hardly) expressed in English, saven in foren enfran- chisements.' 9 Unboked is unsifted'; and therefore signifies thia coarse villain. Massinger, in his New Way to Pay Old Debts, Act i. Sc. 1, says :— ' I will help your memory, And tread thee into mortar? Unbolted mortar is mortar made of unsifted lime ; and therefore to break the lumps it is necessary to tread it by men in wooden shoes. 10 The quartos read, to intrench ; the folio, t' intrince Perhaps intri?ise, for so it should be written, was put by Shakspeare for intrinsicate, which he has used in Antony and Cleopatra. ' Come, mortal wretch, With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of iife at once untie.' I suspect that the poet meant to write too intrinse ; that is, too intricate, or too much intrammelled. See Florio in v. intreciaire ; or inlrique for intricated, as we find it in Phillips's World of Words. 11 See Pericles, Act i. Sc. 2. 12 To renege is to deny. See Antony and Cleopatra, Sc. 1, note 1. 13 The bird called the kingfisher, which when dried and hung up by a thread, is supposed to turn his bill to the point from whence the wind blows. So in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 1633 : ' But how now stands the wind/ Into what corner peers my halcyoWs bill.'' ' A lytle byrde called the Kings Fisher, being hanged up in the ayre by the neck, his nebbe or byll wyll be always direct or straight against ye winde.' — Book of Notable Things. 14 In Somersetshire, near Camelot, are many large 406 KING LEAR. Act II. Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow ? Glo. How fell you out ? Say that. Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, Than I and such a knave.' Corn. Why dost thou call him knave ? What's his offence ? Kent. His countenance likes me not. 2 Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or his, or hers. Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain ; I have seen better faces in my time, Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant. Corn. This is some fellow, Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect A saucy roughness ; and constrains the garb, Quite from his nature : s He cannot flatter, he I — An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth : An they will take it, so ; if not, he's plain. These kind of knaves I know, which in this plain- ness Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, Than twenty silly 4 ducking observants, That stretch their duties nicely. Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, Under the allowance of your grand aspect, Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering 5 Phoebus' front, Corn. What mcan'st by this ? Kent. To go out of my dialect, which you dis- commend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer : he that beguiled you, in a plain accent, was a plain knave ; which, for my part, I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to it. 6 Corn. What was the offence you gave him? Stem. I never gave him any : It pleas'd the king his master, very late, To strike at me, upon his misconstruction : When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, Tripp'd me behind ; being down, insulted, rail'd, And put upon him such a deal of man, That wortny'd him, got praises of the king For him attempting who was self-subdu'd ; And, in the fleshment 7 of this dread exploit, Drew on me here again. Kent. None of these rogues, and cowards, But Ajax is their fool. 8 Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, ho ! You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, We'll teach you — Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn : Call not your stocks for me : I serve the king ; On whose employment I was sent to you : You shall do small respect, show too bold malice moors, where are bred great quantities of geese. It was the place where the romances say King Arthur kept his court in the west. 1 Hence Pope's expression : — ' The strong antipathy of good to bad.' 2 i. e. pleases me not. 3 ' Forces his outside, or his appearance, to some- thing totally different from his natural disposition.' 4 Silly or rather sely', is simple or rustic. Nicely here is with scrupulous nicety, punctilious observance. 5 This expressive word is now only applied to the ■motion and scintillation of flame. Dr. Johnson says that it means to flutter, which is certainly one of its oldest meanings, it being used in that sense by Chaucer. But its application is more properly made to the fluc- tuating scintillations of flame or light. In The Cuckoo, by Nicols, 1607, we have it applied to the eye : — ' Their soft maiden voice and flickering eye.' 6 ' Though I should win you, displeased as you now are, to like me so well as to entreat me to be a knave.' 7 A young soldier is said to flesh his sword the first time he draws blood with it. Tltshment, therefore, is here metaphorically applied to the first act of service, which Kent, in his new capacity, had performed for his master ; at the same time, in a sarcastic sense, as •mough he had esteemed it an heroic exploit to trip a man behind who was actually falling. 8 i. e. Ajax is a fool to them. ' These rogues and cowards talk in such a boasting strain that, if we were to credit their account of themselves. Ajax wouid ap- Against the grace and person of my master, Stocking his messenger. Corn. Fetch forth the stocks : As I've life and honour, there shall he sit till nooiu Reg. Till noon ! till night, my lord ; and all night too. Kent. Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, You should not use me so. Reg. Sir, being his knave, I will. [Stocks brought out. Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour Our sister speaks of: — Come, bring away the stocks.' Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so : His fault is much, and the good king his master Will check him for't : your purpos'd low correction Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches For pilferings and most common trespasses, Are punish'd with : the king must take it ill, That he, so slightly valu'd in his messenger, Should have him thus restrain'd. Corn. Til answer that. Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse, To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted, For following her affairs. — Put in his legs. — [Kent is put in the Stocks, Come, my good lord ; away. [Exeunt Regan and Cornwall. Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend ; 'tis the duke's pleasure, Whose disposition, all the world well knows, Will not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd ;'° I'll entreat for thee. Kent. 'Pray, do not, sir : I have watch'd, and travcll'd hard ; Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. A wood man's fortune may grow out at heels : ( tin you good morrow ! Glo. The duke's to blame in this ; 'twill be iri taken. [Exit. Kent. Good king, that must approve the common saw!" Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st To the warm sun ! Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, That by thy comfortable beams I may Peruse this letter ! — Nothing almost sees miracles, But misery ; — I know 'tis from Cordelia ; Who hath most fortunately been inform'd Of my obscured course ; and shall find time From this enormous state, — seeking, — to give Losses their remedies : * 2 — All weary and o'er- watch'd, pear a person of no prowess when compared to them. 7 So in King Henry VIII. :— ' now this mask Was rry'd im omparable, and the ensuing night Made it a fool and beggar.' 9 This kind of exhibition was familiar to the ancient Stage. In Hick Scorner, which was printed in the reign of Henry VIII., Pity is put into the stocks, and left there until he is freed by Perseverance and Contemplacyon. It should be remembered that formerly in great hou- ses, as lately in some colleges, there were moveable stocks for the correction of the ser-vants. 10 A metaphor from bowling. 1 1 The saw, or proverb alluded to, is in Heywooet'3 Dialogues on Proverbs, V • ii. c. v. : — ' In your running from him to me ye runne Out of God's blessing into the warme «««««.' i. e. from good to worse. Kent was thinking of the king being likely to receive a worse reception from Regan than that which be had already received from GoDerii. 12 How much has been written about this passage, and how much it has been mistaken ! Its evident meaning appears to me to be as follows : — Kent addresses the sun, for whose rising he is impatient, that he may read Cordelia's letter. 'Nothing (says he,) almost K<>es u,!- racles, but misery : I know this Ict/et which I hold in my hand is from Cordelia ; who hath most fortunately been informed of my disgrace and wandering in dis- guise ; and who seeking it, shall find time (i. e. oppor- tunity,) out of this enormous (i. e. disordered, unnatu- ral,) state of things, to give losses their remedies ; to restore her father to his kingdom, herself to his lo »Sj and me to his favour ' er.E«jE rv. KING LEAR. 407 Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold This shameful lodging. Fortune, good night ; smile once more ; turn thy wheel! [He sleeps, SCENE III. A Part of the Heath. Enter Edgar. Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd ; And, by the happy hollow of a tree, Escap'd the hunt. No port is free ; no place, That guard, and most unusual vigilance. Does not attend my taking. While I may scape, I will preserve myself: and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape, That ever penury, in contempt of man, Brought near to beast : my face I'll grime with filth ; Blanket my loins ; elf all my hair in knots ;' And with presented nakedness outface The winds, and persecutions of the sky. The country gives me proof and precedent Of Bedlam beggars, 2 who, with roaring voices, Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms Pins, wooden pricks, 3 nails, sprigs of rosemary; And with this horrible object, from low farms, Poor pelting* villages, sheep-cotes and mills, Sometime with lunatic bans, 5 sometime with prayers, Enforce their charity. — Poor Turlygood I 6 poor Tom! That's something yet *, Edgar, I nothing am. [Exit. SCENE IV. Before Gloster's Castle. 1 Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so depart from home, And not send back my messenger. Gent. As I learn'd, The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove. Kent. Hail to thee, noble master! Lear. How ! Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime ? Kent. No, my lord. Fool. Ha, ha ; look ! he wears cruel 8 garters ! Horses are tied by the heads ; dogs, and bears, by the neck ; monkeys by the loins, and men by the "egs : when a man is over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks. 9 Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here ? Kent. It is both he and she, Your son and daughter. Lear. No. Kent. Yes. Lear, No, I say. Kent. I say, yea. Lear. No, no ; they would not. Kent. Yes, they have. Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no. Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay. 10 Lear. They durst not do't ; They could not, would not do't ; 'tis worse than murder, To do, upon respect, such violent outrage: 11 Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way Thou might'st deserve, or they impose, this usage, Coming from us. Kent. My lord, when at their home I did commend your highness' letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that show'd My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress, salutations : Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, 12 Which presently they read ; on whose contents, They summon'd up their meiny, 13 straight took horse ; Commanded me to follow, and attend The leisure of their answer ; gave me cold looks : 1 Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of elves and fairies \a the night. So in Romeo and Juliet ' plate the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.' 2 Aubrey, in his MS. Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme, Fart III. p. 234, b. (MS. Lansdowne, 226,) says : — ' Before the civil warrs, I remember Tom a Bed- lams went about begging. They had been such as had been in Bedlam, and come to same degree of sober- nesse ; and when they were licenced to goe out, they had on their left arme an armilla of tinne printed, of about three inches breadth, which was sodered on.' — H. Ellis. Randle Holme, in his Academy of Arms and Blazon, h. sii. c. 3, gives the following description of a class of vagabonds feigning themselves read : — ' The Bedlam is in the same garb, with a long staff, and a cow or ox- horn by his side ; but his cloathing is more fantastick and ridiculous ; for being a madman, he is madly deck- ed and dressed all over with rubins, feathers, cuttings of cloth, and what not ; to make him seem a madman, or one distracted, when he is no other than a dissem- biing knave.' In the Bell-Man of London, by Decker, 5th edit. 1640, is another account of one of these characters, under the title of Abraham Man: — ' He sweares he hath, been in Bedlam, and will talke frantickely of purpose : you see pinnes stuck in sundry places of his naked flesh, espe cially in his amies, which paine he gladly puts himselfe to, only to make you believe he is out of his wits. He calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and coming near any body, cries out PoorTom is a-cold. Of these Abraham-men some be exceeding merry, and doe no thing but sing songs fashioned out of their own braines : some will dance, others will doe nothing but either laugh or we.epe : others are dogged, and so sullen both an lookeand speech, that spying but a small company in a house they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the servants through feare to give them what they demand.' t is probable, as Steevens remarks, that to sham Abra- ham, a cant term still in use among sailors and the vul- gar, may have this origin. 3 i. e. skewers : the euonymus, or spindle-tree, of which the best skewers are made, is called prick-wood. 4 Paltry 5 Curses. 6 Tiurlygood, an English corruption of turluru, Ital. ; or turelureau, Fr. ; both, among other things, signify ing a fool or madman. It would perhaps be difficult to decide with certainty whether those words are corrup tions of turlupino and tur lupin j but at least it seems probable. The Turlupins were a fanatical sect, which overran the continent in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, calling themselves Beghards or Beghins Their manners and appearance exhibited the strongest indications of lunacy and distraction ; and their popular name, Turlupins, was probably derived from the wolf- ish howlings they made in their fits of religious ra- ving. Genebrard thus describes them : — ' Turlupin cy- nicorum sectam suscilantes, de nuditate pudendorum, et publico coitu.' It has not been remarked that Cotgrave interprets ' Mon Turelureau, My Pillicock, my pretty knave.' 7 See note 13, Act i. Sc. 5. p. 402, ante. S A quibble on crewell, i. e. worsted. So in TheTwc Angry Women of Abingdon : — ' I'll warrant you, he'll have His cruell garters cross about the knee.' 9 The old word for stockings. 10 This dialogue being taken partly from the folio and partly from the quarto, is left without any metrical division, as it was not probably all intended to be pre- served. 11 'To do, upon respect, such violent outrage,' I think, means ' to do such violent outrage, deliberately, or upon consideration.'' Respect is frequently used for consideration by Shakspeare.' Cordelia says, in the first scene : — ' Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife.' And in Hamlet : — ' There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life.' Icannot think that respect here means a respected per- son, as Johnson supposed ; or that it is intended for a. personification, as Malone asserts. 12 i. e. ' spite of leaving me unanswered for a time.' - Goneril's messenger delivered letters, which they read notwithstanding Lear's messenger was yet kneeling" unanswered. 13 Meiny, signifying & family household, or retinue of servants, is certainly from the French meinie, or as it was anciently written, mesnie ; which word is regarded by Do Cange as equivalent with mesonie or maisonie, from maison ; in modern French, menage. It does not appear that the Saxons used many for a family or household. 408 KING LEAR. Act II And meeting nere the other messenger, Whose welcome, I perceiv'd, had poison'd mine (Being the very fellow that of late Display'd so saucily against your highness,) Having more man than wit about me, drew ;' He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries : Your son and daughter found this trespass worth The shame which here it suffers. Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fty that way. 2 Fathers, that wear rags, Do make their children blind ; But fathers, that bear bags, Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Ne'er turns the key to the poor. — But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours 3 for thy daughters, as thou can'st tell in a year. Lear.. O, how this mother 4 swells up toward my heart ! Hysterica passio ! down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element's below ! — Where is this daughter ? Kent. With the earl, sir, here within. Lear. Follow me not ; Stay here. [Exit. Gent. Made you no more offence than what you speak of? Kent. None. How chance the king comes with so small a train ? Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that question,, thou hadst well deserved it. . Kent. Wliy, fool ? Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, s to teach thee there's no labouring in the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men ; and there's not a nose among twenty, but can smell him that's stinking. 6 Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it ; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again : I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.' That sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in the storm. But I will tarry, the fool will stay, And let the wise man fly : The knave turns fool, that runs away ; The fool no knave, perdy. 1 The personal pronoun, which is found in the pre- ceding-line, is understood before the word having, or before drew. The same license is taken by Shakspeare in other places. 2 ' If this be their behaviour, the king's troubles are not yet at an end.' This speech is omitted in the quartos. 3 A quibble between dolours and dollars. 4 Lear affects to pass off the swelling of his heart, ready to burst with grief and indignation, for the disease called the mother, or hysterica passio, which, in the fioet's time, was not thought peculiar to women only. — t is probable that Shaksjienre had this suggested to him by a passage in Harsnefs Declaration of Popish Impostures, which he may have consulted in order to furnish out his character ol'Tom of Bedlam with demo- niacal gibberish. ' Ma. Maynie had a spice of the his- terica passio, as it seems, from his youth, he himself termes it the moother.' 1 It seems the priests persuaded him it was from the possession of the devil. ' The dis- ease I spake of was a spice of the mother , wherewith I had been troubled before my going into Fraunce ; whether I doe rightly term it the mother or no, I knowe not. A Scottish Doctor of Physic, then in Paris, called it, as I remember, virgitinim capitis. It riseth of a winde in the bottome of the belly, and proceeding with a great swelling, causeth a very painful collicke in the stomack, and an extraordinary giddines in the head.' 5 ' Go to the ant, thou sluggard, (says Solomon,) learn her ways, and be wise ; which having no guide, over- seer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in harvest.' If, says the fool, you lu.d been schooled by the ant, you would have known that the king's train," like that sagacious insect, prefer the summer of prosperity to the colder season of adver- sity, from which no profit can be derived ; and desert A'enr; Where learn'd you this, fool ? Fool. Not i' the stocks, fool. Re-enter Lear, with Gloster. Lear. Deny to speak with me ? They are sick ? they are weary? They have travell'd hard to-night? Mere fetches; The images of revolt and flying off! Fetch me a better answer. Glo. My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the duke ; How unremoveable and fix'd he is In his own course. Lear. Vengeance ! plague ! death ! confusion '— Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloster, Gloster, I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his wife. Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. Lear. Inform'd them ! Dost thou understand me, man ? Glo. Ay, my good lord. Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall ; the dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service : Are they inform'd of this ? Mv breath and blood !— Fiery? the fiery duke ?— Tell the hot duke, that — No, but not yet : — may be, he is not well : Infirmity doth still neglect all office, Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves, When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind To suffer with the body : I'll forbear ; And am fallen out with my more headier will, To take the indispos'd and sickly fit For the sound man. Death on my state ! where- fore [Loohing on Kent Should he sit here? This act persuades me, That this remotion of the duke and her Is practice only. Give me my servant forth : Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with them, Now, presently : bid them come forth and hear me, Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum, Till it cry — Sleep to death. 3 Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you. [Exit. Lear. O, me, my heart, my rising heart ! — but, down. Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney 9 did to the eels, when she put them i' the paste alive ; she rapp'd 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, him whose 'mellow-hangings' have been all shaken down, and who by ' one winter's brush' has been left • open and bare for every storm that blows.' 6 All men, hu; blind men, though they follow their noses, are led by their eyes ; and this class of mankind, seeing the king ruined, have all deserted him : with respect to the blind, who have nothing but their noses to guide them, they also fly equally from a king whose fortunes are declining ; for of the noses of blind men there is not one in twenty but can smell him who, being ' muddy'd in fortune's mood, smells somewhat strong of her displeasure.' You need not therefore be surprised at Lear's coming with so small a train. 7 ' One cannot too much commend the caution which our moral poet uses on all occasions to prevent his sen- timent from being perversely taken. So here, having given an ironical precept in commendation of perfidy and base desertion of the unfortunate, for fear it should be understood seriously, though delivered by his buf- foon or jester, he has the precaution to add this beauti- ful corrective, full of fine sense : — " I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it." ' Warbur- ton. 8 The meaning of this passage seems to be, 'I'll beat the drum till it cries out — Let them awake no more ; let their present sleep be their last.' Somewhat similar occurs in Troilus and Cressida : — ' the death tokens of it Cry no recovery.' Mason would read, ' death to sleep,' instead of ' sleep to death.' 9 Bullokar, in his Expositor, lb!6, under the word Cocf.net/, says, ' It is sometimes taken for a child that is tenderly or wantonly brought up ; or for one that has been brought up in some great town, and knows nothing of the country fashion*. It is used also for a Londoner, or one born in or near the city, (as we say,) within she sound of Bow bell.' The etymology, (says Mr. Nares^* Scene II. KING LEAR 409 Down, wantons, down : 'Twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horse, butter'd his hay. Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloster, and Servants. Lear. Good morrow to you both. Corn. Hail to your grace ! [Kent is set at liberty. Reg. I am glad to see your highness. Lear. Regan, I think you are ; I know what reason I have to think so : If thou should'st not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepulchring an adultress. — O, are you free ? [to Kent. Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan, Thy sister's naught : O, Regan, she hath tied Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here, — [Points to his heart. I can scarce speak to thee : thou'lt not believe, Of how deprav'd a quality O, Regan! Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience ; I have hope, You less know how to value her desert, Than she to scant her duty. 1 Lear. Say, how is that ? Reg. I cannot think, my sister in the least Would fail her obligation : If, sir, perchance, She have restrain' dthe riots of your followers, 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame. Lear. My curses on her ! Reg. O, sir, you are old ; Nature in you stands on the very verge Of her confine : you should be rul'd, and led By some discretion, that discerns your state Better than you yourself: Therefore, I pray you, That to our sister you do make return ; Say, you have wrong'd her, sir. 2 Lear. Ask her forgiveness ? Do you but mark how this becomes the house : s Dear daughter, I confess that I am old ; Age is unnecessary :* on my knees 1 beg, [Kneeling. That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food. Reg. Good sir, no more ; these are unsightly tricks : Return you to my sister. Lear. Never, Regan : She hath abated me of half my train ; seems most probable, which derives it from cookery. — Le pays de cocagne,or coquaine, in old French, means a country of good cheer. Cocagna, in Italian, has the same meaning. Both might be derived from coquina. This famous country, if it could be found, is described as a region ' where the hills were made of sugar-candy, and the loaves ran down the hills, crying Come eat me.'' Some lines in Camden's Remaines seem to make coke- ney a name for London as well as its inhabitants. This Lubberland, as Florio calls it, seems to have been pro- verbial for the simplicity or gullibility of its inhabitants. A cockney and a ninny-hammer, or simpleton, were convertible terms. Thus Chaucer, in the Reve's Tale :— ' I shall be holden a daffe or a cokeney.'' It may be observed that cockney is only a diminutive of cock ; a wanton child was so called as a less circum- locutory way of saying, my ' little cock,' or my bra-cock. Decker, in his Newes from Hell, 156S, says, ' 'Tis not our fault ; but our mothers, our cockering mothers, who for their labour made us to be called cockneys.'' In the passages cited from the Tournament of Tottenham, and Heywood, it literally means a little cock. The reader will find a curious article on the subject in Mr. Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 151. 1 It is clear that the intended meaning of this passage is as Steevens observes : ' You less know how to value her desert, than she (knows) to scant her duty, i. e. to be leanting in it.' It is somewhat inaccurately expressed, Shakspeare having, as on some other occasions, perplexed himself by the word less. But all the verbiage of Malone was not necessary to lay this open. 2 ' Say,' &c. This line and the following speech is omitted in the quartos. 3 i. e. the order of families, duties of relation. So Sir Thomas Smith, in his Commonwealth of England, 1G01 :— ' The house I call here, the man, the woman, theit children, their servants, bond and free.' . 3 B Look'd black upon me : struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart : — All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness ! Corn. Fie, fie, fie ! Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding Dames Into her scornful eyes ! Infect her beauty, You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall 5 and blast ner pride ! Reg. O, the blest gods ! So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on. Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse ; Thy tender-hefted 6 nature shall not give Thee o'er to harshne.ss ; her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort, and not burn : 'Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 7 And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt Against my coming in : thou better know'st The offices of nature, bond of childhood, Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude ; Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd. Reg. Good sir, to the purpose. [ Trumpets within. Lear. Who put my man i' the stocks '/ Corn. What trumpet's that ? Enter Steward. Reg. I know't, my sister's ; 8 this approves her letter, That she would soon be here. — Is your lady come ? Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows : — Out, varlet, from my sight ! Corn. What means your grace ? Lear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I hav» good hope Thou didst not know oft. — Who comes here ? O, Heavens, Enter Goneril. If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow 9 obedience, if yourselves are old, 10 Make it your cause: send down, and take my part ! — 4 Unnecessary is here used in the sense of neces- sitous ; in want of necessaries and unable to procure them. Perhaps this is also the meaning of the word in The Old Law, by Massinger : — ' Your laws extend not to desert, But to unnecessary years, and, my lord, His are not such.' 5 Fall seems here to be used as an active verb, signifying to humble or pull down. ' Ye fen-suck'd fogs, drawn from the earth by the powerful action of the sun, infect her beauty, so as to fall and blast, i. e. hum- ble and destroy her pride.' 6 Tender-hefted may mean moved, or heaving with tenderness. The quartos read tender-hested, which may be right, and signify giving tender bests or com- mands. Miranda says, in The Tempest : — 'O my father, I have broke your best to say so.' 7 A size is a portion or allotment of food. The word and its origin are explained in Minsheu's Guide to Tongues, 1617. The term sizer is still used at Cam- bridge for one of the lowest rank of students, living on a stated allowance. 8 Thus in Othello :— 'The Moor, — I know his trumpet.' It should seem therefore that the approach of great personages was announced by some distinguishing note or tune appropriately used by their own trumpeters. — Cornwall knows not the present sound ; but to Regan, who had often heard her sister's trumpet, the first flourish of it was as familiar as was that of the Moor to the ears of Iago. 9 To allow is to approve, in old phraseology. Thus in Psalm xi. ver. 6 : — ' The Lord alloweth the righteous ' 10 ' hoc oro, munus concede parenti, Si tua maturis signentur tempora canis, Et sis ipse parens.' Stalius Theb. x. 705 410 KING LEAR. Act IL Art not asham'd to look upon this beard ?— [To GoNERIL. 0, Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? Gon. Why not by the hand, sir ? How have I offended ? All's not offence, that indiscretion finds, And dotage terms so. Lear. O, sides, you are too tough ! Will you yet hold ! — How came my man i' the stocks ? Corn. I set him there, sir : but his own disorders Deserv'd much less advancement. 1 Lear. You ! did you ? Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 2 If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me ; I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment. Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd ? No, rather I adjure all roofs, and choose To wage* against the enmity o' the air ; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, — Necessity's sharp pinch ! 4 — Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded Fiance, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To knee his throne, and, squirelike, pension beg To keep base life afoot ; — Return with her ? Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter 5 To this detested groom. [Looking on the Steward. Gon. At your choice, sir. Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad ; I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell : We'll no more meet, no move see one another : — But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter ; Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil, A plague-sore, an embossed 6 carbuncle, In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee ; Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove : Mend, when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure : I can be patient ; I ran stay with Regan, 1, and my hundred knights. Reg. Not altogether so, sir ; I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided For your fit welcome : Give ear, sir, to my sister ; For those that mingle reason with your passion, Must be content to think you old, and so— But she knows what she does. Lear. Is this well spoken, now ? Reg. I dare avouch it, sir ; What, fifty followers ? Is it not well ? What should you need of more ? Yea, or so many ? sith that both charge and danger Speak 'gainst so great a number ? How, in one house, Should manv people, under two commands, Holdamitv? 'Tis hard ; almost impossible. Gon. Why might not you, my lord, receive at- tendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine ? Reg. Why not, my lord ? If then they chanc'd to slack you, We could control them : If you will come to me (For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you To bring but five and twenty ; to no more Will I give place or notice. I^ear. I gave you all Reg. And in good time you gave ft Lear. Made yot; my guardians, my depositaries ; But kept a reservation to be follovv'd With such a number ; What, must I come to you With five and twenty, Regan ? said you so ? Reg. And speak it again, my lord ■ no mora with me. Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well favour'd, When others are more wicked ; not being the worst, Stands in some rank of praise :' — I'll go with thee ; [To GostuiL. Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, And thou art twice her love. Gon. Hear me, my *ord ; What need you five and twenty, ten, or fiv_ To follow in a house, where twice so many Have a command to tend you? Reg. What need one? Lear. O, reason not the need : our basest begga Goneril's meaning seems to be, ' There was a time when you would have thought me worth the calling to you,' reproaching him for not hav- ing summoned her to consult with on the present occa- sion. 4 These words and the lines following, to monsters of the deep, are not in' the folio. They are necessary to explain the reasons of the detestation which Albany here expresses to his wife 5 So in Macbeth : — ' slips of yew Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse.' 6 • She who breaks the bonds of filial duty, and be- comes wholly alienated from her father, must wither and perish, like a branch separated from that trunk or body which supplied it with sap.'' There is a peculiar propriety in the use of the word material : materia, Lat. sijnifying the trunk or body of the tree. 7 Alluding to the use that witches and enchanters are said to make of withered branches in their charms. A fine insinuation in the speaker, that she was ready for the most unnatural mischief, and a preparative of the poet to her plotting with the bastard against her hus- band's life. — Warburton. Dr. Warburton might have adduced the passage from Macbeth above quoted in support of his ingenious interpretation. Proper deformity seems not m the fiend So horrid, as in woman. 11 Gon. O, vain fool ! Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd 12 thing, for shame, Be-monster not thy feature." Were it my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, 14 They are apt enough to dislocate and tear Thy flesh and bones ; — Howe'er thou art a fiend, A woman's shape doth shield thee, Gon. Marry, your manhood now ! Enter a Messenger. Alb. What news ? Mess. O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead ; Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloster. Alb. Gloster's eyes? Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with ra- morse Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword To his great master ; who, thereat enrag'd, Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead : But not without that harmful stroke, which since Hath pluck'd him after. Alb. This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes So speedily can venge '. — But, O, poor Gloster! Lost he his other eye? Mess. Both, both, my lord.— This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer ; 'Tis from your sister. Gon. [A&de.] One way I like this well ; ,s But being widow, and my Gloster with her, May all the building in my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life : Another way, The news is not so tart. — I'll read and answer. [Exit. Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his eyes ? Mess. Come with my lady hither. Alb. He is not here. Mess. No, my good lord ; I met him back again. Alb. Knows he the wickedness ? Mess. Ay, my good lord ; 'twas he inform'd against him ; And quit the house on purpose, that their punish • merit Might have the freer course. Alb. Gloster, I live To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend ; Tell me what more thou knowest. [Exeunt, 8 This line is not in the folio. 9 The rest of this speech is also omitted in the folio. 10 ' Goneril means to say that none but fools would bo excited to commiserate those who are prevented from executing their malicious designs, and punished for their evil intention.' Malone doubts whether Goneril alludes to her father, but surely there cannot be a douht that she does, and to the pity for his sufferings ex- pressed by Albany, whom she means indirectly to call Si fool for expressing it. 11 That is, ' Diabolic qualities appear not so horrid in the devil, to whom they belong, as in woman, who un- naturally assumes them.' 12 The meaning appears to be ' thou that hast hid the woman under the fiend ; thou that hast disguised nature by wickedness.' Steevens thinks that there may be an allusion to the coverings which insects furnish to ;hem- selves, like the silkworm, that — ' labours till it clouds it3elf all o'er.^ 13 It has been already observed that feature was often used for form or person in general, the figure of the whole body. 14 My blood is my passion, my inclination. This verse wants a foot, which Theobald purposed to supply by readin? ' boiling blood.' 15 Goneril's plan was to poison her sister, to marry Edmund, to murder Albany, and to get possession of the whole kingdom. As the death of Cornwall facili- tated the last part of her scheme, she was pleased at it ; but disliked it. as it put t in the power of her sister to marry Edmund Scene IV. KING LEAR. 421 fSCENE HI. 1 Tne French Camp near Dover. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman. 2 Kent. Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the reason ? 3 Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state, Which since his coming forth is thought of; which Imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, That his personal return was most required, And necessary. Kent. Who hath he left behind him general ? Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Fer. Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? Gent. Ay, sir ; she took them, read them in my presence ; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down Her delicate cheek : it seem'd, she was a queen Over her passion ; who, most rebel-like, Sousht to be king o'er her. Kent. O, then it mov'd her. Gent. Not to a rage : patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears Were like ; — a better way.* Those happy smiles, 5 That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence, As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. 6 — In brief, sorrow Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all Could so become it. Kent. Made she no verbal question V Gent. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heav'd the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart ; Cried, Sisters ! sisters ! — Sha?ne of ladies ! sisters ! Kent .' father ! sisters ! What ! i 1 the storm ? i' tfte night ? Let pity not be believed ! s — There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes, And clamour moisten'd : 9 then away she started To deal with grief alone. Kent. It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions ; 10 Else one self mate and mate," could not beget Such different issues. You spoke not with her since ? Gent. No. Kent. Was this before the king return'd ? Gent. No, since. Kent. Well, sir ; the poor distress'd Lear is i' the town : Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about, and by no means Will yield to see his daughter. Gent. Why, good sir ? Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him : his own unkindness, That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearted daughters, — these things sting His mind so venomously, that burning shame Detains him from Cordelia. Gent. Alack, poor gentleman ! Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? Gent. Tis so, they are afoot. Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, And leave you to attend him : some dear cause 1 * Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ; When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go Along with me. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. A Tent. Enter Cor- delia, Physician, and Soldiers. Cor. Alack, 'tis he ; why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea : singing aloud ; Crown'd with rank fumiter, 13 and furrow weeds, With harlocks, 14 hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, 15 and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ; Search every acre in the high grown field, And bring him to our eye. [Exit an Officer.]-— What can man's wisdom do, ■ s 1 This scene is left out in the folio copy, but is ne cessary to continue the story of Cordelia, whose beha- viour is most beautifully painted. 2 The gentlemen whom he sent in the foregoing act vrith letters to Cordelia. 3 The king of France being no longer a necessary personage, it was fit that some pretext for getting rid of him should be formed before the play was too near ad- vanced towards a conclusion. Decency required that a monarch should not be silently shuffled into the pack of insignificant characters ; and therefore his dismission, (which could be effected only by a sudden recall to his own dominions,) was to be accounted for before the au- dience. For this purpose, among, others, the present 6cene was introduced. It is difficult to say what use could have been made of the king, had he appeared at the head of his own armament, and survived the mur- der of his queen. His conjugal concern on the occa- sion might have weakened the effect of Lear's paternal sorrow ; and, being an object of respect as well as pity, he would naturally have divided the spectator's attention, and thereby diminished the consequence of Albany, Ed- gar, and Kent, whose exemplary virtues deserved to be ultimately placed in the most conspicuous pfcint of view. — Steevens 4 Both the quartos read, ' were like a better way.'' Steevens reads, upon the suggestion of Theobald, ' a better day,'' with a long and somewhat ingenious, though unsatisfactory argument in defence of it. Warburton reads, 'a wetter May ,' which is plausible enough. Ma- lone adopts a part of his emendation, and reads ' a bet- ter May.- I have been favoured by Mr. Boaden with the following solution of this passage, which, as it pre- eervesthe reading of the old copy, merits attention : — ' The difficulty has arisen from a general mistake as to the simile itself; and Shakspeare's own words here ac- tually convey his perfect meaning, as indeed they com- monly do. I understand the passage thus • • " You have seen Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears "Were like ; a better way." 'That is, Cordelia's smiles and tears were like the con- junction of sunshine and rain, in a belter way or man- tier Now in what did this better way consist ? Why simply in the smiles seeming unconscious of the tears , whereas the sunshine has a watery look through the falling drops of rain — " Those happy smiles, That playd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know What guests were in her eyes." ' That the point of comparison was neither a " better day," nor a " wetter May," is proved by the following passages, cited by Steevens and Malone : — "Her tears came dropping down like rain in sunshine." — Sidney's Jlrcadia, p. 244. 'I may just observe, as perhaps an illustration, that the belter way of Charity is that the right hand should not know what the left hand giveth.' 5 The quartos read smilets, which may be a diminu- tive of the poet's coining. 6 Steevens would read dropping, but as must be un- derstood to signify as if. I do not think that jewelled pendants were in the poet's mind. A similar beautiful thought in Middleton's Game of Chess has caught the eye of Milton : — ' the holy dew lies like a pearl Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn Upon the bashful rose.' 7 i. e. discourse, conversation. 8 i. e. let not pity be supposed to exist. It is not impossible but Shakspeare might have formed this fine picture of Cordelia's agony from holy writ, in the con- duct of Joseph, who, being no longer able to restrain the vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his presence ; and then wrpt aloud, and discovered himself to his brethren.— Theobald. 9 That is, 'her outcries were accompanied with tears.' 10 Conditions are dispositions. 11 i. e. the selfsame husband and wife. 12 Important business. 13 i. e. fumitory, written by the old herbalists fumittery 14 The quartos read hardocks, the folio hardokes. Drayton mentious harlocks in one of his Eclogues :— ' The honey-suckle, the harlocke, The lily, and the lady-smocke,' &c. Perhaps the charlock, sinapis arvensis, or wild mus- tard, may be meant. 15 Darnel, according to Gerard, is the most hurtjuloj weeds among corn. 16 Steevens says that do should be omitted as nsedlesa 422 KING LEAR. A:t In the restoring his bereaved sense ? He, that helps him, take all my outward worth. Phy. Tiiere is means, madam : Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, The which lie lacks ; that to provoke in him, Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish. Cor. All bless'd secrets, All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears ! be aidant, and remediate, Iii the good man's distress ! — Seek, seek for him ; Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it. 1 Enter a Messenger. Mess. Madam, news ; The British powers are marching hitherward. Cor. 'Tis known before ; our preparation stands In expectation of them. — O, dear father, It is thv business that I go about ; Therefore great France My mournins, and important 2 tears, hath pitied. No blown 3 ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our aged father's right : Soon may I hear, and see him. [Exeunt. SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle. Enter Regan and Steward. Re?. But are my brother's powers set forth ? Stew. Ay, madam. Reg. Himself, In person there ? Stew. Madam, with much ado : Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spoke not with your lord at home ? Stew. No, madam. Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him ? Stew. I know not, lady. Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out, To let him live ; where he arrives, he moves All hearts against us : Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his miserv, to despatch His mghted life ; 4 moreover, to descry The strength o' the enemy. Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay with us ; The ways are dangerous. Stew. I may not, madam; My lady charg'd my duty in thk business. Reg. Why should she write to Edmund ? Might not you to the sense of the passage, and injurious to the metre. Thus in Hamlet : — ' Try what repentance can ; What can it not?' Do, in either place, is understood, though suppressed. Do is found in none of the old copies but quarto B. 1 i. e. the reason which should guide it. 2 Tntportant for import/mute, as in other places of these plats. See Comedy of Errors, Act v. Sc. I. The folio reads importuned. 8 No inflated, no swelling pride. ' Quam bene te ambilio mersit vanisgima, ventus, Et tumidos tumidos vos superastis aquae.' Beza on the Spanish Armada. So in The Little French Lawyer of Beaumont and Fletcher :— ' I come with no blown spirit to abuse you.' 4 i. c. his life made dark as night, by the extinction of his eyes. 5 ' 1 know not well (says Johnson) whv Shakspeare gives the Steward, who is a mere factor for wickedness, s>o much fidelity. Hf now refuses the letter ; and after- wards, when he is dying, thinks only how it maybe safely delivered.' — Jokuspn. ' Surely when Dr. Johnson made this note, he did not recollect the character Edgar j*ives of" this Stew- ard after he is dead : — " As duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness could require." 1 Fidelity in agents of wickedness is, I fear, not so un- common as to be unfit tor the general probability of dramatic manners.' — Pyt Transport her purposes by word ? Belike, Something — I know not what : — I'll love thee much Let me unseal the letter. b Stew. Madam, I had rather^— Reg. I know, your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that: and, at her late being here, She gave strange ceiliads, 6 and most speaking looks To noble Edmund : I know, you are of her bosom. Stew. I, madam ? Reg. I speak in understanding ; you are, I know it: Therefore, I do advise yon, take this note : T My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talk'd ; And more convenient is he for my hand, Than for your lady's : — You may gather more. If you do find him, pray you, give him this ;" And when your mistress hears thus much from you, I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. So, fare you well. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Slew. 'Would, I could meet him, madam ! I would show What parly I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well. \Exeunt~ SCENE VI. 10 The Country near Dover. Enter Gloster, and Edgar, dressed like a Peasant. Glo. When shall we come to the top of that samo hUl? Edg. You do climb up it now : look, how w« labour. Glo. Methinks the ground is even. Edg. Horrib steep t Hark, do you hear the sea? Glo No, truly. 1 " Edge. Whv, then vour other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. Qlo. So may it be, indeed ■ Methinks, thy voice is alter'd ; 12 and thou speak'st In better phrase, and matter, than thnrt didst. Edg. You are much deceivM ; in nothing am I chang'd, But in my garments. Glo. Methinks, you are better spoken. Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire ; 13 dreadful trade J Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head : The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice ; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminiah'd to her cock ; 14 her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight : The murmuring surge, That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high ; — I'll look no more ; 6 CEillade, Fr. a cast, or significant glauce of the eye. 7 That is, observe what I am saying. 8 You may infer more than I have directly told you. 9 Perhaps a ring, or some token, is given to tha steward by Regan to be conveyed to Edmund. 10 This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloster is- cured of his desperation, are wholly borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, book ii. 11 Something to complete the measure seems wanting in this or the foregoing hemistich. The quartos read ast one line : — ' Horrible steep : hark, do you hear the sea ?»' 12 Edgar alters his voice in order to pass afterwards for a malignant spirit. 13 ' Samphire grows in great pi«nty on most of the sea cliffs in this country : ii ie terrible to see how people gather it, hanging by a rope several fathom from the top of the impending rocks, as it were in the air." — Smith's History of Waterford, p. 315. edit. 1774. — Dover Cliff was particularly resorted to fr this plant, according to Drayton, Polyolbior., b. :rv.ii.: — 'Hob Dover's neighbouring cie eves of samphire, to excite His dull and sickly taste, and stir up appetite.' It is still eaien ai* a pitkle in those parts of England bordering on the southern coast. 14 i. e. her cack~baat Hence the term coci-sM 1 oj'jl. SttEHE VI. KING LEAR. 423 Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple 1 down headlong. Glo. Set me where you stand. Edg. Give me your hand : You are now within a foot Of the extreme verge : for all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright. Glo. Let go my hand. Here, friend, is another purse ; in it a jewel Well worth a poor man's taking : Fairies, and gods, Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off; Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. Edg. Now fare you well, good sir. [Seems to go. Glo. With all my heart. Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his despair, Is done to cure it. Glo. O, you mighty gods ! This world I do renounce ; and, in your sights Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My snuff, and loathed part of nature, should Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him ! — Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps and falls along. Edg. Gone, sir ? farewell. — And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treasury of life, when life itself Yields to the theft : 2 Had he been where he thought, By this, had thought been past. — Alive, or dead ? Ho, you sir ! friend ! — Hear you, sir ? — speak ! Thus might he pass indeed : 3 — Yet he revives : What are you, sir 1 Glo. Away, and let me die. Edg. Had'st thou been ought but gossamer, 4 feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thou had'st shiver'd like an egg : but thou dost breathe ; Hast heavy substance ; bleed'st not ; speak'st ; art sound. Ten masts at each 5 make not the altitude, Which thou hast perpendicularly fell ; Thy life's a miracle : Speak yet again. Glo. But have I fallen, or no ? Edg. From the dretd summit of this chalky bourn : 6 Look up a-height ; — the shrill-gorg'd lark so far Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up. 1 To topple is to tumble : the word is again used in Macbeth. So in Nashe's Lenten Stuffe, 1599 : — ' Fifty people toppled up their heels there.' 2 That is, ' when life is willing to be destroyed.' 3 ' Thus might he die in reality.' We still use the word passing-bell. So in King Henry VI. Part II. : — ' Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.' 4 ' The substance called gossamer is formed of the collected webs of flying spiders, and during calm weather in autumn sometimes falls in amazing quanti- ties.' — Holt White. Some think it the down of plants ; others the vapour arising from buggy or marshy ground in warm weather. The etjmon of this word, which has puzzled the lexicographers, is said to be summer geose M summer gauze, hence 'gauze o'the summer,' its well known name in the north. See Hortt, Momenta CravetuB, or the Craven Dialect Exemplified, 1824, 8vo. p. "9. •o i. e. drawn out at length, or each added to the other. l Erh,e, exp. draw out, ab Anglo Saxon elcan, elcian, Diferre, vel a verbUoeak.' Skinner, Etymolog. Skinner is right in his last derivation, it is from the Anglo-Saxon eacan, to add. Thus Chaucer, in The House of Fame, b. iii. v. 975 : — ' ean somewhat to eche, To this tiding in his speche.' And in Troilus and Cresseide, b. i. v. 706 : — ' As doen these fooles, that hir sorrowes eche.' Pope changed this to attach! ; Johnson would read on end; Steevens proposes at reach. Ignorance of our earlier language has been the stumbling-block, of all these eminent critics. 6 i. e. this chalky boundary of England. 7 WelkHl is marked with protuberances. This and whelk are probably only different forms of the same sro.rU The welk is a small shellfish, so called, perhaps, Glo. Alack, I have no eves.— Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit, To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage, And frustrate his proud will. Edg. Give me your arm ; Up: — So; — How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand. Glo. Too well, too well. Edg. This is above all strangeness. Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that Which parted from you ? Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar. Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his eyes Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses, Horns welk'd, 7 and wav'd like the enridged sea ; It was some fiend : Therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest" gods, who make them hon- ours Of men's impossibilities, 9 have preserv'd thee. Glo. I do remember now ; henceforth I'll bear Affliction, till it do cry out itself, Enough, enough, and, die. That thing you speak of, I took it for a man ; often 'twould say, The fiend, the fiend : he led me to that place Edg. Bear free 10 and patient thoughts. — But who comes here ? Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with Flowers. The safer sense 1 ' will ne'er accommodate His master thus. Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining ; I am the king himself. Edg. O, thou side-piercing sight! Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's your press-money. 12 That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper : 15 draw me a clothier's yard. — Look, look, a mouse ! Peace, peace ; — this piece of toasted cheese will do't. — There's my gauntlet ; I'll prove it on a giant. — Bring up the brown bills. 14 — 0, well flown, bird ! — i' the clout, i' the clout ! hewgh! — Give the word.'- 5 Edg. Sweet majoram. Lear. Pass. Glo. I know that voice. Lear. Ha ! Goneril ! — with a white beard ! — They fla'.ter'd me like a dog ; and told me, I had white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were there. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said ! — because its shell is marked with convolved protuberant ridges. 8 That is, the purest ; the most free from evil. So in Timon of Athens : — ' Roots ! you clear gods ! 9 By men's impossibilities perhaps is meant what men call i?>ipossibilities, what appear as such to mere mortal beings. 10 ' Bear free and patient thoughts.' Free here meari3 pure, as in other places of these plays. 11 'The safer sense (says Mr. Blakeway) seems to me to mean the eyesight, which, says Edgar, will never more serve the unfortunate Lear so well as those which Gloster has remaining will serve him, who is now returned to a right mind. Horace terms the eyes ' oculi fide/is,' and the eyesight may be called the safer sense in allusion to the proverb ' Seeing is believing.' Gloster afterwards laments the stiffness of his vile sense.'' 12 It is evident from the whole ol this speech that Lear fancied himself in a battle. For the meaning of press money, see the first scene of Hamlet, which will also, serve to explain the passage in Act v. Sc. 2 : — ' And turn our imprest lances in our eyes.' 13 ' Or if thou'k not thy archery forbear, To some base rustick do thyself prefer ; And when corn's sown, or grown into the ear, Practice thy quiver and turn crow-keeper.'' Drayton, Idea the Forty-eighth. Ascham, in speaking of awkward shooters, says: — ' Another cowreth down, and layeth out his buttockes as thoughe he would shoote at crowesS The subsequent expression of Lear, ' draw me a clothier's yard,' Steevens thinks, alludes to the old ballad of Chevy Chase : — ' An arrow of a cloth yard long, Up to the head he drew,' &c. 14 Battleaxes. 15 Lear is here raving of archery, falconry, and a 424 KING LEAR. Act IV. Ay and no too was no good divinity. 1 When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter ; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding ; there I found them, there I smelt them out. Go to, they are not men o' their words : they told me I was every thing : 'tis a lie ; I am not ague proof. Glo. The trick 2 of that voice I do well remember : Is't not the king ? Lear. Ay, every inch, a king : When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. I pardon'd that man's life : what was thy cause? — Adultery. — Thou shalt not die ; Die for adultery ! No : The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly Does lecher in my sight. Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son Was kinder to his father, than my daughters Got 'tween the lawful sheets. To't, luxury, 3 pell-mell, for I lack soldiers. — Behold yon simpering dame, Whose face between her forks presageth snow ;* That minces 5 virtue, and does shake the head To hear of pleasure's name ; The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, c goes to't With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, Though women all above ; But 7 to the girdle do the gods inherit,* Beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's dark- ness, There is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption : — Fie, fie, fie * pah ; pah ! Give me me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination : there's money for thee. Glo. O, let me kiss that hand ! Lear. Let me wipe it first ; it smells of mortality. Glo. O, ruin'd piece of nature ! This great world Shall so wear out to nought. — Dost thou know me / Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me ? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid ! I'll not love. — Read thou this challenge ; mark but ihe penning of it. Glo. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. Edg. I would not take this from report ; — it is, And my heart breaks at it. battle, jumbled together in quick transition. ' Well flown bird'' was the falconer's expression when the hawk was successful in her flight; it is so used in A "Woman Kill'd with Kindness. The clout is the white "mark at which archers aim. By 'give the word,' the watchword in a camp is meant. The quartos read, ' O well flown bird in the at/re, hugh, give the word.' 1 It has been proposed to read, ' To say ay and no to every thing I said ay and no to, was no good divinity.' Besides the .inaccuracy of construction in the passage as k stands in the text, it does not appear how it could be flattery to dissent from as well as assent to every thing Lear said. 2 Trick is a word used for the air, or peculiarity in a face, voice, or gesture, which distinguishes it" from ethers. We still say he has a trick of winking with his eyes, &c. 3 i. e. incontinence. 4 The construction is, i "Whose face presageth snow between her forks.' So in Timon of Athens, Act iv. Sc. 3 :— ' Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap.' See Cotgrave's Diet, in v. Fourcheure. 5 i. e. puts on an outward affected seeming of virtue. See Cotgrave in v. Mineitx-se. He also explains it under ' Faire la sadinelte, to mince it, nicefie it, be very squeamish, backward, or coy.' 6 The ftchew is the polecat. A soiled horse is'a horse that has been fed with hay and corn during the winter, and is turned out in the spring to take the first flush of grass, or has it cut and carried to him. This at once cleanses the animal and fills him with blood. In the old copies the preceding as well as the latter part of Lear's speech is printed as prose. It is doubtful whether iny part o! it was intended for metre. 7 But in its exceptive sense. 8 Possess. 9 From ' hide all ' to ' accuser's lips ' is wanting in the quart03 Lear. Read. Glo. What, with the case of eyes ? Lear. O, ho, are you there with me ? No eyea in your head, nor no money in your purse ? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light : Yet you see how this world goes. Glo. I see it feelingly. Lear. What, art mad ? A man may see how this world goes, with no eyes. Look with thine ears ; see how yon' justice rails upon yon' simple thief. Hark, in thine ear : Change places ; and handy- dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? — Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? Glo. Ay, sir. Lear. And the creature run from the cur ? There thou might'st behold the great image of authority ; A dog's obey'd in office. Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own back : Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. 3 Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. None does offend, none, I say none; I'll able 'em ;'° Take that of me, my friend, who have the power To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes ; And, like a scurvy politician, seem To see the things thou dost not. — Now, now, now, now : Pull off" my boots ; — harder, harder ; so. Edg. O, matter and impertinency 11 mix'd ! Reason in madness ! Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, lake my eyes, I know thee well enough ; thy name isGIoster: Thou must be patient ; we came crying hither. Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry : IS — I will preach to thee ; mark me. Glo. Alack, alack the day ! Lear, When we are born, we cry that we are come To this great stage of fools ; Tnis a good block? 13 10 i. e. support or uphold them. So Chapman, in the Widow's Tears, 1612 :— ' Admitted ! ay, into her heart, and I'll able it.' Again, in his version of the twenty-third Illiad : — ' I'll able this For five revolved years.' 11 Impertinency here is used in its old legitimate sense of something not belonging to the subject. 12 ' The childe feeles that, the man that feeling knowes, Which cries first borne, the presage of his life,' &c. Sidney's Jlrcadia. lib. ii. The passage is, however, evidently taken from Pliny, as translated by Philemon Holland, Proeme to b. vii.: — ; Man alone, poor wretch [nature] hath laid all naked upon the bare earth, even on his birthday to cry ana wrawle presently from the very first houre that he is borne into this world.' — Douce. 13 Upon the king's saying ' I will preach to thee,' the poet seems to have meant him to pull off his hat, and keep turning it and feeling it, in the attidude of one of the preachers of those times (whom I have seen re- presented in ancient prints) till the idea of felt which the good hat or block was made of, raises the stratagem in his brain of shoeing a troop of horse with the [same substance] which he held and moulded between his hands. So in Decker's Gull's Hornbook, 1G09 :— ' That cannot observe the tune of his hatband, nor know what fashioned block is most kin to his head : for in my opin- ion the brain cannot chuse his felt well.' Again, in Run and a Great Cast, no date, Epigram 46, in Sexti- num : — ' A pretty blocke Sextinus names his hat, So much the fitter for his head by that.' This delicate stratagem is mentioned by Ariosto : — ' fece nel cadar strepito qnanto Avesse avuto sottoi piediil/e/Jro.' So in Fenton's Tragical Discourses, 4to. blk. 1. 1567:— ' He attyreth himself for the purpose in a night-gowna Scene VI. KING LEAR. 42S It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe A troop of horse with felt : I'll put it in proof; And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law, Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. 1 Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants. Gent. O, here he is, lay hand upon him. — Sir, Your most dear daughter Lear. No rescue '! What, a prisoner ? I am even The natural fool of fortune. 2 — Use me well ; You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon, 1 am cut to the brains. Gent. You shall have any thing. Lear. No seconds ? All myself ? Why, this would make a man, a man of salt, 5 To use his eyes for garden water-pots, Ay, and for laying autumn's dust. Gent. Good sir, — Lear. I will die bravely, like a bridegroom : What ? I will be jovial ; come, come ; I am a king, My masters, know you that ! Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. Lear. Then there's life in it. 4 Nay, an you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. s [Exit, running ; Attendants follow. Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; Past speaking of in a king ! — Thou hast one daughter Who redeems nature from the general curse Which twain have brought her to. Edg. Hail, gentle sir. Gent. Sir, speed you : What's your will? Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward ? Gent. Most sure and vulgar : every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound. Edg. But, by your favour, How near's the other army ? Gent. Near, and on speedy foot, the main descry Stands on the hourly thought. 6 Edg. I thank you, sir : that's all. Gent. Though that the queen on special cause is here, Her aitny is mov'd on. Edg. I thank you, sir. [Exit Gent. Glo. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me ; Let not my worser spirit 7 tempt me again To die before you please ! Edg. Well pray you, father. Glo. Now, good sir, what are you ? Edg. A most poor man, made lame by fortune's blows : 8 Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 9 Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to some biding. girt to hym, with a payre of shoes of felte leaste the noyse ot his feete might discover his goinge,' p. 58. — It had, however, been actually put in practice about fifty years before Shakspeare was born, at a tournament held at Lisle before Henry the VIII. [Oct. 13, 1513,] where the horses, to prevent their sliding on a black stone pavement, were shod with felt or Jlqfks (fellro sive tomenlo.) See Lord Herbert's Life ol'King Henry VIII. p. 41. *. This was the cry formerly in the English army when an onset was made on the enemy. So in Venus and Adonis : — ' Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny, And in a peaceful hour doth cry, Kill, hill.' 2 So in Romeo and Juliet : — ' O, lam fortune's fool.' 3 ' A man oCsalf is a man of tears. In All's Well that Ends Well, we meet with ' Your salt tears head.' And in Troilus and Cressida, ' the salt of broken tears.' Again, in Coriolanus : — ' He has betray'd your business, and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome.' 4 The case is not yet desperate. So in Antony and Cleopatra : — ' There's sap in't yet.' 5 Mr. Boswell thinks that this passage seems to prove that sessa means the very reverse of cessez. See p. 414, and p. 416, note 13, ante. 6 The main body is expected to be descried every hour. 3D Gin. Hearty thanks : The bounty and the benizon of heaven To boot, and boot ! Enter Steward. Stew. A proclaim'd prize I Most happy ! That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh To raise my fortunes. — Thou old unhappy traitor, Briefly thyself remember : 10 — The sword is out That must destroy thee. Glo. Now let thy friendly hand Put strength enough to it. [Edgar opposes. Stew. Wherefore, bold peasant, Dar'st thou support a pubhsh'd traitor ? Hence ; Lest that the infection of his fortune take Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. Edg. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. Stew. Let go, slave, or thou diest. Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, 11 and let poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha' been zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the old man ; keep out, che vor'ye, 12 or ise try whether your costard 13 or my bat be the harder : Ch'ill be plain with you. Stew. Out, dunghill ! Edg. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir ; Come ; no mat • ter vor your foins. 1 * [They fight; and Edgar knocks him down. Slew. Slave, thou hast slain me : — Villain, take my purse; If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body ; And give the letters, which thou find'st about me, To Edmund earl of Gloster ; seek him out Upon the British party : O, untimely death [Dies. Edg. I know thee well : A serviceable villain ; As duteous to the vices of thy mistress, As badness would desire. Glo. What, is he dead ? Edg. Sit you down, father ; rest you. — Let's see his pockets ; these letters, that he speaks of, May be my friends. — He's dead : I am only sorry He had no other deathsman. — Let us see : Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip their hearts Their papers, is more lawful. 15 [Reads.) Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off"; if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror : Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my gaol ; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour. Your wife, (so I would say,) and yow affectionate servant, GoNERIL. O undistinguish'd space of woman's will J16 — A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ; And the exchange, my brother ! — Here, in the sands, 7 By this expression may be meant. '■my evil genius.' 8 The folio reads ' made tame by fortune's blows.' The original is probably the true reading. So in Shak- speare's thirty-seventh Sonnet: — ' So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spight.' 9 Feeling is probably used here for felt. Sorrows known not by relation, but by experience. Warburton explains it, ' Sorrows past and present.' 10 i. e. ' quickly recollect the past offences of thy life, and recommend thyself to heaven.' 11 Gang your gait, is a common expression in the north. In the last rebellion, the Scotch soldiers, when they had finished their exercise, were dismissed by this phrase, ' gang your gaits.' 12 i. e. I warn you. When our ancient writers have occasion to introduce a rustic, they commonly allot him the Somersetshire dialect. Gokling, in his transla- tion of the second book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, makes Mercury, assuming the appearance of a clown, speak with the provinciality of Edgar. 13 i. e. head. A bat is a staff. It is the proper name of a walking-stick in Sussex even at this day. 14 i. e. thrusts. 15 i. e. to rip their papers is more lawful. 16 This seems to me to mean, ' O how inordinate, how unbounded is the licentious inclination of women. 426 KING LEAR. Act IV. Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified 1 Of murderous lechers : and, in the mature time, With this ungracious paper strike the sight Of the death-practis'd duke : 2 for him 'tis well, That of thy death and business I can tell. [Exit Edgar, dragging out the Body. Glo. The king is mad : How stiff is my vile sense, That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling 3 Of my huge sorrows ! Better I were distract : So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs ; And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose The knowledge of themselves. Re-enter Edgar. Edg. Give me your hand : Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. A Tent in the French Camp. Lear on a Bed asleep : Physician, Gentleman, 4 and others attending : Enter Cordelia and Kent. Cor. O, thou good Kent, how shall I live, and work, To match thy goodness ? My life will be too short, And everv measure fail me. Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid. All my reports go with the modest truth ; Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. Cor. Be better suited : 5 These weeds are memories 6 of those worser hours ; I pr'ythee, put them off. Kent. Pardon me, dear madam ; Yet to be known, shortens my made intent :' Mv boon I make it, that you know me not, Till time and I think meet. Cor. Then be it so, my good lord. — How does the king ? [To the Physician. Phys. Madam, sleeps still. Cor. O, you kind cods, Cure this great breach in his abused nature ! The untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up, Of this child-changed father ! 8 Phys. So please your majesty, That we may wake the king ? he hath slept long. Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed I' the swav of your own will. Is he arrav'd ? Gent. Ay, madam ; in the heaviness of his sleep, We put fresh garments on him. Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him ; I doubt not of his temperance. Cor. Very will. 1 ' Thee Til rake up, the post unsanctified,'' &c. i. e. I'll cover thee. In Staffordshire, to rale the fire, is to cover it for the night. Unsanctified refers to his want of burial in consecrated ground. 2 That is, the Duke of Albany, whose death is ma- chinated bv practice or treason. 3 c Ingenious feeling.' Bullokar, in his Expositor, interprets ingenious by quick conceited, i. e. acute. This makis Warburton's paraphrase unnecessary. 4 In the folio, the Gentleman ami the Physician are one and the same person. 5 i.e. be better dressed, put on a better suit of clothes. 6 Memories are memorials. 7 A made intent is an intent formed. We say in common language to make a design, and to make a resolution. 8 That is, changed by his children ; a father whose jarring senses have been untuned by the monstrous in- gratitude of his daughters. So care-crazed, crazed by care ; wo-teearied, wearied by wo, &c. 9 This and the foregoing speech are not in the folio. It has been already observed that Shakspeare consider- ed so/7 music as'favourable to sleep. Lear, we may suppose, had been thus composed to rest ; and now the Physician desires louder music to be played, for the pur- pose of waking him. So again in Pericles, Cerimon, to recover Thaisa, who had been thrown into the sea, says : — ' The rough and wofu! music that we have, Cause it to sound, beseech you.' Again in the Winter's Tale : — ' Music aicake her, strike !' 19 Restoration is no more than recovery personified. Phys. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there. 9 Cor. O, my dear father ! Restoration,' hang Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made! Kent. Kind and dear princess! Cor. Had you not been their father, these whits flakes Had challeng'd pity on them. Was this a face To be expos'd against the warring winds ? [To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? In the most terrible and nimble stroke Of quick, cross lightning? to watch (poor perdu !) With this thin helm?"] Mine enemy s dog, Though he had bit me, should have stood that night Against my fire ; And wast thou fain, poor father, To hovel th.ee with swine, and rogues forlorn, In short and musty straw ? Alack, alack ! 'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once Had not concluded all. 12 — He wakes ; speak to him. Phys. Madam, do you ; 'tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord ? How fares your majesty ? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave : — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. Cor. Sir, do you know me ? I^ear. You are a spirit, I know ; When did you die ? Cor. Still, still, far wide! Phys. He's scarce awake ; let him alone awhile. Lear. Where have I been ? Where am I ? — Fair day-light ?- lam mightily abus'd. 13 — I should even die with pity, To see another thus. — I know not what to say. — I will not swear, these are my hands : — let's see ; I feel this pin prick. 'Would, I were assur'd Of my condition. Cor. O, look upon me sir, And hold your hands in benediction o'er me No, sir, yon must not kneel. 14 Ijear. Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward {*• and, todeal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfcet mind. Methinks, I should know you, and know this man ■ Yet I am doubtful : for I am mainly ignorant What place this is ; and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments ; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night : Do not laugh at me ; 11 The lines in crotchets are not in the folio. The al- lusion is to the forlorn hope of an army, called in French eniavs perdu s ; amongst other desperate adventures in which they were engaged, the night-watches seem to have been a common one. Warburtnn is wrong in sup. posin? that those ordered on such services were lightly or badly armed ; the contrary is clearly the fact, and to such a fact is the allusion of the poet, ' Poor perdu, you are exposed to the most dangerous situation, not with the most proper arms, but with a mere helmet of thin and hoary hair.' The same allusion occurs in Dave nant's Love and Honour, 1649 : ' I have endured Another nieht would tire & perdu More than a wet furrow and a ereat frost.' So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Little French Lawyer : — ' I am set here like a perdu To watch a fellow that has wrong'd my mistress.' 12 i. e. had not all ended. So in Timon of Athens :— ' And dispossess her all.' 13 I am strangely imposed upon by appearances ; I am in a strange mist of uncertainty. 14 ' This circumstance is found in the old play of King Leir, apparently written by another hand, and published before any edition of Shakspeare's play had made its appearance. As it is always difficult to say whether such accidental resemblances proceed from imitation, or a similarity of thinking on the same occasion, I can only point out this to the reader, to whose determina- tion I leave the question.'— Steei^ens. 15 The folio here adds the words ' not an hour more or less.' Which, as they are absurd and superfluous, have been justly degraded as the interpolation of some inconsiderate player Scene VII. KING LEAR. 427 For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia. Cor. And so I am, I am, Lear. Be your tears wet ? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not : If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know, you do not love me ; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong : You have some cause, they have not. Cor. No cause, no cause. Lear. Am I in France ? Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. Lear. Do not abuse me. Phys. Be comforted, good madam : the great rage, You see, is cur'd in him : and yet it is danger To make him even 1 o'er the time he has lost.] Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more, Till further settling. Cor. Will 't please your highness walk ? Lear. You must bear with me : 'Pray now, forget and forgive : I am old, and foolish. £ Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants. [Gent. Holds it true, sir, That the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? Kent. Most certain, sir. Gent. Who is conductor of his people ? Kent. As 'tis said, The bastard son of Gloster. Gent. They say, Edgar, His banish'd son, is with the Earl of Kent In Germany. Kent. Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about ; the powers o' the kingdom Approach apace. Gent. The arbitrement is like to be a bloody. Fare you well, sir. [Exit. Kent. My point and period will be thoroughly wrought, Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought. 2 ] [Exit. ACT V. SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces, near Dover. Enter, ivith Drums, and Colours, Ed- mund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and others. Edm. Know of the duke, if his last purpose hold ; Or, whether since he is advis'd by aught To change the course : He's full of alteration, And self-reproving: — bring his constant pleasure. 3 [To an Officer, mho goes out. Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. Edm. 'Tis to be doubted, madam. Reg. Now, sweet lord, You know the goodness I intend upon you : Tell me,— but truly, — but then speak the truth, Do you not love my sister ? Edm. In honour'd love. 1 ' To make him even o'er the time he has lost,' is to make the occurrences of it plain or level to his troubled mind. See Baret's Alvearie, 1573, E. 307. 2 What is printed in crotchets is not in the folio. It is at least proper, if not necessary, and was perhaps only omitted by the players to abridge a play oT very con- siderable length. 3 i. e. his settled resolution. 4 Theirs/ and last of these speeches within crotchets are inserted in Hanmer's, Theobald's, and Warburton's editions, the two intermediate ones, which were omitted in all others, are restored from the 4to. 160S. Whether they were left out through negligence, or because the imagery contained in them might be thought too luxuri- ant, I cannot determine ; but surely a material injury is done to the character of the Bastard by the omission ; for he is made to deny that flatly at first, which the poet only meant to make him evade, or return slight answers to, till he is urged so far as to be obliged to shelter him- self under an immediate falsehood. Query, however, whether Shakspeare meant us to believe that Edmund had actually found his way to the foref ended (i. e. for- bidden) place ? — Steevens. 5 Imposes on you ; you are deceived. 6 ' This business (says Albany) touches us, as France invades our land, not as it emboldens or encourages the [Reg. But have you never found my brother's way To the forefended 4 place ? Edm. That thought abuses 5 you, Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjunct And bosom'd with her, as far as wc call hers. Edm. No, by mine honour, madam.] Reg. I never shall endure her : Dear my lord, Be not familiar with her. Edm. Fear me not : — She, and the duke her husband, Enter Albany, Goneril, and Soldier Gon. I had rather lose the battle, than that sister Should loosen him and me. [Aside. Alb. Our very loving sister, well be met. — Sir, this I hear, — The king is come to his daughter, With others, whom the rigour of our state Forc'd to cry out. [Where I could not be honest I never yet was valiant : for this business, It toucheth us as France invades our land, Not bolds 6 the king ; with others, whom, I fear, More just and heavy causes make oppose. Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. Reg. Why is this reason'd ? Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy : For these domestic and particular broils' Are not to question here. Alb. Let us then determine With the ancient of war on our proceedings. Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent, 8 Reg. Sister, you'll go with us ? Gon. No. Reg. 'Tis most convenient ; 'pray you, go with us. Gon. O, ho, I know the riddle : [Aside.] I will go. As they are going out, enter Edgar, disguised. Edg. If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor, Hear me one word. Ah. I'll overtake you. — Speak. [Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, Offi- cers, Soldiers, and Attendants. Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. If you have victory, let the trumpet sound For him that brought it ; wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion, that will prove What is avouched there : If you miscarry, Your business of the world hath so an end, And machination ceases. 9 Fortune love you ! Alb. Stay till I have read the letter. Edg. I was forbid it, When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, And I'll appear again. [Exit. Alb. Why, fare thee well ; I will o'erlook thy paper. Re-enter Edmund. Edm. The enemy's in view, draw up your powers, Here is the guess of their true strength and forces By diligent discovery $ 10 — but your haste Is now urg'd on you. Alb.. We will greet the time." [Exit. king to assert his former title.' Thus in the ancient Interlude of Hycke Scorner : — ' Alas, that I had not one to bolde me.' Again in Arthur Hull's translation of the fourth Iliad, 4to. 1581 :— ' And Pallas bolds the Greeks.' &c. ' To make bolde, to encourage, animum addere.' - Baret. 7 The quartos have it : — ' For these domestic doore particulars.' 1 The folio reads in the subsequent line : ' Are not the question here.' 8 This speech is wanting in the folio. 9 i. e. all designs against your life will have an end, These words are not in the quartos. 10 i. e. the conjecture, or what we can gather by dili- gent espial, of their strength. So in King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.: — ' send discoverers forth To know the number of our enemies ' The passage has only been thought obscure for want of a right understanding of the word discovert/, which nei- ther Malone nor Steevens seems to have understood 11 i. e.be ready to meet the occasion. 428 KING LEAR. Act V. Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my love ; Each jealous of the other, as the stung Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take ? Both! one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd, If both remain alive ; To take the widow, Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ; And hardly shall I carry out my side, 1 Her husband being alive. Now, then, we'll use His countenance for the battle ; which being done, Let her, who would be rid of him, devise His speedy taking off. As for the mercy Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia, — The battle done, and they within our power, Shall never see his pardon : for my state Stands on me to defend, not to debate. 2 [Exit. SCENE II. A Field between the hoo Camps.— Alarum within. Enter, with Drum, and Colours, Lear, Cordelia, and their Forces; and exeunt. Enter Edgar and Gloster. 3 Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree For your good host ; pray that the right may thrive : If ever I return to you again, I'll bring you comfort. Glo. ' Grace go with you, sir ! [Exit Edgar. Alarums; afterwards a Retreat. Re-enter Edgar. Edg. Away, old man, give me thy hand, away ; King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en : Give me thy hand, come on. Glo. No further, sir ; a man may rot even here. Edg. What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither : Ripeness is all : 4 Come on. Glo. And that's true too. [Exeunt. SCENE HI. The British Camp near Dover. Enter, in Conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund ; Lear and Cordelia, as Prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, $-c. Edm. Some officers take them away ; good guard; Until their greater pleasure first be known That are to censure 5 them. Cor. We are not the first, Who, with the best meaning, have incurr'd the worst." For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down ; Myself could else outfrown false fortune's frown. Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters? Lear. No, no, no, no ! Come, let's away to prison : We two alone will sing like birds i' the casie : When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness : So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 1 Hardly shall I be able to make my side (i. e. my parly) good ; to maintain the game. Steeven9 has shown that it was a phrase commonly used at cards. So in the Paston Letters, vol. iv. p. 155: — ' Heydon's son hath borne out the side, stoutly here,' &c. 2 'Such is my determination concerning Lear; as for my state, it requires now not deliberation, but de- fence and support.' 3 Those who are curious to know how far Shak- speare was indebted to the Arcadia, will find a chapter entitled 'The Piiifull State and Storie of the Paphla- gonian unkinue King, and his kinde Sonne ; first related by the Sonne, then" by the blinde Father,' at p. 141 of the edition of 1590, 4to. 4 i. e. to be ready, prepared, is all. So in Hamlet : — ' If it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.'' 5 i.e. to pass sentence or judgment on them. So in Othello : — ' Remains the censure of this hellish villain.' 6 That is ' the worst that fortune can inflict.' 7 'As if we were angels, endowed with the power of prying into the original motives of action and the mys- teries of conduct.' 8 Packs and sects are combinations and parlies. 9 The thought is extremely noble, and expressed in a sublime of imagery that Seneca fell short of on a simi- lar occasion: — 'Ecce spectaculum di?num ad quod res- piciat intenti operi suo deus ; ecce par deo dignum vir fbrtis cum mala fortuna compositus.' — Warburton. At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too, Who lo=es, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; — And take upon us the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies:' And we 1 ': wear out, In a wall'd prison, packs and sects* of great ones, That ebb and flow by the moon. Edm. Take them away, Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Ccrdelia, The gods themselves throw incense. 9 Have I caught thee ? He, that parts us, shall bring a brand from heaven, And fire us hence, like foxes. 10 Wipe thine eyes; The goujeers shall devour them, flesh and fell, 11 Ere they shall make us weep : we'll see them starve first. Come.' [Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded. Edm. Come hither, captain ; hark. Take thou this note ; 12 [Giving a Paper] go, follow them to prison : One step I have advane'd thee ; if thou dost As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortunes : Know thou this, — that men Are as the time is : to be tender-minded Does not become a sword : — Thy great employment Will not bear question : ,a either say, thou'lt do't, Or thrive by other means. Off. I'll do't, my lord. Edm. About it ; and write happy, when thou hast done. Mark, — I say instantly ; and carry it so, As I have set it down. Off. I cannot, draw a cart, nor eat dried oats ; If it be man's work, I will do it. [Exit Officer. Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Offi- cers, and Attendants. Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain, And fortune led you well : You have the captives Who were the opposites of this day's strife : We do require them of you ; so to use them, As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine. Edm. Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable king To some retention, and appointed guard ; Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side, And turn our impress'd lances 14 in our eyes Which do command them. With him I sent the queen ; My reason all the same ; and they are ready To-morrow, or at further space, to appear Where you shall hold your session. [At this time 10 Alluding to the eld practice of smoking foxes out of their holes. So in Harrington's translation of Ariosto, b. xxvii. stan. 17 : — ' E'en as a fore whom smoke andflre doth fright, So as he dare not in the ground remaine. Bolts out, and through the amok e nnrl fire he flieth Into the tarrier's mouth, and there he dieth.' 11 ' The goujeers shall devour them flesh and/eW.' The goujeers, i. e. morbus Gallicus. Gouge. Fr. is a soldier's trull ; and as the disease was first dispersed over Europe by the French army, and the women who followed it, the first name it obtained among us was the goujeries, i. e. the disease of the gouges. — Hanmer The expression, however, soon became obscure, its origin not being generally known, and it was at length corrupted to the good year; a very opposite form of expression. In the present instance the quartos, follow- ing the common corruption, have the good yeares. Flesh and fell is flesh and sidnt Thus in The Specu- lum Vitse, MS. :— ' That alle men sal a domesday rise Oute of their graves in fleshe and felle.'' So in The Dyar's Playe, Chester Mysteries, MS. in the Brit. Museum : — ' I made thee man of flesh and fell.' 12 This was a warrant signed by the Bastard and Go neril, for the execution of Lear and Cordelia, referred to in a subsequent scene by Edmund. 13 i. e. admit of debate. 14 That is the lancemen we have hired by giving thea press-money Scene III. KING LEAR. 429 W e sweat and Weed : the friend hath lost his friend : And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd By those that feel their sharpness : — The question of Cordelia, and her father, Requires a fittter place. 1 ] Alb. Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother. Reg. That's as we list to grace him. Methinks, our pleasure might have been demanded, Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers ; Bore the commission 2 of my place and person ; The which immediacy 3 may well stand up, And call itself your brother. Gon. Not so hot : In his own grace 4 he doth exalt himself, More than in your advancement. Reg. In my rights, By me invested, he compeers the best. Gon. That were the most, if he should husband you. 5 Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. Gon. Hollr, holla ! That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint. s Reg. Lady, I am not well ; else I should answer From a full flowing stomach. — General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony ; Dispose of them, of me ; the walls are thine : 7 Witness the world, that I create thee here My lord and master. Gon. Mean you to enjoy him ? Alb. The let alone lies not in your good will. 8 Edm. Nor in thine, lord. Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. Reg. Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. 3 [To Edmund. Alb. Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason; and, in thine, attaint 10 This gilded serpent: [Pointing to Gon.] — for your claim, fair sister, I bar it in the interest of my wife ; 'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord, And I, her husband, contradict your bans. If you will marry, make your love to me, My lady is bespoke. Gon. An interlude ! Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloster : — Let the trumpet sound : If none appear to prove upon thy person, Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge ; [Throwing down a Glove.] I'll prove it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaim'd thee. Reg. Sick, O, sick! Gon. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison. [Aside. Edm. There's my exchange : [Throwing down a Glove] what in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies : 1 i. e. the determination of what shall be done with Cordelia, and her father, should be reserved for greater privacy. 2 Commission for authority. 3 Immediacy is, I think, close and immediate con- nexion with me, and direct authority from me. Imme- diate is the reading of the quartos. 4 Grace here means noble deportment. The folio has addition instead of advaneement in the next line. 5 ' If he were married to you, you could not say more than this, nor could he enjoy greater power.' In the folio this line is given to Albany. 6 Alluding to the proverb, 'Love being jealous makes a good eye look asquint.' So Milton : — ' And gladly banish squint suspicion.'' Comus. 7 A metaphor taken from the camp, and signifying to surrender at discretion. This line is not in the quartos. 8 ' To obstruct their union lies not in your good plea- sure, your veto will avail nothing.' 9 It appears from this speech that Regan did not Know that Albany had discharged her forces. This line is given to Edmund in the quartos. 10 The folio reads ' thy arrest.' Call by thy trumpet : he 'I.at dares approach, On him, on you, (who not?) I will maintain My truth and honour firmly. Alb. A herald, ho ! Edm. A herald, ho, a herald ! Alb. Trust to thy single virtue ;*> for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge. Reg. This sickness grows upon me Enter a Herald. Alb. She is not well ; convey her to my tent. [Exit Regan, led. Come hither, herald. — Let the trumpet sound, — And read out this. Off. Sound, trumpet. [A Trumpet sounds. Herald redds. If any man of quality, or degree, witliin the lists q, the army, will maintain upon Edmund, supposed earl of Gloster, that he is a manifold traitor, let him ap- pear at the third sound of the trumpet : He is bold in his defence. Edm. Sound. [1 Trumpet. Her. Again. [2 Trumpet. Her. Again. [3 Trumpet. [Trumpet answers within Enter Edgar, armed, preceded by a Trumpet Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o' the trumpet. 12 Her. What are you ? Your name, your quality ? and why you answer This present summons ? Edg. Know, my name is lost ; By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker-bit : Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope withal. Alb. Which is that adversary ? Edg. What's he, that speaks for Edmund ear. o? Gloster ? Edm. Himself; — What say'st thou to him ? Edg. Draw thy sword y That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice : here is mine. Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession : 13 I protest, — Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence. Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune, Thy valour, and thy heart, — thou art a traitor : False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father ; Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince ; And, from the extremest upward of thy head, To the descent and dust beneath thy feet, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No, This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, Thou liest. Edm. In wisdom, I should ask thy name ; 14 But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, And that thy tongue some 'say 1 5 of breeding breathes, What safe and nicely 16 I might well delay 11 i. e. valour ; a Roman sense of the word. Thus Raleigh : — ' The conquest of Palestine with singular virtue they performed.' 12 This is according to the ceremonials of the trial by combat in cases criminal. ' The appellant and his pro- curator first come to the gate. The constable and marshall demand by voice of herald, what he is, and why he comes so arrayed.' — Selden's Duello. 13 'Here I draw my sword. Behold, it is the privi- lege or right of my profession to draw it against a trai- tor.' It is the right of bringing the charge, and main- taining it with his sword, which Edgar calls the privilege of his profession. 14 Because, if his adversary was not of equal rank, Edmund might have declined the combat. Goneril afterwards says : — ' By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite.' 15 Say, or assay, is a sample, a taste. So in the preface to Maurice Kyffin's translation of the Andria of Terence, 1583 : — ' Some other like places I could recite, but these shall suffice for a say.' 16 ' What safe and nicely I might well delay.' This seems to mean ' What I might safely well delay, 450 KING LEAR. Act V; By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn: Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ; With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart ; Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,) This sword of mine shall give them instant way, Where they shall rest forever. 1 — Trumpets, speak. [Alarums. They Jight, Edmund falls. Alb. O, save him, save him ! 2 Gon. This is mere practice, Gloster: By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquish'd, But cozen'd ana beguil'd. Alb. Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it : — Hold, sir: — Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil : No tearing, lady ; I perceive you know it. [Gives the Letter to Edmund. Gon. Say, if I do ; the laws are mine, not thine : Who shall arraign me for't ? Alb. Most monstrous ! Know'st thou this paper ? s Gon. Ask me not what I know. [Exit Goneril. Alb. Go after her : she'« desperate ; eovern her. [To an Officer, who goes out. Edm. What you have charg'd me with, that have 1 done ; And much more : the time will bring it out ; 'Tis past, and so am I : But what art thou, That hast this fortune on me ? If thou art noble, I do forgive thee. Edg. Let's exchange charity. 4 I arn no less in blood than thou art, Edmund ; If more, the more ihou hast wrong'd me. My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to scourge us: 1 The dark and vicious place where thee he got, Cost him his eyes. Edm. Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true ; The wheel is come full circle ; I am here. Alb. Methought, thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness: — I must embrace thee j Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I Dili hate thee, or thy father. Edg. Worthy prince, I know't. Alb. Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father? Edg. By nursiug them, my lord. — List a brief tale : — And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst ! The bloody proclamation to escape, That follow'd me so near, (O, our lives' sweetness ! That we the pain of death would hourly die, 6 Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift Into a madman's rags ; to assume a semblance That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit if I acted /iiinrtilioiixh/.' This line is omitted in the quartos, but without it the subsequent line is nonsense. 1 To that place where they shall rest for ever : i. e. thy heart. 2 Albany desires that Edmund's life may be spared at present, only to obtain his confession, and to convict him openly by his own letter. 3 'Knowest thou these letters ?> says Leir to Regan, in the old anonymous play, when he shows her both her own and her sister's letters, which were written to procure his death, upon which she snatches the letters and tears them. 4 Shakspeare gives his heathens the sentiments and practices of Christianity. In Hamlet there is the same 6olemn act of final reconciliation, but with exact pro- priety, for the personages are Christians : — ' Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet.' 5 The folio reads ' to plague us.' 6 'To die hourly the pains of death.' is a periphrasis for ' to suffer hourly the pains of death.' The quartos read : — ' That with the pain of death would hourly die.' 7 So in Pericles : — ' Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels Which Pericles hath lost.' 8 The lines within crotchets are not in the folio. 9 Of this difficult passage, which is probablv corrupt, Rteevens gives the following explanation :— ' This would Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost ;* became his guide, Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair ; Never, (O, fault !) reveal'd myself unto him, Until, some half hour past, ■when I was arm'd, Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, I ask'd his blessing, and, from first to last, Told him my pilgrimage ; But his fiaw'd heart, (Alack, too weak the conflict to support !) 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly. Edm. This speech of yours hath mov'd me, And shall, perchance, do good : but speak you on ; You look as you had something more to say. Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in ; For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this. 8 [Edg. This would have seem'd a period To such as love not sorrow, but another, To amplify too much, would make much more, And top extremity. 9 Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man, Who having seen me in my worst estate, Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then finding Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out As he'd burst heaven: threw him 10 on my father ; Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him, That ever ear receiv'd : which in recounting His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life Began to crack : Twice then the trumpet sounded, And there I left him trane'd. Alb. But who was this ? Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent ; who in dis- guise Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service Improper for a slave.] Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody Knife. Gent. Help ! help ! O, help ! Edg. What kind of help? Alb. Speak, man. Edg. What means that bloody knife ? Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes ; It came even from the heart of Alb. Who, man ? speak. Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady : and her sister By her is poison'd ; she hath confess'd it." Edm. I was contracted to them both ; all three Now marry in an instant. Alb. Produce their bodies,bc they alive or dead !— This judgment of the heavens, that makes us trem- ble, Touches us not with pity. 12 [Exit Gentleman. Enter Kent. Edg. Here comes Kent, sir. Alb. O ! it is he. have seemed a period to such as love not sorrow, but — another, i. e. but I must add another, i. e. another period, another kind of conclusion to my story, such as will increase the horrors of what has been already told.' It will be necessary, if we admit this interpretation, to point the passage thus : — ' but another : — (To amplify too much, would make much more, And top extremity,) Whilst I was big,' &c. Malone's explanation is: — 'This would have seemed the utmost completion of woe, to such as do not delight in sorrow, but anothir, of a different disposition, to amplify misery " would give more strength to that which hath too much."' Referring to the Bastard's desiring to hear more, and to Albany's thinking that enough had been said. 10 The quartos read 'threw me on my father.' — Steevens thus defends the present reading :— ' There is a tragic propriety in Kent's throwing himself on the body of a deceased friend ; but this propriety is lost in the act of clumsily tumbling a son over the lifelesa remains of his father.' 11 Thus the quarto. The folio reads ' she confesses it.' 12 ' If e hakspeare had studied Aristotle all his life, he would not, perhaps, have been able to mark with more precision the distinct operations of terror ani pity.'' Tijrw/titt. Scene III. KJtNG LEAK. 431 The time will not allow the compliment, Which very manners urges. Kent. I am come To bid my kino and master aye good night ; Is he not (ere ? Alb. Great thing of us forgot ! — Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia 1 — See'st thou this object, Kent? [The Bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in. Kent. Alack, why thus ? Edm. Yet Edmund was belov'd : The one the other poison'd for my sake, And after slew herself. Alb. Even so. — Cover their faces. Edm. I pant for life : — Some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, — Be brief in it, — to the castle, for my writ Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia : — Nay, send in time. Alb. Run, run, O, run — Edg. To whom, my lord ? — Who has the office ? send Thy token of reprieve. Edm. Well thought on ; take my sword, Give it the captain. Alb. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit Edcar. Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and To lay the blame upon her own despair, That she fordid 1 herself. Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. [Edmund is borne off. Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his Arms; 2 Edgar, Officer, and others. Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl! — O, you are men of stones ; Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack : — O, she is gone for ever ! — I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; She's dead as earth : — Lend me a looking-glass ; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives. Kent. Is this the promis'd end ? 3 Edg. Or image of that horror ? Alb. Fall, and cease ! 4 Lear. This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so, 1 To fordo signifies to destroy. It is used again in Hamlet, Act v. : — ' did, with desperate hand, Fordo its own life.' 2 The old historians say that Cordelia retired with vic- tory from the battle, which she conducted in her father's cause, and thereby replaced him on the throne : but in a subsequent one fought against her, (after the death of the old king,) by the sons of Regan and Goneril, she was taken, and died miserably in prison (Geoffrey, of Monmouth, the original relater of the story, says that ehe killed herself.) The dramatic writers of Shak- epeare's age suffered as small a number of their heroes and heroines to escape as possible ; nor could the filial piety of this lady, any more than the innocence of Ophelia, prevail on the poet to extend her life beyond her misfortunes. — Steevens. 3 Kent, in contemplating the unexampled scene of ex- quisite affection which was then before him, arid the un- natural attempt of Goneril and Regan against their fa- ther's life, recollects those passages of St. Mark's Gos- pel in which Christ foretells to his disciples the end of the world, and hence his question, ' Is this the promised end of all things, which has been foretold to us ?' To which Edgar adds, or only a representation or resem- blance of that horror ? So Macbeth, when he calls upon Banquo, Malcolm, &c. to view Duncan murdered, says : — ' up, up, and see The great doom's image ! Malcolm ! Banquo ! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, To countenance this horror.' There is an allusion to the same passage of Scripture in a speech of Gloster's in the second scene of the first a;t. — Mason. 4 To cease, is to die. Albany is looking with atten- It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt. Kent. O, my good master ! [Kneeling, Lear. 'Pr'ythee, away. Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have sav'd her ; now she's gone for ever ' Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha ! What is't thou say'st ? — Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low ; an excellent thing in woman :— I kill'd the slave that was a-haneing thee. Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did. Lear. Did I not, fellow ? I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip: 5 I am old now. And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are you? Mine eyes are none o' the best: — I'll tell you straight. Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated, One of them we behold. 6 Lear. Thisis a dull sight :' Are you not Kent ? Kent. The same ; Your servant Kent : Where is your servant Caius ? Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that ; He'll strike, and quickly too : — He's dead and rotten. Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very man ;— Lear. I'll see that straight. Kent. That from your first of difference and decay, Have follow'd your sad steps. Lear. You are welcome hither. Kent. Nor no man else ; all's cheerless, dark, and deadly. — Your eldest daughters have fore-doom'd 3 them- selves, And desperately are dead. Lear. Ay, so I think. Alb. He knows not what he sees ; and vain it ia That we present us to him. Edg. Very bootless. Enter aft Officer. Off. Edmund is dead, my lord. Alb. That's but a trifle here.— You lords, and noble friends, know our intent. What comfort to this great decay 9 may come, Shall be applied : for us, we will resign, During the life of this old majesty, To him our absolute power : — You, to your rights ; [To Edgar and Kent. With boot, and such addition as your honours tion on the pains employed by Lear to recover his child, and knows to what miseries he must survive, when he finds them to be ineffectual. Having these images pre- sent to his eyes and imagination, he cries out, ' Rather fall, and cease to be at once, than continue in existence only to be wretched.' 5 It is difficult for an author who never peruses his first works to avoid repeating some of the same thoughts in his later productions. What Lear has just said "has been anticipated by Justice Shallow, in The Merry Wives of Windsor: — 'I have seen the time with my long sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.' It is again repeated in Othello : — ' I have seen the day That with this little arm and this good sword I have made my way,' &c. 6 ' If Fortune, to display the plenitude of her power, should brag of two persons, one of whom she had highly elevated, and the other she had wofully depressed we now behold the latter.' The quarto reads ' She lov'd or hated,' which confirms this sense. 7 I think, with Mr. Blakeway, that Lear means his eyesight was bedimmed either by excess of grief, or, as is usual, by the approach of death. So in Baret, '■Dull eyes, inertes oculi :' — ' To dull the eyesight, hebetare oculos.' Albany says of Lear below, ' He knows not what he sees,' where the folio erroneously reads 'he says.' 8 Thus the quartos : the folio reads foredone, which is probably right. See note 1, in the preceding column. 9 'This great decay' is Lear, whom Shakspeare poetically calls so ; and means the same as if he had said, ' this piece of decayed royalty,' ' this ruined ma jesty.' G'.oster calls him in a preceding scene ' ruin d piece of nature.' 432 RING LEAR. Act V< Have more than merited :' — All friends shall taste The wages of their virtue, and all foes The cup of their deservings. — O, see, see ! hear. And my poor fool is hang'd '2 No, no, no life : Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all ? O, thou wilt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never ! — 'Pray you, undo this button : Thank you, sir. — Do you see this ? — Look on her, — look, — her lips, — Look there, look there ! — [He dies. Edg. He faints ! — My lord, my lord, — Kent. Break, heart ; I pr'ythee, break ! Edg. Look up, my lord. Kent. Vex not his ghost : O, let him pass ! he hates him, That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer. Edg. O, he is gone indeed. Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long : He but usurp'd his life. Alb. Bear them from hence. — Our present bu- siness Is general wo. Friends of my soul, you twain [To Kent and Edgar. Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go j My master calls, and I must not say, no. Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey ; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most : we, that aro young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long. [Exeunt, with a dead March. THE tragedv of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of Shakspeare. There is perhaps no play which keeps the attention so strongly fixed ; which so much asitates our passions, and interests our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There ia no scene which does not contribute to the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. .So powerful is the current of the poet's imagination, that the mind,«whichonce ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along. On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it may be observed, that he is represented according to 1 These lines are addressed to Kent as well as to Ed- gar, else the word honours would not have been in the plural number. Boot is advantage, increase. By ho- nours is meant, honourable CO 2 This is an expression of tenderness for his dead Cordelia, (not his fool, as some have thought,) on whose lips he is still intent, and dies while he is searching (here lor indications of life. ' Poor fool,' in the age of Shak- speare, was an expression of endearment. So in Twelfth Nigut : — ' Alas, poor fool, how have they baf- fled thee.' Again, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona : — • Alas, poor fool, why do I pity him ?' With other in- stances which will present themselves to the reader's memory. The fool of Lear was long ago forgotten ; hav- ing filled the space allotted to him in the arrangement of the play, he appears to have been silently withdrawn in the sixth scene of ihethird act. Besides this, Cordelia was recently hanged but we know not that the Fool had suffered' in the same manner, nor can imagine why he should.— That the thoughts of a father, in the bit- terest of all moments, when his favourite child lay dead in his arms, should recur to the antic, who had for- merly diverted him, has somewhat in it that cannot be reconciled to the idea of genuine despair and sorrow. — Steevens. There is an ingenious note by Sir Joshua Reynolds in the variorum Shakspeare, for which I regret I cannot find space, sustaining a contrary opinion ; but, as Ma- lone observes, ' Lear from the time of his entrance in this scene to his littering these words, and from thence to his death, is wholly occupied by the loss of his daugh- ter. — He is now in the agony of death, and surely at such a time, when his heart was just breaking, it would be hignly unnatural that he should think of his fool. He had just seen his daughter hanged, having unfortunately t-een admitted too late to preserve her life, though time enough to punish the perpetrator of the act.' histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by softer manners ; and the truth is, that though he so nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modern, English and foreign. My learned friend, Mr. Warton, who has, in The Jlclventurer, very minutely criticised this play, re- marks, that the instances of cruelty are too savage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered by repeating that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series of dia- logue and action. But I am not able to apologize with equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be re- membered that our author well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the action is abundantly recompensed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral, that villany is never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last termi- nate in ruin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified by The Spectator, who blames Tate forgiving Cordelia success and happiness in his alteration, and declares, that in his opinion the tragedy has lost li a If its beauty. Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to secure the favourable reception of Cato, the town iras poisoned irit/i much falsi and abominable criticism, and that endeavours had been used to discredit and de- cry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked pros- per, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, it ia a just representation of the common events of human life : but since all reasonable beings naturally tice, I cannot easily be persuaded that the ob- servation of justice makes a play worse: or that, if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue. In the present case the public has decided.* Cor- delia, from the time of Tate has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add any thing to the general suffrage, I mii'ht relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor. There is another controversy amon? the critics con- cerning this play. It is disputed whether the predomi- nant imai-'e in Lear's disordered mind be the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of hi3 distress, and that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move our compassion but little, did we not rather con sider the injured father than the degraded king. * Dr. Johnson should rather have said that the ma nagers of the theatres royal have decided, and the public has been obliged to acquiesce in their decision. The altered play has the upper gallery on its side ; the ori ginal drama was patronised by Addison : — Victrix causa Diis placuit sed victa Catonij Steevens. f This fool's bolt was shot for the sake of the wretched pun drawn from the line of Lucan. Steevens puts the opinion of Johnson himself as nothing ; perhaps some of his readers may think it equivalent, at least, with that of Addison Johnson speaks from his own feelings here Addison from a blind deference to the opinion of Aristotle.— Pye. ROMEO AND JULIET. 433 The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken origi- nally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Holinahed generally copied ; but perhaps immediately from an eld historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shak- speaxe's nocturnal tempest, which is too" striking to have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle : it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifica- tions: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had seen Shak speare. JOHNSON ROMEO AND JULIET. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. T^HE original relater of this story appears to have •*• been Luigi da Porto, a gentleman of Vicenza, who died in 1529. His novel seems not to have been printed till some years after his death ; being first published at Venice, in 1535, under the title of ' La Giulietta :' there is, however, a dateless copy by the same printer. In the dedication to Madonna Lucina Savorgana, he tells her that the story was related to him by one of his archers, named Peregrino, a native of Verona, while serving in Friuli, to beguile the solitary road that leads from Gradisca to Udine. Girolamo della Corte, in His History of Verona, re- lates it circumstantially as a true event, occurring in 1303 ;* but Maffei does not give him the highest credit as an historian: he carries his history down to the year 1560, and probably adopted the novel to grace his book. The earlier annalists of Verona, and above all, Torello Sarayna, who published, in 1542, ' Le Histoire e Fatti de Veronesi nell Tempi d'il Fopolo e Signori Scaligeri,' are entirely silent upon the subject, though some other domestic tragedies grace their narrations. As to the origin of this interesting story, Mr. Doucs has observed that its material incidents are to be found in the Ephesiacs of Xenophon of Ephesus, a Greek romance of the middle ages ; he admits, indeed, that this work was not published nor translated in the time of Luigi da Porto, but suggests that he might have seen a copy of the original in manuscript. Mr. Dunlop, in his History of Fiction, has traced it to the thirty-second novel of Massuccio Salernitano, whose ' Novelino,' a collection of tales, was first printed in 1476. The hero of Massuccio is named Mariotto di Giannozza, and his catastrophe is different ; yet there are sufficient points of resemblance between the two narratives. Mr. Bos- vrell observes, that ' we may perhaps carry the fiction back to a much greater antiquity, and doubts whether, after all, it is not the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, en- larged and varied by the luxuriant imagination of the novelist.' The story is also to be found in the second volume of the Novels of Bandello, (Novel ix. ;) and it is remark- able that he says it was related to him, when at the baths of Caldera, by the Captain Alexander Peiegrino, a native of Verona; we may presume the same person from whom Da Pono received it : unless this appropri- ation is to be considered supposititious. The story also exists in Italian verse ; and I had once a glance of a copy of it in that form, but neglected to note the title or date, and had not time for a more particular examina- tion. It was translated from the Italian of Bandello into French, by Pierre Boisteau, who varies from his original in many particulars ; and, from the French, Painter gave a translation in the second volume of his Palace of Pleasure, 1567, which he entitled Rhomeo and Julietta. From Boisteau's novel the same story was, in 1562, formed into an English poem, with con- siderable alterations and large additions, by Arthur Brooke ; this poem the curious reader will find reprinted entire in the variorum editions of Shakspeare : it was originally printed by Richard Tottel, with the following title : ' The Tragicall Hystorye of Romeus and Juliet, * Captain Breval, in his Travels, tells us that he was shown at Verona what was called the tomb of these unhappy lovers ; and that, on a strict inquiry into the histories of Verona, he found that Shakspeare had varied very little from the truth, either in the names, characters, or other circumstances of this play. The fact seems to he, that the invention of the novelist has been adopted into the popular history of the city, just as Shakspeare's historical dramas furnish numbers •with, their notions of the events to which they relate. 61 written first in Italian, by Bandell ; and nowe in English, by Ar. Br.' Upon this piece Malone has shown, by unequivocal testimony, that the play was formed : nu- merous circumstances are introduced from the poem, which the novelist would not have supplied ; and even the identity of expression, which not unfrequently occurs, is sufficient to settle the question. Steevens, without expressly controverting the fact, endeavoured to throw a doubt upon it by his repeated quotations from the Palace of Pleasure. In two passages, it is true, he has quoted Painter, where Brooke is silent ; but very little weight belongs to either of them. In one there is very little resemblance ; and in the other the circumstance might be inferred from the poem, though not exactly specified. The poem of Arthur Brooke was republished in 15S7, with the title thus amplified :- - ' Containing a rare Example of true Constancie : with the subtill Counsellsand Practices of an old Fryer, and their ill Event.' In the preface to Arthur Brooke's poem there is a very curious passage, in which he says, ' I saw the same argument lately set foorth on stage with more commen- dation than I can looke for, (being there much better set forth then I have or can doe.') He has not, however, stated in what country this play was represented : the rude state of our drama, prior to 1562, renders it impro- bable that it was in England. ' Yet, (says Mr. Boswell,) I cannot but be of opinion that Romeo and Juliet may be added to the list, already numerous, of plays in which our great poet has had a dramatic precursor, and that some slight remains of the old play are still to be traced in the earliest quarto.' ' The story has at all times been eminently popular in all parts of Europe. A Spanish play was formed on it by Lope de Vega, entitled Los Castelviesy Monteses; and another in the same language, by Don Francisco de Roxas, under the name of Los Vandos de Verona.. In Italy, as may well be supposed, it has not been ne- glected. The modern productions on this subject are too numerous to be specified ; but, as early as 1578, Luigi Groto produced a drama upon the subject, called Htulriaiia, of which an analysis may be found in Mr. Walker's Memoir on Italian Tragedy. Groto has stated in his prologue, that the story is drawn from the ancient history of Adria, his native place ;' so that Verona is not the only place that has appropriated this interesting fable. This has been generally considered one of Shak speare's earliest plays ;\ and Schlegel has eloquently- said, that ' it shines with the colours of the dawn of morning, but a dawn whose purple clouds already an- nounce the thunder of a sultry day.' ' Romeo and Juliet (says the same admirable critic) is a picture of love and its pitiable fate, in a world whose atmosphere is too rough for this tenderest blossom of human life. Two beings, created for each other, feel mutual love at" first glance ; every consideration disappears before the irresistible influence of living in one another ; they join- themselves secretly, under circumstances hostile in the f Malone thinks that the foundation of the play might be laid in 1591, and finished in 1596. Mr. George Chalmers places the date of its composition m the spring of 1592. And Dr. Drake, with greater proba- bility, ascribes it to 1593. There are four early quarto editions in 1597, 1599, 1609, and one without a date The first edition is less ample than those which succeed Shakspeare appears to have revised the play; but in the succeeding impressions no fresh incidents are intro- duced, the alterations are merely additions to the length, of particular speeches and scenes The principal vari- ations are pointed out in the notes. 434 ROMEO AND JULIET. Act L highest degiee to their union, relying merely on the protection of an invisible power. By unfriendly events following blow upon blow, their heroic constancy is exposed to all manner of trials, till forcibly separated from each other, by a voluntary death they are united in the grave to meet again in another world. All this is to be found in the beautiful story which Shakspeare has not invented, and which, however simply told, will always excite a tender sympathy : but it was reserved for Shakspeare to unite purity of heart and the glow of imagination, sweetness and dignity of manners and passionate violence, in one ideal picture. By the man- ner in which he has handled it, it has become a glorious song of praise on that inexpressible feeling which en- nobles the soul, and gives to it its highest sublimity, and which elevates even the senses themselves into soul, and at the same time is a melancholy elegy on its frailty from its own nature and external circumstances ; at once the deification and the burial of love. It ap- pears here like a heavenly spark, that, descending to the earth, is converted into a flash of lightning, by which mortal creatures are almost in the same moment set on fire and consumed. Whatever is most intoxicat- ing in the odour of a southern spring, languishing in the song of the nightingale, or voluptuous in the first opening of the rose, is to be found in this poem. But even more rapidly than the earliest blossoms of youth and beauty decay, it hurries on from the first timidly- bold declaration of love and modest return, to the most unlimited passion, to an irrevocable union; then, amidst alternating storms of rapture and despair, to the death of the two lovers, who still appear enviable as their love survives them, and as by their death they have obtained a triumph over every separating power. The sweetest and the bitterest, love and hatred, festivity and dark forebodings, tender embraces end sepulchres, the fulness of life and self-annihilation, are all here brought close to each other ; and all these con- trasts are so blended in the harmonious and wonderful work into a unity of impression, that the echo which the whole leaves behind in the mind resembles a single but endlesa siirh. 'The excellent dramatic arrangement, the significa- tion of each character in its place, the judicious selection of all trie circumstances, even the most minute,' have been pointed out by Schlegel in a dissertation referred to in a note at the end of the play ; in which he remarks, that ' there can be nothing more diffuse, more weari- some, than the rhyming history, which Shakspeare'a genius, " like richest alchymy," has changed to beauty and to worthiness. 1 Nothing but the delight of seeing into this wonderful metamorphosis can compen- sate for the laborious task of reading through more than three thousand six and seven-footed iambics, which, in respect of every thing that amuses, affects, and enraptures us in this play, are as a mere blank leaf. — Here all interest is entirely smothered under the coarse, heavy pretensions of an elaborate exposition- How much was to be cleared away, before life could be breathed into the shapeless mass ! In many parts what is here given bears the same relation to what Shakspeare has made out of it, which any common description of a thing bears to the thing itself. Thus out of the following hint — ' A courtier, that eche-where was highly had in pryce, For he was courteous of his speche and pleasant of devise: Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde, Such was emonge the bashfull maydes Mercutio to be- holde ;' and tho addition that the said Mercutio had from his swathing-bands constantly had cold hands, — has arisen a splendid character decked out with the utmost profu sion of wit. Not to mention a number of nicer devia- tions, we find also some important incidents from the invention ; for instance, the meeting and the combat between Paris and Romeo at Juliet's grave. — Shak- speare knew how to transform by enchantment letters into spirit, a workman's daub into a poetical master piece. ' Lessing declared Romeo and Juliet to be the only tragedy, that he knew, which love himself had assisted to compose. I know not (says Schlegel) how to end more gracefully than with these simple words, wherein so much lies : — One may call this poem an harmonious miracle, whose component parts that heavenly power alone could so melt together. It is at the same time enchantingly sweet and sorrowful, pure and glowing, gentle and impetuous, full of elegiac softness, and tragically overpowering.' PROLOGUE. Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, nought could re- move, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage ; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. PERSONS REPRESENTED. Esc alus, Prince of Verona. Paris, a young Nobleman, Kinsman to the Prince. Montague, > Heads of Two Houses at variance with Capulet, 5 each other. An old Man, Uncle to Capulet. Romeo, Son to Montague. Mercutio, Kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo. Benvolio, Nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. Tybalt, Nephew to Lady Capulet. Friar Lawrence, a Franciscan. Friar John, of the same Order. Balthazar, Servant to Romeo. Gregory, } Servants t0 C »P ulet - Abram, Servant to Montague. An Apothecary. Three Musicians. Chorus. Boy, Page to Paris. Peteb. An Officer. Lady Montague, JVifeto Montague Lady Capulet, Wife to Capulet. Juliet, Daughter to Capulet. Nurse to Juliet. Citizens of Verona ; several Men and Women, Re- lations to both Houses ; Maskers, Guards, Watch- men, and Attendants. SCENE, during the greater Part of the Play, m Verona ; 07»ce, in the Fifth Act, at Mantua. Scene I. ROMEO AND JULIET. ACT I. SCENE I. A public Place. Enter Sampson and Gregory, armed with Swords and Bucklers. Sampson. Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. 1 ' Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar. Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move, is — to stir ; and to be valiant, is — to stand to it : therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou run'st away. Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand : I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gre. That shows thee a weak slave ; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sam. True ; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: — there- fore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men. Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant : when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids ; I will cut off their heads. Gre. The heads of the maids? Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maid- enheads ; take it in what sense thou wilt. Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand : and, 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'Tis well, thou art not fish ; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. 2 Draw thy tool ; here comes two of the house of the Montagues. 3 Enter Abram and Balthazar. Sam. My naked weapon is out ; quarrel, I will back thee. Gre. How ? turn thy back, and run ? Sam. Fear me not. Gre. No, marry : I fear thee ! Sam. Let us take the law of our sides ; let them begin. Gre. I will frown, as I pass by ; and let them take it as they list. Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb* at them ; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. 1 To carry coals is to put up with insults, to submit to any degradation. Anciently, in great families, the scullions, turnspits, and carriers of wood and coals were esteemed the very lowest of menials, the drudges of all the rest. Such attendants upon the royal household, in progresses, were called the black-guard ; and hence the origin of that term. Thus in May Day, a Comedy by Geo. Chapman, 160S : — ' You must swear by no man's beard but your own ; for that may breed a quar- rel : above all things, you must carry no coals.'' Again, in the same play : — ' Now my ancient being ctf an un- coal-carrying spirit,' &c. And in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour : — ' Here comes one that will carry coals ; ergo, will hold my dog.' Again in King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2 : — ' At Calais they stole a fireshovel ; I Knew by that piece of service the men would carry roals.' '2 Poor John is h&ke, dried and salted. 3 The disregard of concord is in character. It should be observed that the partisans of the Montague family ■wore a token in their hats in order to distinguish them from their enemies the Capulets. Hence throughout this play they are known at a distance. Gascohgne adverts to this circumstance in a Masque written for Viscount Montacute, in 1575: — ' And for a further proofe, he shewed in his hat Thys token, which the Montacutes did beare always, for that They covet to be knowne from Capels, where they pass For ancient grutch whych long ago tweene these two houses was ' Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir ? Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say — ay ? Gre. No. Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir ; but I bite my thumb, sir. Gre. Do you quarrel, sir ? Abr. Quarrel, sir ? no, sir. Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. Abr. No better. Sam. Well, sir. Enter Benvolio, at a distance. Gre. Say — better ; here comes one of my mas- ter's kinsmen. 5 Sam. Yes, better, sir. Abr. You lie. Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregory, remember thy swashing 6 blow. [They Jight. Ben. Part, fools ; put up your swords ; you know not what you do. [Beats down their Swords. Enter Tybalt. Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heart- less hinds ? Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. Ben. I do but keep the peace ; put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace ? I hate the word, As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee : Have at thee, coward. [ They fight. Eider several Partisans of both Houses, who join the Fray; then enter Citizens, with Clubs. 1 Cit. Clubs, bills, and partizans! strike! beat them down ! Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues ! Enter Capulet, in his Gown ; and Lady Capulet. Cap. What noise is this ? — Give me my long sword, 7 ho ! [a sword ? La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch ! — Why call you for Cap. My sword, I say ! — Old Montague is come, And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter Montague and Lady Montague. Mon. Thou villain Capulet, — Hold me not, let me go. La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. Enter Prince, with Attendants. Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, — Will they not hear! — what ho! you men, you beasts,— That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, 4 This mode of insult, in order to begin a quarrel, seems to have been common in Shakspeare's time. Decker, in his Dead Term, 1608, describing the various groups that daily frequented St. Paul's Church, says, ' What swearing is there, what shouldering, what just- ling, what jeering, what byting of thumbs, to beget quarrels !' And Lodge, in his Wits Miserie, 1596 : — 'Behold, next I see Contempt marching forth, giving me the fico icith his thtimbe in his mouthe.' The mode in which this contemptuous action was performed is thus described by Cotgrave, in a passage which has escaped the industry of all the commentators : — ' Faire la nique : to mocke by nodding or lifting up of the chinne ; or more properly, to threaten or defie, by putting the thumbe naile into the mouth, and with a jerke (from the upper teeth) make it to knacke.' So in Randolph's Muses' Looking Glass : — ' Dogs and pistols ! To bite his thumb at me ! Wear I a sword To see men bite their thumbs.''' 5 Gregory is a servant of the Capulets : he must therefore mean Tybalt, who enters immediately after Benvolio. 6 i. e. swaggering or dashing. 7 The long sword was the weapon used in active warfare ; a lighter, shorter, and less desperate weapon was worn for ornament, to which we have other al. lusions. ' No sword worn, but one to dance with. 436 ROMEO AND JULIET. Act I. On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd 1 weapons to the ground, Ami hear the sentence of your moved prince. — Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets ; And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away : You, Capulet, shall go along with me ; And Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, 2 our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. [Exeunt Prince, and Attendants ; Capulet, La. Cat. Tvbai.t, Citizens and Servants. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach ? Speak, nephew, were you by, when it began ? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach : I drew to part them ; in the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd ; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He sunn.' about his head, and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hias'd ban in scorn : While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more anil more, and fought on part and part, Till the prince came, who parted either part. La. Mon. O, where is Romeo? — saw you him to-day ? Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. lien. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the goiden window of the east,' A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad ; Where, — underneath the grovo of sycamore, That westward rooteth from the city's side, — So early walking did I see your son : Towards him I made ; but he was 'ware of me, And stole into the covert of the 9 I, measuring bis affections by my own, — That most are busied whin they are most alone, — Pursu'd my humour, not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladlv tied from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs : But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son, And private in bis chamber pens himself; Shuts up his windows, loeks fair daylight out, And makes himself an artifieial night : Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 1 i. e. angry weapons. So in Kins John ; — 'This inundation ofmislemper'd humour,' &c. 2 The poet found the name of this place in Brooke's Tragical] History of Romeus and Juliet, 1562. It is ! to be the castle of the Capulets. 3 The sain.- thought occurs in Spenser's Faerie Queene. b. ii. c. 10:— ' Early before the morn with cremosin ray The windows of bright heaven opened had, Through which into the world the dawning day Might >oke,> &c. Again in Summa Totalis, or All in All, 4to. 1607: — ' Now heaven's bright eye (awake by Vesper's Shrine) Peepes through the purple windowes of the East.'' 4 The old copy reads : — ' Or dedicate his beauty to the same.' 1 The emendation is by Theobald ; who states, with great plausibility^ that sunne might easily lx: mistaken tor samr. Ma'lonc observes, that Shakspeare has evidently imitated the Rosamond of Daniel in the last act of this play, and in this passage may have remembered the following lines in one ofthe Sonnets of the same writer, who was then extremely popular : — ' And whilst thou spread'st into the rising sunne The fairest flower that ever saw the light, N'ow joy thy time before thy sweet be done.' Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause' Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of him. Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means ? Mon. Both by myself, and many other friends : But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself — I will not say, how true — But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. 4 Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure, as know. Enter Romeo, at a distance. Ben. See, where he comes ; So please you, step aside ; I'll know his grievance, or be mnch denied. Mon. I would, thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. — Come, madam, let's away. [Exeunt Montague and Lady. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Bom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new strnck nine. Rom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long. Was that mv father that went hence so fast ? Ben. It was : — What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours ? Rom. Not having that, which having makes them short. Ben. In love ? Rom. Out — Ben. Of love ? Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be SO tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas,'that lore, whose view is niuthVd still, Should, without eye's, aee pathways to his will J 4 shall we dine ? — O, me ! — What fray was here ? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. H( '■ 's much to do with hate, but more with love: Wliv then, O, brawling love ! O, loving hate ! 6 O, any thing, of nothing first create ! t ), heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well seeming forms! 1 r of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health ? Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! — This love f, el I, that fee! no love in this. Dosl thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what ? Bm. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Whv, surh is love's transgression. — Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine ; i his love, that thou hast showr., Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs ; Being urg'd,' a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; These lines add great support to Theobald's emendation. There . es in the poet where so great an improvement of language is obtained by so slight a deviation from the text ofthe old copy. • 5 i. e. should blindly and recklessly think he can surmount all obstacles to his will. 6 Every ancient sonnetteer characterised Love by contrarh lies. Watson begins one of his canzonets : — ' Love is a scwre delight. I iefe, A living death, and ever-dying life,' &c. Turberville makes Reason harangue against it in the same manner ; — 1 A fierie frost, a flame that frozen is with ise ! A heavie burden light to beare ! A vertue fraught with vice !' &c. 7 The old copy reads, ' Being purged a fire,' &c— The emendation I have admitted into the text was suggested by Dr. Johnson. To urge the fire is to kindle or "ret' re it. So in Chapman's version of the twenty- first Iliad : — . . , .. ' And as a cauldron, under put with store of fire, Bavins of sere-wood urging it,' &c. So Akenside, in his Hymn to Cheerfuli.ess :- ' Haste, light the tapers, urge thefirt, And bid the joyless day retire.' Scene II. ROMEO AND JULIET 437 Being vex'd, a sea nourish' d with lovers' tears : What is it else ? a madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. [Goin Ben. Soft, I will go along ; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, 1 whom she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee ? Ben. Groan ? why, no ; But sadly tell me who. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill ! In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good marksman! — And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss : she'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit ; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, 2 From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold : O, she is rich in beauty ; only poor, That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 3 Ben, Then she hath sworn, that she will still live chaste ? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste ; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise ; wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair : She hath forsworn to love ; and, in that vow, Do I live dead, that live to tell it now. Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ; Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers, exquisite, in question more :* These happy masks, 5 that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair ; He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost ; 1 i. e. tell me gravely, in seriousness. 2 ' As this play was written in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, these speeches of Romeo may be regarded as an oblique compliment to her majesty, who was not liable to be displeased at hearing her chastity praised after she was suspected to have lost it, or her beauty commended in the sixty-seventh year of her ago, though 6he never possessed any when young. Her declaration that she would continue unmarried increases the pro- bability of the present supposition.' — Steevens. 3 The meaning appears to be, as Mason gives it, ' She is poor only, because she leaves no part of her store behind her, as with her all beauty will die : — ' For beauty starv'd with her severity Cuts beauty off from all posterity.' 4 i. e. to call her exquisite beauty more into my mind, and make it more the subject of conversation. Question is used frequently with this sense by Shakspeare. 5 This is probably an allusion to the masks worn by the female spectators of the play : unless we suppose lhat these means no more than the. 6 The quarto of 1597 reads : — ' And too soon marred are those so early married.' Puttenham, in his Arte of Poesy, 15S9, uses this ex- pression, which seems to be proverbial, as an instance of a figure which he calls the Rebound : — ' The maid that soon married is, soon marred is.' The jingle between marred and made is likewise fre- quent among the old writers. So Sidney : — ' Oh ! he is marr'd, that is fur others made ." Spenser introduces it very often in his different poems. 7 Fille de lerre is the old French phrase for an heiress. Earth is likewise put for lands, i. e. landed t state, in other old plays. But Mason suggests that earth may here mean corporal part, as in a future passage of this play :—• Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Where I may read, who pass'd that passing fair ? Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Street. Enter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike ; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both ; And pity 'tis, you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit ? Cap. By saying o'er what i have said before : My child is )'et a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ; Let two more summers wither in their pride, Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made.* The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, She is the hopeful lady of my earth;' But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent is but a part ; B An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love ; and you, among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light • Such comfort, as do lusty young men 9 feel When well apparell'd April on the heei Of limping winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit 10 at my house ; hear all, all see, And like her most, whose merit most shall he : Which, on more view of many, mine being one, 11 May stand in number, though in reckoning none.* Come, go with me ; — Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona ; find those persons out, Whose names are written there, [gives a Paper,] and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt Capulet and Paris. Serv. Find them out, whose names are written ' Can I go forward when my heart is here ? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.' So in Shakspeare's 146th Sonnet: — ' Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth. 8 i. e. in comparison to. 9 For ' lusty young men' Johnson would read ' lusty yeomen.' Ritson ha3 clearly shown that young men was used for yeomen in our elder language. And the reader may convince himself by turning to Spelrnan's Glossary in the words junior ies and yeoman. 10 To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare, is to possess. 11 By a perverse adherence to the first quarto copy of 1597, which reads, ' Such amongst view of many,' &c. this passage has been made unintelligible. The subse- quent quartos and the folio read, ' Which one [on] more,' &c; evidently meaning, ' Hear all, see all, ana like her most who has the most merit; her, which, after regarding attentively the many, my daughter being one, may stand unique in merit, though she may be reckoned nothing, or held in no estimation. The allu- sion, as Malone has shown, is to the old proverbial expression, 'One is no number,' thus adverted to in Decker's Honest Whore : — ' to fall to one is to fall to none, For one no number is.' And in Shakspeare's 136th Sonnet: — ' Among a number one is reckon'd none, Then in the number let me pass untold.' It will be unnecessary to inform the reader that which is here used for who, a substitution frequent in Shak speare, as in all the writers of his time. One of tha later quartos has corrected the error of the others, and reads as in the present text : — ' Which on more view,' &c 438 ROMEO AND JULIET h La MZZX#££tti£&\ Kiss:,-'? - scaIes « lef *- i- - ig hM the fisher with h.s pencil, and the painter with Ms SSKSl ° V ^T ? ome other maid nets; but I am sent to find those persons whos AnH A Wll i s I 1 ? ow >°V hm,n S at this feast, Barnes are here wr.t, and can never End what names ll f^V? 1 shoW we ?> *■» •><>« -*«■ best here ?' tin the writing person hath here writ learned : — In good time Enter Bewvolio and Romeo. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another' burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning • One desperate grief cures with another's languish ■ lake thou some new infection to thy eye ° UISn ' And the rank poison of the old will die ' Rom. 1 our plantain leaf is excellent for that » jlen. i or what, I pray thee ? Ji'l?'YJh„ n , For y° ur broken skin. J3en. Why, Romeo, art thou mad ? Hnm No. mad.but bound more than a madman is : Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whippd and tormented, and-Good-e'en, good lellow. ' 6 read?™' ^ gi ' 8 °° d "^^ P"*' sir > can ?<>" ■Row. Ay mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without book: .but, I pray, can you read any thing you see ? g>»°r Martino, anrf fa. wife and d ' Al £/.' Cottnfj, Anselme, and fe ^ e0M „ W ,°*% K, ^ <£ ,ru ™ ! *fc«" Placen.io, «' B rf A , lively nieces; Merc,,,,,,, „„,/ ,,is , lr<)thrr Vl , cn ,ine Mine «nc/ e Capolet, «* „•,/",, „„,, A,,,^^""^' fair meet Rosaline ; Livia ; Senior Valentio 3 tocMun Tybal. ; Lu cio> a > m{ ,£ E^S££ and A fair assembly ; [ Gi,,, back the JVbte.l Wluther should they come ? Serv. Up. jRom. Whither? SW. To supper ; to our house. Horn. Whose house? Seru. My master's. Rom. indeed I should have asked you that before. , n ,J .r li ,f " >'"■' "irhout asking Mv master is the great r,ch Capulet j and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, come and crush acupofwme.' Rest you merrv. f fW S,.fT!i. f ■ n Sa r e ancicn ' fcast ofCapnlet's Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st ; « ith all the admired beauties of Verona Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I w,ll make ihee think thy swan a crow. ' Rom. W hen the devout religion of mine eye An i T, " S S T h fa J» eho * 1 . l, "-n turn tears to fires ! And these,_who, often drown'd, could never die,— 1 ransparcnt heretics, be burnt for liars » One fairer than my love ! the all-seeing sun Ne er saw her match, since first the world begun. „"; c r,U , ! ,>' ou saw her fair, r.one else belli* by. Herself po ,s'd with herself in e:'.her eye : X 1 The quarto of 1597 adds,, 'And yet I know not rtem a . r ?h?, r "' Cn here w : * m "" to the JeameJ to Telrn of «hen»: that's as much as to say, the tailor,' &c. fJr, I, P'""'"'" '""/ is a blnod-stancher, and was formerly anphed I to green wounds. So in Albumazar™ Rnf,l P ' VS? 1 ™*' he, P ! '' m fallen i' the cellar: Bnnsr a fresh plantain-leof, I've broke my shin ' mon II „?,"' eXpreSS, -° n *S ems ,0 ha ™ been ouce com- mon , it often occurs in old plays. We have one still in use of similar import :-To crack abotth *"" 4 Heath says, 'Your lad,rs love, is the love nou bear forTelady^e^i in ™ r j a »=uak is co^ *Z .artiV^J rself - Perha P s we should "ad, «Fo«r o In all the old copies the greater part of this scene was printed as prose. Cape.l was theVst who exhibit ■' I „*"!•' ,' he subsequent editors have followed uuu, uut petliaps erroneously. p.. m i», i ' Ul,il now shows bes SCENE III. ARoominCzpuhVsHcmse.s Enter L,ADy Capulet a«d Nurse. La. Cap Nurse, where's my daughter ? call her lorth to me. iV " rSe 'old OW ' ^ my maidcnhead .— at twelve year I bade her come -What, lamb! what, lady-bird !- God forbid '—where's this girl ? what, Juliet ! Enter Juliet. Jul. How now, who calls ? ^Y S€ - Your mother. What' is your will? Madam, I am here, Ltt ' C TvhTle S " S the ma " er : ~ Nurse ' g>ve leave We mus t talk in secret—Nurse, come back a^ain II averemember'd me, thou shalt hear our counsel' Thou know's. my daughter's of a pretty age La Ur rJ%u\ 1 Can r te " her a « e um '° an "our. ■i_a- Vaj>. She's not fourteen. Nurse. I'H ] ay f our(een f , , y \2,- y teen6 be h s p° ken > J EI ^5 ®i< is not fourteen : How long is it now io Lammas-tide? La. Cap A fortnight, and odd days. A ur.se. Even or odd, of all days in the year, s""'" a La , m ? aS - e ); e al ni S ,U ' shal1 s,, e he four een. Susan and she,-God rest all Christian souls '- W ere of an age.-Well, Susan is with God • ' Ww was too good for me : But, as I said ' On Lammas-eve at n.ght shall she be fourteen : That shall she, marry ; I remember it well, lis since the earthquake now eleven years •♦ Of A ri 8 Wea f n $~ l ^ver shall forget il,_. f al 1 t ^ daV9 , of J "' e >' car ' u P onthatda y; *or I had then laid wormwood to my duo Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall My lord and you were then at Mantua :— Nay, I do bear a brain :»_but, as I said, OF Z rf! ta f; I'' 6 : vor '" w ood on the nipple Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool ' To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug, Shake quolh t , dove-house : 'twas no need, I trow I o bid me trudge. ' ,rvw > And since that time it is eleven years • For then she could stand alone ; nay, by the rood She could have run and waddled all'about, ' For even the day before, she broke her brow • And then my husband-God be with his soul | A was a merry man ;— took up the child : Yea, quoth he, ** thou fall upon thy face ? Thou unit fall backward, nhen thou W mare uir: J1 dt thou not, Jule ? and, by my holy-dam, The pretty wretch left crying, and said- Z . I o see now, how a jest shall come about ! " I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, quo"h d he f 7 get h5 Wtlt tkl 3 **l And, pretty fool, j t s tinted,=> and said— Ay. -hJe^hJ^^h-td^Ln^ 3 ^^,-^ frZ I™ 6 ' ° M " ,e 6th ° r A " r ''. '580; and thai we may tenTn mi. C0 " JeCtUre ' hal Romeo a " d Ju] ie t % Tvf Z he "Y 86 . 11163 " 8 t0 boast of her retentive faculty — .te° bra ". t w as to possess much mental caparhT either of attention, ingenuity, or remembrance ffi in Marston's Dutch Courtezan ;— ura "ce. lima 'My silly husband, alas ! knows nothing of it 'tia I that must bear a braine for all.' ° ' 9 To stmt is to stop. Baret translates 'Lachrymaa Scene IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 439 La. Cap. Enough of this ; I pray thee, hold thy peace. Nurse. Yes, madam ; Yet I cannot choose but' laugh, To think it should leave crying, and say — Ay : And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone ; A parlous knock, and it cried bitterly. Yea, quoth my husband, falVst upon thy face ? Thou wilt fall backward, when thou com , st to age J Wiltthnu not, Jule ? it stinted, and said — Ay. Jul. And stint thou p$ icas, that they might do ichai hands do ; that is, that they might kiss. 5 The poet here, without doubt, copied from the mode of his own time ; and kissing a lady in a public assem bly, we may conclude, was not then thought indecorous ft\' King Henry VIII. Lord Sands is represented as kiss log Anne Boleyn, next whom he sat at supper. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purg'd. [Kissing her.* Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Rom. Sin from my lips ? O, trespass sweetly urg'd. Give me my sin again. Jul. You kiss by the book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother ? Nurse. Marry, bachelor ' Her mother is the lady of the house, And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous : 1 nurs'd iier daughter, that you talk'd withal: I tell you, — he, that can lay hold of her, Shall have the chinks. Rom. Is she a Capulet? O, dear account ! my life is my foe's debt. Ben. Away, begone ; the sport is at the best. Rom. Ay, so I fear ; the more is my unrest. 1 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone ; We have a trilling foolish banquet towards. 6 — Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all ; I thank von, honest gentlemen ;' good night :— More torches here ! — Come on, then let's to bed. Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap.] by my fay, it waxes late ; I'll to my rest. [Exeunt ail but Juliet and Nurse. JW,Come hither muse : What is yon gentleman ? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Jul. What's he, that now is going out of door? Nurse. Marry, thai, I think, be young Petruchio. Jul. What's he, that follows there, that would not dance ? Nurse. I know not. Jul. Go ask his name : — if he he married, Mv crave is like to be my wedding bed. Ararat. His name is Romeo, and a Montague , The only son of your great enemy. Jul. My onK l"ve sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late ! Prodigious birth of love it is to me, That I must love a loathed enemy. Nurse. What's this? what's this ? Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now Of one I dane'd withal. [One calls within, Juliet. Nurse. An. in, anon : — Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone. [Exeunt. Enter Chorus.* Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir ; That fair, 5 which love groan'dfor, and would die, With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves a°ain, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks ; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks ., Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new-beloved anv where : 6 Towards is riaihj, at hand. A li(ni'/urt, or rere supper, as it was sometimes called, was similar to ou. dessert. 7 Here the quarto of lip" adds : — ' I promise you, but for your company, I would have been in be'd an hour ago : Light to my chamber, ho !' 9 ' This chorus is not in the first edition, rjinrto, 1597. Its use is not easily discovered ; it conduces no thin? to the progress of the play ; but relates what 13 already known, or what the next scene will show ; and relates' it without adding the improvement of any moral sentiment.' — Johnson. 9 Fair, it has been already observed, was formerly used as a substantive, and was synonymous with beauty. The old copies read : — ' That fair/or which love groan'd for,' &c This reading Malone defends. "Steevens treats it as a corruption, and says, that/u/r, in the present instance, is used as a dissyllable. SCIWE II. ROMEO AND JULIET. 443 But passion lends them power, time means to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I. An open Place, adjoining Capulet's Garden. Enter Romeo. Rom. Can I 50 forward, when my heart is here ? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [He climbs the IVall, and leaps down within it. Enter Benvolio, and Mercutio. Ben. Romeo ! my cousin Romeo ! Mer. He is wise ; And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard 1 wall : Call, good Mercutio. Mer. Nay, I'll conjure, too. — Romeo ! humours ! madman ! passion ! lover ! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh, Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied ; Cry but — Ah me ! pronounce 2 but — love and dove ; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, 3 When king Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid. — He hearetn not, he stirreth not, be moveth not; The ape* is dead, and I must conjure him. — I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us. Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him : 'twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it. there stand Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down ; That were some spite : my invocation Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him. Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among those trees, To be consorted with the humorous 5 night : Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. Mer. If love, be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree, And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit, As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. s — Romeo, good night ; — I'll to my truckle-bed ; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep : Come, shall we go ? Ben. Go, then ; for 'tis in vain To seek him here, that means not to be found. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Capulet's Garden. Enter Romeo. Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound. [Juliet appears above, at a Window. But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! 1 See note on Julius Caesar, vol. i. p. 3. 2 This is the reading of the quarto of 1597. Those of 1599 and 1609, and the folio, read provaunt, all evident corruption. The folio of 1632 has couply meaning couple, which has been the reading of many modern editions. Steevens endeavours to persuade himself and his rea- ders tha.lprovant may be right, and mean provide, fur- nisk. 3 All the old copies read, Abraham Cupid. The alteration was proposed by Mr. Upton. It evidently alludes to the famous archer Adam Bell. So in Decker's Satiromastix : — ' He shoots his bolt but seldom ; but when Adam lets go, he hits.' 'He shoots at thee too, Jidam Bell ; and his arrows stick here.' The ballad alluded to is King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid, or, as it is called in some copies, ' The Song of a Beggar and a King.' It may be seen in the first volume of Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry. The following stanza Shakspeare had particularly in view : — ' The blinded boy that shoots so trim, From heaven down did hie ; He drew a dart and shot at him, In place where he did lie.' Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she : Be not her maid,' since she is envious ; Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it ; cast it off.— It is my lady : O, it is my love : O, that she knew she were ! — She speaks, yet she says nothing ; What of that 7 Her eye discourses, I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres til! they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright, That, birds would sing, and think it were not nicrht See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul. Ah me ! Romi She speaks :•- O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art As glorious to this sight," being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air. Jul. O, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo ? Denv thy father, and refuse thy name : Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? [Aside, Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy ;— Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague ! it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name ! What's in a name ? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet ; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd : Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title : Romeo, doff" thy name ; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. Rom. I take thee at thy word : Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd ; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel? Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am : My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee ; Had I it written, I would tear the word. 4 This phrase in Shakspeare's time was used as an expression of tenderness like poor fool, &c. 5 i. e. the humid, the moist dewy night. Chapman uses the word in this sense in his translation of Homer, b. ii. edit. 1598: ' The other gods and knights at arms, slept all the humorous night.' And Drayton in the thirteenth Song of his Polyolbior. : — ' which late the humorous night Bespangled had with pearl.' And in The Barons' Wars, canto i. : — ' The humorous fogs deprive us of his light. Shakspeare uses the epithet, ' vaporous night,' in Mea- sure for Measure. 6 After this line in the old copies are two lines of ribaldry, which have justly been degraded to the mar- gin : — ' O Romeo, that she were, ah that she were An open et cetera, thou a poprin pear.' 7 i. e. be not a votary to the moon, to Diana. 8 The old copies read, 'to this night.' 1 Theobald made the emendation, which appears to be warranted by the context. 414 ROMEO AND JULIET. Act II. Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, 1 yet I know the sound ; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. 2 Jul. How cam'stthou hither, tell me ? and where- fore ? The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb ; And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls ; For stony limits cannot hold love out : And what love can do, that dares love attempt, Therefore thy kinsmen are no let 3 to me. Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye, Than twenty of their swords ; 4 look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And, but 5 thou love me, let them find me here : My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued 6 wanting of thy love. Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place 1 Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire : He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise. Jul. Thou know'st, the mask of night is on my face ; Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke ; But farewell compliment ! T Dost thou love me ? I know, thou wilt say — Ay ; And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs. 8 O, gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully : — Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo : but, else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; And therefore thou may'st think my haviour light : But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 9 1 We meet with almost the same words as those here attributed to Romeo in King Edward III. a tragedy, 1596 :— ' I misjht peTceive his eye in her eye lost, His ei/e"to drink her street tongue's utterance.'' 2 i.e. if either thee displease. "This was the usual phraseology of Shakspeare's time. So it likes me well ; for it pleases me well. 3 i. e. no slop, no hinderance. Thus the quarto of 1597. The subsequent copies read, ' no slop to me.' 4 Beaumont and Fletcher have copied this thought in The Maid in the Mill :— 1 T s lady may command, sir; She bears an eye more 'dreadful than your weapon.' 5 But is here again used in its exceptive sense, with- out or unless. 6 i. e. postponed, delayed or deferred to a more distant period. So in Act iv. Sc. 1 : — 'I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to the county.' The whole passage above, according to my view of it, has the following construction : — ' I have night to screen me ; yet unless thou lnve me, let them find me here. It were better that they ended my life at once, than to have death delayed, and to want thy love.' 7 \. e. farewell attention to forms. 8 This Shakspeare found in Ovid's Art of Love per- haps in Marlowe's translation : — ' For Jove himself sits in the azure skies, Jlnd laughs below at lovers' 1 perjuries.' With the following beautiful antithesis to the above lines (says Mr. Douce) every reader of taste will be gratified. It is given memoriter from some old play, the name of which is forgotten : — ' When lovers swear true faith, the list'ning angels Stand on the golden battlements of heavevi, And waft their vows to the eternal throne.' I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou over-heard'st, ere I was ware, My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ; And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered. Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver 10 all these fruit-tree tops, — Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Rom. What shall I swear by ? Jul. Do not swear at all ; Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee. Rom. If my heart's dear love Jul. Well, do not swear : although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night : It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden ; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, Ere one can say — It lightens. 11 Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night ! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart, as that within my breast! Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it : And yet I would it were to give again. Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it ? for what pur- pose, love? Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have : My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. [Nurse calls within, I hear some noise within ; Dear love, adieu ! Anon, good nurse ! — Sweet Montague, be true. Stav, but a little, I will come again. [Exit, Rom. O, blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. Re-enter Juliet, above. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, 12 Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 9 To be distant, or shy. 10 This image struck Pope : — 'The moonbeam trembling falls, And tips with silver all the walls.' And in the celebrated simile at the end of the eight Iliad : — ' And tips with silver every mountain's head.' H So in The Miracles of Moses, by Drayton, 1604 : — « lightning ceaselessly to burn, Swifter than thought from place to place to pass, And being gone, doth suddenly return Ere you could say precisely what it was.' The same thought occurs in A Midsummer Night's Dream. All the intermediate lines from ' Street, good night /' to ' Stay but a little,' &c. were added after the first im- pression in 1597. 12 In Brooke's Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet, she uses nearly the same expressions : — ' If your thought be chaste, and have on virtue ground, If wedlock be the end and mark, which your desire hath found, Obedience set aside, unto my parents due, The quarrel eke that long ago between our households crew, Both me andmine I will all ichole to you to take, And following you whereso you go, my father's houso forsake : But if by wanton love and by unlawful suit You think in ripest years to pluck my maidenhood's dainty fruit, You are beguil'd, and now your Juliet you besceks To cease your suit, and sutler her to live among hel likes.' Scene III. ROMEO AND JULIET. Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite • And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, And follow thee my lord throughout the world : Nurse. [Within.] Madam. Jul. I come anon:- -But if thou mean'st not well, 1 Jo beseech thee, Nurse. [Within.] Madam. m Jul ' , . By and by, I come :— 1 o cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send. T°' n \ , So thrive my soul, Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.— ' Love goes toward love, as school-boys from their books ; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. [Retiring slowly. Re-enter Juliet, above. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist!— O, for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle 1 back again ! Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; Else would I tear the cave 2 where echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name ; Rom. It is my soul, that calls upon my name ; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears ! Jul. Romeo! Rom. My sweet ! 3 „.*^"/v , At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee? Rom - At the hour of nine. Jul. I will not fail ; 'tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company. Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee gone ; And yet no further than a wanton's bird ; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty. Rom. I would, I were thy bird. ^ u l- Sweet, so would I : \ et I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say— good night, till it be morrow. [Exit. 1 The tassel, or tiercel, (for so it should be spelt,) is the male of the gosshawk, and is said to be so called because it is a tierce or third less than the female. This :s equally true of all birds of prey. This species of hawk had the epithet of gentle annexed to it, from the ease with which it was tamed, and its attachment to man. Tardif, in his book of Falconry, says that the tiercel has its name from being one of three birds usually found in the aerie of a falcon, two of which are females, and the third a male ; hence called tiercelet, or the third According to the old books of sport the falcon gentle and tiercel gentle are birds for a prince. 2 This strong expression is more suitably employed by Milton :— ' A shout that lore hell's concave.' 3 The quarto of 1597 puts the cold, distant, and formal appellation Madam, into the mouth of Romeo.— The two subsequent quartos and the folio have ' my niece,' which is a palpable corruption ; but it is difficult to say what word was intended. ' My sweet' is the reading of the second folio. 4 In the folio and the three later quartos these four lines are printed twice over, and given- once to Romeo and once to the Friar. 5 ' Fticked is spotted, dappled, streaked, or varie- gated. Lord Surrey uses the word in his translation of the fourth JEneid:— •' Her quivering cheekesJlecAed with deadly stain.' So in the old play of The Four Prentices :— ' We'll fleck our white steeds in your Christian blood.' 6 This is the reading of the second folio. The quarto of 1597 reads. : — ' From forth day's path and Titan'sjfry wheels.' The quarto ot 1599 and the folio have ' burning wheels.' 445 Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy DftJcLSt .— — 'Would, I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ; His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit. SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. EnterFniAR Laurence, with a Basket. Fri. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the frownin" night,' 4 ° Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light ; And flecked 6 darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path-way, made by Titan's wheels : 6 Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, I must fill up this osier cage of ours, With baleful weeds, and precious-juiced flowers. 7 The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ;* What is her burying grave, that is her womb : And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find ; Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace 9 that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities ; For nought so vile that on the earth doth live^ But to the earth some special good doth give • Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use. Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied ; And -vice sometime's by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and med'cine power: For this, being smelt, with that part 10 cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed foes encamp them still" In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will : And, where the worser is predominant, Full soon tbe canker death eats up that plant,' Enter Romeo. Rom. Good morrow, father ! Fri. Benedicite ! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ? — " Young son, it argues a distemper'd head, So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed : Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie • 7 So Drayton, in the eighteenth Song of his Polyoi- bion, speaking of a hermit : — ' His happy time he spends the works of God to see In those so sundry herbs which there in plenty grow Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know' And in a little maund, being made of oziers small Which serveth him to do full many a thing- withal' He very choicely sons his simples got abroad.' Shakspeare has very artificially prepared us for the part Friar Lawrence is afterwards to sustain. Havin" thus early discovered him to be a chemist, we are not surprised when we find him furnishing the draught which produces the catastrophe of the piece The passage was, however, suggested by Arthur Brooke's poem. 8 ' Omniparens, eadem rerum commune sepulchrum.' Lucretius. Ine womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.' ■■ Milton. Time's the king of men, For he's their parent, andlie is their grave.' „ „„ . . Pericles 9 Efficacious virtue. 10 i.e. with its odour. Not, asMalone says, 'with the olfactory nerves, the part that smells.' 11 So in Shakspeare's Lover's Complaint :— ' terror and dear modesty Encamp' d in hearts, but flghtin? outwardly.' Our poet has more than once" alluded to these onnosed foes. So in Othello :— U ■ Yea, curse his better angel from his side.' See also his forty-fourth Sonnet. He may have re- membered a passage in the old play of King Arthurj ' Peace hath three foes encamped in ovr breaata Ambition, wrath, and envie ' 44$ ROMEO AND JULIET. Act II. But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign : Therefore thy earliness doth me assure, Thou art uprous'd by some distemp'rature ; Or if not so, then here I hit it right — Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine. Fri. God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosaline ? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? no ; 1 have forgot that name, and that name's wo. Fri. That's my good son : But where hast thou been, then ? Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy : Where on a sudden, one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded : both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies :' I bear no hatred, blessed man ; for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift ; Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know, my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet : As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ; And all comhin'd, save what thou must combine By holy marriage : When, and where, and how, We met. we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass ; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us this day. Fri. Holy Saint Francis! wliat a change ishere ! Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken ? young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their oyes. Jesu Marin ! what a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline ! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it doth not taste ! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ; Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet : If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline ; And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this sentence then — Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. Rom. And bad st me bury love. Fri. Not in a grave, To lay one in, another out to have. 1 This apparent false concord occurs in many p'aces, not only of Shakspeare, but of all old English writers. hia sufficient tat in the Anglo-Saxon ami very old English the third person plural of tlie present tense ends in elh, and often familiarly in es, as might be exemplified from Chaucer and others. This idiom was not worn out in Shakspeare's time, who must not there- fore be tried by rules which were invented after his time. We have the same grammatical construction in Cyuibeline: — ' His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies.' And in Venus and Adonis : — ' She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes Where lo .' two lamps burnt out in darkness lies.'' Again in a former'scene of this play : — And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes.' 2 ' It is incumbent upon me, or it is of importance to me to use extreme haste.' So in King Richard III. : — ' it stands me mucn upon, To stop all hopes,' &c. 3 The allusion is to archery. The clout, or white mark, at which the arrows were directed, was fastened by a black pin, placed in the centre of it. To hit this was the highest ambition of every marksman. So in No Wit like a Woman's, a comedy by Middleton, 1657 : ' They have shot two arrows without heads, They cannot stick i' the but yet; hold out, knight, And V\l cleave the black /wni'the midst of the white.' So in Marlowe's Tamburlaine ; — Rom. I pray thee, chide not : she, whom I love now, Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow ; The other did not so. Fri. O, she knew well, Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. But come, young waverer, come, go with me, In one respect I'll' thy assistant be ; For this alliance may so happy prove, To turn your households' rancour to pure love. Rom. O, let us hence ; I stand on sudden haste.* FVi Wisely, and slow ; they stumble that run fast. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Street. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. Mer. Where tho devil should this Romeo be ? — Came he not home to-night ? Ben. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his man. Mer. Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet. Hath sent a letter to his father's house. Mer. A challenge, on my life. Ben. Romeo will answer it. Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer a letter. Ben. Nav, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared. Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead ! stabbed with a white wench's black eye ; shot thorough the car with a love-song ; the very pin of Ins heart cleft with tho blind bow-hoy's butt-shaft : 3 And is he a man to encounter Tvbalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt ? Mer. More than prince of cats, 4 I can tell you. O, he is the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing prick-soni;, keeps time, dis- tance, and proportion ; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom : the very butcher of a silk button, i a duellist, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very first house, — of the first and second cause : e Ah, the immortal passado ! the punto reverso ! the hay !' Ben. The what ? V . The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accents ! — By Jtsu, a very good blade ! — a very tall man — « very good whore ! — Whv, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsire, 6 that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion- mongers, these par- donnez-moys, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? 9 0, their bons, their bons ! ' For kings are clouts that every man shoi Our crown the p<7] that thousands seek to rl/ave.' 4 Tybert, the name given to a cat in the old story- book of Reynard the Fox. So mi Decker's Saiiromastix. ' Tho' you were Tybert, prince of long-tailed cats.' Again, in Have With You to Saffron Walden, by Nash : ' Not Tibalt prince of cats.' 5 So in the Return from Parnassus: — ' Strikes his poinado at a button's breadth.' The phrase also occurs in the Fantaisies de Bruscam- bile, 161-2, p. 191 :— ' Un coup de mousquet sans four- chette dans le sixieme bonton.' 6 i. e. a gentleman of the first rank, or highest emi- nence, among these duellists ; and one who understands the whole science of quarrelling, and will tell you of the first cause, and the second cause, for which a man is to fight. The Clown, in As You Like It, ta!ks of the se- venth cause In the same sense. 7 All the terms of the fencing school were originally Italian : the rapier, or small thrusting sword, being first used in Italy. The hay is the word hai, you have it, used when a thrust reaches the antagonist. Our fencers on the same occasion cry out ha .' 8 Humorously apostrophising his ancestors, whose sober times were unacquainted with the fopperies here complained of. 9 During the ridiculous fashion which prevailed of great ' boulstered breeches,' (See Strutt's Manners and Customs, vol. iii. p. 86; Strypc's Annals, vol. i. p. 78, Appendix; vol. ii. Appendix, note 17,) it is said that it was necesssary to cut away hollow places in the benches Scene IV. ROMEO AND JULIET. 447 Enter Romeo. Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring : — O, flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified ! — Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in ; Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench ; — marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her: Dido, a dowdy : Cleo- patra, a gipsy ; Helen and Hero, hildings and har- lots ; Thisbe, a gray eye or so, 1 but not to the pur- pose. — Signior Romeo, bon jour ! there's a French salutation to your French slop. 2 You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. Rom. Good morrow to you both. What coun- terfeit did I give you ? Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ; Can you not con- ceive ? Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great : and, in such a case as mine, a man may strain courtesy. Mer. That's as much as to say — such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning — to court'sy. Mer. Thou has most kindly hit it. Rom. A most courteous exposition. Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. Rom. Pink for flower. Mer. Riaht. Rom. Why, then is my pump well flowered. 8 Mer. Well said : Follow me this jest now, till thou hast worn out thy pump ; that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular. Rom. O, single-soled 4 jest, solely singular for the singleness. Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio ; my wits fail. Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; or I'll cry a match. Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, 5 1 have done ; for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am sure, I have in my whole five : Was I with you there for the goose ? Rom. Thou wast never with me for any thing, when thou wast not there for the goose. Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ; 6 it is a most sharp sauce. Rom. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel, 7 that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad ! Rom. I stretch it out for that word — broad : which added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning of the House of Commons, to make room for those mon- strous protuberances, without which those who stood on Vie new form could not sit at ease on the old bench. 1 A gray eye appears to have meant what we now call a blue eye. He means to admit that Thisbe had a tolerable fine eye. 2 The slop was a kind of wide-kneed breeches, or rather trowsers. 3 Here is a vein of wit too thin to be easily found. The fundamental idea is, that Romeo wore pinked pumps, that is, punched with holes in figures. It was the cus- tom to wear ribands in the shoes formed in the shape of roses or other flowers. Thus in The Masque of Gray's Inn, 1614: — 'Every masker's pump was fastened with a. flower suitable to his cap.' 4 Malone and Steevens have made strange work with their conjectures of the meaning of single-soled. I have shown, (in a former note,) that single meant simple, silly. Single-soled had also the same mean- ing : — ' He is a good sengyll soule, and can do no harm ; est doli nescius non simplex.' — Herman's Vulgaria. 5 One kind of horserace, which resembled the flight of wild geese, was formerly known by this name. — Two horses were started together, and which ever rider could get the lead, the other rider was obliged to fol- low him wherever he chose to go. This explains the pleasantry kept, up here. 'My wit fails,' says Mercutio. Romeo exclaims briskly, ' Switch and spurs, switch and spurs.' To which Mercutio rejoins, for love ? now art tnou sociable, now art thou Ro- meo ; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: for this drivelling love is like a great natural, that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. Ben. Stop there, stop there. Mer. Thou desirest me stop in my tale against the hair. 8 Ben. Thou would'st else have made thy tale large. Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd, I would have made it short : for I was come to the whole depth of my tale : and meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. Rom. Here's goodly geer ! Enter Nurse and Peter. Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail ! Ben. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock. JVurse. Peter ! Peter. Anon ! Nurse. My fan, Peter. 9 Mer. 'Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her lace ; for her fan's the fairer of the two. Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. Mer. God ye good den, 10 fair gentlewoman. JVurse. Is it good den ? Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy 1 of the dial is now upon the prick" of noon. JVurse. Out upon you ! what a man are you ? Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath madi himself to mar. JVurse. By my troth, it is well said ; — For him- self to mar, quoth 'a ? — Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? Rom. I can tell you ; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him, than he was when you sought him : I am the youngest of that name, for 'fault of a worse. JVurse. You say well. Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very wV ?l v '.ok, i' faith ; wisely, wisely. JVurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confi- dence with you. Ben. She will indite him to some supper. Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho ! Rom. What hast thou found ? Mer. No hare, sir ; unless a hare, sir, in a len- ten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. An old hare hoar, ! 2 And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in lent ; But a hare that is hoar, Is too much for a score, When it hoars ere it be spent. — ' Nay, if thy wits run the wild goose chase,' &c. Burton mentions this sport, Anat. of Melau. p. 266, edit. 1632. — See also the article Chase in Chambers's Dictionary. 6 The allusion is to an apple of that name. 7 Soft stretching leather, kid leather. 8 This phrase, which is of French extraction, acontre poil, occurs again in Troilus and Cressida : — ' Merry against the hair.'' 9 The business of Peter carrying the Nurse's fan, seems ridiculous to modern manners, but it was former- ly the practice. In The Serving Man's Comfort, 1598, we are informed, ' The mistresse, must have one to carry hercloake and hood, another her fanne.' So in Love's Labour's Lost : — ' To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan.' 10 i. e. ' God give you a good even.' The first of these contractions is common in our old dramas. So in Brome's Northern Lass : — ' God you good even, sir.' 11 So in King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 4 :— ' And made an evening at the noontide prick.'' i. e. the point of noon. A prick is a point, a note of distinction in writing, a stop. So in Brighfs Charac- tery, or Arte of Short Writing, 1588 :— 'If the worde end in ed, a.s I loved, then make zpricke in the charac- ter of the word on the left side.' 12 Hoar, or hoary is often used for mould//, as things grow white from moulding. These lines seem to have been part of an rid song. Jta the quarto, 1597, we have this stage direction : ' He icalks by them [i.e. the Nursa and Peter] and sings.' ROMEO AND JULIET. 418 Romeo, will you come, to your father's ? we'll to dinner thhher. Rom. I will follow you. . ilfer. Farewell, ancient lady ; farewell, lady, lady, [Exeunt Mercutiq and Benvolio. Nurse. Marrv, farewell!— I pray you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full ot his ropery ? 2 , Bom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk ; and will speak more in a minute, than he will stand to in a month. Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, 1 11 take him down an 'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those " Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt- ' -^ains-mates: 3 — And thou Her every knave to use Act II ! ,ou at his pleasure ; if ..id quickly have been out, *re draw as soon as another ^sion in a good quarrel, and the T3 f J5 .., afore God, I am so vexed, that rttft about me quivers. Scurvy knave!— . ou, sir, a word : and, as I told you, my young Dade me inquire vou out; what she bade me 'l will keep to mvself: but first let me tell ye, ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they sav : for the gentlewoman is young ; and, there- fore if you should deal double with her, truly, it were an ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. . Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mis- tress. I protest unto thee,—— ... . „ , Wurse. Good heart! and, i' faith, I will tell her a - „„ : Lord, lord, she will be a joyful woman. Horn. vVhat wilt thou tell her, nurse ? thou dost not mark me. Nurse I will tell her, sir,— that you do protest ; which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. Rom. Bid her devise some means to come to shrift This afternoon ; And there she shall at Friar Laurence cell Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy pains. Nurse. No, truly, sir ; not a penny. Rom. Go to ; I sav, you shall. Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be th Ro'm, And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey- wall : . , , Within this hour my man shall be with thee ; And brin« thee cords made like a tackled stair,* Which to'-the high top-gallant of my joy Must be my convoy m the secret night. Farewell !— Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. Farewell !— Commend me to thy mistress. Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee .—Hark you, sir. Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse .' Nurse. Is your man secret ? D.d you ne'er hear say — Two may keep counsel, putting one away ? Rom. I warrant thee ; my man's as true as steel. Nurse. Well, sir ; my mistress is the sweetest lady,— lord, lord ! — when 'twas a little prating thing, 5 — O, — there's a nobleman in town, one Pa- ris, "that would fain lay knife aboard : but she, good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man : but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the varsal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo be- gin both with a letter ? 6 jRom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker ! that's the dog's name. R is for the dog. No ; I know it begins with some other letter : and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. . Bom. Commend me to thy lady. [Exit. Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. — Peter ! Pet. Anon ! Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before. [Exeunt SCENE V. Capulet's Garden. Enter Juliet. Jul.. The clock struck nine, when I did send the nurse ; In half an hour she promis'd to return. Perchance, she cannot meet him : that's not so.- O, she is lame ! love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, Driving back shadows over louring hills : Therefore donimble-pinion'd doves draw love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey ; and from nine till twelve Is three long hours, — yet she is not come. Had she affections, and warm youthful blood, She'd be as swift in motion as a ball ; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me : But old folks, many feign as they were dead ; Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Enter Nurse and Peter. O, God, she comes !— O, honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away. Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter. Jul. Now, good sweet nurse,— O, Lord! why look'st thou sad ? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news Bv playing it to me with so sour a face. 'Nurse. I am weary, give me leave awhile ;- Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunt have I had ! Jul. I would, thou had'st my bones, and I thy news : Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ;— good, good nurse, speak. 1 The burthen of an old song. See Twelfth Night, aBooerv'waa ancientlv used In the same sense as' roguery is now. So in The Three Ladies of London, ° « Thou art very pleasant, and full of thy ropenjeS 3 Bv sl.ains-mahs the old lady probably means vwarrerinv companions. A skain, or skein, was an Irishlnife or dagger, a weapon suitable to the purpose ofruffling fellows. Green, in his Quip for an Upstart Courtier, describes ' an ill-favoured knave, who wore bv his side a skeine, like a brewer's bung knife.^ 4 i e like stairs of rope in the tackle of a ship. A stair' for a flight of stairs, is still the language ot Scot- land and was once common to both kingdoms. 5 So in Arthur Brooke's poem :— _ « A orettv babe, quoth she, it was, when it was young, Lord, how it could full prettily have prated with its tongue.' . 6 The Nurse is represented as a prating, silly crea- ture; she says that she will tell Romeo a good joke about his mistress, and asks him whether rosemary and Borneo do not both begin with a letter : he says, yes, an E She, whom we must suppose could not read, thought he mocked her, and says, No, sine I know better, R is the dog's name, your's begins with some other letter. This is natural enough, and in character. R put her in mind of that sound which dogs make when they snarl. Ben Jonson, in his EngMsfi Grammar savs ' R is the dog's teller, and hirrelh in the sound.' 'Irritata canis quod R. R. quam plurima dicaU 7 The speech is thus continued in the quarto, 1597 » - < should be thoughts, And run more swift than hasty powder fir'cl Doth hurry from the fearful cannon's mouth Oh, now she comes ! Tell me, gentle nurse, What says my love ?' ,.. ■ The "i-eate< part of this scene is likewise added since that Idition. Shakspeare, however, seems to have thought one of the ideas comprised in the mregomo quotation from the earliest quarto too valuable i to . oe lost. Ha has, therefore, inserted it in Romeo's first speech to the Apothecary, in Act v. :— ' As violently as hasty powder fir'd Doth hurrv from the fatal cannon's womb . LIBRARY OF .UNbKESS 013 999 979 4 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 013 999 979 4 % Hollinger Corp. pH 8.5