IIMilll|l|IMi:|linMl|llll{;!l|j I ttf-mtiinttnrrtHii HA^VTHORNE CLASSICS SHAKESPEAREAN COMEDIES Class _"? R^TM-. Book .\A^5_ Copight}!'' COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT THE HAWTHORNE CLASSICS SHAKESPEAREAN COMEDIES EDITED BY EDWAKD EVERETT HALE, Jr , Ph.D. PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND LOGIC IN UNION COLLEGE GLOBE SCHOOL BOOK COMPANY NEW YORK AND CHICAGO ■>7P THE LtBRAftV OF CONGRCSS, "'"■-O CfjPic* Rt:^CS«VED DEC, i^ 190? CoBvmoHr ENTWv ICLAJW ■ O-XXo' No. corv B. Copyright, 1902, by Globe School Book Company. MANHATTAN PRESS 474 ^VEST BROADWAY NEW YORK CONTENTS PAGE Introduction v A Midsummer-Night's Dream .... 1 As You Like It 93 The Tempest 205 ui INTKODUCTION The three plays in this volume are representa- tive Shakespearean comedies. They are distinctly his; no one else could have written them. Fur- ther, they give us quite fully the quality of comedy that we tliink of instinctively as Shakespeare's. They do not represent every side of Shake- speare's genius as it is displayed in comedy. "The Comedy of Errors," for instance, is charac- terized by an element of broad farce in actioii, which we do not find in these plays. " Measure for Measure " has a bitter, satiric quality which we do not find at all. But these qualities are not particularly Shakespearean; Shakespeare had powers in those directions, but they were not his greatest powers. Whereas the curious mingling of imagination and fancy into romantic and ideal forms, molded with wit and humor, keen insight and ripe wisdom, is something we do not find in other dramatists, either of Shakespeare's time or of any other. The older comedy of the Greeks was broad burlesque, used for the purposes of political and social satire. The later comedy, which we know chiefly by the comedy of the V i INTB on UCTION Romans, was a picture of manners with a strong satirical flavoring. It is this latter form of comedy which has set the fashion to the world. Moliere gives us the quality in its purest form in modern literature, but our own literature is by no means lacking in fine examples. Not to mention the Restoration comedy, which has fallen into ob- livion, we may find in the plays of Sheridan and Goldsmith the same general quality of fine and keen social satire and quick and sure pictures of manners. Such comedies any one may see upon the stage to-day in any country of Europe or here at home. It is true that the popular taste at the present moment prefers more farcical comedy or more emotional melodrama, but examples of pure comedy are not wanting among the plays Avhich have been most successful on our contemporary stage. Shakespeare's comedy is not, however, the com- edy of manners. Read any of the plays in this book and then read Sheridan's " Rivals " and you will perceive an immense difference. And this is not because Sheridan wrote about the men and women, the society of his own day ; for although Shakespeare did not always write about the society of his own day, he generally wrote as if he did. His characters, whether Greek, French, or Italian, all speak just as he would make an Englishman speak, save for minor differences. Shakespeare's people are of his own time as much as they were INTR OB UCTION Vll of any time : we must remember that they ap- peared before the audience in just such costumes as the audience itself wore,i just as they spoke of thing's with winch the audience was familiar, like hawthorn buds and primroses (I., i., 185, 215), clocks (V., i., 368) and casements (III., i., 58 J, dukes (I., i., 20) and heraldry (III., ii., 211). But though Shakespeare does not shun the men- tion of what were to him everyday things, he does not in the least have an everyday atmosphere. The characteristic which makes his comedies as a whole different from the comedies of the present day is their ideal atmosphere. Not present in every one of the comedies, it is clearly noticeable in those in our volume. The fairy fantasy of a midsummer night, the careless fleeting of life in the Forest of Arden, the surprising adven- tures upon the enchanted isle, — these are ideal and fanciful circumstances, and are enough to give a distinctly idealistic quality. It gives in- deed a distinct character to the plays, in which we readily surrender ourselves to the desires of the dramatist. What are those desires ? What is the purpose of comedy ? The tragedies of Shakespeare depict, as a rule, some strong and powerful man, wliose strength 1 In " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " we read of coats (II., 11., 5) , sleeves, and hats (III., ii., 30) and ribhoned pumps (IV., ii., 34) just as in "Julius Caesar " we read of hats, cloaks, and doublets. Vlll INTBODUCTION and power is yet incomplete, and indeed flawed in such a manner that he cannot control success- fully the facts of life, as weaker men sometimes can by knowing what those facts are and what is due to them. Thus Romeo, Brutus, Hamlet, are each strong in the power to love, to do right, to tliink. But neither is perfect. Romeo is hasty, Brutus overconfident, Hamlet a dreamer. Such men cannot succeed. Yet we love them, and their failure is a tragedy, for we do not clearly understand why, in this world, so much good should go to wreck, why it sliould not prevail, or rather why so much strength should be mingled with weakness. Such are Shakespeare's trage- dies. His histories are simpler in spirit. The history or chronicle play was a favorite dramatic form of the time. Shakespeare was interested in it. A phase of national life strikes him, and he puts together characteristic scenes and passages, and we have a historical play which presents to us a conception of the stirring and striking days of old, of John, of Henry IV., of Henry VIII. Now what is the spirit of his comedies ? As a rule some two or three characters, who arouse our sympathy, become involved in some difficulty and then are extricated from their troubles, after a sobering experience which leaves them wiser and truer men and w^omen than before. Both of these matters are important. Shakespeare was not a moralist, but lie liad a large, sane, liealthy idea of INTRODUCTION ix the way things go in this world and of how far people generally ally themselves to the side of facts, and he commonly presents to us the people who kick against the pricks as getting the worst of it and mending their ways, or, if they have kicked too hard and too long, coming to grief. He could hardly present any phase of life without giving some sort of idea of this kind, for he held it so firmly that it came out in all manner of ways. It was not his especial purpose to present it, how- ever, but merely a natural way he had of express- ing himself. He was probably more interested in the amusement of raveling and unraveling the plot. Still, in each play we do have the hasty, the flighty, the wrong-headed, put through various trials, to come, only at the end, to a happy condi- tion. In " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " the hot-headed young lovers, all bent on reaching swiftly the end of passion, are led through a maze of difficulty. It is true that they are led about by fancy, but that is not significant in itself ; Shakespeare wanted to show the course of hot- headed love. In " Romeo and Juliet " he used the everyday means of his story and wrought out a tragedy. In " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " he used the fanciful conception which is at the bottom of the play and made a romantic comedy. In " As You Like It " we have a far less definite conception ; less systematically worked out than X INTRODUCTION is the case with the earlier comedy, less implicit in the whole thought than in the later. The play is a pleasant extravaganza on popular romance. Every one goes a-romancing in the forest, for one reason or another, but every one comes home again (except Jaques) as soon as he gets a chance. In " The Tempest " Ave see even more clearly an idea, in this case that of the necessity of service. Antonio strives to raise himself to an unmerited mastership, but Ferdinand is willing to undergo unmerited servitude. Caliban, grumbling and growling over his work, remains a slave, while Ariel, who renders glad and willing service, is freed. Throughout each play we have the sane, wise standpoint of the man who knows the world. The particular interests are often theatrical, but Shakespeare did even technical things in such a way as to satisfy his feeling of what ought to be. As he grew older, it is probable that this moral turn grew stronger. And this brings up another point of interest in the study of Shakespeare which is well illustrated by these plays ; namely, the growth and development of his genius. These three plays were written, one early in his career, one at about the middle, and one at the end. It is hardly possible to read " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " and " The Tempest " and not see that one is the work of a young man and the other of a man much more mature. Scholars have pointed out the various particular ways by which Shake- INTEODUCTION XI speare's earlier style differed from his later. It may not be easy for every one to appreciate the minor points of verse and expression which are thought to be characteristic of earlier and later work, but we can all appreciate the atmosphere of fancy in the earlier play and of thought in the later one. " As You Like It " stands between ; it is one of that delightful group of comedies written when Shakespeare's youthful powers of imagination and fancy were beginning to be en- riched by the wisdom and sagacity wliich came to him from experience of life.^ The change is marked by differences in style not very hard to note in a general way : the earlier plays, for in- stance, have much more rhyme than the later, while the later have a much more developed kind of blank verse than the earlier. Nor is the change always for the best, so far as style is concerned. In the later plays the idea is so much more impor- tant than the expression that we often find ob- scurity or lack of connection, as in the passages cited in the note on p. 214. And while this dift'erence in treatment is noticeable, the student should notice also the increase in power of char- acter. The characters in " A Midsummer-Niofht's Dream" are but sketches after all; how faint they 1 The student will find in Dowden's " Shakespere Primer" a most interesting statement of the development of Shakespeare's mind and disposition, and a treatment more at large in the same author's " Shakespere: His Mind and Art." xii IN TB OD UCTION are compared with the highly finished pictures of "As You Like It." And even "x\s You Like It" is less studied than " The Tempest," in which every figure, even to the minor ones, represents quite clearly some shade of idea or character. Suggestions for Study The student of Shakespeare, and indeed the teacher too, is often puzzled, in trying to settle on a line of Shakespearean study, by the great number of matters which he finds in the editions even of single plays. Undoubtedly the number of things that one may stud}^ under the name of " studying Shakespeare " is very great ; and many of them do really give a richer and fuller, if not a keener, appreciation of Shakespeare's plays. Some of them, however, are matters more par- ticularly for the special Shakespearean scholar. Such, for instance, are those questions connected with the date of any play, and with the sources of its plot, and with its text. The date of a play is a matter of interest, for, as has been said, Shake- speare's early work (like " A Midsummer-Night's Dream ") is different in many respects from his later work (like " The Tempest "), and we cer- tainly w^ant to know which is early and which late, so as rightly to appreciate each. The sources of a play are important too, for only by knowing wliat things Shakespeare took from others can we INTRODUCTION Xlii really get at just that which he created himself. Thus the main lines of the story of " As You Like It " are to be found in a novel called " Rosa- lind " b}^ Thomas Lodge, but the banished Duke, Jaques, Touchstone, the pastoral love-making, were all added by Shakespeare. The text is a matter of importance, for it may sometimes be an incor- rect text that gives us such passages, as have just been mentioned, in the note on p. 214. But these are, on the whole, matters for the specialist. The date of any play is often to be determined only by nice weighing of literary and historical evi- dence ; the sources are almost always to be sought in literature quite unfamiliar to most people ; the principles of text criticism are not very definitely settled, and can, as a rule, be applied only on a basis of wide reading. So those of us who cannot give careful and close study to Shakespeare, but who wish chiefly to enjoy his plays as thoroughly as possible, will do well to leave such matters to the scholars and to use intelligently the results which they have attained, often by severe labor. It is not very hard to get at such results ; almost any fully annotated edition will give us the main facts. There are also a number of matters of interest in the study of any separate play. Thus if we had some particular play in hand, we should want to get a good idea of the particular development of the dramatic action, the plot as it is called. XIV INTB OB UCTION We should be interested in seeing how the story develops, how different lines of action are brought together, how matters are carried to a crisis and then to a right ending. Or we might study the particular characters, ask ourselves what sort of men and women tliey were, and how their char- acteristics were brought out and expressed, con- trast them with each other, tr}^ and see what special significance each had in Shakespeare's mind. Or there are always particular matters connected with particular plays : Avith " A Mid- summer-Night's Dream " the fairy world is some- thing we may study in some little detail, trying to get a good conception of Shakespeare's notion of such affairs in other plays as well as this ; with " The Tempest " there are a number of " interpre- tations," as they are called, or statements of the idea or meaning of the j)l^y- These matters come rather with a study of separate plays, and do not belong so naturally to the reading of several plays together. But there are more general matters, matters not of special scholarship, but such as anybody will want to notice, which are connected not more w^ith one play than with many. Some of them have been mentioned earlier in the introduction, for instance, the general spirit of Shakespearean comedy ; that is a thing that we want to appre- ciate to the full ; we want to get it as it is differ- ently present in all the great comedies, whether INTBODUCTION XV written in Shakespeare's early life or later toward the end. Some of these matters are rather technical. Many think it a pity to trouble students with what are called technical matters, such as questions of language or of meter. It certainly is a pity to trouble students at all when they are reading Shakespeare. But if we are going to study Shakespeare instead of merely reading him freely, we must do some things that at first will be troublesome, at least to those who dislike study. The point of importance is to be able to study such matters in an untroubled way, to such a degree as is necessary, without being carried so far as to be absorbed in them to the loss of enjoy- ment of the plays themselves. Tlie language of Shakespeare is such as in the main can be readily understood by any one. But everybody who looks at Shakespeare, even for the first time, will recognize that Shakespeare's lan- guage is not exactly the language of every day. It is true that Shakespeare is so constantly read by English-speaking people that his influence upon the language has been very great, so that some- times he does not seem nearly as old as would Ben Jonson, for instance, who lived and wrote in Shakespeare's lifetime and after his death. Still, in spite of a general familiarity, Shakespearean language has some things about it that we must at least notice in order to understand them. First XVI INTRODUCTION to be noticed is the fact that the words that he uses have in many cases changed in pronuncia- tion or meaning in the course of three centuries. When we begin to study Shakespeare we should look to these things and they will soon become familiar enough for us to read with enjoyment. Thus the word revenue (M. N. D., I., i., 6 and 158) had in Shakespeare's day been not very long bor- rowed from the French, and its pronunciation was not definitely settled. Sometimes it was pro- nounced with an accent, more like the French, on the second syllable, sometimes as we pronounce it to-day. Other such cases will be found : for in- stance, contract in Temp. IV., i., 84 and II., i., 153. And although it is not common to find different pronunciations in the same play, yet pro- nunciations different from the usage of to-day are not infrequent : perse' ver^ M. N. D., III., ii., 237 ; exiled A. Y. L. I., II., i., 1 ; contents^ A. Y. L. I., IV., iii., 8 ; aspect', A. Y. L. L, IV., iii., 53. Yet in other plays often Shakespeare uses the pronun- ciation of to-day, showing a very variable usage. More important, however, than the pronuncia- tion is the meaning of words. Here there is a fine chance for too much study ; let us surely avoid that; one can do so much better things with Shakespeare than use him as a master for Elizabethan grammar. But there are some things about which one must keep an open eye. Obso- lete or archaic words do not off'er much difficulty; INTRODUCTION xvil they catch our attention, for they look strange, and perhaps we cannot guess at their meaning. Thus kibe, Temp., II., i., 267, is an obsolete word. We do not hear it to-day ; very likely we do not know what it means. We should of course find out, but no special directions need be given for finding out. The best thing is to remember some other passage in which the word occurs, e.g. Hamlet, V., i., 153. If one does not remember another use, there is Bartlett's " Concordance," or Clarke's, which give us all the phrases in which almost any word is used. Here we can easily find another passage, if there be one, and by com- paring come to an idea of the meaning. If this is not sufficient, one can use Schmidt's " Shake- speare Lexicon," where all the general and par- ticular Shakespearean uses will be found. And if neither of these authorities are at hand, any good dictionary will as a rule give us the correct meaning, and often witli quotation of the very passage we are considering. There are a num- ber of such words in every Shakespearean play. The annotated editions, as a rule, give their mean- ings. But it is better to look up the meanings for oneself ; it seems to be the case that one holds that which one gets with a little trouble better than the things that are thrust into one's way. Rather more difficult as an object of study are those words which are still used to-day, but in a sense different from that of the play. Thus when xviu INTRODUCTION Prospero tells Ariel (Temp., IV., i., 193) to hang the glistering apparel " upon the line," I fear that most of us will at first think of some sort of clothes-line. But we see in a minute that this was probably not Shakespeare's idea (it would have been incongruously prosaic certainly), for in v., i., 10, Ariel speaks of ''the line-grove that weather-fends your cell," and we see that it was no clothes-line but a linden tree on which the clothes were hanging. If you look up hrave^ Temp., I., ii., 6, 206 ; control^ I., ii., 434 ; corollary, IV., i., 57, you will see that they meant something rather different from what they bring to mind to-day. So in "A Midsummer-Night's Dvedaw'' poor fancy's followers, I., i., 155, does not to-day carry its meaning on its face. But look at the note on that line and on II., i., 156. Other examples will be found in abridgment^ V., i., 39; admirable, V., i., 27; cheer. III., ii., 96; crab, II., i., 48. So also taxation, A. Y. L. I., I., ii., 88; humorous, I., ii., 274 and humor. III., ii., 424. The words are common enough, but their meaning in Shakespeare is dif- ferent from that which we are used to. We should try to understand Shakespeare's words as he understood them himself. The task is often difficult, but when we have tried our hand at it, it becomes easier ; we begin to remem- ber special usages and meanings and expressions, and soon we are able to read with an appreciation of these differences from current usage, but with- INTRODUCTION XIX out noticing them consciously, tis one gets to read a foreign language without translating it. Besides these matters which concern individual words there are others which concern syntax. These are of something the same kind as the cases which have just been mentioned. Some construc- tions look strange to us, — those we should notice and look up in Abbott's ''Shakespearean Gram- mar" or Franz's "Shakespere Grammatik." Much less frequent than the words which remain in the language with changed meaning are construc- tions still familiar, of which the significance has changed. Thus in Oberon's speech (M. N. D., II., i., 149-152) : — " A certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts," the construction in italics is archaic now except in another sense. Here it means "as if it were about to." Still although such cases are not very com- mon, we must be ready to note them when they come. These considerations are purely linguistic ; there are others which are literary. We want to be- come familiar with the characteristics of Shake- speare's language. And first we must bear in mind that all the dramatists of Elizabeth's day used language habitually in ways not very cus- XX INTRODUCTION ■ .' tomary with us. For one thing they were far more apt than writers of our own day to be elabo- rate and elevated in style ; oratorical we might say, or sometimes even bombastic. Such language was more or less demanded in a theater which had very little of the illusion and spectacular character that we are used to. The people came to listen as well as to see, and they rather expected high- sounding language. Shakespeare ridicules the extravagances in M. N. D., I., ii., 33-40, and else- where. But he himself is often lofty and in Ercles' veins, more in tragedy it is true than in comedy. In comedy, however, he is often elabo- rate. Note the poetical passages in M. N. D., II., i., 81-117; II., i., 241-251; the moralizings in A. Y. L. I., II., 1-18; II., iii., 56-68; Prospero's speeches in Temp., lY., i., 146-163; Y., i., 33-57, as well as the narratives M. N. D., II., i., 147-166; A. Y. L. I., lY., iii., 99-121. All this is pitched in a key, as Ave may say, more elevated than prose or even common blank verse ; we should notice it and accustom ourselves to its tone and appreciate its richness of poetry and rhetoric. Another habit of speech more common in Shakespeare's day than ours was that of figured speech as we may call it, — the use of figures more often than is now usual and the jDushing of them to a greater extent. This is more common in Shakespeare's early plays than in the later ones ; look at the very beginning of " A Midsummer-Night's Dream " and note the INTRODUCTION xxi frequent figure. Hardly a speech but has a simile or a more or less elaborate metaphor. If we want to see the way such matters crept into conversa- tion, we may turn to the talk of Jaques and Or- lando (A. Y. L. I., III., ii., 290-310), where rather ordinary repartee develops into wit of a figured character. These things we want to appreciate, and we must further note the pieces of prose and the snatches of song. The songs bubble out vari- ously according to the mood ; the prose passages generally come in as a mark of one or another character. Sometimes it is used for humorous or common characters, like Bottom or the handi- craftsmen. Touchstone and the country people, Stephano and Trinculo ; often for passages that are not especially dramatic in character, but rather explanatory, as the first scene in "As You Like It" or of "The Tempest." In the second scene of " As You Like It " we have first prose and then poetry, though the characters are the same. It may be here that Shakespeare felt the passage rather more emotional after Orlando and Rosalind had seen each other and loved than it had been before. Such are a few of the more important matters in a study of Shakespeare's language with a view of understanding and appreciating. A word may be added as to the best way of learning and of teaching. XXU INTRODUCTION Tlie best means for both purposes is comparison. We. have here three plays, a good body of poetry. In tliem tiiere Avill be not a few words used once only, rare constructions, special usages. But these will be exceptional ; the general rule will be that what you find once you will find again. Obsolete words and words in old meanings, archaic con- structions, uses of song or of prose, we shall gen- erally find them more than once if we keep our eyes open. And when found one will explain the other in a manner far better than the dictionary or the grammar alone can supply. Things learned in this Avay are learned by ourselves and are not readily forgotten. They are learned with interest and retained the longer. One ought, therefore, to try constantly to find not only parallel uses and constructions, but also similar modes of speech and expression. When we have begun to read in this manner we have ceased merely to appropriate the knowledge of some one else, and have begun to study Shakespeare for ourselves. A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM DRAMATIS PERSONS Theseus, Duke of Athens. Egeus, father to Hermia. Lysander, T^ r ill love with Hermia. Demetrius, J Philostrate, Master of the Revels to Theseus. Quince, a carpeiiter. Snug, a joiner. Bottom, a weaver. Flute, a bellows-mender. Snout, a tinker. Starveling, a tailor. HippoLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, betrothed to Theseus. Hermia, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander. Helena, in love with Demetrius. Oberon, King of the fairies. TiTANL\, Queen of the fairies. Puck, or Robin Goodfellow. Peaseblossom, ^ Cobweb Moth, Mustardseed, J > fairies. Other fairies attending their King and Queen. Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta. Place : Athens and a loood near it. A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM ACT I Scene 1. 1 Athens. The jjalace of Tu^si^us Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostkate, Attendants The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace ; four happy days bring in Another moon : but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes ! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager Long withering out a young man's revenue. Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves in night ; Four nights will quickly dream away the time ; And then the moon, like to a silver bow [0 New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities. The. Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriment ; 1 The first scene gives a general idea of the subject of the play : the wedding of Theseus and Hippolyta is the occasion, the loves of Hermia and Lysander, Demetrius and Helena, give the chief action ; even the play of the Athenian boors is suggested ; the part about the fairies is not hinted at, — that is to be a surprise. 3 4 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth : Turn mehmcholy forth to funerals ; .The pale companion is not for our pomp. [Fxit Philostrate. Hippolyta,^ I wooed tliee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries ; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph, and with reveling. Enter Egeus, Hermia, Lysander, and Deme- trius 20 Uc^e. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! ^ The. Thanks, good Egeus : Avhat's the news with thee ? Ege. Full of vexation come 1, with complaint Against my cliild, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her. Stand forth, Lysander ; and, my gracious duke. This man hath bewitched the bosom of my child ; ^ Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes And interchanged love-tokens with my child : 30 Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung 1 Hippolyta was queen of the Amazons, who had been conquered in battle, said tradition, by Theseus. 2 The title '*duke" is of course inappropriate, an anachronism. But it was a common title in the Middle Ages even for heroes of antiquitj^ and Shakespeare is merely adopting the current term in the literature which gave him his idea. So Chaucer in the " Knight's Tale," M^iich Shakespeare had doubtless read. 3 Comi^are the means by which Othello won Desdemona. Othello, I., iii., 128-170. Scene I] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGHr'S DREAM 5 With feigning voice verses of feigning love, And stolen the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers Of strong prevailment in unhardened youth : With cunning hast thoufilclied my daughter's heart, Turned her obedience, which is due to me. To stubborn harshness : and, my gracious duke, Be't so she will not here before your grace 40 Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, As she is mine, 1 may dispose of her : Which shall be either to this gentleman Or to her death, according to our law Immediately provided in that case. The. What say you, Hermia? be advised, fair maid : To you your father should be as a god^ ; One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax 50 By him imprinted and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. Her. So is Lysander. TJie. In himself he is ; But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. Her. I would my father looked but with my eyes. The. Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. 6 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Her. I do entreat your grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold, 60 Nor how it may concern my modesty, In such a presence here to plead my thoughts ; But I beseech your grace that I may know The w^orst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. The. Either to die the death or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires ; Know of your youth, examine well your blood. Whether, if j^ou yield not to your father's choice, 70 You can endure the livery of a nun,^ For aye to be in shady cloister mewed, To live a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood. To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ; But earthlier happy is the rose distilled. Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. ffer. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, 80 Ere I will yield my virgin patent up Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignt}^ 1 There were uo uuns iu Athens at this time any more than dukes, nor indeed in England in Shakespeare's time. But here, as with the title of duke for Theseus, Shakespeare merely has in mind the current condition of things for centuries before his day. As in Julius Csesar, lie did not aim at any real production of antiquity. Scene I] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' S DREAM 7 The. Take time to pause ; and by the next new moon — The sealing'-day betwixt my love and me, For everhisting bond of fellowship — Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would, Or on Diana's altar to protest 90 For aye austerity and single life. Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia : and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. L^s. You have her father's love, Demetrius ; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. Uge. Scornful Lysander ! true, he hath my love, And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius. Li/s. I am, my lord, as well derived as he, too As well possessed ; my love is more than his ; My fortunes every way as fairly ranked. If not with vantage, as Demetrius' ; And, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am beloved of beauteous Hermia : Why should not I then prosecute my right ? Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head. Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul ; and she, sweet lady, dotes, Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, no Upon this spotted and inconstant man. 8 irAWTunuyE classics [acti The. 1 must confess that I have heard so mucli, And with Demetrius tliought to have spoke thereof ; But, being over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come ; And come, Egeus ; you shall go with me, I have some private schooling for you both. For you, fair Hermia, look 3'ou arm yourself To fit your fancies to your father's Avill ; Or else the law of Athens jdelds you up — 120 Which by no means we may extenuate — To death, or to a vow of single life. Come, my Hippolyta : what cheer, my love ? Demetrius and Egeus go along : I must employ you in some business Against our nuptial and confer with you Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. ^(/e. With duty and desire we follow you. [Exeunt all hut Lysander and Hermia. Lys. How now, my love ! why is your cheek so pale ? How chance the roses there do fade so fast ? 130 Hey\ Belike for want of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. Lys. Ay me ! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history. The course of true love never did run smooth ; But, either it was different in blood, — Her. O cross ! too high to be enthralled to low.^ 1 For another rapid dialogue like this, see 11. 194-201 of this scene. Scene I] A MIDSVMMER-NIGHT\^ BBEAM 9 Lys. Or else misgraffed in respect of years, — Her. O spite ! too old to be engaged to young. Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of friends, — 140 Her. O hell ! to choose love by another's eyes. Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it. Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream ; Brief as the lightning in the coUied night. That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say " Behold ! " The jaws of darkness do devour it up : So quick bright things come to confusion. 150 Her. If then true lovers have been ever crossed, It stands as an edict in destiny : Then let us teach our trial patience. Because it is a customary cross. As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs. Wishes and tears, poor fancy's ^ followers. Lys. A good persuasion : therefore, hear me, Hermia. I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue,^ and she hath no child : From Athens is her house remote seven leagues ; 160 And she respects me as her only son. There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee ; 1 love: of. fancy-free, II., i., 156. 2 In this word, as often in Shakespeare, the accent sometimes differs from that of our own day. Cf. I., i., 0. 10 JIAWTIJORNE CLASSICS [Act I And to that place the sharp Athenian law Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night ; And in the wood, a league without the town, Where I did meet thee once with Helena, To do observance to a morn of May, There will I stay for thee. Her. My good Lysander ! I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, 170 By his best arrow with the golden head. By the simplicity of Venus' doves. By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves. And by that tire which burned the Carthage queen,! When the false Troy an under sail was seen. By all the vows that ever men have broke. In number more than ever woman spoke. In that same place thou hast appointed me. To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. L^s. Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. Unter Helena 180 ITer. God speed fair Helena ! whither away ? Hel. Call you me fair ? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair : O happy fair ! Your eyes are lode-stars ; and your tongue's sweet air More tunable than lark to shepherd's ear. When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds ap- pear. 1 Dido. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 11 Sickness is catching : O, were favor so, Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go ; My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. 190 Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest I'ld give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. H^er. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. ITel. O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill ! Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. Hel. O that my prayers could such affection move ! Her. The more I hate, the more he follows me. Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. 200 Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. Hel. None, but your beauty : would that fault were mine ! Her. Take comfort : he no more shall see my face ; Ly Sander and myself will fly this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seemed Athens as a paradise to me : O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell ! Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will unfold : 12 TIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act I To-morrow night, when Phcjebe doth behold 2IO Her silver visage in the watery glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal. Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal. ITer. And in the wood where often you and I Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie. Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet. There my Lysander and myself shall meet ; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes. To seek new friends and stranger companies. 220 Farewell, sweet playfellow ; pray thou for us ; And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius ! Keep word, Lysander : we must starve our sight From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. Lys. I will, my Hermia. \_Uxit Herm. Helena, adieu : As you on him, Demetrius dote on you ! lUxit. Hel. How happy some o'er other some can be ! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so ; He will not know what all but he do know : 230 And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities : Things base and vile, holding no quantity. Love can transpose to form and dignity : Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind : Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste ; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste : Scene II] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 13 And therefore is Love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 240 As waggish boys in games themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjured everywhere : For ere Demetrius looked on Hermia's eyne. He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine ; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolved, and shoAvers of oaths did melt. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will he to-morrow night Pursue her ; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense : 250 But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again. \_Uxit. Scene II. Athens. Quince's house Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, and Starveling 1 Quin. Is all our company here ? Bot. You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. Quin. Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought ht, through all Athens, to play 1 The appearance of these hard-handed Athenians brings in a comic element. The idea of the Masqne was that the beautiful and the grotesque or the comic should each gain by combination. Shakespeare uses the same idea, contrasting these artisans with the fairies who appear later. He adds also a burlesque on the comic actor: it may be that he had suffered at his hands. Cf. Hamlet, III., ii., 42-50; II., ii., 336. 14 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act I in our interlude ^ before the duke and the duchess, on his wedding-day at night. Bot. First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on, then read the names of the actors, 10 and so grow to a point. Quin. Marry, our play is. The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. Bot. A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread your- selves. Quin. Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. 20 Bot. Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. Bot. What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. Bot. That will ask some tears in the true per- forming of it : if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes ; I will move storms, I will condole in 30 some measure. To the rest : yet my chief humor is for a t3a-ant : I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. 1 As appears later this was but one of a number of interludes prepared for the occasion. Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 15 The raging rocks And shivering shocks Shall break the locks Of prison gates ; And Phibbus' car Shall shine from far And make and mar 40 The foolish Fates. This was lofty ! Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein ; a lover is more condoling. Quin. P'rancis Flute, the bellows-mender. Flu. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Flute, you must take Thisby on you.i Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight ? Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman ; 1 50 have a beard coming. Quin. That's all one : you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'll speak in a monstrous little voice, " Thisne, Thisne " ; " Ah Pyramus, my lover dear ! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear ! " Quin. No, no ; you must play Pyramus : and, Flute, you Thisby. Bot. Well, proceed. 60 Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. 1 All the women's parts on the Elizabethan stage were played by boys. 16 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Star. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. Robert Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snout, the tinker. Snout. Here, Peter Quince. Quin. You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father. Snug, the joiner ; you, the lion's part : and, I hope, here is a play fitted. S)iug. Have you the lion's part written ? pray 3'ou, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. 70 Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. Bot. Let me play the lion too : I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me ; I will roar that I will make the duke say, " Let him roar again, let him roar again." Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek ; and that were enough to hang us all. AIL That would hang us, every mother's son. 80 Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us : but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove ; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus ; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day ; a most lovely gentleman-like man: tlierefore you must needs 90 lA'dj Pyramus. Scene IIJ A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 17 Bot. Well, I Avill undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in ? Quin. Why, what you Avill. Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw- color beard, your orange-tawny beard, your pur- ple-in-grain beard, or j^our French-crown-color beard, your perfect yellow. Quin. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play barefaced. 100 But, masters, here are your parts : and I am to entreat you, request you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night ; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moon- light ; there will we rehearse, for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties,^ such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. Bot. We will meet; and there we may rehearse no most obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect : adieu. Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. Bot. Enough ; hold or cut bow-strings. \_Exeunt, 1 The various things necessary for stage use. 18 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II ACT II Scene I. A ivood near Athens^ Enter^ from opposite sides^ a Fairy and Puck Puck. How now, spirit! whither wander you? Fai. Over hill, over dale. Thorough bush, thorough brier. Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander every where. Swifter than the moones sphere ; ^ And I serve the fairy queen. To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be : In their gold coats spots you see ; Those be rubies, fairy favors. In those freckles live their savors : I must go seek some dewdrops here And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.^ 1 In this scene we have a new element brought in and one which turns everything topsy-turvj^, not sparing itself. In the fairy poetry we have some of Shakespeare's most charming fancies. - It was the old idea that the Avorld was surrounded by ten transparent spheres, each bearing with it the sun, the moon, or some planet, or all the fixed stars. As these spheres revolved in perfect harmony a divine music sounded, which was knoMni as " the music of the spheres." 3 Here we have the first true fairy poetry, an example often followed (by Shakespeare himself, for instance in The Tempest), but never with the exquisite charm of the original. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 19 Farewell, thou lob of spirits ; I'll be gone : Our queen and all her elves come here anon. Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night : Take heed the queen come not within his sight ; 20 For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she as her attendant hath A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king ; Slie never had so sweet a changeling ; And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild ; But she perforce withholds the loved boy. Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, 30 But they do square,^ that all their elves for fear Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there. Fai, Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite Called Robin Goodfellow ^ : are not you he That frights the maidens of the villagery ; Skim milk and sometimes labor in the quern And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ; 1 jar or quarrel. 2 Robin Goodfellow was a loutish country elf of tradition who hung about the farmhouses. He might be conciliated to help about the house (in the dead of night), but if he were angry he would do various mischievous tricks. 20 UAWTIIOENE CLASSICS [Act II Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm ? 40 Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck : Are not you he ? Puck. Thou speak'st aright i I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile. Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl. In very likeness of a roasted crab. And when she drinks, against her lips I bob 50 And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. The wisest aunt telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; Then slip I from her, then down topples she. And " tailor " cries, and falls into a cough ; And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. But, room, fairy ! here comes Oberon. Fai. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone ! Enter ^ from one side, Oberon, zvith his train ; from the other TiTANiA ivith hers 60 Ohe. Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. Tita. What, jealous Oberon ! Fairies, skip hence : I have forsworn his bed and company. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGTIT' S DREAM 21 Obe. Tarry, rash wanton : am not I thy lord ? Tita. Then I must be thy lady : but I know When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, And in the shape of Corin ^ sat all day. Playing on pipes of corn and versing love To amorous Pliillida. Why art thou here. Come from the farthest steppe of India? 70 But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, Your busldned mistress and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded, and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity. Obe. How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Perigenia, whom he ravished? And make him with fair Aegle break liis faith, 80 With Ariadne and Antiopa? Tlta. These are the forgeries of jealousy : And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead. By paved fountain or by rushy brook. Or in the beaclied margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge, have sucked up from the sea 1 Corin and Pliillida were traditional names for the shepherd and shepherdess of the conventional pastoral. 22 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 90 Contagious fogs ; which falling in the land Hath every pelting river made so proud That they have overborne their continents ^ : The ox hath therefore stretched his yoke in vain, The plowman lost his sweat, and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attained a beard ; The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And crows are fatted with the murrion flock ; The nine men's morris is filled up with mud, And the quaint mazes in the wanton green 100 For lack of tread are undistinguishable : The human mortals want their winter here. No night is now with hymn or carol blest ; Therefore the moon, the governess of floods. Pale in her anger, washes all the air. That rheumatic diseases do abound : And thorough this distemperature we see The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown no An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set : the spring, tlie summer. The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world. By their increase, now knows not Avhich is Avhich: And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension ; We are their parents and original. Obe. Do you amend it then ; it lies in you : 1 the banks which contain them. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 23 Why should Titaiiia cross her Oberon? 120 1 do but beg a little changeling boy, To be my henchman. Tita. Set your heart at rest : The fairy land buys not the child of me. His mother was a votaress of my order : And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossiped by my side. And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking tlie embarked traders on the flood ; And for her sake do I rear up her boy. And for her sake 1 will not part with him. 130 Obe. How long within this wood intend you stay? Tita. Perchance till after Theseus' wedding- day. If you will patiently dance in our round And see our moonlight revels, go with us ; If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. Tita. Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. [Uxit Titan I A tuith her train. Obe. Well, go thy way : thou shalt not from this grove Till I torment thee for this injury. 140 My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest Since once I sat upon a promontory. And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath 24 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II That the rude sea grew civil at her song And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To liear the sea-maid's music. Puck, I remember. Obe. That very time I saw, hut thou couldst not, Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all armed : a certain aim he took 150 At a fair vestal throned by the west, ^ And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow. As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts ; But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon. And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. ^ Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower. Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, 160 And maidens call it love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower ; the herb I showed thee once : The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb ; and be thou here again Ere the leviathan can swim a league. Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. [Exit. 1 Namely, Elizabeth. The whole speech is a splendid compliment to the Queen. 2Cf. I., i., 155, note. Scene I] A ^IIBSUMMER-NIGHT" S DREAM 25 Obe. Having once this juice, ril watch Titania when she is asleep, 170 And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. The next thing then she waking looks upon, Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull. On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, She shall pursue it with the soul of love : And ere I take this charm from off her sight, As I can take it with another herb, I'll make her render up her page to me. But who comes here ? I am invisible ; And I will overhear their conference. ^nter Demetrius, Helena following him iSo Dem. I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander and fair Hermia ? The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood ; And here am I, and wode ^ within this wood. Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. ITel. You draw lue, you hard-hearted adamant ^ ; But yet you draw not iron, for ray heart Is true as steel : leave you your power to draw, 190 And I shall have no power to follow you. Bern. Do I entice you? do I speak you fair? Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you ? 1 mad, crazy : the word is now obsolete. 2 or lodestone, as was then imagined. 26 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Hel. And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel ; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, 1 will fawn on you : Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me ; only give me leave. Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 200 What worser place can I beg in your love, — And yet a place of high respect with me, — Than to be used as you use your dog? Dem. Tempt not too much tlie hatred of my spirit. For I am sick when I do look on thee. Hel. And I am sick when I look not on you. De77i. You do impeach your modesty too much, To leave the city and commit yourself Into the hands of one that loves you not ; To trust the opportunity of night 2IO And the ill counsel of a desert place With the rich worth of your virginity. Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that ; It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night ; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world : Then how can it be said I am alone. When all the world is here to look on me. Dem. I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, 220 And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Scene I] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT S DREAM 27 Run when you will, tlie .stt)ry shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase ; ^ The dove pursues the griffin ; the liiild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger ; bootless speed. When cowardice pursues and valor flies. Dem. I will not stay thy questions ; let me go : Or, if thou follow me, do not believe lUit I shall do thee mischief in the wood. 230 Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius ! . Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex : We cannot fight for love, as men may do ; We should be woo'd and were not made to woo. \_Exit Dem. I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell. To die upon the hand I love so well. \_Exit. Ohe. Fare thee well, nymph : ere he do leave this grove. Thou shalt fly liim and he shall seek thy love. Re-enter Puck Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. 240 Puck. Aye, there it is. Ohe. I pray thee, give it me. I know a bank where the wdld thyme blows. Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine : 1 According to the story, Daphne was turned into the laurel in her flight from Apollo. 28 HAWTHORNE' CLASSICS [Act II There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight ; And there the snake throws her enameled skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in : 250 And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, And make her full of hateful fantasies. Take thou some of it, and seek througli this grove : A sweet Athenian lady is in love With a disdainful youth ; anoint his eyes : But do it wlien the next thing he espies May be tlie lady : thou shalt know the man By the Athenian garments he hath on. Effect it with some care that he may prove More fond on her than she upon her love : 260 And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. Piiclc. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so. [Exeunt. Scene 1 1. Another 'part of the wood Entei' Titania, ivith her train Tita. Come, now a roundel and a fairy song ; Then, for the third part of a minute, lience ; Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds. Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats, and some keep back The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep ; Then to your offices and let me rest. Scene II] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGIIT" 8 DREAM 29 The Fairies sing You spotted snakes with double tongue, lo Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby ; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby : Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh ; So, good night, with lullaby. 20 Weaving spiders, come not here ; Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence ! Beetles black, approach not near ; Worm nor snail, do no offense. Philomel, with melody, &c. A Fairy. Hence, away ! now all is well : One aloof stand sentinel. \_Exe^int Fairies. TiTANiA sleeps. Enter Oberon, and squeezes the flower on Titania's eyelids Ohe. What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true love take, Love and anguish for his sake : 30 Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, Pard, or boar with bristled hair. In thy eye that shall appear 30 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II When thou wakest, it is thy dear : Wake when some vile thing is near. [Uxit. Enter Lysander mid Hermia Lys. Fair love, you faint Avith wandering in the wood ; And to speak troth, I have forgot our way : We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day. He7\ Be it so, Lysander : find you out a bed ; 40 For I upon this bank will rest my head. Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow for us both ; One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth. Her. Nay, good Lysander ; for my sake, my dear. Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. Lys. O, take the sense, sweet, of my inno- cence ! Love takes the meaning in love's conference. I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit So that but one heart we can make of it ; Two bosoms interchained with an oath ; 50 So then two bosoms and a single troth. Then by your side no bed-room me deny ; For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. Her. Lysander riddles very prettily : Now much beshrew my manners and my pride. If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. Scene II] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT'S BnEAM 31 But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy Lie further off ; in human modesty. Such separation as may well be said Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, 60 So far be distant ; and, good night, sweet friend : Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end ! Lys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I ; And then end life when I end loyalty ! Here is my bed : sleep give thee all his rest ! Her. With half that wish the Avisher's eyes be pressed ! \_They sleep. Enter PuCK Puck. Through the forest have I gone. But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. 70 Night and silence. — AVho is here ? Weeds ^ of Athens he doth wear ; This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid ; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty soul ! she durst not lie Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. 80 When thou wakest, let love forbid Sleep liis seat on thy eyelid ; So awake wlien 1 am gone ; For I must now to Oberon. [Exit. 1 garments. 32 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Enter Demetrius and Helena, running Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Deme- trius. Bern. I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. Heh O, Avilt thou darkling leave me ? do not so. Bern. Stay, on thy peril : I alone will go. [^Exit. Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase ! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 90 Happy is Hermia, Avheresoe'er she lies ; For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright ? Not with salt tears : If so, my eyes are oftener Avashed than hers. No, no, I am as ugly as a bear ; For beasts that meet me run away for fear : Therefore no marvel though Demetrius Do, as a monster, fly my presence tlius. What wicked and dissembling glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne ? roo But who is here ? Lysander ! on the ground ! Dead? or asleep ? I see no blood, no wound. Lysander, if you live, good sir, aAvake. Lys. \_Awakiyig^ And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena ! ^ Nature shows art. That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius ? O, how fit a word Is that vile name to perish on my sword ! 1 The juice of the flower works at once. Scene II] A MIDSUM3IER-NIGIIT\S DREAM 33 Ilel. Do not say so, Lysander ; say not so. What though he love your Hermia ? Lord, what though ? no Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. Li/s. Content with Hermia ! No ; I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia but Helena I love : Who will not change a raven for a dove ? The will of man is by his reason swayed ; And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season : So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason ; iVnd touching now the point of human skill, 120 Reason becomes the marshal to my will And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook Love stories written in love's richest book. ITel. Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born ? 1 When at your hands did I deserve this scorn ? Is't not enough, is't not enough, j^oung man. That I did never, no, nor never can. Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency ? Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, 130 In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well : perforce 1 must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. O, that a lady, of one man refused. Should of another therefore be abused ! [JExit. 1 She cannot believe in such a sudden change. D 34 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II, Sc. II Li/s. She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there : And never mayst thou come Lysander near ! For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as the heresies that men do leave 140 Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me ! And, all my powers, address you love and might To honor Helen and to be her knight ! lUxit. Her. \^Awaking~\ Help me, Lysander, help me ! do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast ! Ah me, for pity ! what a dream was here I Lysander, look how I do quake with fear : Methought a serpent eat my heart awa}^ 150 And you sat smiling at his cruel prey. Lysander ! what, removed ? Lysander ! lord ! What, out of hearing ? gone ? no sound, no word? Alack, Avhere are you ? speak, an if you hear ; Speak, of all loves ! I swoon almost with fear. No ? then I well perceive you are not nigh : Either death or you I'll find immediately. [Uxit, Act III, Sc. I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT^ S DEE AM 35 ACT III Scene I. The wood. Titania lying asleep Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, and Starveling Bot. Are we all met ? Quin. Pat, pat ; and here's a marvelous con- venient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring- house ^ ; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke. Bot. Peter Quince, — Qui7i. What sayest thou, bully Bottom ? Bot. There are things in this comedy of Pyra- , mus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself ; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that ? Snout. By'r lakin, a parlous fear. Star. I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. Bot. Not a whit : I have a device to make all welL Write me a prologue 2; and let the pro- 1 or attiring house. The Elizahethan theater was a circular buildiug open to the sky, with rows of seats ahnost all around the walls. In the middle was the stage and at one end a house which served as a back scene and also as a place for the actors to dress in. 2 A speech delivered by an actor before the play began . There is a prologue to Romeo and Juliet and one in the player's play in Hamlet. There was also a speech at the end of the play called an epilogue. There is one to this play and one to the Teynpest. 36 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III logue seem to say, we will do no harm with our 20 swords and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and for the more better assurance, tell them that I Pyramus am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear. Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue ; and it shall be written in eight and six. Bot. No, make it two more ; let it be written in eight and eight. Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion ? 30 Star. I fear it, I promise you. Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with your- selves : to bring in — God shield us ! — a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing ; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion liv- ing ; and we ought to look to't. Snout. Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck : 40 and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect, — ' Ladies,' — or ' Fair ladies, — I would wish you,' — or 'I would request you,' — or 'I would entreat you, — not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life : no, I am no such thing ; I am a man as other men are ; ' and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. Scene I] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' 8 DREAM 37 Quiyi. Well, it shall be so. But there is two 50 hard things ; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber,! for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. Snout. Doth the moon shine that night we play our play ? Bot. A calendar, a calendar ! look in the al- manac ; find out moonshine, find out moonshine. Quin, Yes, it doth shine that night. Bot. Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open, 60 and the moon may shine in at the casement. Quin, Ay ; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and says he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moon- shine. Then, there is another thing : we must have a wall in the great chamber ; for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall. Snout. You can never bring in a wall. What say you. Bottom ? 70 Bot. Some man or other must present Wall : and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall ; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. 1 We must compare this effort to express everything iu some way or another, with the general lack of scenery and costume of the Elizabethan stage. Shakespeare seems to mean that it is absurd to leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. 38 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Qiii7i. If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin : when 3'ou have spoken your speech, enter into that brake : and so every one according to his cue. Miter Puck behind 80 Puck. AVliat hempen home-spuns have we swag- gering here. So near the cradle of the fairy queen ? What, a play toward ! ^ Pll be an auditor ; An actor too perhaps, if I see cause. Quin. Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. Bot. Thisby, the flowers of odious savors sweet, — Quin. Odorous, odorous. Bot. odors savors sweet : So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisb}^ dear. But hark, a voice ! stay thou but here awhile, 90 And by and by I will to tliee appear. \_Uxit. Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er played liere. \_Biit. Flu. Must I speak now ? QU171. Ay, marry, must you ; for j^ou must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. Flu. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of color like the red rose on triumphant brier, 1 ill preparation. Scene I] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGHT'S DREAM 89 Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, ril meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. Quin. '^ Ninus' tomb," man : why, you must not speak that yet ; that you answer to Pyramus : you speak all your part at once ; cues and all. Pyra- mus, enter : your cue is past ; it is, "never tire." Flu. O, — As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. He-enter PuCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head Bot. If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. Quin. O monstrous ! O strange ! we are haunted. Pray, masters ! fly, masters ! Help ! ^Exeunt Quince, Snug, Flute, Snout and Starveling. Puck, ril follow you, I'll lead you about a round. Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier : Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire ; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn. Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. [Exit. Bot. Why do they run away ? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard. 40 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act III Re-enter Snout Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed ! what do I see on thee ? Bot. What do you see ? you see an ass-head of 120 your own, do you? [Exit Snout. Re-enter Quince Quin. Bless thee. Bottom ! bless thee ! thou art translated. \_Uxit. Bot. I see their knavery : this is to make an ass of me ; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can : I will walk up and dow^n here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. \_Sings. The ousel cock so black of hue. With orange- tawny bill, 130 The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill, — Tita. [AwaJdngl Wliat angel wakes me from my flowery bed ? Bot. \_Sings~\ The finch, the sparrow and the lark. The plain-song cuckoo gray. Whose note full many a man doth mark. And dares not answer nay ; — for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird ? who would give a bird the lie, though he 140 cry '^ cuckoo" never so ? Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again : Scene I] A MIDSUMMER -NIGHT\S DREAM 41 Mine ear is much enamored of tliy note; So is mine eye entliralled to thy shape ; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me On the hrst view to say, to swear I love thee. Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should liave little reason for that : and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays; the more the pity that some honest neighbors 150 will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so, neither : but if I had wit enousfh to get out of tliis wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. Tita. Out of this wood do not desire to go : Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate : The summer still doth tend upon my state ; 160 And I do love thee : therefore, go with me ; I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee. And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep. And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep i And I will purge thy mortal grossness so That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. Peaseblossom ! Cobweb ! Moth ! and Mustard- seed ! Unter Peaseblossom, 'Cobweb, Moth, and MUSTARDSEED Peas. Ready. Cob. And I. 42 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Moth. And I. 3Ius. And 1. AIL Where shall we go ? Tita. Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes ; 170 Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; The honey-bags steal from the liumble-bees. And for night- tapers crop their waxen thighs. And light them at the fiery gloAv-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise ; And pluck the wings from painted butterflies To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes : Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. Peas. Hail, mortal I Cob. Hail ! 3Ioth. Hail ! Mus. Hail ! 180 Bof. I cry your worships mercy, heartily : I beseech your worship's name. Cob. Cobweb. Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb : if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.^ Your name, honest gentle- man ? Peas. Peaseblossom. Bot. I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your 1 Bottom takes them all with rather a matter-of-faet sort of country humor. Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT S BREAM 43 190 father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I be- seech you, sir? Mus. Mustardseed. Bot. Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well : that same cowardly, giant-like ox- beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house : I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more acquaint- ance, good Master Mustardseed. 200 Tita. Come, wait upon him ; lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a watery eye ; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. \_Exeunt. Scene II. Ayiother 'part of the wood Enter Oberon ■ Ohe. I wonder if Titania be awaked ; Then, what it was that next came in her eye. Which she must dote on in extremity. Enter Puck Here comes my messenger. How now, mt^d spirit ! What night-rule now about this haunted grove ? Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower. 44 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 10 That work for bread upon Athenian stalls. Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort. Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and entered in a brake : When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's nole I fixed on his head : Anon his Thisbe must be answered. And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, 20 As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort. Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly ; And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; He murder cries and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong. Made senseless things begin to do them wrong ; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; 30 Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear. And left sweet Pyramus translated there : When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. Obe. This falls out better than I could devise. Scene II] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' S DUE AM 45 But hast thou yet hitched the Atheuiau's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do ? Puck. I took him sleeping, — that is finished too, — And the Athenian woman by his side ; 40 That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. Unter Hermia and Demetrius Obe. Stand close : this is the same Athenian. Puck. This is the woman, but not this the man. Dem. O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. Her. Now I but chide ; but I should use thee worse. For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep. Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep. And kill me too. 50 The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me : would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bored and that the moon May through the center creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with the Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murdered him ; So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. Dem. So should the murdered look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: 60 Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear. As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 46 HAWTHOHNE CLASSICS [Act III Her. What's this to my Lysaiider? where is lie? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? Dem. I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. ITer. Out, dog ! out, cur ! thou drivest me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never numbered among men ! O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake ! Durst thou have looked upon him being awake, 70 iVnd hast thou killed him sleeping? O brave touch ! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it ; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. Dem. You spend your passion on a misprised mood : I am not guilty of Lysander's blood ; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. ffer. I pray thee, tell me then that he is w^ell. I)e7n. An if I could, what should I get therefore ? Ser. A privilege never to see me more. 80 And from thy hated presence part I so : See me no more, Avhether he be dead or no. \_Uxit. Dem. There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe ; Which now in some slight measure it will pay, Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM 47 If for his tender here I make some stay. \_Lies down and sleeps. Ohe. What hast thou done ? thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight : 90 Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true love turned and not a false turned true. Puck. Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man hold- ing troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. Ohe. About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find : All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer. With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here : I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. 100 Puck. I go, I go ; look how I go. Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. \_Exit. Ohe. Flower of this j^urple dye. Hit with Cupid's archery. Sink in apple of his eye. When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wakest, if she be by. Beg of her for remedy. Re-enter PuCK no Puck. Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand : 48 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be ! Obe. Stand aside : the noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake. Puck. Then will two at once avoo one ; That must needs be sport alone ; [20 And those things do best please me. That befall preposterously. JSjiter Lysander and Helena Li/s. Why should you think that I should woo in scorn ? ^ Scorn and derision never come in tears : Look, when I vow, I weep ; and vows so born. In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you. Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true ? Hel. You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray ! 130 These vows are Hermia's : will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh : Your voAvs to her and me, put in two scales. Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. Li/s. I had no judgment when to her T sAvore. 1 Note the metrical form of this speech and the next : it is repeated later iu the scene. Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGUT'S BREAM 49 Ilel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. L^s. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. Dem. [Atvaking^ O Helen, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine ! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne ? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show 140 Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow I That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow. Fanned with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold'st up thy hand : O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss ! Eel. O spite ! O hell ! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment : If you were civil and knew courtesy. You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 150 But you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show. You would not use a gentle lady so ; To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals, and love Hermia ; And now both rivals, to mock Helena : A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes With your derision ! none of noble sort 160 Would so offend a virgin and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. Li/s. You are unkind, Demetrius ; be not so ; 60 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III For you love Hermia ; this 3^011 know 1 kno^y : And liere, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part ; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love and Avill do till my death. ITel. Never did mockers waste more idle breath. Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia ; I will none : 170 If e'er I loved, her, all that love is gone. My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourned, And now to Helen is it home returned, There to remain. Li/s. Helen, it is not so. Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not know. Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. Look, where thy love comes ; yonder is thy dear. Re-enter Hermia Her. Dark night, that from the eye his function takes. The ear more quick of apprehension makes ; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, 180 It pays the hearing double recompense. Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ; Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound. But why unkindly didst thou leave me so ? Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go ? Her. What love could press Lysander from my side ? Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BREAM 51 Lys. Lysander's love, that would not let liim bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all yon fiery oes and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou me ? could not this make thee know, 190 The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so ? Her. You speak not as you think : it cannot be. HeL Lo, she is one of this confederacy I Now I perceive they have conjoined all three To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. Injurious Hermia ! most ungrateful maid ! Have you conspired, have you with these contrived To bait me with this foul derision ? Is all the counsel tliat we two have shared. The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 200 When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us, — O, is all forgot ? All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods. Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key. As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds. Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, 210 But yet an union in partition ; ^ 1 a heraldic term expressing very concisely and neatly, if not elegantly, the comparison with two coats of arms put side by side in one escutcheon, to indicate marriage. 52 IIAWTnOBNE CLASSICS [Act III Two lovely berries molded on one stem ; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry. Due but to one and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient love asunder. To join with men in scorning your poor friend ? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly : Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it. Though I alone do feel the injur^^ 220 Her. I am amazed at your passionate words. I scorn you not : it seems that you scorn me. Ilel. Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn. To follow me and praise my eyes and face ? And made your other love, Demetrius, Who even but now did spurn me with his foot. To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare. Precious, celestial ? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates ? and wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul, 230 And tender me, forsooth, affection, But by 3^our setting on, by your consent ? What though I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved ? This you should pity rather than despise. Her. I understand not what you mean by this. Hel. Aye, do, persever,i counterfeit sad looks. Make mouths upon me when I turn my back ; 1 The accent is on the second syllable: cf. revenue, I., i., 158. Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT\S DREAM 53 Wink each at other ; hold the sweet jest up : 240 This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. If you have any pity, grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument. But fare ye well : 'tis partly my own fault ; Which death or absence soon shall remedy. L^s. Stay, gentle Helena ; hear my excuse : My love, my life, my soul, fair Helena ! Ilel. O excellent ! Jler. Sweet, do not scorn her so. Dem. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. Li/s. Thou canst compel no more than she en- treat : 250 Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers. Helen, I love thee ; by my life, I do : I swear by that which I will lose for thee. To prove him false that says I love thee not. Dem. I say I love thee more than he can do. Lt/s. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. Dem. Quick, come ! Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this ? L^s. Away, you Ethiope ! Her. No, no ; he'll — Dem. Seem to break loose ! take on as you would follow, But yet come not ! you are a tame man, go ! 260 Li/s. Hang oft', thou cat, thou bur ! vile thing, let loose. Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent ! 54 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Her. Why are you grown so rude ? what change is this ? Sweet love, — Li/s. Thy love ! out, tawny Tartar, out ! Out, loathed medicine ! hated potion, hence ! ITer, Do you not jest ? ffel. Yes, sooth ; and so do you. Lt/s. Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. Dem. I would I had your bond, for I perceive A weak bond holds you : I'll not trust your word. X^/s. What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead ? 270 Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. Her. What, can you do me greater harm than hate ? Hate me I wherefore? O me ! what news, my love ! Am I not Hermia ? are you not Lysander ? I am as fair now as I Avas ere while. Since night you loved me ; yet since night you left me : Why, then you left me — O, the gods forbid ! — In earnest, shall I say ? Li/s. Ay, by my life ; And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt ; 2S0 Be certain, nothing truer ; 'tis no jest That I do hate tliee and love Helena. Her. O me ! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You tliief of love ! what, have you come by night And stolen my love's heart from liim ? Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BEE AM 55 j£gl^ Fine, i' faith ! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness ? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue ? Fie, fie ! you counterfeit, you puppet, you ! Her. Puppet ? why so ? ay, that way goes the game. 290 Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures ; she hath urged her height ; And with her personage, her tall personage. Her height, forsooth, she hath prevailed with him. And are you grown so high in his esteem, Because I am so dwarfish and so low ? How low am I, thou painted maypole ? speak ; How low am I ? I am not yet so low ^ But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, gentle- men, 300 Let her not hurt me : I was never curst ; I have no gift at all in shrewishness ; I am a right maid for my cowardice : Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think. Because she is something lower than myself. That I can match her. Her. Lower ! hark, again. Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wronged you ; Save that, in love unto Demetrius, 310 1 told him of your stealth unto this wood. 56 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III He followed you ; for love I followed him ; But lie hath chid me heuce and threatened me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too : And now, so you will let me quiet go. To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further : let me go : You see how simple and how fond I am. Jler. Why, get you gone : who is't that hinders you ? Ilel. A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. 320 Her. AVhat, with Lysander ? ITel. AVith Demetrius. I/7/S. Be not afraid ; she shall not harm thee, Helena. Dem. No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. Ilel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd ! She was a vixen when she went to school ; And though she be but little, she is fierce. Her. " Little " again I nothing but '' low " and "little"! Why will you suffer her to flout me thus ? Let me come to her. Li/s. Get you gone, you dwarf ; You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made ; 330 You bead, you acorn. Dem. You are too officious On her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone : speak not of Helena ; Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' H DREAM 57 Take not her part ; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. Li/s. Now she holds me not ; Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. De7n. Follow ! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. \_Exeimt Lysandeii and Demetrius. Her. You, mistress, all this coil is long of you : 340 Nay, go not back. Hel. I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray. My legs are longer though, to run away. [^Exit. Her. I am amazed, and know not what to say. \_Exit. Ohe. This is thy negligence : still thou mis- takest, Or else committ'st thy knaveries willfully. Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garments he had on ? 350 And so far blameless proves my enterprise. That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes ; And so far am I glad it so did sort As this their jangling I esteem a sport. Ohe. Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight : Hie, therefore, Robin, overcast the night ; The starry welkin cover thou anon 58 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III With drooping fog as black as Acheron, And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another's way. 360 Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ; And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; And from each other look thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and. batty wings doth creep ; Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye ; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error Avith his might. And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. 370 When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision. And back to Athens shall the lovers wend. With league whose date till death shall never end. Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy : And then I will her charmed eye release From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with haste. For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, 380 And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there. Troop home to churchyards ;^ damned spirits all, That in crossways and floods have burial, 1 So the ghost of Hamlet's father vanished at cock-crow. Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 59 Already to their wormy beds are gone ; For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black-browed night. Obe. But we are spirits of another sort : I with the morning's love have oft made sport, 390 And, like a forester, the groves may tread. Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red. Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams. Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. But, notwithstanding, haste ; make no delay : We may effect this business yet ere day. \_Uxit. Puck. Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down : I am feared in field and town : Goblin, lead them up and down. 400 Here comes one. Ee-e'nter Lysander Xz/s. Where art thou, proud Demetrius ? speak thou now. Puck. Here, villain ; drawn and ready. Where art thou ? Li/s. I will be with thee straight. Fuck. Follow me, then. To plainer ground. \_Uxit Lysander, as folloiving the voice. Re-enter Demetrius Dem. Lysander ! speak again : Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled ? 60 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Speak ! In some bush ? Where dost thou hide thy head ? Puek. Thou coAvard, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come ? Come, recreant ; come, thou child 410 I'll whip thee with a rod : he is defiled That draws a sword on thee. Bern. Yea, art thou there ? Puck. Follow my voice : we'll try no manhood here. {Exeunt. Re-enter Lysander Ijy8. He goes before me and still dares me on : When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter heeled than I : I followed fast, but faster he did fly ; That fallen am I in dark uneven way. And here will rest me. \Ijies down.^ Come, thou gentle day ! For if but once thou show me thy gray light, 420 I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. \_Slee]p8. Re-enter Puck and Demetrius Puck. Ho, ho, ho ! Coward, why comest thou not? Dem. Abide me, if thou darest ; for well I wot Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place. Scene II] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT" ^ DEEAM 61 And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou now ? Puck. Come hither : I am here. Dem. Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, If ever I thy face by daylight see : Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me To measure out my length on this cold bed. 430 By day's approach look to be visited. \_Lies doivn and sleeps. Re-enter Helena Hel. O weary night, O long and tedious night. Abate thy hours ! Shine comforts from the east. That I may back to Athens by daylight, From these that my poor company detest : And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company. \^Lies down and sleeps. Puck. Yet but three ? Come one more ; Two of both kinds make up four. Here she comes, curst and sad : 440 Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad. Re-enter Hermia Her. Never so weary, never so in woe. Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go : My legs can keep no pace with my desires. 62 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III, So. II Here will 1 rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray ! \_Lies down and sleeps. Puck. On the ground Sleep sound: 450 I'll apply To your e3^e, Gentle lover, remedy. [Squeezing the juice on Lysander's ei/es. When thou wakest, Thou takest True delight In the sight Of thy former lady's eye : And the country proverb known, That every man should take his own, 460 In your waking shall be shown : Jack shall have Jill ; Naught shall go ill ; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. lUxit, Act IV, Sc. I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 63 ACT IV Scene I. The same. Lysander, Demetrius, Helena, and Hermia l^ing asleep Enter Titania and Bottom ; Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, Mustardseed, and other Fairies attending; Oberon behind unseen Tita. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy. And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. Bot. Where's Peaseblossom ? Peas. Ready. Bot. Scratch my head, Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur Cobweb ? Cob. Ready. Bot. Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle ; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey- bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur ; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not ; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed ? Mus. Ready. 64 UA]\ THORN E CLASSICS [Act IV 20 Bot. Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustard- seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur. Miis, What's your Avill ? Bot. Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery CobAveb to scratch. I must to the barber's, mounsieur ; for methinks I am marvel- ous hairy about the face ; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. Tita. AVhat, wilt thou hear some music, my 30 sweet love ? Bot. I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs and the bones. Tita. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. Bot. Truly, a peck of provender : I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle ^ of hay : good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. Tita, I have a venturous fairy that shall seek 40 The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me : I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Tita. Sleep thou, and I Avill wind thee in my arms. Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. l_Uxeu7it Fairies. 1 a small bundle. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BBEAM 65 So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist ; the female ivy so 5oEnrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee ! how I dote on thee ! [^They sleep. Enter Puck Ohe, \^Advaneing'] Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight ? Her dotage now I do begin to pity : For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favors for this hateful fool, I did npbraid her and fall out with her ; For she his hairy temples then had rounded With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 60 Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls. Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had at my pleasure taunted her And she in mild terms begged my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child ; Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes : 70 And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain; That, he awaking when the other do. May all to Athens back again repair 66 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV And think no more of this night's accidents But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the fairy queen. Be as thou wast wont to be ; See as thou wast wont to see : Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower So Hath such force and blessed power Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen. Tita. My Oberon ! what visions have I seen ! Methought I was enamored of an ass. Ohe. There lies your love. Tita. How came these things to pass? O how mine eyes do loathe his visage now ! Obe. Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. Titania, music call ; and strike more dead Than common sleep of all these five the sense. Tita. Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep ! [Music, still. 90 Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool's eyes peep. Ohe. Sound, music ! Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly And bless it to all fair prosperity : There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 67 Puck. Fairy king, attend, and mark : loo I do hear the morning lark. Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after nightes shade : We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon. Tita. Come, my lord, and in our flight Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. \_Uxeunt. [Horns ivinded ivithin. Enter Thesefs, Hippolyta, Egeus, and train^ The. Go, one of you, find out the forester ; no For now our observation is performed ; And since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds. Uncouple in the western valley ; let them go : Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. \_Uxit an Attendant. We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top. And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction. Hip. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once. When in a wood of Crete they bayed the bear I20 With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear Such gallant chiding ; for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near 1 We uow get back to real life after the fairy vagaries. 68 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV Seemed all one mutual cry : I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. ^ The. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So fleAv'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-kneed, and dew-lapped like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells, 130 Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never hollaed to, nor cheered with horn. In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : Judge when you hear. But, soft ! what nymj)hs are these? ^(/e. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep ; And this, Lysander ; this Demetrius is ; This Helena, old Nedar's Helena : I wonder of their being here together. The. No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May, and, hearing our intent, 140 Came here in grace of our solemnity. But speak, Egeus ; is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice ? JEge. It is, my lord. The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. \_Rorns and shout tvithin. Lys., Dem., Hel., and Her., tvake and start up. 1 Well matched voices were highly esteemed in a pack of hounds. Gervaise Markhaiu who wrote his "Country Contentments" not long before this time, gives directions for the "deep, solemn mouths" and the "loud, ringing mouths." Cf. Irving on Christ- mas Day in " American Essays," pp. 42, 43. Scene I] A MIDSU3IMER-NIGHT\S DREAM 69 Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past : Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? Lys. Pardon, my lord. The. I pray you all, stand up. I know you two are rival enemies : 150 How comes this gentle concord in the world. That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ? Li/s. My lord, I shall reply amazedly. Half sleep, half waking : but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here ; But, as I think, — for truly would I speak. And now I do bethink me, so it is, — I came with Hermia hither : our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might 160 Without the peril of the Athenian law. JEge. Enough, enough, my lord : you have enough : I beg the law, the law, upon his head. They would have stolen away ; they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me. You of your wife and me of my consent. Of my consent that she should be your wife. Dem. My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth. Of this their purpose hither to this wood ; And I in fury hither followed them, 170 Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power, — 70 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV But by some power it is, — my love to Hermia, Melted as the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gawd Which in my childhood I did dote upon ; And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object and the pleasure of mine eye. Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I betrothed ere I saw Hermia : iSo But, like a sickness, did I loathe this food ; But, as in health, come to my natural taste. Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it. TJie. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met : Of this discourse we more Avill hear anon. Egeus, I will overbear your Avill ; For in the temple, by and by, with us These couples shall eternally be knit : And, for the morning now is something worn, 190 Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. Away with us to Athens ; three and three. We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. Come, Hippolyta. \^^xeunt The., Hip., Ege., and train. Dem. These things seem small and undistin- guishable. Like far-off mountains turned into clouds. Ser. Methinks I see these things with parted eye. When everything seems double. SeL So methinks : Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BREAM 71 And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own. Dem. Are you sure 200 That we are awake ? It seems to me That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not 3^ou tliink The duke was here, and bid us follow him ? Her. Yea ; and my father. ffel. And Hippolyta. Li/s. And he did bid us follow to the temple. Dem. Why, then, we are awake : let's follow him : And by the way let us recount our dreams. \_^xeunt. Bot. [Awakini/]^ When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer : my next is, " Most fair Pyra- mus." Heigh-ho! Peter Quince ! Flute, the bel- 2IO lows-mender ! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen lience, and left me asleep ! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was : man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was — there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, — and methought I had, — but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, 220 man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to con- ceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream : it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because 72 HAWTIIORNE CLASSICS [Act IV it hath 110 bottom ; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke : perad venture, to make it the more gracious, 1 shall sing it at her death. [Uxit. Scene II. Athens. Quince's house Miter Quince, Flute, Snout, and Starveling Quin. Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet? Star. He cannot be heard, of. Out of doubt he is transported. Flu. If he come not, then the play is marred : it goes not forward, doth it? Quin. It is not possible : you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he. Flu. No, he hath simply the best wit of any 10 handicraft man in Athens. Quin. Yea, and the best person too. Fnter Snug Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married : if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men. Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day during his life ; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a day : an the duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be 2o hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing. Scene II] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 73 Miter Bottom Bot. Where are these lads? where are these hearts ? Quin. Bottom ! O most courageous day ! O most happy hour ! Bot. ]Masters, I am to discourse wonders : but ask me not what ; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you everything, right as it fell out. 30 Qiim. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your ap- parel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps ; meet presently ^ at the palace ; every man look o'er his part ; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen ; and let not him that plays the lion pare his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, 40 eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath ; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words : away ! go, away ! \_Uxeunto 74 HAWTHOliNE CLASSICS [Act V ACT V Scene I. Athens. The i^alace of Theseus ^>ifer Theseus, Hippolyta, Philostkatp:, Lords, and Attendants Hip. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. The, More strange than true : I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact.^ One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, o That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt : The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 1 This is one of the speeches from Shakespeare which are remem- bered and quoted, but often without recollection of the conditions. It is to be remarked that the words are put in the mouth of Theseus the strong and successful man of action. To him it was all the same if one were lunatic, lover, or poet : he looked at the matter as the business man of to-day would. That there can be truth at the bottom of the poet's vision or of the lover's frenzy is quite as impossible to him as that it should be in the ramblings of the lunatic. He pays no more attention to them than Caesar does to the soothsayer in Julius Csesur. Even when Hippo lyta gives him real reason for believing, he has nothing to say but changes the subject. Scene I] A MIDSUMMEB-NIGHT' S DREAM 75 Dotli glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven ; And as miagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination. That, if it would but apprehend some joy, 20 It comprehends some bringer of that joy ; Or in the night, imagining some fear. How easy is a bush supposed a bear ! Hip. But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More ^ witnesseth than fancy's images And grows to something of great constancy ; But, howsoever, strange and admirable. The. Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Enter Lysander, Demetkius, Hermia, and Helena Joy, gentle friends I joy and fresh days of love 30 Accompany your hearts ! Lys. More than to us Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed ! The. Come now; what masques,^ what dances shall we have. To wear away this long age of three hours 1 More is the indirect object of witnesseth, not an adverbial modifier. 2 The masque was the elaborate private dramatic entertainment of the day. 76 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Between our after-supper and bed-time ? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What revels are in hand ? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ? Call Philostrate. Phil. Here, mighty Theseus. The. Say, what abridg;nent have you for this evening? 40 What masque ? what music ? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight? Phil. There is a brief how many sports are ripe : Make choice of which your highness wdll see first. [Criving a paper. The. [^Reads'] " The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp." We'll none of that : that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. [^Reads'] '' The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage." 50 That is an old device ; and it was played When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. \_Reads~\ " The thrice three ^Nluses mourning for the death Of Learning, late deceased in beggary." That is some satire, keen and critical. Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. [Reads] " A tedious brief scene of young Pyra- mus And his love Thisbe ; very tragical mirth." Scene I] A MIBSUMMER-NIGHT' S BREAM 11 Merry and tragical ! tedious and brief ! That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. 60 How shall we find the concord of this discord? Phil. A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, Which is as brief as I have known a play ; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long. Which makes it tedious ; for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted : And tragical, my noble lord, it is ; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess. Made mine eyes water ; but more merry tears 70 The passion of loud laughter never shed. The. What are they that do play it ? Phil. Hard-handed men that work in Athens here. Which never labored in their minds till now, And now have toiled their unbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptial. The. And we will hear it. Phil. No, my noble lord ; It is not for you : I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; Unless you can find sport in their intents, 80 Extremely stretched and conned with cruel j^ain. To do you service. The. I will hear that play ; For never anything can be amiss. When simpleness and duty tender it. 78 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V Go, bring* them in : and take your places, ladies. [Uxit Philostkate. ffij). I love not to see wretchedness o'ercharged And duty in his service perishing. The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. Hip. He says they can do nothing in this kind. The. The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. 90 Our sport shall be to take Avhat they mistake : And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. 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 practiced accent in their fears And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, Xot paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, too Out of this silence yet I pricked a Avelcome ; And in the modesty of fearful duty I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity. 1 The idea of Theseus met by an address of welcome by " great clerks " is one of Shakespeare's anachronisms. Shakespeare meant to give the idea of a great public man, one who knew the world and its ways. That this particular means would have beau un- known to Theseus did not trouble him. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGIIT' S DREAM 79 Re-enter Philostrate Phil. So please your grace, the Prologue is addressed. The. Let him approach. [Flourish of trumpets. Enter Quince for the Prologue. ^ Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, [o But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to content you, Our true intent is. All for your delight We are not here. That you should here repent you. The actors are at hand ; and by their show You shall know all that you are like to know. The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. Lys. He hath rid his prologue like a rough 20 colt ; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord : it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. Hip. Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder ; a sound, but not in government. The. His speech was like a tangled chain ; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next ? Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion Pro. Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show ; 1 Cf. IIL, i., 18. It lunst be noted (as Theseus remarks, 1. 118) that the puuctuatiou is iugeuiously wroug. 80 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act-V But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know ; This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. 130 This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder ; And througli Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine ; for, if you Avill know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name. The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 140 Did scare away, or rather did affright ; And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall. Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyi-amus, sweet youth and tall. And finds his trusty Thisby 's mantle slain ; Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast ; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade. His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest. Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain 150 At large discourse, while here they do remain. [^Exeunt Prologue, Pyramus, Thisbe, Lion, ayid Moonshine. The. I wonder if the lion be to speak. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S BEE AM 81 Beyn. No wonder, my lord : one lion may, when many asses do. Wall. In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall ; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show i6o That I am that same wall ; the truth is so : And this the cranny is, right and sinister. Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. The. Would you desire lime and hair to speak better ? Bern. It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Re-enter Pyramus The. Pyramus draws near the wall : silence ! Pyr. O grim-looked night ! O night with hue so black ! night, which ever art when day is not ! 170 O night, O night ! alack, alack, alack, 1 fear my Thisby's promise is forgot ! And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall. That stand'st between her father's ground and mine ! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne ! [ Wall holds up his fingers. 82 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Thanks, courteous wall : Jove shield thee well for this ! But what see I ? No Thisby do I see. wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss ! Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me ! iSo The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pt/r. No, in truth, sir, he should not. ''Deceiv- ing me " is Thisby's cue : she is to enter now, and 1 am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. Re-enter Thisbe This. O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans. For parting ni}' fair Py ramus and me I My cherry lips have often kissed thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. 190 Pyr. I see a voice : now wdll I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby ! Ihis. My love thou art, my love I think. Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am th}' lover's grace ; And, like Limander,i am T trusty still. This. And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. Pyr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. 1 Tbey have vague recollectioii of Hero aud Leauder, Cephalus and Procrifi, Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 83 Pi/r. O, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall ! 200 This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway ? This. 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without de- lay. lUxeunt Pyramus and Thisbe. Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. [Uxit. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighbors. Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so willful to hear without warning. ITip. This is the silliest stuff that ever I 210 heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows ; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.i Hip. It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. 1 Here again is the opinion of tlie practical man, though often quoted as if it were Shakespeare's own. The remark of Hippolyta is more likely to have expressed his own idea; namely, that the imagination of the spectator is necessary to appreciation. It is not the dramatist who is to do it all, — a view which might he of value in considering some of the modern stagings of Shakespeare. 84 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Re-enter Lion and Moonshine Lion, You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear 220 The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam ; For, if I should as lion come in strife . ! Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con- science. Bern. The very best at a beast, my lord, that 230 e'er I saw. Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valor. The. True ; and a goose for his discretion. Deyii. Not so, my lord ; for his valor cannot carry his discretion ; and the fox carries the goose. The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valor ; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well : leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moon. The lanthorn doth the horned moon pre- 240 sent ; — Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisi- ble within the circumference. Moon. This lanthorn doth the horned moon pre- sent : Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT^ S BREAM 85 Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be. The. This is the greatest error of all the rest : the man should be put into thelanthorn. How is it else the man i' the moon ? 250 Dem. He dares not come there for the candle ; for, you see, it is already in snuff. Hip. I am aweary of this moon : would he would change ! The. It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane ; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. Lys. Proceed, Moon. Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the 260 moon ; this thornbush, my thornbush ; and this dog, my dog. Bern. Why, all these should be in the lanthorn ; for all these are in the moon. But, silence 1 here comes Thisbe. Re-enter Thisbe This. This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love ? Lion. [Boaring^ Oh [Thisbp: runs off. Bern. Well roared, Lion. The. Well run, Thisbe. 270 Hip. Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. \^The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle^ and exit. The. Well moused, Lion. 86 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V Li/s. And so the lion vanished. Dem, And then came Pyramus. Re-enter Pyramus Pyr. Sweet moon, 1 thank thee for thy snnny beams ; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright ; For, by thy gracious, goklen, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. But stay, O spite ! 280 But mark, poor knight. What dreadful dole is here ! Eyes, do you see? How can it be ? O dainty duck ! O dear ! Thy mantle good. What, stained with blood ! Approach, ye Furies fell ! O Fates, come, come. Cut thread and thrum ; 290 Quail, crush, conclude, and quell ! The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. Hip. BeshrcAV my heart, but I pity the man. Pyr. O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame ? Since lion vile hath here deflowered my dear : Which is — no, no — Avhich was the fairest dame. That lived, that loved, that liked, that looked with cheer. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 87 Come, tears, confound ; Out, sword, and wound 300 The pap of Py ramus ; Ay, that left pap. Where heart doth hop : [Stabs himself. Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled ; My soul is in the sky : Tongue, lose thy light ; Moon, take thy flight : \_Exit Moonshine. Now die, die, die, die, die. \^Dies. 3^0 Dem. No die, but an ace for him ; for he is but one. Lys. Less than an ace, man ; for he is dead : he is nothing. The. With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass. Hip. How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by starlight. Here she comes ; and her passion ends the play. Re-enter Thisbe 320 Hip. Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus : I hope she will be brief. Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us. 88 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Lj/s. She has spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she means, videlicet : — This. Asleep, my love? 330 What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise ! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, Tliis cherry nose. These yellow cowslip cheeks. Are gone, are gone : Lovers, make moan : 340 His eyes were green as leeks. O Sisters three, Come, come to me. With hands as pale as milk ; Lay them in gore. Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word 1 Come, trusty sword ; Come, blade, my breast imbrue : [Stabs herself. 350 And, farewell, friends ; Thus Thisby ends : Adieu, adieu, adieu. [Dies. The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too. Scene I] A MIDSUMMEE-NIGHT' S BREAM 89 Bot. [Starting up^ No, I assure you ; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue,^ or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company? 360 The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse ; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had plaj^ed Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy : and so it is, truly ; and very notably dischai'ged. But, come, your Bergomask : let your epilogue alone. \^A dance. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve : Lovers, to bed ; 'tis almost fairy time. 370 I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn As much as we this night have overwatched. This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity, • In nightly revels and new jollity. [Uxemit. Enter Puck Puck. Now the hungry lion roars. And the wolf behowls the moon ; Whilst the heavy plowman snores, All with weary task fordone. 380 Now the wasted brands do glow, 1 a speech like a prologue, but after the play. Theseus refuses Bottom's epilogue, but later on Puck delivers what is really an Epilogue to the whole play. 90 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS Act V Whilst the screech-owl," screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in wo€ In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of niofht That the graves all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-Avay paths to glide : And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team, 390 From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic : not a mouse Shall disturb this hallowed house : I am sent with broom before. To sweep the dust behind the door. Enter Oberon and Titania ivith their train Ohe. Through the house give glimmering light. By the dread and drowsy fire : Every elf and fairy sjjrite Hop as light as bird from brier ; 400 And this ditty, after me. Sing, and dance it trippingly. Tita. First, rehearse your song by rote. To each word a warbling note : Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. [Song and dance. Ohe. Now, until the break of day. Through this house each fairy stj;ay. Scene I] A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT' S DREAM 91 To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be ; 4io And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be ; And the l)lots of Nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand ; Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity. Shall upon their children be. 420 With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait ; And each several chamber bless. Through this palace, with sweet peace ; And the owner of it blessed Ever shall in safety rest. Trip away; make no stay; Meet me all by break of day. [Exeunt Oberon, Titania, ayid train. Puck, If we shadows have offended. Think but this, and all is mended, 430 That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme. No more yielding but a dream. Gentles, do not reprehend : If you pardon, we Avill mend : And, as I am an honest Puck, 92 IIAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [ActV, Sc.I] If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long ; 440 Else the Puck a liar call : So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands,^ if we be friends. And Robin shall restore amends. \_Uxit. 1 namely applause, then, as now, the actors great reward, and probably worth as much then as now. AS YOU LIKE IT DRAMATIS PERSONS DuKK, living in banishment. Frederick, his brother, and usurper of his dominions. ' y lords attending on the banished duke. Jaques, J * Le Beau, a courtier attending upon Frederick. Charles, wrestler to Frederick. Oliver, -v Jaques, I sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. Orlando, J Adam, ") ../-.,• „ > servants to Oliver. Dennis, j Touchstone, a clown. Sir Oliver Martext, a vicar. CORIN, _ , shepherds. Silvius, j William, a country fellow, in love with Audrey. A person representing Hymen. Rosalind, daughter to the banished duke. Celia, daughter to Frederick. Phebe, a shepherdess. Audrey, a country wench. Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. Scene: Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the Forest of Arden. AS YOU LIKE IT ACT I Scene I. Orchard of Oliver's house ^ Enter Orlando and Adam ^ Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou say est, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well : and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit : for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home un- kept ; for call you that keeping for a gentleman 10 of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage,^ and to that end riders dearly 1 The first scene does not do quite as much as is often the case in giving us an idea of what the action of the phiy is to be. We have the idea of the quarrel between the brothers and also of the banished duke, but not much hint of what is to happen. ■^ Adam is a character of some interest because it was the tradi- tion that the part was acted by Shakespeare liimself. 3 or manege. The training, government, and exercise of "the great horse " was a matter of great interest in Shakespeare's day. 1)5 96 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I hired : but I, liis brother, gain nothing under him but growth ; for the which his animals on his dunofhills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifull}^ gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance seems to take from me : he lets me feed with his 20 hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my educa- tion. This is it, Adam, that grieves me ; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this servitude : I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it. Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother. Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. Unter Oliver 30 on. Now, sir ! what make you here ? Orl. Nothing : I am not taught to make any- thing. Oli. What mar you then, sir? Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with 4 them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury ? Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 97 on. Know you where yon are, sir? Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard. Oil. Know you before whom, sir? Orl. Aye, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother ; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my bet- ter, in that you are the first-born ; but the same 50 tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us : I have as much of my father in me as you ; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. OH. What, boy ! Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. Oil. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? Orl. I am no villain ; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys ; he was my father, and he 60 is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so : thou hast railed on thyself. Ada7n. Sweet masters, be patient : for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oli. Let me go, I say. Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall hear me. My father charged you in his will to give me good 70 education; you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like 98 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it : therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentle- man, or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament ; with that I will go buy my fortunes. on. And what wilt thou do? beg, Avhen that is spent? Well, sir, get j^ou in: I Avill not long be troubled with you ; you shall have some part 80 of your will : I pray jou, leave me. 0)'L I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. on. Get you witli him, you old dog. Adam. Is " old dog " my reward ? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master ! he would not have spoke such a word. \_Uxeunt Orlando and Adam. Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no 90 thousand crowns neither.^ Holla, Dennis! Unter Dennis Den. Calls your worship? Oil. Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? Den. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to 3'ou. Oli. Call him in. [.Exit Dennis.] 'Twill be a good way ; and to-morrow the wrestling is. Unter Charles Oha. Good morrow to your worship. 1 1 will mauage you without giving what the will deniauds. Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 99 OU. Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new 100 news at the new court? Cha. There is no news at the court, sir, but the old news : that is, the old duke is banished by his younger brother the new duke ; ^ and three or four loving lords have put themselves into vol- untary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke ; therefore he gives them good leave to w^ander. OH. Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's dauo-hter, be banished with her father? no Oha. O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do. OU. Where will the old duke live? Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him ; and 120 there they live like the old Robin Hood of Eng- land : they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as the}^ did in the golden world.^ 1 The brothers in higher station seem to get along no better than those in lower. 2 The golden age in the reign of Saturn was the fabled time when all goodness ruled and evil was unknown. Cf. Gonzalo's Commonwealth in the Tempest, II., i., 149-170, especially the last line. L.cfC. 100 11 AWT HOB NE CLASSICS [Act I Oil. What, you wrestle to-morrow before tlie new duke? Cha. Marry, do I, sir ; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition to come in disguised against 130 me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I Avrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender ; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil liim, as I must, for my own honor, if he come in : therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal, that either you might stay him from his intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall run into, in that it is a thing of his own search and altogether 140 against my will. Oli. Charles, I thank thee for tliy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of m}^ brother's purpose herein and have by underhand means labored to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles : it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's good parts, a secret and villainous contriver against me his natural 150 brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to 't ; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace or if he do not mightily Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 101 grace himself on thee, he will practice against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device and never leave thee till he hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other ; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villainous this i6o day living. I speak but brotherly of him ; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep and thou must look pale and wonder. Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, Fll give him his payment : if ever he go alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more : and so God keep your worship ! OH. Farewell, good Charles, [^^f^ Charles.] Now will I stir this gamester : I hope I shall see 170 an end of him ; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised : but it shall not be so long 5 this wrestler shall clear all : nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about. \_Exit. 102 IIAWTHOliNE CLASSICS [Act I Scene II. Lawn befor-e the Duke's jmlace. Enter Celia mid Rosalind Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. Ros, Dear Celia, I shoAV more mirth than I am mistress of ; and would you yet I Avere merrier ? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn ^ me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not Avith the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy lo banished father, had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine : so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee. Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours. Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have : and, truly, when he 20 dies, thou shalt be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection ; by mine honor, I will ; ^ and Avhen I break that oath, let me 1 used ill the old sense of teach, which has now passed out of use save among the uneducated. ^ Celia was not so practical a person as Rosalind, as we shall see, and it may be that she really fancied that this was a possible solution, just as she doubtless would have caught Charles by the leg (1. 218) had she been able. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 103 turn monster : therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. Hos. From liencefortli I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see ; what think you of falling in love? Oel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal ; 30 but love no man in good earnest ; nor no further in sport neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayest in honor come off again. Bos. Wliat shall be our sport, then? Oel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. Mos. I would we could do so, for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women, 40 Cel. 'Tis true ; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest, and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favoredly. Mos. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's oftice to Nature's : Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. Ente7^ Touchstone Oel. No? when Nature hath made a fair crea- ture, may she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to 50 cut off the argument ? Bos. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for 104 ITAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Nature, Avlien Fortune makes Nature's natural^ the cutter-off of Nature's Avit. Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but Nature's ; who perceiving our natu- ral wits too dull to reason of such goddesses liath sent this natural for our wlietstone ; for always the dullness of the fool is tlie Avlietstone of the wits. How now, Avit ! Avliither Avander you? 60 Touch. Mistress, you nuist come away to your fatlier. Oel. Were you made the messenger? Touch. No, by mine honor, but I Avas bid to come for you. Mos. Where learned you that oath, fool? Touch. Of a certain knight that sAvore by his honor they were good pancakes and SAVore by his honor the mustard was naught : noAV I'll stand to it, the pancakes Avere naught and the mustard Avas 70 good, and yet Avas not the knight forsAvorn. Oel. How prove you that, in the great heap of 3^our knoAvledge ? Bos. Ay, marry, uoav unmuzzle your wisdom. Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke your chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave. Cel. By our beards, if Ave had them, thou art. Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I Avere ; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn : no more Avas this knight, SAvearing by 80 his honor, for he never had any ; or if he had, he 1 idiot ; although Touchstone was by no means idiotic. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE ITf 105 had sworn it away before ever he saw those pan- cakes or that mustard. Cel. Prithee, who is't that thou meanest? Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves. Cel. My father's love is enough to honor liim enough : speak no more of him ; you'll be whipped for taxation ^ one of these days. Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak 90 wisely what wise men do foolishly. Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true ; for since the little wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau. Ros. With his mouth full of news. Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed. Cel. All the better ; we shall be the more 100 marketable. Enter \m Beau Bon jour. Monsieur Le Beau : what's the news? Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. Cel. Sport! of what color? Le Beau. What color, madam ! how shall I answer you? Ros. As wit and fortune will. Touch. Or as the Destinies decree. 1 satire. 106 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Cel. Well said : that was laid on with a trowel, no Touch. Nay, if 1 keep not my rank, — Bos. Thou losest thy old smell. Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies : I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. Bos. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling. Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning ; and if it please your ladyships, you may see the end ; for the best is yet to do ; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it. 120 Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons, — Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. Bos. With bills on their necks, " Be it known unto all men by these presents." 130 Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the duke's wrestler ; which Charles in a moment threw him and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him : so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie ; the poor old man, their father, making such piti- ful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with weeping. Bos. Alas! Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 107 Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that 140 the hidies have lost ? Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day : it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for Ladies. Cel. Or I, I promise thee. Hos. But is there any else longs to see this broken music in his sides ? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking ? Shall we see this wrest- ling, cousin ? 150 Le Beau. You must, if you stay here ; for here is the place aj^pointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming : let us now stay and see it. Flourish. Enter Duke Frederick, Lords, Or- lando, Charles, and Attendants Duke F. Come on : since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness. Ros. Is yonder the man ? Le Beau. Even he, madam. Cel. Alas, he is too young ! yet he looks suc- 160 cessfully. Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin ! are you crept hither to see the wrestling ? Ros. Aye, my liege, so please you give us leave. Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you ; there is such odds in the man. In pity 108 HAWTUOENE CLASSICS [Act I of the challenger's youth T would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him ladies; see if you can move him. Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 170 Duke F. Do so : I'll not be by. Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the prin- cess call for you. Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty. Bos. Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler ? Orl. No, fair princess ; he is the general chal- lenger : I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth. Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too 180 bold for 3^our years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's strength : if you saw yourself with your eyes or knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. Bos. Do, young sir ; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised ; we will make it our suit to the duke that the wrestling might not go forward. 190 Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent ladies anything. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial : wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious ; if killed. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 109 but one dead that is willing to be so : I shall do my friends no Avrong, for I have none to lament me, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing ; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be 200 better supplied when I have made it empty. Bos. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. Eos. Fare you well : pray heaven I be deceived in you ! Cel. Your heart's desires be with you ! Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth ? Orl. Ready, sir ; but his will hath in it a more 2IO modest working. Biike F, You shall try but one fall. Cha. No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from a first. Orl. An you mean to mock me after, you should not have mocked me before ; but come your ways. Bos. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man ! Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow by the leg. \_Wrestle. 220 Bos. O excellent young man ! Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [SJwut. Charu^s is throw7io Duke F. No more, no more. Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed. 110 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ? Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man ? 230 Orl. Orlando, my liege ; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else : The world esteemed thy father honorable, But I did find him still mine enemy : Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well ; thou are a gallant youth : I would thou hadst told me of another father. [Exeunt Duke Fred., train, and Le Beau. Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this ? 240 Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son. His 3^oungest son, — and would not change that calling. To be adopted heir to Frederick. Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul. And all the world was of my father's mind : Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventured. Cel. Gentle cousin. Let us go thank him and encourage liim : My father's rough and envious disposition 250 Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved : Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 111 If you do keep your promises in love But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy. Mos. Gentleman, \_G-iving him a chain fi'om her neck. Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune. That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz ? Cel. Aye. Fare you v^ell, fair gentleman. Orl. Can I not say, I thank you ? My better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 260 Ros. He calls us back : my pride fell with my fortunes ; I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir ? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown More than your enemies. Cel. Will you go, coz ? Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. \_Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown ! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. Re-enter Le Beau Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you 112 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 270 To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved High commendation, true applause and love, Yet such is now the duke's condition That he misconstrues all that you have done. The duke is humorous ^ ; what he is indeed. More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this ; Which of the two was daughter of the duke That here was at the wrestling ? Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners ; 280 But yet. indeed the lesser is his daughter : The other is daughter to the banished duke. And here detained by her usurping uncle. To keep his daughter company ; whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. But I can tell you that of late this duke Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, Grounded upon no other argument But that the people praise her for her virtues And pity her for her good father's sake ; 290 And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well : 1 fanciful. The four humors were, m the old physiology, the four moistures that were imagined to be in man's body, and ac- cording as one or another prevailed so was his disposition of one or another character. Hence humor came to mean "general dis- position," and in the time of Shakespeare it was used for any especial mood, particularly those that were whimsical. Thus the adjective was apt to mean whimsical, fanciful, unreasonable. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 113 Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. Orl. I rest much bounden to you : fare you well. [Uxit Le Beau. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother ; From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother : But heavenly Rosalind ! \_Exif. Scene III. A room in the palace Enter Celia and Rosalind Cel. Why, cousin ! Why, Rosalind ! Cupid have mercy ! not a word ? Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs ; throw some of them at me ; come, laip^^ me with reasons. Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up ; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any. 10 Cel. But is all this for your father ? Ros. No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world I Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery : if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart. Cel. Hem them away. Ros. I would try, if I could cry ''hem " and have 20 him. 114 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy aifections. Mos. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself ! Cel. O, a good wish upon you ! you w^ill try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? 30 Ros. The duke my father loved his father dearly. Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for my father hated his father dearly ^ ; yet I hate not Orlando. Bos. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? Bos. Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the duke. 40 Cel. With his eyes full of anger. Unte?' Duke Frederick, ivith Lords Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste And get you from our court. Bos. Me, uncle? Duhe F. You, cousin : Within these ten daj^s if that thou be'st found 1 Dear used to refer not merely to affectionate regard, but to almost any intense feeling. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 115 So near our public court as twenty miles, Thou diest for it. Bos. I do beseech your grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me : If with myself I hold intelligence Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, If that I do not dream or be not frantic, — 50 As I do trust I am not — then, dear uncle. Never so much as in a thought unborn Did I offend your highness. Duke F. Thus do all traitors : If their purgation did consist in words. They are as innocent as grace itself : Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor : Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter ; there's enough. Ros, So was I when your highness took his dukedom ; 60 So was I when your highness banished him : Treason is not inherited, my lord ; Or, if we did derive it from our friends. What's that to me ? my father was no traitor : Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much To think my poverty is treacherous. Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. DukeF. Ay, Celia; we stayed her for your sake. Else had she with her father ranged along. 116 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay ; 70 It was your pleasure and your own remorse : I was too young that time to value her ; But now I know her : if she be a traitor, Why so am I ; we still ^ have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together. And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtle for thee ; and her smoothness. Her very silence and her patience Speak to the people, and they pity her. 80 Thou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name ; And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous When she is gone. Then open not thy lips : Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have passed upon her ; she is banished. Oel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege. I cannot live out of her company. Duke F, You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself : If you outstay the time, upon mine honor, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [^Exeunt Duke Fkederick and Lords. 90 Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go ? Wilt thou change fathers ? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. 1 eontmually. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 117 Mos. I have more cause. Oel. Thou hast not, cousin : Prithee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the duke Hath banished me, his daughter ? Hos. That he hath not. Cel. No, hath not ? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one : Shall we be sundered? shall we part, sweet girl? No : let my father seek another heir. roo Therefore devise with me how we may fly. Whither to go and what to bear with us ; And do not seek to take your change upon you, To bear your griefs 3^ourself and leave me out ; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale. Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. Bos. Why, whither shall we go ? Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. .Eos. Alas, what danger will it be to us, , Maids as we are, to travel forth so far ! no Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire And with a kind of umber smirch my face ; The like do you : so shall we pass along And never stir assailants. Mos. Were it not better. Because that I am more than common tall. That I did suit me all points like a man ? ^ i This was a favorite device of Sliakespeare's ; witness Julia, Portia, Viola, Imogen. It may perhaps be that it was suggested to him by the fact that as his girls were all acted by boys there was a sort of piquancy in having them in boys' clothes. 118 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I, Sc. Ill A gallant curtle-ax upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand ; and — in my heart Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will — t2o We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish coAvards have That do outface it with their semblances. Oel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? Hos. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page ; And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be called ? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state ; No longer Celia, but Aliena. Mos. But, cousin, what if we assayed to steal [30 The clownish fool out of your father's court ? Would he not be a comfort to our travel ? Oel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me ; Leave me alone to avoo him. Let's away. And get our jewels and our wealth together. Devise the fittest time and safest way To hide us from pursuit that Avill be made After my flight. Now go we in content To liberty and not to banishment. \_Exeu7it. AcTlI, Sc. I] AS YOU LIKE IT 119 ACT II 1 Scene I. The Forest of Arden Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and tivo or three Lords, like foresters Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind. Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 10 " This is no flattery : these are counselors That feelingly persuade me what I am." Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life exempt from public haunt Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. Sermons in stones and good in every thing. I would not change it. Ami. Happy is your grace. That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 20 Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 1 This is the true beginuiug of the play ; what went before was like a prologue. 120 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Duke aS'. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city. Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored. First Lord. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jaques ^ grieves at that, And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banished you. To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself 30 Did steal behind him as he lay along Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood : To the which place a poor sequestered stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heaved forth such groans That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose 40 In piteous chase ; and thus the hairy fool. Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. Duke S. But Avhat said Jaques ? Did he not moralize this spectacle ? First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 1 Here, as in V., iv., 197, the meter shows that the name is a dissyllable. In other cases, as later in this speech, the name might be pronounced either with one syllable or two. Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 121 First, for his weeping into the needless stream ; " Poor deer," quoth he, '^ thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much " : then, being there alone, 50 Left and abandoned of his velvet friends, " 'Tis right " : quoth he, " thus misery doth part The flux of company " : anon a careless herd. Full of the pasture, jumps along by him And never stays to greet him ; " Aye," quoth Jaques, " Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 'Tis just the fashion : wherefore do you look • Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? " Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, ' 60 Yea, and of this our life, swearing that Ave Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up In their assigned and native dwelling-place. Duke S. And did you leave him in this con- templation ? Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- menting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke S. Show me the place: I love to cope him in these sullen fits. For then he's full of matter. First Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [^Uxeunt. 122 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Scene II. A room in the palace Enter DuKE Frederick, ivith Lords Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them ? It cannot be : some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this. First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber. Saw her a-bed, and in tlie morning early They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish ^ clown, at whom so oft Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. 10 Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman. Confesses that she secretly o'erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles ; And she believes, wherever they are gone, That youth is surely in their company. Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that gallant hither ; If he be absent, bring his brother to me ; I'll make him find him : do this suddenly, 20 And let not search and inquisition quail To bring again these foolish runaways. \^Exeunt. 1 maugy : a term of contempt. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT ^ 123 Scene III. Before Oliver's house Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting Orl. Who's there? Adam. What, my young master ? O my gentle master ! O my sweet master ! O you memory Of old Sir Rowland ! why, wliat make you here ? Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant ? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny priser of the humorous duke ? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. 10 Know you not, master, to some kind of men Their graces serve them but as enemies? No more do yours : your virtues, gentle master. Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it ! Orl. Why, what's the matter ? Adam. O unhappy youth ! Come not within these doors ; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives : Your brother — no, no brother ; yet the son — 20 Yet not the son, I will not call him son Of him I was about to call his father — Hath heard your praises, and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie And you within it : if he fail of that. 124 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II He will have other means to cut you off.^ 1 overheard him and his practices. This is no place ; this house is but a butchery : Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go ? 30 Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food ? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road ? This I must do, or know not what to do : Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns. The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 40 Which I did store to be my foster-nurse When service should in my old limbs lie lame And unregarded age in corners thrown : Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed. Yea, providently caters for the sparrow. Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; All this I give you. Let me be your servant : Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty ; For in my youth I never did apply 1 This plot of Oliver's, of course, recoils upon his own head. If he had left Orlando to himself, the Duke would have dealt with him ; as it turns out, Orlando takes himself off and the Duke lays hold of Oliver. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 125 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 50 Nor did not Avith unbashf ul forehead woo The means of weakness and debility ; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly : ^ let me go with you ; ril do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. Orl. O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 60 Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having : it is not so with thee. Bat, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. Bat come thy ways ; we'll go along together. And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, Well light upon some settled low content. Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, 70 To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek ; But at fourscore it is too late a week : Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well and not my master's debtor. lUxeunt. 1 Not precisely in the modern sense, more like natural. 126 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Scene IV. The Forest of Ardeii Enter Rosalind /or Ganymede, Celia for Alien A, and Touchstone Ros. O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits ! Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. Ros. 1 could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel and to cry like a woman ; but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat ; therefore courage, good Aliena I Cel. I pray you, bear Avith me ; I cannot go no lo further. Touch. For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear you ; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, for I think you have no money in your purse. Ros. AVell, this is the forest of Arden. Touch. Aye, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I ; when I was at home, I was in a better place ; but travelers must be content. Ros. Aye, be so, good Touchstone. Enter Corin a7id SiLVius 20 Look you, who comes here ; a young man and an old in solemn talk. Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you still. Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 127 Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her ! Oor. I partly guess ; for I have loved ere now. Sil. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess. Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow : But if thy love were ever like to mine — As sure I think did never man love so — 30 How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? Co7\ Into a thousand that I have forgotten. Sil. O, thou didst then ne'er loA^e so heartily ! If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into. Thou hast not loved : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now. Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, Thou hast not loved : 40 Or if thou hast not broke from company Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not loved. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe ! ■ [Uxit. Mos. Alas, poor shepherd ! searching of thy wound, I have by hard adventure found my own. Touch. And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for coming a-night to Jane Smile ; and I remember the kissing of her batlet and the 50 cow's dugs tliat her pretty chopped hands had milked ; and 1 remember the wooing of a peascod 128 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II instead of her, from whom I took two cods and, giving her them again, said with weeping tears, " Wear these for my sake." We that are true lov- ers run into strange capers ; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. Bos. Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. Touch. Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own 00 wit till I break my shins against it. Hos. Jove, Jove ! this shepherd's passion Is much upon my fashion. Touch. And mine ; but it grows something stale with me. Oel. I pray you, one of you question yond man If he for gold will give us any food : I faint almost to death. Touch. Holla, you clown ! Bos. Peace, fool : he's not thy kinsman. Cor. Who calls ? Touch. Your betters, sir. Cor. Else they are very wretched. 70 Bos. Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. Bos. I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold Can in this desert place buy entertainment. Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed : Here's a young maid with travel much oppressed And faints for succor. Cor. Fair sir, I pity her. And wish, for her sake more than for mine own. Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 129 My fortunes were more able to relieve her ; But I am shepherd to another man 80 And do not shear the fleeces that I graze : My master is of churlish disposition And little recks to find the way to heaven By doing deeds of hospitality : Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now. By reason of his absence, there is nothing That you will feed on ; but what is, come see, And in my voice most welcome shall you be. Bos. What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture ? 90 Cor. That young swain that you saw here but erewhile. That little cares for buying any thing. Bos. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty,^ Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock. And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. Cel. And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. And willingly could waste my time in it. Cor. Assuredly the thing is to be sold : Go with me : if you like upon report The soil, the profit and this kind of life, 100 I will your very faithful feeder be And buy it with your gold right suddenly. [^Uxeunt. 1 fair dealing. 130 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act 11 Scene V. The forest Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others Song Ami. Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Jaq. More, more, I prithee, more. Ami, It will make you melancholy. Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. More, I prithee, more. Ami. My voice is ragged : I know I cannot please you. Jaq. I do not desire you to please me ; I do desire you to sing. Come, more ; another stanzo : call you 'em stanzos ? Ami. What you will. Monsieur Jaques. Jaq. Nay, 1 care not for their names ; they owe me nothing. Will you sing ? Ami. More at your request than to please my- self. Scene V] ^>S YOU LIKE IT 131 Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you ; but that they call compliment is like the encounter of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me the beggarly thanks. 30 Come, sing : and you that will not, hold your tongues. Ami. Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while ; the duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all this day to look you. Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is too disputable for my company ; I think of as many matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no boast of them. Come, warble, come. Song ^AU together here. Who doth ambition shun ^o And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets. Come hither, come hither, come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note that I made yesterday in despite of my invention. Ami. And I'll sing it. go Jaq. Thus it goes : — If it do come to pass That any man turn ass, 132 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Leaving his wealth and ease A stubborn will to please, Ducclame, ducdame, ducdame. Here shall he see Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Ami. What's that " ducdame " ? 60 Jaq. 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a circle. I'll go sleep, if I can ; if I cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of Egypt. A7ni. And I'll go seek the duke : his banquet is prepared. \_Exeunt severally. Scene VI. The forest Enter Orlando and Adam Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : O, I die for food ! Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, kind master. Orl. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater heart in thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little. If this uncouth forest yield any- thing savage, I will either be food for it or bring it for food to thee. Thy conceit ^ is nearer death than thy powers. For my sake be comfortable ; 10 hold death awhile at the arm's end : I will here be with thee presently ; and if I bring thee not some- thing to eat, I will give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my 1 thought. Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 133 labor. Well said ! thou lookest cheerly, and I'll be with thee quickly. Yet thou liest in the bleak air : come, I Avill bear thee to some shelter ; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner, if there live anything in this desert. Cheerly, good Adam ! [Uxeunt. Scene VII. The forest A table set out. Enter Duke senior, Amiens, and Lords like outlaws Duke S. I think he be transformed into a beast ; For I can nowhere find him like a man. First Lord, My lord, he is but even now gone hence : Here was he merry, hearing of a song. Buke S. If he, compact of jars, grow musical, We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. ^ Go, seek him : tell him I would speak with him. Enter Jaques First Lord. He saves my labor by his own approach. Buke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what a life is this, LoThat your poor friends must woo your company? What, you look merrily ! 1 The " music of the spheres" was an idea that grew out of the old astronomy. See p. 18, note 2. If Jaques becomes harmonious, it will be as unnatural as if the spheres should become discordant. 134 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Jaq. A fool, a fool ! I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ; a miserable world ! As I do live by food, I met a fool ; Who laid him down and basked him in the sun, And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms,^ In good set terms and yet a motley fool. " Good-morrow, fool," quoth 1. " No, sir," quoth he, " Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune: " 20 And then he drew a dial from his poke. And, looking on it with lack-luster eye, Says very wisely, " It is ten o'clock : Thus we may see," quoth he, " how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine. And after one hour more 't will be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear The motle}^ fool thus moral on the time, 30 My lungs began to crow like chanticleer. That fools should be so deep-contemplative. And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. O noble fool ! A worthy fool ! Motley's the only wear. Duke S. What fool is this ? Jaq. O worthy fool ! One that hath been a courtier And says, if ladies be but young and fair. They have the gift to know it : and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 1 He was ouly following the example of Rosalind aud Celia. Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 135 40 After a voyage, he hath strange phices crammed With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. O that I were a fool ! I am ambitious for a motley coat. J)uke S. Thou shalt have one. Jaq. It is my only suit ; Provided that you weed your better judgments Of all opinion that grows rank in them That I am wise. I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, 50 To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have ; And they that are most galled Avith my folly, They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? The " why " is plain as way to parish church : He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart. Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not. The wise man's folly is anatomized Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 60 To speak my mind, and I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of the infected world. If they will patiently receive my medicine. Duke S. Fie on thee ! I can tell what thou wouldst do. Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do but good? Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: For thou thyself hast been a libertine, As sensual as the brutish sting itself ; 136 IIAWTTIOBNE CLASSICS [Act II And all the enihossed sores and headed evils, That thou with license of free foot hast caught, Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. 70 Jaq. Why, who cries out on })ride, That can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. Till that the wearer's very means do ebb? What woman in the city do I name. When that I say the city-woman bears The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? Who can come in and say that I mean her. When such a one as she such is her neighbor? Or what is he of basest function 80 That says his bravery is not on my cost. Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits His folly to the mettle of my speech ? There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein My tongue hath wronged him : if it do him right, Then he hath wronged himself ; if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, Unclaimed of any man. But who comes here ? Enter Orlando, ^vith Ms sivord draiv7i Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. Jaq. Why, I have eat none yet. Orl. Nor shalt thou, till necessity be served. 90 Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of ? Duke S. Art thou thus boldened, man, by thy distress, Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 137 Or else a rude despiser of good miiiiiiers, That in civility thou seem'st so empty? Orl. You touched my vein at first ; the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred ^ And know some nurture. But forbear, I say : He dies that touches any of this fruit Till I and my affairs are answered. oo Jaq. An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. Duke S. What would you have ? Your gentle- ness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness. Orl. 1 almost die for food ; and let me have it. Duke S. Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. Orl. Speak you so gently ? Pardon me, I pray you : I thought that all things had been savage here ; And therefore put I on the countenance Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, [10 Under the shade of melancholy boughs. Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; If ever you have looked on better days. If ever been where bells have knolled to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, 1 The seaport towns were doubtless full of roistering seafarers whose conceptions of manners were large and loose. 138 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. Duke S. True is it that Ave have seen better days, 120 And have with holy bell been knoUed to church And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered : And therefore sit you down in gentleness And take upon command what help we have That to your wanting may be ministered. Orl. Then but forbear your food a little while, Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn And give it food. There is an old poor man. Who after me hath many a weary step 130 Limped in pure love : till he be first sufficed, Oppressed with two weak evils, age and hunger, I will not touch a bit. Duke S. Go find him out. And we will nothing Avaste till you return. Orl. I thank ye ; and be blessed for your good comfort ! ' \_Uxit. Duke S. Thou seest Ave are not all alone un- happy : This Avide and universal theater Presents more woeful j)ageants than the scene Wherein Ave play in. Jaq. All the world's a stage, ^ 1 This is one of those elaborate passages that catch the fancy. It is amusing in itself, though it presents a satirical and sordid Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 139 And all the men and women merely players: 140 They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining schoolboy, with his sachel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover. Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, 150 Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel. Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined. With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,^ With spectacles on nose and poucli on side. His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 160 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, view, but it has not mucli to do witli the play. It is to be re- marked, however, that it is put in the mouth of the cynical Jaques : it is not the view of Shakespeare himself. 1 a conventional figure in Italian comedy ; a doddering and fool- ish old man. 140 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. Re-enter Orlando with Adam Duhe S. Welcome. Set down your venerable burden And let him feed. Orl. I thank you most for him. Adam. So had you need : I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. 170 Duke S. Welcome; fall to: 1 will not trouble you As yet, to question you about your fortunes. Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. Song Ami. Blow, blow, thou winter wind. Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen. Because thou art not seen. Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho ! sing, heigh-ho ! unto the green holly t 180 Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly; Then, heigh-ho, the holly ! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky. That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Scene VII] AS YOU LIKE IT 141 Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remembered not. Heigh-ho ! sing, &c. 190 Duke S. If that you were the good Sir Row- land's son. As you have whispered faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witness Most truly limned and living in 5^our face. Be truly welcome hither : I am the duke That loved your father : the residue of your fortune, Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man. Thou art right welcome as thy master is. Support him by the arm. Give me your hand. And let me all your fortunes understand. \_^xeunf. ACT III Scene I. A room in the palace Enter Duke Feederick, Lords, aiid Oliver Duke F. Not see him since ? Sir, sir, that can- not be : But were I not the better part made mercy, I should not seek an absent argument Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it : Find out thy brother, wlieresoe'er he is ; Seek him with candle ; bring him dead or living 142 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more To seek a living in our territory. Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine 10 Worth seizure do Ave seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee.^ Oli. O that your highness knew my heart in this ! I never loved my brother in my life. DuJce F, More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors ; And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent upon his house and lands ; Do this expediently and turn him going. \^Exeunt. Scene II. The forest Enter Orlando, loith a paper Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, ^ survey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above. Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sw^ay. 1 The duke accuses liim practically of what he would willingly have done. 2 Phoebe, Persephone, Artemis, often identified and conceived as cue goddess with threefold attributes. Scene 11] AS YOU LIKE IT 143 O Rosalind I these trees shall be my books. And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; That every eye which in this forest looks Shall see thy virtue witnessed everywliere. Run, run, Orlando ; carve on every tree loThe fair, the chaste and unexpressive ^ she. [Exit. JE titer CoRiN and Touchstone Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life. Master Touchstone? Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I like it very well , but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth me well ; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As it is a spare life, 20 look you, it fits my humor well; but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? Cor. No more but that I know the more one sickens the worse at ease he is , and that he wants money, means and content is without three good friends ; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn ; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a great cause of the night is lack of the sun ; that he that hath learned no wit by nature 30 nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. 1 inexpressible. 144 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in court, shepherd ? Cor. No, truly. Touch. Then thou art damned. Cor. Nay, I hope. Touch. Truly, thou art damned, like an ill- roasted egg all on one side. Cor. For not being at court ? Your reason. 40 Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest good manners ; if thou never sawest good manners, then thy manners must be wicked ; and Avickedness is sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous state, shepherd. Cor. Not a whit. Touchstone : those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court. ^ You told me you salute not at the court, but you kiss your hands ! that 50 courtesy would be uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their fells, you know, are greasy. Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of a man? Shallow, shal- low. A better instance, I say ; come. Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 1 Corin, as before, tries to keep up with Touchstone's absurdi- ties by the slower processes of common sense. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT , 145 60 Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. A more sounder instance, come. Cor. And they are often tarred over with the surgery oi our sheep ; and would you have us kiss tar? The courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. Touch. Most shallow man ! thou worms-meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed ! Learn of the wise, and perpend : civet is of a baser birth than tar, the very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend 70 the instance, shepherd. Ooi\ You have too courtly a wit for me : I'll rest. Touch. Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man ! God make incision in thee ! thou art raw. Cor. Sir, I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see 80 my ewes graze and my lambs suck. Touch. If thou beest not damned for this, the devil himself will have no shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 'scape. Cor. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress' brother. Enter Rosalind, ivith a paper^ reading Ros. From the east to western Ind, No jewel is like Rosalind. 146 IIAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act III Her worth, being mounted on the wind, Through all the Avorld bears Rosalind. 90 All the pictures fairest lined Are but black to Rosalind. Let no fair be kept in mind But the fair of Rosalind. Touch. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and suppers and sleeping-hours excepted : it is the right butter-women's rank to market. Hos. Out, fool ! Touch. For a taste: If a hart do lack a hind, [00 Let him seek out Rosalind. If the cat will after kind, So be sure will Rosalind. Winter garments must be lined, So must slender Rosalind. They that reap must sheaf and bind ; Then to cart with Rosalind. Sweetest nut hath sourest rind. Such a nut is Rosalind. He that sweetest rose will find 10 Must find love's prick and Rosalind. ^ This is the very false gallop of verses : why do you infect yourself with them? Mos. Peace, you dull fool ! I found them on a tree. 1 As before, II., v., 51, Shakespeare shows himself an excellent imrodist. Scene II] ^,S YOU LIKE IT 147 Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. Ros. I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graft' it with a medlar ; then it will be the earliest fruit i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half ripe, and that's the right virtue of the 120 medlar. Touch. You have said ; but whether wisely or no, let the forest judge. Enter Celia, with a tvriting Ros. Peace ! Here comes my sister, reading : stand aside. Cel. [Reads'] Why should this a desert be ? For it is unpeopled ? No ; Tongues 111 hang on every tree, Tliat shall civil sayings show : Some, how brief the life of man 130 Runs his erring pilgrimage. That the stretching of a span Buckles in his sum of age ; Some, of violated vows 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend : But upon the fairest boughs. Or at every sentence end. Will I Rosalinda write. Teaching all that read to know TJie quintessence of every sprite 140 Heaven would in little sliow. 148 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Therefore Heaven Nature charged That one body should be filled With all graces wide-enlarged : Nature presently distilled Helen's cheek, but not her heart,i Cleopatra's majesty, Atalanta's better part. Sad Lucretia's modesty. Thus Rosalind of many parts 150 By heavenly synod was devised, Of many faces, eyes, and hearts. To have the touches dearest prized. Heaven would that she these gifts should have. And I to live and die her slave. Hos. O most gentle pulpiter ! what tedious homily of love have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never cried " Have patience, good peo- ple ! " Cel. How now ! back, friends ! Shepherd, go 160 off a little. Go with him, sirrah. Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make an honora- ble retreat ; though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. \_Exeunt CoRiN and Touchstone. Cel. Didst thou hear these verses ? Ros. O, yes, I heard them all, and more too ; 1 Helen was beautiful but not especially good ; of Cleopatra Shakespeare subsequently thought differently. Atalanta's " better part" must have been her swiftness of foot; the story of Lucrece had interested Shakespeare not long before. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 149 for some of them had in them more feet tlian the verses would bear. Cel. That's no matter : the feet might bear the verses. 170 Bos. Aye, but the feet were lame and could not bear themselves without the verse and therefore stood lamely in the verse. Cel. But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name should be hanged and carved upon these trees? Bos. I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder before you came ; for look here what I found on a palm-tree. I was never so berhymed since Pythagoras' time,i that I was an Irish rat, 180 which I can hardly remember. Cel. Trow you who hath done this ? Bos. Is it a man? Cel. And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. Change you color ? Bos. I prithee, who ? Cel. O Lord, Lord I it is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes and so encounter. Bos. Nay, but who is it ? 190 Cel. Is it possible ? Bos. Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is. Cel. O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonder= 1 The doctrine of Pythagoras was that people lived in many bodies, one after another, some human, some animal. 150 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III ful wonderful I and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping ! Bos. Good my complexion ! dost thou think, though I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in my disposition? One inch of delay more is a South -sea of discovery ; I prithee, 200 tell me who is it quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow-mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth that I may drink thy tid- ings. Is he of God's making ? AVhat manner of man? Is his head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? Oel. Nay, he hath but a little beard. 210 Mos. Why, God will send more, if the man will be thankful : let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. Oel. It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's heels and your heart both in an instant. Bos. Nay, but the devil take mocking : speak, sad brow and true maid. Cel. r faith, coz, 'tis he. Bos. Orlando ? Cel Orlando. 220 Bos. Alas the day ! what shall I do Avith my doublet and hose ? ^ What did he when thou saAvest him? What said he? How looked he? 1 The idea of Orlaudo made her think of her skirts. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 151 Wherein went he ? What makes he here ? Did he ask for me? Where remains he ? How parted he with thee ? and when shalt thou see him again ? Answer me in one word. Cel. You must borrow me Gargantua's ^ mouth first : 'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To say aye and no to these particulars 230 is more than to answer in a catechism. Bos. But doth he know that I am in this forest and in man's apparel ? Looks he as freshly as he did the day he wrestled ? Cel. It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover ; but take a taste of my finding him, and relish it with good observance. I found him under a tree, like a drojDped acorn. Bos. It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such fruit. 240 Cel. Give me audience, good madam. Bos. Proceed. Cel. There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. Bos. Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well becomes the ground. Cel. Cry "holla" to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. Bos. O, ominous ! he comes to kill my heart. 250 Cel. I would sing my song without a burden : thou bringest me out of tune. 1 Gargautua was a good giant, of whom Rabelais wrote. 152 UAWTHORNE CLA.<=iSICS [Act III Mos. Do you not know I am a woman ? when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. Cel. You bring me out. Soft? comes he not here ? Enter Orlando and Jaques Ros. 'Tis he : slink by, and note him. Jaq. I thank you for your company ; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. Orl. And so had I ; but yet, for fashion sake, 260 1 thank you too for your society. Jaq. God be wi' you : let's meet as little as we can. Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with writing love-songs in their barks. Orl. I pray you, mar no moe of my verses with reading them ill-favoredly. Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name ? Orl. Yes, just. 270 Jaq. I do not like her name. Orl. There was no thought of pleasing you when she was christened. Jaq. What stature is she of ? Orl. Just as high as ni}^ heart. Jaq. You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them out of rings? ^ Orl. Not so ; but T answer you right painted 1 There used often to be mottoes and sentiments in gold rings. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 153 cloth, from whence you have studied your ques- iSotions. Jaq. You have a nimble wit : I think 'twas made of Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me ? and we two will rail against our mistress the world and all our misery. Orl. I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults. Jaq. The worst fault you have is to be in love. Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. I am weary of you. 290 Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found you. Orl. He is drowned in the brook : look but in, and you shall see him. Jaq. There I shall see mine own figure.^ Orl. Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you : farewell, good Signior Love. Orl. I am glad of your departure : adieu, good Monsieur Melancholy. [Uxit Jaques. 300 Mos. lAside to Celia] I will speak to him like a saucy lackey and under that habit play the knave with him. Do you hear, forester ? ^ Orl. Very well : what would you ? Bos. I pray you, what is't o'clock? Orl. You should ask me what time o' day ; there's no clock in the forest. 1 figure is face ; the answer is a little too tame for Jaques. 2 Rosalind, who was very uervous, is now all herself again. 154 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Ros. Tlieii there is no true lover in the forest : else sighing every minute and groaning every hour would detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a 310 clock. Orl. And why not the swift foot of Time ? had not that been as proper ? Hos. By no means, sir : Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles Avithal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal and who he stands still withal. 0)^1. I prithee, who doth he trot withal? Hos. Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the contract of her marriage and the day 320 it is solemnized : if the interim be but a se'nnight, Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of seven year. Orl. Who ambles Time withal? Mos. With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because he cannot study and the other lives merrily because he feels no pain, the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden of heavy tedious penury ; these 330 Time ambles withal. Orl. Who doth he gallop withal ? Bos. With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. Orl. Who stays it still withal ? Ros. With lawyers in the vacation; for they Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 155 sleep between term and term and then they per- ceive not how Time moves. Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? 340 Ros. With this shepherdess, my sister ; here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petti- coat. Orl. Are you native of this place ? Bos. As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. 1 Orl. Your accent is something finer than you could purchase in so removed a dwelling. Hos. I have been told so of many : but indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, 350 who was in his youth an inland man ; ^ one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it, and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offenses as lie hath generally taxed their whole sex withal. Orl. Can you remember any of the principal evils that he laid to the charge of women ? Hos. Tliere were none principal ; they were all like one another as halfpence are, every one fault 360 seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. Orl. I prithee recount some of them. Bos. No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that are sick. There is a man haunts the 1 born ; the word is from kind, meauing race or generation. 2 Cf. II., vii., 96. 156 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III forest, that abuses our young plants with carving " Rosalind " on their barks : hangs odes upon haw- thorns and elegies on brambles, all, forsooth, deify- ing the name of Rosalind : if I could meet that fancy-monger,^ I would give him some good coun- 370 sel, for he seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked : I pray you, tell me your remedy. Itos. There is none of my uncle's marks upon you : he taught me how to know a man in love ; in which cage of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. Orl. What were his marks? Mos. A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and sunken, which you have not, an unques- 380 tionable spirit, w^hich you have not, a beard neg- lected, which you have not ; but I pardon you for that, for simply your having in beard is a younger brother's revenue : then your hose should be un- gartered, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe untied, and everything about you demonstrating a careless desolation; but you are no such man ; you are rather point- device in your accouterments as loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. 390 Orl. Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. ^ For fancy cf. A Midsummer-NighVs Dream, II., i., 156; a fancy-monger, then, was one who made love a business, as it were, — was a professional at it. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT ^ 15Y Mos. Me l)elieve it ! you may tis soon make her that you love believe it ; which, I warrant, she is apter to do than to confess she does : that is one of the points in which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosa- lind is so admired? Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by tlie white hand 400 of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. Bos. But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. Mos. Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as mad- men do : 1 and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordi- nary that the whippers are in love too. Yet I 410 profess curing it by counsel. Orl. Did you ever cure any so ? Ros. Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me his love, his mistress ; and I set him every day to woo me : at which time would I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every passion something and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women are 1 Madmen fared ill in those days ; we see more of the custom in the fate of Malvolio in Tioelfth Night. 158 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act III 420 for the Diost part cattle of this cohDr : would now like him, now loathe him ; then entertain him, then forswear him ; now weep for him, then spit at him ; that I drave my suitor from his mad humor of love to a living humor of madness ; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world and to live in a nook merely monastic. And thus I cured him : and in this way will I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that there shall not be one 430 spot of love in't. Orl. I would not be cured, youth. Ros. I Avould cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind and come every day to my cote and woo me. Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will : tell me where it is. Ros. Go with me to it and Til show it you : and by the way you shall tell me where in the forest yon live. Will you go? 440 Orl. With all my heart, good youth. Ros. Nay, you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go ? \_Uxeunt. Scene III. The forest Enter Touchstone and Audrey ; Jaques behind. Touch. Come apace, good Audrey : I will fetch uj) your goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? doth my simple feature content you? Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 159 Aud. Your features ! Lord warrant us ! what features ? Touch. I am here with thee and tliy goats, as the most capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. 1 10 Jaq. \_Aside^ O knowledge ill-inliabited, worse than Jove in a thatched house ! Touch. When a man's verses cannot be under- stood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods liad made thee poetical. Aud. I do not know what '' poetical " is : is it honest in deed and word? is it a true thing? Touch. No, truly ; for the truest poetry is the 20 most feigning ; and lovers are given to poetry, and what they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. ' Aud. Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical? Touch. 1 do truly ; for thou swearest to me thou art honest ; now, if thoa wert a poet, I might have some hope thou didst feign. Aud. Would you not have me honest? Touch. No, truly, unless thou wert hard- 30 favored ; for honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. 1 Ovid was banished from Rome to the Thracian Chersonesus ; Touchstone calls him capricious with a puu ou caper, the Latin for goat. 160 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Jaq. [Aside^ A material fool ! Aud. Well, I am not fair ; and therefore I pray the gods make me honest. Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty uj)on a foul slut were to put good meat into an unclean dish. Aud. I am not a slut, though 1 thank the gods I am foul. 40 Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy foul- ness ! sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next village, who hath promised to meet me in tliis place of the forest and to couple us. Jaq. [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. Aud. Well, the gods give us joy ! Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt ; for here we 50 have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But Avhat though ? Courage I Here comes Sir Oliver. Enter Sir Oliver Martext Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel? Sir Oil. Is there none here to give the woman? Touch, I will not take her on gift of any man. Sir Oil. Truly, she must be given, or the mar- riage is not lawful. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 161 60 Jaq. \_Advancing'] Proceed, proceed : I'll give her. Touch. Good even, good Master What-ye-call't; how do you, sir? You are very well met : God 'ild you for your last company : I am very glad to see you : even a toy in hand here, sir : nay, pray be covered. Jaq. Will you be married, motley ? Touch. As the ox has his bow, sir, the horse his curb and the falcon lier bells, so man hath his 70 desires ; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breed- ing, be married under a busii like a beggar? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can tell you what marriage is : this fellow will but join you together as they join wainscot ; then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and, like green timber, warp, warp. Touch. [Aside] I am not in the mind but I 80 were better to be married of him than of another : for he is not like to marry me well ; and not being well married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. Touch. Come, sweet Audrey: Farewell, good Master Oliver ; not, — O sweet Oliver, O brave Oliver, Leave me not behind thee : 162 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III 90 but, — Wind away, Begone, I say, I will not to wedding with thee. \_Exeiint Jaques, Touchstone and Audrey. Sir Oli. 'Tis no matter : ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall flout me out of my calling. lExit. Scene IV. The forest Enter Rosalind and Celia Ros. Never talk to me : I will weep. del. Do, I prithee ; but yet have the grace to consider that tears do not become a man. Ros. But have I not cause to weep ? Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; there- fore weep. Ros. His very hair is of the dissembling color. Cel. Something browner than Judas's : ^ marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. 10 Ros. V faith, his hair is of a good color. Cel. An excellent color : your chestnut was ever the only color. Ros. And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread. Cel. He hatli bought a pair of cast lips of Diana : a nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously ; the very ice of chastity is in them. 1 Traditiou had it that Judas's hair was red. Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 163 Bos. But why did he swear he would come this 20 morning, and comes not ? Cel. Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. Hos. Do you think so ? Cel. Yes ; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do think him as concave as a covered goblet or a worm-eaten nut. Ros. Not true in love ? Cel. Yes, when he is in ; but I think he is not in. 30 Bos. You have heard him swear downright he was. Cel. '' Was " is not " is " : besides, the oath of a lover is no stronger than the word of a tapster ; they are both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends here in the forest on the duke your father. Bos. I met the duke yesterday and had much question with him : he asked me of what parent- age I was ; I told him, of as good as he ; so he 40 laughed and let me go. But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a man as Orlando ? Cel. O, that's a brave man ! he writes brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover ; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble goose : but all's brave that youth mounts and folly guides. Who comes here ? 164 UAWTIIOENE CLASSICS [Act III Unter Cokin Cor. Mistress and master, you have oft inquired 50 After the shepherd tliat comphiined of love, Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess That was his mistress. Cel. AVell, and what of him ? Cor. If you will see a pageant truly played, Between the pale complexion of true love And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, If you will mark it. Ros. O, come, let us remove : The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. 60 Bring us to this sight, and you shall say I'll prove a busy actor in their play. \_Uxeunt. Scene V. Another part of the forest Unter SiLVius and Phebe Sil. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me ; do not, Phebe ; Say that you love me not, but say not so In bitterness. The common executioner. Whose heart the accustomed sight of death makes hard. Falls not the ax upon the humbled neck But first begs pardon ; will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 165 Unter Rosalind, Celia, and Corin, behind Phe. I would not be thy executioner : I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 10 Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye : 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable. That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things. Who shut their coward gates on atomies. Should be called tyrants, butchers, murderers 1 Now I do frown on thee with all my heart ; And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee : Now counterfeit to swoon ; why now fall down ; Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame. Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers ! 20 Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee : Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains Some scar of it ; lean upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure Thy palm some moment keeps ; but now mine eyes. Which 1 have darted at thee, hurt thee not, Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes That can do hurt. Sil. O dear Phebe, If ever, — as that ever may be near, — You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, 30 Then shall you know the wounds invisible That love's keen arrows make. Phe. But till that time Come not thou near me : and when that time comes. 166 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Afflict me Avith thy mocks, pity me not ; As till that time I shall not pity thee. Bos. And why, I pray you ? Who might be your mother. That you insult, exult, and all at once. Over the Avretched? What though you have no beauty, — As, by my faith, I see no more in you Than without candle may go dark to bed, — 40 Must you be therefore proud and pitiless ? Why, what means this ? AVhy do you look on me ? I see no more in you than in the ordinary Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, I think she means to tangle my e3^es too ! No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it : 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair. Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream. That can entame my spirits to your worship. You foolish shepherd, wherefore do j^ou follow her, 50 Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain ? You are a thousand times a properer man Than she a woman : 'tis such fools as you That makes the world full of ill-favored children : 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; And out of you she sees herself more proper Than any of her lineaments can show her. But mistress, know j^ourself : down on your knees. And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love : For I must tell you friendly in your ear, 60 Sell when you can : you are not for all markets : Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 167 Cry the luau inercy ; love him ; take his offer : Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. So take her to thee, sliephercl : fare you well.^ Phe. Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year to- gether : I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. Bos. He's fallen in love with your foulness, and she'll fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as she answers thee with frowning looks, 70 I'll sauce her with bitter words. Why look you so upon me ? Phe. For no ill will I bear you. Mos. I pray you, do not fall in love with me, For I am falser than vows made in wine : Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. Will you go, sister ? Shepherd, ply her hard. Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, And be not proud : though all the world could see 80 None could be so abused in sight as he. Come, to our flock. [Uxeunt Rosalind, Celta, a7id Corin. Phe. Dead shepherd,2now I find thy saw of might. " Who ever loved that loved not at first sight ? " 1 Rosalind's speech, it must be remembered, is conceived by a woman and uttered by a boy. 2 The "dead shepherd" is Marlowe, greater than any of the dramatists who followed him except Shakespeare. This line comes, however, not from his plays, but from his poem " Hero and Leander." 168 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Arx III Sil. Sweet Phebe, — P?te. Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius ? Sil. Sweet Phebe, pity me. Phe. Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. Sil. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be : If you do sorrow at my grief in love. By giving love your sorrow and my grief 90 Were both extermined. Phe. Thou hast my love : is not that neigh- borly ? Sil. I would have you. Phe. Why, that were covetousness. Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, And yet it is not that I bear thee love ; But since that thou canst talk of love so well, Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, I will endure, and I'll employ thee too : But do not look for further recompense Than thine own gladness that thou art employed. 100 Sil. So lioly and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace. That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps : loose now and then A scattered smile, and that I'll live upon. Phe. Know'st thou the youth that spoke to me erewhile ? Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft ; And he hath both the cottage and the bounds That the old carlot once was master of. Scene V] AS YOU LIKE IT 169 "o Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask for him ; 'Tis but a peevish boy ; yet he talks well ; But what care I for words? yet words do well When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. It is a pretty youth : not very pretty : But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him : He'll make a proper man : the best thing in him Is his complexion ; and faster than liis tongue Did make offense his eye did heal it up. He is not very tall ; yet for his years he's tall : 120 His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : There was a pretty redness in his lip, A little riper and more lusty red Than that mixed in his cheek ; 'twas just the dif- ference Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him In parcels as I did, would have gone near To fall in love Avith him ; but, for my part, I love him not nor hate him not ; and yet I have more cause to hate him than to love him : 130 For what had he to do to chide at me ? He said mine eyes were black and my hair black : And, now I am remembered, scorned at me : I marvel why I answered not again : But that's all one : omittance is no quittance, I'll write to him a very taunting letter, 170 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV And thou slialt bear it : wilt thou, Silvius ? Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. Phe. I'll write it straight ; The matter's in my head and in my heart : I will be bitter with him and passing short. [40 Go with me, Silvius. \_^xeunt. ACT IV Scene I. The forest Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques Jaq. I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted with thee. Bos. They say you are a melancholy^ fellow. Jaq. I am so ; I do love it better than laughing. Ros. Those that are in extremity of either are abominable fellows and betray themselves to every modern censure worse than drunkards. Jaq. Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. Bos. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. 1 This word is an interesting one. In Shakespeare's time it meant what it does now and other things too. Just as in Milton's " II Penseroso," melancholy does not mean merely the pensive sad- ness that we think of to-day, so in this passage it does not. Origi- nally melancholy was one of the four "humors" (see the note on p. 112), — the hlackly bilious humor which cast a shade over one's life and, if it were too strong, caused hypochondria, hisanity, and death. But from this earlier half-pathological conception, the word softened in meaning so that it means little more than a thoughtful humor. The passage following is one of Jaques's intellectual tours deforce, like the " All the world's a stage." Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 171 lo Jaq. I have neither the schohir's melancholy, which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor the lover's, whicli is all these : but it is a melan- choly of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sun- dry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous 20 sadness. Eos. A traveler ! By my faith, you have great reason to be sad : I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men's ; then, to have seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Jaq. Yes, I have gained my experience. Bos. And your experience makes you sad : I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad ; and to travel for it 30 too ! Unter Oklando Orl. Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind ! Jaq. Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. [Uxit. Bos. Farewell, Monsieur Traveler : look you lisp and wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your own country, be out of love with your nativity and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are, or I will scarce think 172 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV yon have swam in a gondola. ^ Why, how now, 40 Orlando I where have you been all this while ? You a lover ! An you serve me such another trick, never come in my sight more. Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come witliin an hour of my promise. Bos. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousandth part of a min- ute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll 50 warrant him heart-whole. Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. Bos. Na}^ an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight : I had as lief be wooed of a snail. Orl. Of a snail ? Bos. Aye, of a snail ; for though he comes slowly, he carries his house on his head ; a better jointure, I think, than you make a woman : be- sides, he brings his destiny with him. Orl. What's that ? 60 Bos. Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to your wives for : but he comes armed in his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker : and my Rosalind is virtuous. Bos. And I am your Rosalind. Cel. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a Rosalind of a better leer than you. 1 i.e. be affected, or no one will know you have been abroad. Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 173 Eos. Come, woo me, woo me, for now T am in a holiday humor and like enough to consent. 70 What would you say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind ? Orl. I would kiss before I spoke. Mos. Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were graveled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit ; and for lovers lack- ing — God warn us I — matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. Orl. How if the kiss be denied ? 80 Mos. Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. Orl. Who could be out, being before his be- loved mistress ? Bos. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. Orl. What, of my suit ? Mos. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am I not your Rosalind ? 90 Orl. I take some joy to say you are, because I would be talking of her. Mos. Well, in her person I say I will not have you. Orl. Then in mine own person I die. Mos. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any man died in his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. Troilus had his 174 HAWTHOENE CLASSICS [Act IV brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he did what he could to die before, and he is one of 100 the patterns of love. Leander,^ he Avould have lived many a fair year, tliough Hero had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; for, good- youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being taken with the cramp was drowned : and the foolish chroniclers of that age found it was '' Hero of Sestos." But these are all lies : men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love. Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of this no mind, for, I protest her frown might kill me. Bos. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a more com- ing-on disposition, and ask me what you will, 1 will grant it. Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. Bos. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. Orl. And wilt thou have me ? Bos. Aye, and twenty such. 120 Orl. What sayest thou ? Bos. Are you not good ? Orl. I hope so. Bos. Why, then, can one desire too much of a good thing ? Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister ? 1 Shakespeare thinks again of the "dead shepherd's" "Hero and Leauder." Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 175 Orl. Pray thee, marry us. Cel. I cannot say the words. 130 Bos. You must begin, " Will you, Orlando — " Cel. Go to, Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind ? Orl I will. Hos. Aye, but when ? Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us. Bos. Then you must say, " I take thee, Rosalind, for wife." Orl. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 140 Bos. 1 might ask you for your commission ; but I do take thee, Orlando, for my husband : there's a girl goes before the priest ; and certainly a woman's thought runs before her actions. Orl. So do all thoughts ; they are winged. Bos. Now tell me how long you would have her after you have possessed her. Orl. For ever and a day. Bos. Say "a day," without the " ever." No, no, Orlando ; men are April when they woo, Decem- 150 ber when they wed : maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes wheu they are wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock- pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires than a monkey : T will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry; I 176 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV Avill laugh like a liyen, and that when thou art inclined to sleep. i6o Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? Bos. By my life, she will do as I do. Orl. O, but she is wise. Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to do this : the wiser, the way warder : make the doors upon a woman's wit and it will out at the case- ment ; shut that and 'twill out at the key-hole ; stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, 170 he might say, " Wit, whither Avilt ? " Mos. You shall never take her without her answer, unless you take her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool ! Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. Itos. Alas ! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. 180 Orl. I must attend the duke at dinner : by two o'clock I will be with thee again. Mos. Aye, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew what you Avould prove : my friends told me as much, and I thought no less : that flattering tongue of yours won me : 'tis but one cast away, and so, come, death ! Two o'clock is your hour? Orl. Aye, sweet Rosalind. Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 177 Bos. By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that are 190 not dangerous, if you break one jot of your prom- ise or come one minute behind your hour, I will think you the most pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that may be chosen out of the gross band of the unfaithful : therefore be- ware my censure and keep your promise. Orl. With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my Rosalind : so adieu. Bos. Well, Time is the old justice that exam- 200 ines all such offenders, and let Time try : adieu. [Uxit Orlando. Oel. You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate : we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. Bos. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love ! But it cannot be sounded : my affec- tion hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 210 Oel. Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour affection in, it runs out. Bos. No, that same wicked son of Venus that Avas begot of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness, that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I am in love. I'll 178 TIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando : I'll go find a shadow and sigh till he come. 220 Cel. And I'll sleep. [^Uxeunt. Scene II. The forest ^ Writer Jaques, Lords, and Foresters Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer? A Lord. Sir, it was I. Jaq. Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman conqueror ; and it would do well to set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have you no song, forester, for this purpose ? For. Yes, sir. Jaq. Sing it : 'tis no matter how it be in tune, 10 so it make noise enough. Song For. What shall he have that killed the deer? His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home ; \_The rest shall bear this burden. Take thou no scorn to wear the horn ; It was a crest ere thou wast born : Thy father's father wore it, And thy father bore it : The horn, the liorn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. [Exeunt. 1 This is a pretty sceue which serves to till up the time till two o'clock, when Orlaudo is to be back again. Scene III] ^.S YOU LIKE IT 179 Scene III. The forest Miter Rosalind and Celia Hos. How say j^ou now? Is it not past two o'clock? and here much Orlando ! Cel. I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth — to sleep. 1 Look, who comes here. Unfer SiLVius tSil. My errand is to you, fair youth ; My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : I know not the contents ; but, as I guess By the stern brow and waspish action lo Which she did use as she was writing of it. It bears an angry tenor : pardon me ; I am but as a guiltless messenger. Bos. Patience herself would startle at this letter And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all : She says I am not fair, that I lack manners ; She calls me proud, and that she could not love me. Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will ! Her love is not the hare that I do hunt : Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, 20 This is a letter of your own device. 1 Celia is not always comfortiug. 180 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV SiL No, I protest, I know not the contents : Phebe did write it. Ros. Come, come, you are a fool And turned into the extremity of love. I saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, A freestone-colored hand ; I verily did think That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands : She has a huswife's hand ; but that's no matter : I say she never did invent this letter ; This is a man's invention and his hand. 30 Sil. Sure, it is hers. Bos. Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style, A style for challengers ; why, she defies me. Like Turk to Christian : women's gentle brain Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter ? Sil. So please you, for I never lieard it yet ; Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. Bos. She Phebes me : mark how the tyrant writes. [Beads. 40 Art thou god to shepherd turned. That a maiden's heart hath burned ? Can a w^oman rail thus? Sil. Call you this railing? Bos. \_Beads~\ Why, thy godhead laid apart, Warr'st thou with a woman's lieart? Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 181 Did you ever hear such railmg? Whiles the eye of man did woo me, That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beast. 50 If the scorn of your bright eyne Have power to raise such love in mine, Alack, in me what strange effect Would they work in mild aspect ! Whiles you chid me, I did love ; How then might your prayers move ! He that brings this love to thee Little knows this love in me : And by him seal up thy mind ; Whether that thy youth and kind 60 Will the faithful offer take Of me and all that I can make ; Or else by him ni}^ love deny. And then I'll study how to die. Sil. Call you this chiding ? Oel. Alas, poor shepherd ! Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an instrument and play false strains upon thee ! not to be endured ! Well, go your 70 way to lier, for I see love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to her ; that if she love me, I charge her to love thee ; if she will not, I will never have her unless thou entreat for her. If 182 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV you be a true lover, hence, and not a word ; for here comes more company. \_Uxit SiLVius. Uyifer Oliver on. Good-morrow, fair ones : pray you, if you know, Where in the purlieus of this forest stands A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? Cel. West of this place, down in the neighbor bottom : 80 The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream Left on your riglit hand brings you to the place. But at this hour the house doth keep itself ; There's none within. Oil. If that an eye may profit by a tongue. Then should I know you by description ; Such garments and such years : " The boy is fair. Of female favor, and bestows himself Like a ripe sister : the woman low And browner than her brother." Are not you 90 The owner of the house I did inquire for ? Cel. It is no boast, being asked, to say we are. Oli. Orlando doth commend him to you both. And to that youth he calls his Rosalind He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he ? Ros. I am : what must we understand by this? Oli. Some of my shame ; if you will know of me What man I am, and liow, and wliy, and where This liandkercher was stained. Cel. I pray you, tell it. Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 183 on. When last the young Orlando parted from you 100 He left a promise to return again Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, Lo, what befel ! he threw his eye aside, And mark what object did present itself : Under an oak, whose boughs were mossed with age And high top bald with dry antiquity, A wretched ragged man, overgrown with hair, Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, no Who with her head nimble in threats approached The opening of his mouth ; bat suddenly. Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a busli : under which bush's shade A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch. When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 'tis The royal disposition of that beast To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead : 120 This seen, Orlando did approach the man And found it was his brother, his elder brother. Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother ; And he did render him the most unnatural That lived amongst men. Oli. And well he might so do, For well I know he was unnatural. 184 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV Eos. But, to Orlando : did he leave liim there, Food to the sucked and hungry lioness ? Oil. Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, 130 And nature, stronger than his just occasion, Made him give battle to the lioness. Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurtling From miserable slumber I awaked. Cel. Are you his brother ? Eos. Was't you he rescued ? Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him ? Oil. 'Twas I ; but 'tis not I : I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. Ros. But, for the bloody napkin ? OH. By and by. 140 When from the first to last betwixt us two Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, As how 1 came into that desert place : — In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, Who gave me fresh array and entertainment. Committing me unto my brother's love ; Who led me instantly unto his cave, There stripped himself, and here upon his arm The lioness had torn some flesh away. Which all this while had bled ; and now he fainted 150 And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. Brief, I recovered him, bound up his wound ; Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 185 And, after some small space, being strong at heart, He sent me hither, stranger as I am. To tell this story, that you might excuse His broken promise, and to give this napkin D^^ed in his blood unto the shepherd youth That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. [Rosalind swoons. Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede ! sweet Gany- mede ! on. Many will swoon when they do look on blood. i6o Cel. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede ! Oli. Look, he recovers. Ros. I would 1 were at home. Cel. We'll lead you thither. I pray you, will you take him by the arm ? Oli. Be of good cheer, youth : you a man ! you lack a man's heart. Ros. T do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think this was well counterfeited ! I pray you, tell your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho ! 170 Oli. This was not counterfeit : there is too great testimony in your complexion that it was a passion of earnest. Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. Oli. Well, then, take a good heart and counter- feit to be a man. Ros. So I do : but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. 186 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Cel. Come, you look paler and paler : pray you, draw homewards. Good sir, go with us. i8o OH. That will I, for I must bear answer back How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. Bos. 1 shall devise something : but, I pray you, commend my counterfeiting to him. Will you go ? l^Uxeunt. ACT V Scene I. The forest Enter Touchstone and Audrey Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey ; patience, gentle Audrey. Aud. Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old gentleman's saying. Touch. A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. Aud. Aye, I know who 'tis ; he hath no inter- est in me in the world : here comes the man you 10 mean. Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a clowu 1 : by ni}^ troth, we that have good wits have much to answer for ; we shall be flouting ; we cannot hold. Enter William Will. Good even, Audrey. Aud. God ye good even, William. 1 a commou country fellow. Scene I] AS YOU LIKE IT 187 Will. And good even to you, sir. Touch. Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy head ; nay, prithee, be covered. 20 How old are you, friend? Will. Five and twenty, sir. Touch. A ripe age. Is thy name William ? Will. William, sir. Touch. A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? Will. Aye, sir, I thank God. Touch. " Thank God " ; a good answer. Art rich ? Will. Faith, sir, so so. 30 Touch. " So so " is good, very good, very excel- lent good ; and yet it is not ; it is but so so. Art thou wise ? Will. Aye, sir, I have a pretty wit. Touch. Why, thou sayest well. I do now re- member a saying, " The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.'' The heathen philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, would open his lips when he put it into his mouth ; meaning thereby that grapes were 40 made to eat and lips to open. You do love this maid ? Will. I do, sir. Touch. Give me your hand. Art thou learned ? Will. No, sir. Touch. Then learn this of me : to have, is to have; for it is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being 188 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V poured out of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty the other ; for all your writers do consent that ipse is he : now, you are not ipse, for 50 T am he. Will. Which he, sir ? Touch. He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which is in the vulgar leave, — the society, — which in the boor- ish is company, — of this female, — which in the common is woman ; which together is, abandon the society of this female, or, clown, thou perish- est ; or, to thy better understanding, diest ; or, to Avit, I kill thee, make thee away, translate thy life 60 into death, thy liberty into bondage : I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel ; I will bandy with thee in faction ; I will o'er-run thee with policy ; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways : therefore tremble, and depart. Aud. Do, good William. Will. God rest you merry, sir. [^Uxit. Enter Corin Cor. Our master and mistress seeks you ; come, away, away ! Touch. Trip, Audrey ! trip, Audrey ! I attend, 70 1 attend. \_Exeunt. Scene II. The forest Enter Orlando and Oliver Orl. Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you should like her ? that but seeing you should Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT 189 love her ? and loving woo ? and, wooing, she should grant ? and will you persever to enjoy her ? on. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting ; but say with me, I love Aliena ; say with her that she loves me ; consent with both that we may enjoy lo each other : it shall be to your good ; for my father's house and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morroAV : thither will I invite the duke and all's contented followers. Go you and prepare Aliena ; for look you, here comes my Rosalind. Enter Rosalind Ros. God save you, brother. on. And you, fair sister. \^Exit. 20 Ros. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf ! Orl. It is my arm. Ros. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion. Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counter- feited to swoon when he showed me your hand- kercher ? 30 Orl. Aye, and greater wonders than that. 190 IIAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V Ros. O, 1 know where you are : ^ nay, 'tis true : there was never anything so sudden but the fight of two rams and Csesar's thrasonical brag of " I came, saw, and overcame " : for your brother and my sister no sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remed}^ ; and in these de- ^o grees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage wliich they will climb incontinent : they are in the very Avrath of love and they will together ; clubs cannot part them. Orl. They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into liappiness through another man's eyes ! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy in 50 having wliat he wishes for. Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? Orl. I cau live no longer by thinking. ^ Ros. I will weary you no longer with idle talk- ing. Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose, that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit : I S2:)eak not this tliat you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch I say I 1 What you mean. 2 Like the Lady of Shalott, he is sick of shadows. Scene II] AS YOU LIKE IT' 191 know you are ; neither do I labor for a greater 60 esteem than may in some little measure draw a belief from you, to do yourself good and not to grace me. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things : I have, since I was three year old, conversed with a magician, most profound in his art and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her : I know into what straits of fortune she is driven ; and it is not impossible to me, if it 70 appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes to-morrow human as she is and without any danger. Orl. Speakest thou in sober meanings ? Mos. By my life, I do ; which I tender dearly, though I say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your best array ; bid your friends ; for if 3^ou will be married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. Unter SiLVius and Phebe Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. 80 Phe. Youth, you have done me much ungentle- ness, To show the letter that I writ to you. Hos. I care not if I have : it is my study To seem despiteful and ungentle to you : You are there followed by a faitliful shepherd ; 192 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Look upon liim, love him ; he worships you. Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. Sil. It is to be all made of siglis and tears ; And so am I for Phebe. Phe. And I for Ganymede. 90 0)4. And I for Rosalind. Bos. And I for no woman. Sil. It is to be all made of faith and service : And so am I for Phebe. Phe. And I for Ganymede. Orl. And I for Rosalind. Hos. And I for no woman. Sil. It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion and all made of wishes, All adoration, duty, and observance, 100 All humbleness, all patience and impatience. All purity, all trial, all observance ; And so am I for Phebe. Phe. And so am I for Ganymede. Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. Pos. And so am I for no woman. Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to love you? Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to love you ? no Orl. If this be so, why blame jon me to love you ? Ros. Why do you speak too, "Why blame you me to love you " ? Scene III] AS YOU LIKE IT 193 Orl. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. Bos. Pray you, no more of this ; 'tis like the howling of Irish wolves against the moon. \_To SiL.] I will help you, if I can : [To Phe.] I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. \_To Phe.] I will marry you, if ever I 120 marry woman, and I'll be married to-morrow: [To Orl.] I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you shall be married to-morrow : \^To SiL.] I will content you, if what pleases you con- tents you, and you shall be married to-morrow. \_To Orl.] As you love Rosalind, meet : ^To Sil.] as you love Phebe, meet : and as I love no woman, I'll meet. So fare you well : I have left you commands. Sil I'll not fail, if I live. 130 Phe. Nor I. Orl. Nor I. [Uxeunt. Scene III. The forest Enter Touchstone and Audrey Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey ; to-morrow will we be married. And. I do desire it with all my heart ; and I hope it is no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the world. Here come two of the banished duke's pages. Enter two Pages First Page. Well met, honest gentleman. 194 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Touch. By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. 10 Second Page. We are for you : sit i' the middle. First Page. Shall we clap into 't roundly, with- out hawking or sjDitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only prologues to a bad voice ? Second Page. V faith, i' faith ; and both in a tune, like two gypsies on a horse. Song It was a lover and his lass. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. That o'er the green corn-field did pass In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 20 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. These pretty country folks would lie. In spring time, etc. This carol they began that hour. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino. How that a life was but a flower In spring time, etc. 30 And therefore take the present time. With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino ; For love is crowned with the prime In spring time, etc. Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 195 Touch. Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the note was very untuneable. First Page. You are deceived, sir : we kept time, we lost not our time. Touch. By my troth, yes ; I count it but time 40 lost to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and God mend your voices ! Come, Audrey. [^FJxeunt. Scene IV. The forest Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, Orlando, Oliver, and Celia Buke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy Can do all this that he hath promised? Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe Ros. Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged ; You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, You will bestow her on Orlando here ? Duke S. That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. Ros. And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? 196 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V 10 Orl. That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. Hos. You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? Phe. That will I, should I die the hour after. Hos. But if you do refuse to marry me, You'll give yourself to this most faithful shep- herd ? Phe. So is the bargain. Mos. You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? Sil. Though to have her and death were both one thing. JRos. I have promised to make all this matter even. Keep you your w^ord, O duke, to give your daughter ; 20 You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter : Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me. Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd : Keep your word, Silvius, that 3^ou'll marry her. If she refuse me : and from hence I go. To make these doubts all even. [Uxeimt Rosalind and Celia. Duke S. I do remember in this shepherd boy Some lively touches of my daughter's favor. Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him Methought he was a brother to your daughter: 3° But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, And hath been tutored in the rudiments Of many desperate studies by his uncle. Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 197 Whom he reports to be a great magician, Obscured in the circle of this forest. U7ite7' Touchstone and Audrey Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 40 Jaq. Good my lord, bid him w^elcome : this is the motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. 1 I have trod a measure ; I have flattered a lady ; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy ; 1 have undone three tailors ; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. Jaq. And how was that ta'en up? 50 Touch. Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. Jaq. How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. I>uke S. I like him very well. Touch. God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear and to forswear; 1 Purgation was a legal trial whereby one publicly cleaned one's self from guilt of which one was accused. It was sometimes ecclesiastical, as by taking oath, sometimes legal, as in the trial by combat or otherwise. 198 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V according as marriage binds and blood breaks : a poor virgin, sir, an ill-favored thing, sir, but mine 60 own ; a poor liumor of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will : rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house ; as your pearl in your foul oyster. Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. Jaq. But, for the seventh cause ; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause ? Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed : — 70 bear your body more seeming, Audrey : — as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard : he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was : this is called the Retort Courteous. If I sent him word again "it was not well cut," he would send me word, he cut it to please himself : this is called the Quip Modest. If again " it was not well cut," he disabled my judgment : this is called the Reply Churlish. If again " it was not well cut," he 80 would answer, 1 spake not true : this is called the Reproof Valiant. If again " it was not well cut," he would say I lied : this is called the Counter- check Quarrelsome : and so to the Lie Circum- stantial and the Lie Direct. Jaq. And how often did you say his beard was not well cut ? Touch. I durst go no further than the Lie Cir- Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 199 cumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct ; and so we measured swords and parted. 90 Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the deoTces of the lie? Touch. O, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book ; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance ; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All these you may avoid but the Lie 100 Direct ; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I. knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, ''If you said so, then I said so " ; and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? he's as good at anything and yet a fool. Buke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse no and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia^ Still Music Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, When earthly things made even 1 This seems to be a sort of pageant invented by Rosalind to carry out her idea. 200 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act V Atone ^ together. Good duke, receive thy daugliter : Hymen from heaven brought her. Yea, brouglit her hither. That thou mightst join her hand with his Whose heart within her bosom is. Mos. \_To duke'] To you I give myself, for I am yours. 120 \_To Orl.] To you I give myself, for I am yours. Buke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. Orl. If there be trutli in sight, you are my Rosalind. Phe. If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love, adieu ! Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he : I'll have no husband, if you be not he : Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. Hym. Peace, ho ! I bar confusion : 'Tis I must make conclusion 130 Of these most strange events : Here's eight that must take hands To join in Hymen's bands, If truth holds true contents. You and you no cross shall part : You ajid you are heart in heart : You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord : 1 The word has here its original, nou-techuical meaning of " are at one." Scene lY] AS YOU LIKE IT 201 You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather. 140 Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing, Feed yourselves with questioning ; That reason wonder may diminish. How thus we met, and these things finish. Song Wedding is great Juno's crown : O blessed bond of board and bed ! 'Tis Hymen peoples every town ; High wedlock then be honored: Honor, high honor and renown. To Hymen, god of every town ! 150 Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me ! Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine ; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. Unter Jaques de Boys Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two : I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. Duke Frederick, hearing how that very day Men of great worth resorted to this forest. Addressed a mighty power,^ which were on foot, 160 In his own conduct, purposely to take 1 prepared an army. 202 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V His brother here and put him to the sword : And to the skirts of this wild wood he came : Where meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the Avorld, His crown bequeathing to his banished brother, And all their lands restored to them again That were with him exiled. This to be true, I do engage my life. Duke S. Welcome, young man ; 170 Thou oifer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding, To one his lands withheld, and to the other A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest let us do those ends That here were well begun and well begot : And after, every of this happy number That have endured shrewd days and nights with us Shall share the good of our returned fortune. According to the measure of their states. Meantime, forget this new-falFn dignity 180 And fall into our rustic revelry. Play, music. And you, brides and bridegrooms all. With measure heaped in joy, to the measures fall. Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly. The duke hath put on a religious life And thrown into neglect the pompous court. Jaq. de B. He hath. Scene IV] AS YOU LIKE IT 203 Jaq. To him will I : out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learned. ITo duke] You to your former honor I bequeath: 190 Your patience and your virtue well deserves it : [ To Orl. ] You to a love that your true faith doth merit : \_ToOli.] You to your land and love and great allies : \^To SU.~\ You to a long and well-deserved bed: \_To Touch.] And you to wrangling ; for thy lov- ing voyage Is but for two months victualled. So, to your pleasures : I am for other than for dancing measures.^ Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. Jaq. To see no pastime I : what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandoned cave. \_Uxit. 200 Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. \_A dance. Epilogue 2 Bos. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue ; but it is no more unhandsome than to 1 Jaques is the only one who is at all consistent. The eagerness with which all rush back to their former positions, shows the hol- lowuess of all such protestations as the speech of the Duke (II., i., 1) or such glamourings as the song of Amiens (II., v., 1, 39). 2 As You Like It, like A Midsummer-Night's Dream and The Tempest, has an epilogue, and in each case the object is the same, to conciliate the audience and gain their applause. 204 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V, Sc. IV see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue ; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinu- ate with you in the behalf of a good play ! I am 10 not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me : my way is to conjure you ; and I'll begin with tlie women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you : and I charge you, men, for the love you bear to women — as I per- ceive by your simpering, none of you hates them — that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions 20 that liked me and breaths that I defied not ; and, 1 am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. lUxeunt. THE TEMPEST DRAMATIS PERSONS Aloxso, King of Naples. Sebastiax, his brother. Prospero, the right Duke of Milan. Antonio, his brother, the usurphig Duke of Milan. Ferdinand, sou to the King of Naples. GoNZALO, an honest old Counselor. Adrian, 1 ^ „ V Lords. Francisco, j Caliban, a savage and deformed Slave. Trinculo, a* Jester. Stephano, a drunken Butler. Master of a Ship. Boatswain. Mariners. Miranda, daughter to Prospero. Ariel, an airj- Spirit. Iris, Ceres, Juno, [ presented by Spirits Nymphs, Reapers, Other Spirits attending on Prospero.^ Scene : A ship at sea : an Island. THE TEMPEST ACT I Scene I. On a ship at sea; a tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard ^ Enter a Ship-Master and a Boatswain. Mast. Boatswain ! Boats. Here, master : what cheer ? Mast. Good, speak to the mariners : fall to 't, yarely, or we run ourselves aground : bestir, bestir. [^Exit. Enter Mariners Boats. Heigh, my hearts ! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts I yare, yare ! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough ! ^ 1 This scene is an introduction to the rest of the play, in that it accounts for all the strangers' being upon the island. It is not like a prologue, however, for it does not explain what it is needful to understand to have the mutual position of the characters : Pros- pero does that himself in sc. ii. 2 It has been said by sailors that these orders have each some significance, and that an intelligent one. The ship is evidently being blown on the rocks of a lee shore ; the boatswain takes in sail, and tries to get to sea (1. 50), knowing that if he have sea- room (1. 8) he can stand any wind. But she makes too much lee- way and gets on the rocks. 207 208 nAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Ferdi- nand, GoNZALO, and others Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's 10 the master ? Play the men. Boats. I pray now, keep below. Ant. Where is the master, boatswain ? Boats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our labor : keep your cabins : you do assist the storm. G-071. Nay, good, be patient. Boats. When the sea is. Hejice ! What cares these roarers for the name of king ! To cabin : silence ! trouble us not. Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast 20 aboard. Boats. None that I more love than myself. You are a counselor ; if you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority : if you cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts I Out of our way, I say. ^Exit. Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow : 3omethinkshe hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging : make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advan- tage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case is miserable. \^Exeunt Scene I] THE TEMPEST 209 Re-enter Boatswain Boats. Down with the topmast ! yare ! lower, k)wei' I Bring lier to try Avith main-course. [A cry tvitJmi.] A plague upon this howling ! they are louder than the Aveather or our office. Re-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo 40 Yet again ! what do you here ? Shall we give o'er and drown ? Have you a mind to sink ? Seh. A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphe- mous, in charitable dog ! Boats. Work you then. Ant. Hang, cur ! hang, you insolent noise- maker ! We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. G-on. I'll warrant him for drowning ; though ' the ship were no stronger than a nutshell. Boats. Lay her a-hold, a-hold ! set her two 50 courses off to sea again ; lay her off. Enter Mariners ivet Mariners. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers ! all lost ! Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ? Go7i. The king and prince at prayers ! let's assist them. For our case is as theirs. Seh. I'm out of patience. Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards : 210 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I This wide -chapped rascal — would thou mightst lie drowning The washing of ten tides ! Gron. He'll be hanged yet, Though every drop of water swear against it And gape at widest to glut him. [A eo?ifused 7ioise ivithhi : " Mercy on us ! " — 60 " We split, we split ! " — " Farewell my wife and children ! " — " Farewell, brother ! " — " We split, we split, we split ! "] Ant. Let's all sink with the king. Seb. Let's take leave of him. \_ExeAint Ant. and Seb. Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any thing. The wills above be done ! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exeunt. Scene IL The island.^ Before Prospeeo's cell Enter Prospero and Miranda Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you ^ have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. 1 Much speculation has been spun upon the question where the island was. Mr. Rudyard Kipling of late revived the idea, based on some geographical resemblances, that it was one of the Ber- mudas. But one of the few real allusions to places makes it sure that the island was not one of the Bermudas: once when Prospero wanted dew from the Bermudas (I., ii., 229) he sent Ariel for it. Naturally we should suppose that the island was somewhere be- tween Tunis, whence the fleet set sail, and Naples, whither it was bound. It does not appear that they had been blown far from their course. 2 xhis is the emphatic word. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 211 The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch. But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek. Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer : a brave vessel. Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her. Dashed all to pieces. O, the cry did knock Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perished. 10 Had I been any god of power, I would Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere It should the good ship so have swallowed and The fraughting souls within her. Pros. Be collected : No more amazement : tell your piteous heart There's no harm done. Mir. O, woe the day ? Pros. No harm. I have done nothing but in care of thee, Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing Of whence I am, nor that I am more better 20 Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell. And thy no greater father. Mir. More to know Did never meddle with ni}^ thoughts. Pros. 'Tis time I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand. And pluck my magic garment from me. So : \_Lai/s doivn his mantle. 212 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Lie there, my art.^ Wipe thou thine eyes ; have comfort. The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touched The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul — 30 No, not so much perdition as an hair Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down ; For thou must noAv know farther. Mi7\ You have often Begun to tell me what I am, but stopped And left me to a bootless inquisition. Concluding "Stay : not 3^et." P7^os. The hour's now come ; The very minute bids thee ope thine ear ; Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember A time before we came unto this cell ? 40 1 do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not Out three years old. Mir. Certainly, sir, I can. Pros, By what ? by any other house or person ? Of anything the image tell me that Hath kept with thy remembrance. Mir. 'Tis far ofe And rather like a dream than an assurance That my remembrance warrants. Had I not Four or five Avomen once that tended me ? 1 His mantle was the means and symbol of his magic art. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 213 Pros. Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else 50 In the dark backward and abysm of time ? If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, How thou camest here thou mayst. Mir. But that I do not. Pros. Twelve years since, Miranda, twelve years since. Thy father was the Duke of Milan and A prince of power.. Mir. Sir, are not you my father ? Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father Was Duke of Milan ; and thou his only heir And princess no worse issued. Mir. O the heavens ! 60 What foul play did we, that we came from thence ? Or blessed was't we did ? Pros. Both, both, my girl : By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence, But blessedly holp hither. Mir. O, my heart bleeds To think o' the teen that I have turned you to. Which is from my remembrance ! Please you farther. Pros. My brother and thy uncle, called An- tonio — ^ 1 This speech and those following are characteristic of Shake- speare's later style. They are so full of thought that they are 214 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS. [Act I I pray thee, mark me — that a brother should Be so perfidious ! — he whom next thyself Of all the world I loved and to him put 70 The manage of my state ; as at that time Through all the signories it was the first And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed In dignity, and for the liberal arts Without a parallel ; those being all my study. The government I cast upon my brother And to my state grew stranger, being transported And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle — Dost thou attend me ? Mir. Sir, most heedfuUy. Pros. Being once perfected how to grant suits, 80 How to deny them, who to advance and who To trash for over-topping, new created The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em. Or else new formed 'em ; having both the key Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state To what tune pleased his ear ; that now he was The ivy which had hid my princely trunk. And sucked my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. Mir. O, good sir, I do. Pros. I pray tliee, mark me. sometimes very loose in grammatical structure. That is, the elabo- rate idea is expressed in all sorts of modifyhig words and clauses, so that even correctness of construction is sometimes lost sight of, as in 11. 97-103 where the general meaning is quite plain. Cases of the same sort are not rare in this play, as 1. 327 of this scene ; 11., i.,132; III., i., 15. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 215 I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated 90 To closeness and the bettering of my mind With that which, but by being so retired, O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother Awaked an evil nature ; and my trust, Like a good parent, did beget of him A falsehood in its contrary as great As my trust was ; which had indeed no limit, A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, Not only with what my revenue yielded. But what my power might else exact, like one 100 Who having into truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory. To credit his own lie, he did believe He was indeed the duke ; out o' the substitu- tion. And executing the outward face of royalty. With all prerogative : hence his ambition grow- ing- Dost thou hear ? Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Pros. To have no screen between this part he played And him he played it for, he needs will be Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library no Was dukedom large enough : of temporal royalties He thinks me now incapable ; confederates — So dry he was for sway — wi' the King of Naples To give him annual tribute, do him homage, Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend 216 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I The dukedom yet unbowed — alas, poor Milan ! — To most ignoble stooping. Mir. O the heavens ! Pros. Mark liis condition and the event ; then tell me If this might be a brother. 3Iir. I should sin To think but nobly of my grandmother : 120 (xood wombs have borne bad sons. Pros. Now the condition. This King of Naples, being an enemy To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit ; Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises Of homage and I know not how much tribute. Should presently extirpate me and mine Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan With all tlie honors on my brother : whereon, A treacherous army levied, one midnight Fated to the purpose did Antonio open 130 The gates of ]\Iilan, and, i' the dead of darkness, The ministers for the purpose hurried thence Me and thy crying self. Mir. Alack, for pity ! I, not remembering how I cried out then. Will cry it o'er again : it is a hint That wrings mine eyes to 't. Pros. Hear a little further And then I'll bring thee to the present business Which now's upon's ; without the which this story Were most impertinent. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 217 Mir. Wherefore did they not That hour destroy us? Pros. Well demanded, wench : 140 My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not. So dear the love my people bore me, nor set A mark so bloody on the business, but With colors fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea ; where they prepared A rotten carcass of a butt, not rigged, Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us. To cry to the sea that roared to us, to sigh 150 To the winds whose pity, sighing back again. Did us but loving wrong. Mir. Alack, what trouble Was I tlien to you ! Pros. O, a cherubin ^ Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have decked the sea with drops full salt. Under my burthen groaned ; which raised in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue. Mir. How came we ashore? Pros. By Providence divine. t6o Some food we had and some fresh water that 1 This word, which looks like the Hebrew plural in -im, is prob- ably borrowed from the French singular of the same form. 218 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, Out of his charity, who being then appointed Master of this design, did give us, with Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries. Which since have steaded much ; so, of his gentle- ness. Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. Mir. Would I might But ever see that man ! Pros. Now I arise: [Besumes Ms mantle. 170 Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorroAv. Here in this island we arrived ; and here Have T, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can that have more time For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. Mir. Heavens thank you for't ! And now, I pray you, sir. For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason For raising this sea-storm? Pros. Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies 180 Brought to this shore ] and by my prescience I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: Scene II] THE TEMPEST 219 Thou art inclined to sleep: 'tis a good dullness, And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. [Miranda sleeps. Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approacli, my Ariel, come. Enter Ariel Ari, All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come lyo To answer thy best pleasure ; be't to fly. To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride On the curled clouds, to thy strong bidding task Ariel and all his quality. Pros. Hast thou, spirit. Performed to point the tempest that I bade thee ? Ari. To every article. I boarded the king's ship ; now on the beak, Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, I flamed amazement : sometime Fid divide, And burn in many places ; on the topmast, 200 The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly. Then meet and join.^ Jove's lightnings, the pre- cursors O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary And sight-outrunning were not ; the fire and cracks Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble. Yea, his dread trident shake. 1 Shakespeare had in mind an actual phenomenon called "St. Elmo's fire." 220 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Pros. My brave spirit ! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil Would not infect his reason ? Ari. Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad and played 210 Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners Plunged in the foaming brine and quit tlie vessel. Then all afire with me : the king's son, Ferdinand, With hair up-staring, — then like reeds, not hair, — Was the first man that leaped ; cried, " Hell is empty. And all the devils are here." Pros. Why, that's my spirit ! But was not this nigh shore ? A7'i. Close by, my master. Pros. But are they, Ariel, safe? Ari. Not a hair perished ; On their sustaining garments not a blemish. But fresher than before : and, as tliou badest me, 220 In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. The king's son have I landed by himself ; Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs In an odd angle of the isle, and sitting. His arms in this sad knot. Pros. Of the king's ship, The mariners, say how thou hast disposed And all the rest o' the fleet. Ari. Safely in harbor Is the king's ship ; in the deep nook, where once Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew Scene II] THE TEMPEST 221 From the still-vexed Berinoothes, there she's hid : 230 The mariners all under hatches stowed ; Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labor, I have left asleep : and for the rest o' the fleet Which I dispersed, they all have met again And are upon the Mediterranean flote, Bound sadly home for Naples, Supposing that they saw the king's ship wrecked And his great person perish. Pros. Ariel, thy charge Exactly is performed : but there's more work. What is the time o' the day ? Ari. Past the mid season. 240 Pros. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now ^ Must by us both be spent most preciously. Ari. Is there more toil ? Since thou dost give me pains. Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, Which is not yet performed me. Pros. How now ? moody ? What is't thou canst demand ? Ari. My liberty. Pros. Before the time be out ? no more ! 1 By the indications of time we see that the action of the play is hardly longer than the time actually taken in acting. The three unities, as they were called, of time, place, and action, are pre- served. Shakespeare as a rule paid little attention to such matters: in this, almost his last play, he may have amused himself by easily observing dramatic restrictions that he previously had held not worth a thought. 222 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I A7'i. I prithee, Remember I have done thee worthy service ; Tohl thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served Without or grudge or grumblings : thou didst promise 250 To bate me a full year. Pros. Dost thou forget From what a torment I did free thee ? Ari. No. Pros. Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep, To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o' the earth When it is baked with frost. Ari. I do not, sir. Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing ! Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop ? hast thou forgot her ? 260 Ari. No, sir. Pros. Thou hast. Where was she born ? speak: tell me. Ari. Sir, in Argier. Pros. O, Avas she so ? I must Once in a month recount Avhat thou hast been. Which thou forget'st. This damned witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier, Thou know'st, was banished : for one thing she did Scene II] THE TEMPEST 223 They would not take her life. Is not this true ? Ari. Aye, sir. Pros. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child 270 And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant ; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorred commands, Refusing her grand bests, she did confine thee. By help of her more potent ministers And in her most unmitigable rage, Into a cloven pine ; within which rift Imprisoned thou didst painfully remain A dozen years ; within which space she died 280 And left thee there : where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island — Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckled whelp hag-born — not honored with A human shape. Ari. Yes, Caliban her son. Pros. Dull thing, I say so ; he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st What torment I did find thee in ; thy groans Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts Of ever angry bears : it was a torment 290 To lay upon the damned, which Sycorax Could not again undo : it was mine art. When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape 224 HAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act I The pine and let thee out. jiri. I thank thee, master. Pros. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails till Thou hast howled away twelve winters. Ari. Pardon, master ; I will be correspondent to command And do my spiriting gently. Pros. Do so, and after two days I will discharge thee. A?'i. That's my noble master ! 300 What shall I do ! say what ; what shall I do ? Pros. Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea : be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape And hither come in't : go, hence with diligence ! [Uxit Ariel. Awake, dear heart, awake ! thou hast slept well ; Awake I Mir. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Pros. Shake it off. Come on ; We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never 310 Yields us kind answer. Mir. 'Tis a villain, sir, I do not love to look on. Pros. But, as 'tis, We cannot miss him : he does make our fire. Fetch in our wood and serves in offices Scene II] THE TEMPEST 225 That profit us. What, ho ! slave ! Caliban ! Thou earth, thou I speak. Cal. [Wit1mi\ There's wood enough within. Pros. Come forth, I say ! there's other business for thee : Come, thou tortoise ! when ? Re-enter Ariel like a water nymph Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel, Hark in thine ear. Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exit. 320 Pros. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth ! Enter Caliban i Cal. As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed With raven's feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both ! a south-west blow on ye And blister you all o'er ! Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work. All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinched 330 As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em. 1 Caliban, in spite of the harm he tries to do, is still an attractive creature. He is something like a great, awkward, overgrown boy; violent, loyal to his self-chosen guides, and (in spite of being ab- normal) natural. One ought to read Browning's "Caliban upon Setebos." 226 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first. Thou strok'dst me and mad'st much of me, wouldst give me Water witli berries in't, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less. That burn by day and night : and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' the isle. The fresh- springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile : 340 Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king : and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' the island. Pros. Abhorred slave, Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill I I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, 350 Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutisli, T endowed thy purposes ^Vitll words that made them known. But thy vile race. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 227 Though thou didst learn, had that in't which good natures Could not abide to be Avith ; therefore wast thou Deservedly confined into this rock, Who hadst deserved more than a prison. Oal. You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language ! Pros. Hag seed, hence ! 360 Fetch us in fuel ; and be quick, thou'rt best. To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice ? If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all th}^ bones with aches, make thee roar Tliat beasts shall tremble at thy din. Cal. No, pray thee. [^s^t?e] I must obey : his art is of such power. It would control my dam's god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him. Pros. So, slave ; hence ! \^Exit Caliban. Re-enter Ariel, invisible., jylaying and singing ; Ferdinand following Ariel's song'^ Come unto these yellow sands, 370 And then take hands : Courtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist, 1 Ariel is now " like a nymph o' the sea." 228 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act] Foot it featly here and there ; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Burthen [^dispersedly']. Hark, hark ! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark i Bow-wow. Ari. Hark, hark ! I hear 380 The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. Fer. Where should this music be ? i' the air or the earth ? It sounds no more : and, sure, it waits upon Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air : thence I have followed it. Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. 390 No, it begins again. Ariel sings Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothino^ of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Burthen. Ding-dong. Ari. Hark I now I hear them, — Ding-dong, bell. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 229 400 Fer. The ditty does remember my drowned father. This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. Pros. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance And say what thou seest yond. Mir. What is't ? a spirit ? 1 Lord, how it looks about ! Believe me, sir. It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. Pros. No, wench ; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck ; and, but he's something stained 410 With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person : he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em. Mir. I might call him A thing divine, for nothing natural I ever saw so noble. Pros. \^Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit I I'll free thee Within two days for this. Fer. Most sure, the goddess On whom these airs attend ! Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island ; And that you will some good instruction give 1 She had seen no man but her father and Caliban. 230 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I 420 How I may bear me here : my prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder I If 3^ou be maid or no ? Mi7\ No Avonder, sir ; But certainly a maid. Fer. ]My language ! heavens.! I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where 'tis spoken. Pros. How ? the best ? " What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee ? Fer. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me ; And that he does I Aveep : myself am Naples, 430 Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The king my father wrecked. Mir. Alack, for mercy I Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords ; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. Pros. \_Aside~\ The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee. If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, I'll set thee free for this. [To Fer.] A w^ord, good sir ; I fear you have done yourself some wrong : a word. Mir. Wh}^ speaks my father so ungently ? This 440 Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first Tliat e'er I sighed for : pity move my father To be inclined my way ! ScKNElI] THE TEMPEST 231 Fer. O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. Pros. Soft, sir ! one word more. \_A8ide'] Tliey are both in either's poAvers ; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To Fek.] One word more : I charge tliee. That thou attend me : thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not ; and hast put thyself 450 Upon this island as a spy, to win it From me, the lord on't. Fer. No, as I am a man. Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple : If the ill spirit have so fair a house. Good things will strive to dwell with't. Pros. Follow me. Speak not you for him ; he's a traitor. Come ; I'll manacle thy neck and feet together : Sea- water shalt thou drink ; tiiy food shall be The fresh-brook mussels, withered roots and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. Fer. No ; 460 I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power. \_Draivs^ ayid is charmed from moving. Mir. O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him, for 232 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act I, Sc. II He's gentle and not fearful. Pros. What ? I say, My foot my tutor ! Put thy sword up, traitor ; Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience Is so possessed with guilt : come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop. Mir. Beseech you, father. Pros. Hence ! hang not on my garments. Mir. Sir, have pity ; 470 I'll be his surety. P7^os. Silence ! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What ! An advocate for an impostor ! hush ! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban : foolish wench ! To the most of men this is a Caliban And the}' to him are angels. Mir. My affections Are then most humble ; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. Pros. Come on ; obey : Thy nerves are in their infancy again 480 And have no vigor in them. Fer. So they are ; My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Act n, Sc. I] THE TEMPEST 233 Might 1 but througli my prison once a day Behold this maid : all corners else o' the earth Let liberty make use of ; space enough Have I in such a prison. Pros. \_Aside~\ It works. [To Fer.] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel ! [To Fer.] Follow me. 490 [^To Ari.~\ Hark what thou else shalt do me. Mir. Be of comfort ; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech : this is unwonted Which now came from him. Pros. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds : but then exactly do All points of my command. Ari. To the syllable. Pros. Come, follow. Speak not for him. \_Uxeunt. ACT n Scene I. Another part of the island^ Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others G-on. Beseech you, sir, be merry ; you have cause. So have we all, of joy ; for our escape 1 This scene serves to give us an idea of the different characters of those cast upon the island. Alonso is lost in grief at the loss of Ferdinand, but the others have enough to say. The wit, where there is any, is not very fine : it serves, however, to show the lieart- lessness of Antonio (whose character has not improved with years) and of Sebastian, who seems about as bad as he. 234 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common ; every day some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant Have just our theme of woe ; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort. Alon. Prithee, peace. 10 Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. jSeb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit ; by and by it will strike. G-on. Sir, — Seb. One; tell. G-071. When every grief is entertained that's offered, Comes to the entertainer — Seb. A dollar. G-on. Dolor comes to him, indeed ; you have 20 spoken truer than you purposed. Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Gon. Therefore, my lord, — Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ! Alon. I prithee, spare. Gon. Well, I have done : but yet, — Seb. He will be talking. Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow ? 30 Seb. The old cock. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 235 Ant. The cockerel. Seb. Done. The wager ? A7it. A laughter. Seh. A match ! Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, — Seh. Ha, ha, ha ! So, you're paid. Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible, — Seh. Yet,— Adr. Yet,— 40 Ant. He could not miss't. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate temperance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seh. Aye, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly delivered. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Seh. As if it had lungs and rotten ones. Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life. 50" Ant. True ; save means to live. Seh. Of that there's non^, or little. Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green ! Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. Seh. With an eye of green in't. Ant. He misses not much. Seh. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, — which is indeed almost beyond credit, — 60 Seh. As many vouched rarities are. 236 HAWrnORNE classics [Act II Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched m the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. A7it. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies ? Seb. Aye, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage 70 of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow ! a pox o' that ! How came that widow in ? widow Dido ! aS'^^. What if he had said " Avidower JEneas " too ? 80 Good Lord, how you take it ! Adr. " Widow Dido " said you ? you make me study of that ; she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage ? Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Seb. His word is more than the miraculous harp ; ^ he hath raised the wall and houses too. 1 The harp was perhaps that of Amphion, the music of which raised the walls of Thebes. Carthage was utterly destroyed by the Romans: Sebastian speaks as though Gonzalo had called it back into being. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 237 Ant. What impossible matter will lie make easy next ? 90 Seh. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. Alon. Aye. Ant. Why, in good time. G-on. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. [00 Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. aS'^^. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. O, widow Dido ! aye, widow Dido. G-071. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it ? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fished for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never no Married my daughter there ! for, coming thence. My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed I ne'er asfain shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee ? Fran. Sir, he may live: 238 HAWTIIORXE CLASSICS [Act II I saw liiiii beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swohi that met him; his bold head 120 'Bove the contentious Avaves he kept, and oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed. As stooping to relieve him : I not doubt He came alive to land. Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss. That would not bless our Europe with your daughter. But rather lose her to an African; Where she at least is banished from your eye. Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. Alon. Prithee, peace. 130 Seh. You were kneeled to and importuned otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weighed between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, forever: Milan and Naples have Moe^ widow^s in them of this business' making 1 This is the form of which more is the comparative. In Shake- speare's time it was almost obsolete and is not found often ; once in v., i., 234. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 239 Than we bring men to comfort them : The fault's your own. Alon. So is the dearest o' the loss. G-071. My lord Sebastian, The truth yoii speak doth lack some gentleness 140 And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. Seh. Very well. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. G-071. It is foal weather in us all, good sir. When you are cloudy. Seh. Foul weather ? Ant. Very foul. G-on. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, — Ant. He 'Id sow't with nettle-seed. Seh. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do? Seh. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. G-071. I' the commonwealth I would by con- traries 150 Execute all things; ^ for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate: Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, 1 This speech of Gonzalo's, meant merely to divert tlie king from his grief, is an ilkistration of the turn that men's minds took in Shakespeare's day toward the imagining of ideal forms of society, like the " Utopia" of Sir Thomas More, some little while hefore. This particular imagination is thought to have heen suggested by a passage in Montaigne's "Essays," which Shakespeare may have had in Florio's translation. 240 JrAWTHOBNE CLASSICS [Act II And use of service, none : contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation: all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty; — Seh. Yet he Avould be king on't Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth for- i6ogets the beginning. 1 Gron. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavor: treason, felony. Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine. Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance. To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? A)Lt. None, man; all idle. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, 170 To excel the golden age. Seh. Save his majesty! Aiit. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. And, — do you mark me, sir ? Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did 1 Gonziilo in his interest at the end, has forj;otten his beginning. Shakespeare does not seem to have had much faith in such schem- ing: Avlien he presents the populace in his plaj's, it is commonly as light-headed and unreasonable as in Julius Csesar. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 241 it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you we laughed at. G-on. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you : so you may continue and laugh iSoat nothing stilL Ant. What a blow was there given ! Seh. An it had not fallen flat-long. G-on. You are gentlemen of brave mettle ; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Eiiter Ariel, invisible., playing solemn music Seh. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you ; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me 190 asleep, for I^am very heavy? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep ! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : I find They are inclined to do so. Seh. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth. It is a comforter. 242 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Ant. We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest And watch your safety. Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. 200 Seh. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seh. ^ Why Doth it not then our ej'elids sink ? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent ; They dropped as by a thunder-stroke. What might. Worthy Sebastian ? O, what might ? — No more : — And yet methinks I see it in thy face. What thou shouldst be : the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown 210 Dropping upon thy head. Seh. What, art thou waking ? Ant. Do you not hear me speak ? Seh. I do ; and surely It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. Ant. Noble Sebastian, Scene I] THE TEMPEST 243 Thou let'st thy fortune sleep — die, rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seh. Thou clost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. 220 Ant. I am more serious than my custom : you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. Seh. Well, I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Seh. Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it ! how, in stripping it, You more invest it ! Ebbing men, indeed. Most often do so near the bottom run By tlieir own fear or sloth. Seh. Prithee, say on : 230 The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth indeed Which throes thee much to yield. Ant. Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, Who shall be of as little memory When he is earthed, hath here almost persuaded, — For he's a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade, — the king liis son's alive, 'Tis as impossible that he's undrowned As he that sleeps here swims. Seh. I have no hope 244 IIAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II 240 That he's undrowiied. Aiit. O, out of that " no hope " What great hope have you ! 110 hope that way is Another way so high a hope that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drowned ? Seh. He's gone. Ant. Then, tell me, Who's the next heir of Naples ? Seb. Claribel. Ant. She that is queen of Tunis ; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life ; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post — 250 The man i' the moon's too slow — till new-born chins Be rough and razorable ; she that — from whom We all were sea-swallowed, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. Seh. What stuff is this ! how say you ? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis ; So is she heir of Naples ; 'twixt which regions There is some space. Ant. A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, ' How shall that Claribel 260 Measure us back to Naples ? Keep in Tunis, Scene I] THE TEMPEST 245 And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death That now hath seized them ; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps ; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo ; I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this For your advancement ! Do you understand me ? 270 Seh. Methinks I do. Ant. And how does your content Tender your own good fortune ? Seh. I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant. True : And look how well my garments sit upon me ; Much feater than before : my brother's servants Were then my fellows ; now they are my men. Seh. But, for your conscience ? Ant. Aye, sir ; where lies that ? if 'twere a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper : but I feel not This deity in my bosom : twenty consciences, 280 That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest ! Here lies your brother. No better than the earth he lies upon. If he were that which now he's like, that's dead ; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it. Can lay to bed forever ; whiles you, doing thus, 246 nAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act II To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk ; 290 They'll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour. Seh. Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent ; as thou got'st Milan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest: And I the king shall love thee. Ant. Draw together ; And when I rear my liand, do you the like. To fall it on Gonzalo. jSeh. O, but one word. \_They talk apart. Re-enter Ariel, invisible Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in ; and sends me forth — 300 For else his project dies — to keep them living. [Sings in Gonzalo's ear. While you here do snoring lie. Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care. Shake off slumber, and bcAvare : Awake, awake I Ant. Then let us both be sudden. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 247 Gon. Now, good angels Preserve the king. \_They tvake. Alon. Why, how now ? ho, awake ? Why are you drawn ? 310 Wlierefore this ghastly looking ! Go)i. What's the matter ? aS^^^. Whiles we stood here securing your repose. Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions : did't not wake you ? It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon. I heard nothing. A7it. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear. To make an earthquake ! sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions. Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo ? Gron. Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming. And that a strange one too, wdiich did awake me : 320 I shaked you, sir, and cried : as mine eyes opened, I saw their weapons drawn : there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard. Or that we quit this place : let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground ; and let's make further search. For my poor son. Gron. Heavens keep him from these beasts ! For he is, sure, i' the island. Alon. Lead away. Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done : So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt. 248 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Scene II. Another part of the island Eyiter Caliban tvith a burden of ivood. A noise of thunder heard Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire. Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em ; but For every trifle are they set upon me ; Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me lo And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount Their pricks at my footfall ; sometime am I All wound with adders who with cloven tongues Do hiss me into madness. Enter Trinculo Lo, now, lo ! Here comes a spirit ^ of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly. Ill fall flat ; Perchance he will not mind me. Trin. Here's neither bush nor slirub, to bear off 20 any weather at all, and another storm brewing ; I 1 Like Miranda, Caliban does not know a man when he sees one : he takes these two sailors for spirits. Scene II ] THE TEMPEST 249 hear it sing i' the wind : yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head : yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we her ? a man or a fish ? dead or alive ? A fish : he smells like a fish ; a very an- cient and fish-like smell ; a kind of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish ! Were I in 30 England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : there would this monster make a man ; any strange beast there makes a man : when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man ! and his fins like arms ! Warm, o' my troth ! I do now^ let loose my opinion ; hold it no longer ; this is no fish, but an islander, that liath lately suffered by a thunder-bolt. [ Thunder. ] 40 Alas, the storm is come again ! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine ; there is no other shelter hereabout : misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past. Enter Stephano, singing : a bottle in his hand Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea. Here shall I die ashore — This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral : well, here's ni}^ comfort. \_Drinks. 250 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II [Sings.] The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, 50 The gunner and his mate Loved Mall, ^leg and Marian and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate ; For she had a tongue with a tang. Would cry to a sailor. Go hang ! She loved not tlie savor of tar nor of pitch. Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang ! This is a scurvy tune too : but here's my comfort. [I) rinks. Col. Do not torment me : Oh ! ^ Ste. What's the matter ? Have we devils here? 60 Do you put tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha ? I have not 'scaped drowning to be af eared now of your four legs ; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground ; and it shall be said so again while Stephano breathes at nostrils. Col. The spirit torments me ; Oh ! Ste. This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should he learn our language ? I will 70 give him some relief, if it be but for that. If I can recover him and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. 1 Caliban and Trinculo have their heads muffled so that they see nothing. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 251 Cat. Do not torment me, prithee ; I'll bring my wood home faster. Ste. He's in his fit now and does not talk after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle : if he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recover him and keep So him tame, I will not take too much for him ; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling : now Pros- per works upon thee. Ste. Come on your ways ; open your mouth ; here is that whicli will give language to you, cat : open your mouth ; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly : you cannot tell who's your friend: open your chaps again. 90 . Trin. I should know that voice : it should be — but he is drowned ; and these are devils : O defend me ! Ste. Four legs and two voices : a most delicate monster! His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend ; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen ! I will pour some in thy other mouth. 00 Trin. Stephano ! Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him ; I have no long spoon. 252 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II Trin. Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and speak to me ; for I am Trinculo — be not afeard — thy good friend Trinculo. Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth : I'll pull thee by the lesser legs : if any be Trinculo's legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo lo indeed! How camest thou ? Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder- stroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm over- blown? I hid me under the dead moon-calf's gaber- dine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped ! Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about ; my stomach is not constant. Cal. \_Aside^ These be fine things, an if they 20 be not sprites. That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor. I will kneel to him. Ste. How didst thou 'scape ? How camest thou hither? swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors heaved o'erboard, by this bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was cast ashore. Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true [30 subject ; for the liquor is not earthly. Ste. Here ; swear then how thou escapedst. Trin. Swum ashore, man, like duck : I can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 253 Ste, Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of this? Ste. The whole butt, man : my cellar is in a rock by the sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf ! how does thine ague ? 140 Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven? Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee : I was the man i' the moon when time was. Cal. I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee : My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush. Ste. Come, swear to that ; kiss the book : I will furnish it anon with new contents : swear. Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i' the moon! A most poor credulous 1 50 monster! Well drawn, monster, in good sooth! Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island : And I will kiss thy foot : 1 prithee, be my god. Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and drunken monster ! when 's god's asleep he'll rob his bottle. Qal. I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. Ste. Come on then ; down, and swear. Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this 160 puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy monster ! I could find in my heart to beat him, — 254 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act II, Sc. II Ste. Come, kiss. Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink : an abominable monster ! Cal. I'll show thee the best springs ; I'll pluck thee berries ; I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee. Thou wondrous man. 170 Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a poor drunkard ! Cell. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow ; And I with my long nails will dig thee pig- nuts ; Show thee a jay's nest and instruct tliee how To snare the nimble marmoset ; I'll bring thee To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee Young scamels^ from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? Ste. I prithee now, lead the way without any more talking. Trinculo, the king and all our 180 company else being drowned, we will inherit here : bear my bottle : fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by and by again. Cal. \_Sings drunkenly^ Farewell, master ; farewell, farewell I Trin. A howling monster ; a drunken monster ! 1 No one knows what " scamels " are. It is delightful to have some mystery iu Shakespeare left. Act III, Sc. I] THE TEMPEST 255 Cat. No more dams I'll make for fish : Nor fetch in firing At requiring ; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish : 'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban 190 Has a new master : get a new man. Freedom, hey-day ! hey-day, freedom ! freedom, hey-day, freedom ! Ste. O brave monster ! Lead the way. \^Exeunt. ACT III Scene I. Before Prospero's cell Enter Ferdinand hearing a log Fer. There be some sports are painful, and their labor Delight in them sets off : some kinds of baseness Are nobly undergone, and most poor matters Point to rich ends. This my mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious, but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead And makes my labors pleasures : O, she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, And he's composed of harshness. I must remove 10 Some thousands of these logs and pile them uj), Upon a sore injunction : my sweet mistress Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness Had never like executor. I forget : 256 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labors, Most busy lest, when I do it.^ Enter Miranda ; and Prospero at a distance^ unseen Mir. Alas, now, pray you, Work not so hard : I would the lightning had Burnt up those logs that you are enjoined to pile ! Pray, set it down and rest you : when this burns 'TavHI weep for having Avearied you. My father 20 Is hard at study ; pray now, rest yourself ; He's safe for these three hours. Fer. O most dear mistress, The sun will set before I shall discharge What I must strive to do. Mir. If you'll sit down I'll bear your logs the while : pray, give me that ; I'll carry it to the pile. Fer. No, precious creature ; I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonor undergo. While I sit lazy by. Mir. It would become me As well as it does you : and I should do it 30 With much more ease ; for my good will is to it. And yours i't is against. 1 This is one of the most difficult passages iu Shakespeare. Per- haps we have not the true words, perhaps it was hastily and incor- rectly written. Scene II THE TEMPEST 257 Pros. Poor worm, thou art infected ! This visitation shows it. ]\fir. You look wearily. Fer. No, noble mistress ; 'tis fresh morning with me When you are by at night. I do beseech you — Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers — What is your name ? ]\fir. Miranda. — O my father, I have broken your best to say so ! Per. Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration ! worth What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady 40 1 have eyed with best regard, and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues Have I liked several women ; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed And put it to the foil ; but you, O you, So perfect and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best ! Ji^ir. I do not know One of my sex ; no woman's face remember, 50 Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen More that I may call men than you, good friend. And my dear father : how features are abroad, I am skill-less of ; but, by my modesty. The jewel in my dower, I would not wish Any companion in the world but you. 258 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle Something too wildly and my father's precepts I therein do forget. Fer. I am in my condition 60 A prince, Miranda ; I do think a king ; I would, not so ! — and would no more endure This wooden slavery than to suffer The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak : The very instant that I saw you, did My heart fly to your service ; there resides. To make me slave to it ; and for your sake Am I this patient log-man. Mir. Do you love me ? Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound And crow^n what I profess with kind event 70 If I speak true I if hollowly, invert What best is boded me to mischief ! I Beyond all limit of what else i' the world Do love, prize, honor you. Mir. I am a fool To weep at what I am glad of. Pros. Fair encounter Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace On that which breeds between 'em ! Fer. Wherefore Aveep you ? Mir. At mine unworthiness that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take Scene IIJ THE TEMPEST 259 What shall die to want. But this is trifling ; 80 And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cun- ning ! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, 111 die your maid : to be your fellow You may deny me ; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no. Fer. My mistress, dearest ; And I thus humble ever. Mir. My husband, then ? Fer. Aye, with a heart as willing As bondage e'er of freedom : here's my hand. 90 Mir. And mine, with my heart in't : and now farewell Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand thousand ! [^Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally. Pros. So glad of this as they I cannot be. Who are surprised withal ; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, For yet ere supper-time must I perform Much business appertaining. [Fxit. Scene II. Another part of the island Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo Ste. Tell not me ; when the butt is out, we will drink water ; not a drop before : therefore bear 260 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III up, and board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. Trin. Servant-monster ! the folly of this island ! They say there's but five upon this isle : we are three of them ; if th' other two be brained like us, the state totters. Ste. Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee : 10 thy eyes are almost set in thy head. Trin. Where should they be set else ? he were a brave monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. Ste. My man-monster hath drowned his tongue in sack : for my part, the sea cannot drown me ; I swam, ere I could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or my standard. Trin. Your lieutenant, if you list ; he's no standard. 20 Ste. We'll not run. Monsieur Monster. Trin. Nor go neither ; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say nothing neither. Ste. Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a good moon-calf. Cal. How does thy honor ? Let me lick thy shoe. I'll not serve him ; he is not valiant. Tin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster : I am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish, thou, was there ever man a coward that hath 30 drunk so much sack as I to-day ? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half a fish and half a monster ? Scene II] THE TEMPEST 261 Cal. Lo, how he mocks me ! wilt thou let him, my lord ? Tri7i. " Lord " quoth he ! That a monster should be such a natural ! Cal. Lo, lo, again ! bite him to death, I prithee. Ste. Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head : if you prove a mutineer, — the next tree ! The 40 poor monster's my subject and he shall not suffer indignity. Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to hearken once again to the suit I made to thee ? Ste. Marry, will I : kneel and repeat it ; I will stand, and so shall Trinculo. Enter Ariel, invisible Cal. As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. 50 Ari. Thou liest. Cal. Thou liest, thou je&ting monkey, thou : I would my valiant master would destroy thee ! I do not lie. Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in 's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. Trin. Why, I said nothing. Ste. Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. Cal. I say, by sorcery he got this isle ; 60 From me he got it. If thy greatness will 262 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Revenge it on him, — for I know thou darest, But this thing dare not, — Ste. That's most certain. Cal. Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee.^ Ste. How now shall this be compassed ? Canst thou bring me to the party ? Cal. Yea, yea, my lord : Til yield him thee asleep, Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. Ari. Thou liest ; thou canst not. 70 Cal. What a pied ninny's this ! Thou scurvy patch ! I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows And take his bottle from him : when that's gone He shall drink naught but brine ; for I'll not show him Where the quick freshes are. Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger : in- terrupt the monster one word f urtlier, and, by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors and make a stock -fish of thee. Trill. Why, what did I ? I did nothing. I'll 80 go farther off. Ste. Didst thou not say he lied ? Ari. Thou liest. aS'^^. Do I so ? take thou that. [Beats Trin.] As you like this, give me the lie another time. 1 The plot of these absurd creatures against Prospero is a sort of contrast to the more dangerous plot of Antonio and Sebastiau against Alouso. Scene II] THE TEMPEST 263 Trin. 1 did not give the lie. Out o' your wits and hearing too ? A pox o' your bottle ! this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on your mon- ster, and the devil take your fingers ! CaL Ha, ha, ha I 90 Ste. Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther off. Col. Beat him enough : after a little time I'll beat him too. Ste. Stand farther. Come, proceed. Cal. Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him, I' th' afternoon to sleep : there thou mayst brain him. Having first seized his books, or with a log Batter his skull, or paunch him Avith a stake, Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember First to possess his books ; for without them TOO He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not One spirit to command : they all do hate him As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils, — for so he calls them, — - Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider is The beauty of his daughter ; he himself Calls her a nonpareil : I never saw a woman, But only Sycorax my dam and she ; But she as far surpasseth Sycorax no As great'st does least. Ste, Is it so brave a lass ? 264 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Arx III Cal. Aye, lord. Ste. Monster, I will kill this man : his daughter and I will be king and queen, — save our graces ! — and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot, Trinculo ? Trin. Excellent. Ste. Give me thy hand : I am sorry I beat thee ; but, while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head. 120 Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep : Wilt thou destroy him then? Ste. Aye, on mine honor. Ari. This will I tell my master. Cal. Thou makest me merry ; I am full of pleasure : Let us be jocund : wall you troll the catch You taught me while-ere ? Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. \_Sings. Flout 'em and scout 'em And scout 'em and flout 'em ; 130 Thought is free. Cal. That's not the tune. [Ariel j^lctys the tune on a tabor and pipe. Ste. What is this same ? Trin. This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture of Nobody. Ste. If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy Scene II] THE TEMPEST 265 likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. Trin. O, forgive me my sins I Ste. He that dies pays all debts : 1 defy thee. 140 Mercy upon us ! CaL Art thou afeard? Ste. No, monster, not I. Col. Be not afeard : the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sw^eet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep- again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches [50 Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, I cried to dream again. Ste. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall have my music for nothing. Col. When Prospero is destroyed. Ste. That shall be by and by^: I remember the story. Trin. The sound is going away ; let's follow it, and after do our work. Ste. Lead, monster ; we'll follow. I would I [60 could see this taborer ; he lays it on. Trm. Wilt come? ^ I'll follow, Stephano. [Exeunt. 1 At once : the procrastination of mankind has changed the meaning, as with. tpresently , IV., i., 42. 266 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Scene III. Another part of the island Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francisco, and others Gon. By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir ; My old bones ache : here's a maze trod indeed Through forth -rights and meanders ! By your patience, I needs must rest me. Alan. Old lord, I cannot blame thee, Who am myself attached with weariness, To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope and keep it No longer for my flatterer : he is drowned Whom thus Ave stray to find, and the sea mocks lo Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. ■ Ant. \_Aside to See.] I am right glad that he's so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect. Seb. [Aside to Ant.] The next advantage Will we take throughly. Ant. [Aside to Seb.] Let it be to-night; For, now they are oppressed with travel, they Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance As when they are fresh. Seb. [Aside to A:sT.] I say, to-night : no more. [Solemn and strange music. Scene III] THE TEMPEST 267 Alon. What harmony is this ? My good friends, hark ! G-071. Marvelous sweet music ! Enter Peospero ahove^ invisible. Enter several strange Sliapes hringiyig i7i a banquet; they dance about it ivith gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, etc., to eat, they depart.^ 20 Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? Seb. A living drollery. Now I will believe That there are unicorns, that in Arabia There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix At this hour reigning there. ^ Ant. I'll believe both ; And what does else want credit, come to me. And I'll be sworn 'tis true : travelers ne'er did lie. Though fools at home condemn 'em. Gon. If in Naples I should report this now, v.^ould they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders — 30 For, certes, these are people of the island — Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note. Their manners are more gentle-kind than of Our human generation you shall find Many, nay, almost any. 1 This entrance was such an opportmiity for quaint costume and make-up as often occurred in Elizabethan life. 2 No traveler's tales can be too absurd. 268 IIAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act III Pros. [Aside^ Honest lord, Thou hast said well ; for some of you there present Are Avorse than devils. Alon. I cannot too much muse Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, ex- pressing, Although they want the use of tongue, a kind Of excellent dumb discourse. Pros. [Aside^ Praise in departing. 40 Fran. They vanished strangely. Seb, No matter, since They have left their viands behind ; for we have stomachs. Will't please you taste of what is here ? Alon. Not I. G-071. Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dew-lapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em Wallets of flesh ? or that there were such men Whose heads stood in their breasts? Avhich now we find Each putter- out of five for one^ will bring us Good warrant of. Alon. I Avill stand to and feed, 1 every traveler : it was the custom of some before they went on their travels, to deposit a sum of mouey with some one who was to keep it if they died, and pay five times as much if they came back. Scene III] THE TEMPEST 269 50 Although my last : no matter, since I feel The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, Stand to and do as we. Thinder and lightning. Enter Ariel, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes Ari. You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, That hath to instrument this lower world And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea. Hath caused to belch up you ; and on this island Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst men Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad ; And even with such-like valor men hang and drown 60 Their proper selves. [Alon., Seb., etc., draw their sivords. You fools ! I and my fellows Are ministers of Fate : the elements. Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well Wound the loud winds, or with bemocked-at stabs Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish One dowle that's in my plume : my fellow-min- isters Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt. Your swords are now too massy for your strengths And will not be uplifted. But remember — For that's my business to you — that you three 70 From Milan did supplant good Prospero ; 270 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act III Exposed unto the sea, whicli hath requit it, Him and his innocent chikl : for which foul deed The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, They have bereft ; and do pronounce by me Lingering perdition, worse than any death Can be at once, shall step by step attend You and your ways ; whose Avraths to guard you from — 80 Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls Upon your heads — is nothing but heart-sorrow And a clear life ensuing. ITe vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance, ivith mocks and mows, and carrying out the table Pros. Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou Performed, my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring : Of my instruction has thou nothing bated In what thou hadst to say : so, with good life And observation strange, my meaner ministers Their several kinds have done. My high charms work And these mine enemies are all knit up 90 In their distractions ; tliey now are in my power ; And in these fits I leave them, while I visit Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drowned. And his and mine loved darling. [^Exit above. Scene III] THE TEMPEST 271 G-on. V the name of something holy, sir, why stand you In this strange stare ? Alon. O, it is monstrous, monstrous ! Methought the billows spoke and told me of it ; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder. That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name of Prosper : it did bass my trespass. 100 Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded And with him there lie mudded. \^Exit. Seb. But one fiend at a time, I'll fight their legions o'er. Ant. I'll be thy second. \_Exeunt Seb. and Ant. Cron. All three of them are desperate : their great guilt. Like poison given to work a great time after, Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly And hinder them from what this ecstasy May now provoke them to. Adr. Follow, I pray you. \_Uxeunt. 272 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV ACT IV Scene. I. Before Prosperous cell Enter Prospero, Ferdinand, and Miranda Pros. If I have too austerely punished you, Your compensation makes amends, for I Have given you here a third of mine own life. Or that for which I live ; who once again I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test : here, afore Heaven, I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, Do not smile at me that I boast her off, 10 For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise And make it halt behind her. Fer. I do believe it Against an oracle. Pros. Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition Worthily purchased, take my daughter : but If thou dost break her virgin-knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be ministered. No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow ; but barren hate, 20 Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both : therefore take heed. As Hymen's lamps shall light you. Fer. As I hope For quiet days, fair issue and long life, Scene I] THE TEMPEST 273 With such love as 'tis now, the mirkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honor into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration 30 When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are foun- dered. Or Night kept chained below. Pros. Fairly spoke. Sit then and talk with her ; she is thine own. What, Ariel ! my industrious servant, Ariel ! Enter Ariel Ari. What would my potent master ? here I am. Pros. Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service Did worthily perform ; and I must use you In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place : Incite them to quick motion ; for I must 40 Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple Some vanity of mine art : it is my promise, And they expect it from me. Ari. Presently ? Pros. Aye, with a twink. Ari. Before you can say " come " and " go," And breathe twice and cry " so, so," Each one, tripping on his toe. Will be here with mop and mow. Do you love me, master ? no ? 274 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Du not approach 50 Till thou clost hear me call. Ari. Well, I conceive. [Uxit. Pros. Look thou be true ; do not give dalliance Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw To the fire i' the blood : be more abstemious. Or else, good night your vow ! Per. I warrant you, sir ; The white cold virgin snow upon my heart Abates the ardor of my liver. Pros. Well. Now come, my Ariel ! bring a corollary. Rather than want a spirit : appear, and pertly ! No tongue ! all eyes ! be silent. l_iSoft music. Enter Iris^ 60 Iris. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease ; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, 1 We have a masque such as was common iu Elizabeth's day. A masque was a dramatic entertainment given generally in private, of a rich and gorgeous character, with elaborate scenery and cos- tume, songs and dances. It had words also, but its poetry was (as here) rather more conventional than that of the usual drama, more decorative in effect, to borrow a figure from painting. Masques were produced on all sorts of great occasions — Milton's "Masque of Comus" celebrated the arrival of the Earl of Bridgewater at Ludlow Town — but they were especially common at weddings, as here. Scene I] . THE TEMPEST 275 Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy broom-groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn ; thy pole-clipt vineyard ; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, 70 Where thou thyself dost air ; the queen o' the sky, Whose watery arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace. Here on this grass-plot, in this very place. To come and sport : her peacocks fly amain : Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. Enter Ceres Cer. Hail, many-colored messenger, that ne'er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter ; Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, 80 And wdth each end of thy blue bow dost crown My bosky acres and my unshrubbed down. Rich scarf to my proud earth ; why hath thy queen Summoned me hither, to this short-grassed green ? /m. A contract of true love to celebrate ; And some donation freely to estate On the blest lovers. Cer. Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus or her son, as thou dost know. Do now attend the queen ? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, 90 Her and her blind boy's scandalejd company 276 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV I have forsworn. Iris. Of her society Be not afraid : I met her deity Cntting the clonds towards Paphos and her son Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, Whose vows are, that no bed- right shall be paid Till Hymen's torch be lighted : but in vain ; Mars' hot minion is returned again ; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, 100 Swears he will shoot no more, but play with spar- rows And be a boy right out. Cer. High'st queen of state. Great Juno, comes ; I know her by her gait. Unter Juno Juno. How does my bounteous sister ? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may pi'^osperous be And honored in their issue. \_Theij sing. Juno. Honor, riches, marriage-blessing. Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you ! Juno sings her blessings on you. no Cer. Earthes increase, foison plenty. Barns and garners never empty, Vines with clustering bunches growing, Plants with goodly burthen bowing ; Scene I] THE TEMPEST 277 Spring come to 3-011 at the farthest In the very end of harvest ! Scarcity and want shall shun you; Ceres' blessing so is on you. Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold [2oTo think these spirits? Pros. Spirits, which by mine art I have from their confines called to enact My present fancies. Fer. Let me live here ever : So rare a wondered father and a wise Makes this place Paradise. [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employinent. Pros. Sweet, now, silence! Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; There's something else to do : hush, and be mute, Or else our spell is marred. Iris. You nymphs, called Naiads, of the wind-= ring brooks. With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks. 130 Leave your crisp channels and on this green land Answer your summons ; Juno does command : Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love ; be not too late. Enter certain Nymphs You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow and be merry : 278 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act IV Make holiday ; your rye-straw hats put on And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. Enter certain Reapers, properly habited : they join with the Nymphs i7i a graceful dance ; totvards the end whereof Prospero staj^ts suddenly and speaks; after ivhich^ to a strange^ hollow^ and confused noise, they heavily vanish Pros. \_Aside'] I had forgot that foul conspiracy 140 Of the beast Caliban and his confederates Against my life : the minute of their plot Is almost come. ^To the Spirits] Well done ! avoid ; no more ! Fer. This is strange : your father's in some passion That works him strongly. Mir. Never till this day Saw I him touched with anger so distempered. Pros. You do look, my son, in a moved sort, As if you were dismayed : be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors. As I foretold you, were all spirits and 150 Are melted into air, into thin air : And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces^ The solemn temples, the great globe itself. Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Scene I] THE TEMPEST 279 Is roiinclecl with a sleep. Sir, I am vexed ; Bear with my Aveakness ; my okl brain is troubled: i6o Be not disturbed with my infirmity : If you be pleased, retire into my cell And there repose : a turn or two I'll walk, To still my beating mind. Fer. } ^j. > We wish your peace. [^Exeunt. Pros. Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel : come. Enter Ariel Ari. Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure ? Pros. Spirit, We must prepare to meet with Caliban. Ari. Aye, my commander : when I presented Ceres, I thought to have told thee of it, but I feared Lest I might anger thee. t;o Pros. Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets ? Ari. I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking ; So full of valor that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ground For kissing of their feet ; yet always bending Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor. At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their ears, 280 UAWTIIOBNE CLASSICS [Act IV Advanced tlieir eyelids, lifted up their noses As they smelt music : so I charmed their ears That calf-like they my lowing followed through i8o Toothed briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, Which entered their frail shins : at last I left them I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell. There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake O'erstunk their feet. Pros. This was well done, my bird. Thy shape invisible retain thou still : The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither. For stale to catch these thieves. Ari. I go, I go. \_Exit. Pros. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature Nurture can never stick ; on whom my pains, T90 Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost ; And as with age his body uglier grows. So his mind cankers. I will plague them all. Even to roaring. Re-enter Ariel, loaded ivith glistering ai^parel^ etc. Come, hang them on tliis line. Prospero and Ariel remain, invisible. Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, all wet Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the l)lind mole may not Hear a foot fall : we now are near his cell. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 281 Ste. Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has clone little better than played the Jack with us. Do you hear, monster ? If I should take a displeasure against you, look you, — 200 Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster. Cal. Good my lord, give me thy favor still. Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to Shall hoodwink this mischance : therefore speak softly. AlFs hushed as midnight yet. Trin. Aye, but to lose our bottles in the pool, — aS'^^. There is not only disgrace and dishonor in that, monster, but an infinite loss. Trin. That's more to me than my wetting : yet this is your iiarmless fairy, monster. 210 Ste. I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears for my labor. Cal. Prithee, my king, be quiet. See'st thou here. This is the mouth o' the cell : no noise, and enter. Do that good mischief which may make this island Thine own forever, and I, thy Caliban, For aye thy foot-licker. Ste. Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. Trin. O king Stephano ! O peer ! O worthy 220 Stephano ! look what a wardrobe here is for thee ! Cal. Let it alone, thou fool ; it is but trash. ^ 1 Caliban is the only oue who has sense to see that these glitter- ing things are worthless, and only distract from the main aim. 282 TIAWTIIORNE CLASSICS [Act IV, Sc. Trin. O, ho, monster ! we know what belong to a frippery. O king Stephano ! Ste. Put off that gown, Trinculo ; by this hand I'll have that gown. Trin. Thy grace shall have it. Cal. The dropsy drown this fool ! what do you mean To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone And do the murder first : if he awake, 230 From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches. Make us strange stuff. Ste. Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line : now, jerkin, you are like to lose your hair and prove a bald jerkin. Trin. Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your grace. Ste. I thank thee for that jest ; here's a gar- ment for 't : wit shall not go unrewarded while I 240 am king of this country. " Steal by line and level " is an excellent pass of pate ; there's another gar- ment for't. Trin. Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and away with the rest. Cal. I will have none on 't : we shall lose our time. And all be turned to barnacles, or to apes With foreheads villainous low. Ste. Monster, lay-to your fingers : help to bear this away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll 250 turn you out of my kingdom : go to, carry this. Act Y, Sc. I] THE TEMPEST 283 Trin. And this. Ste. Aye, and this. A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds., and hunt them about., Prospero and Ariel setting them on Pros. Hey, Mountain, hey ! Ari. Silver ! there it goes. Silver ! Pros. Fury, Fury ! there. Tyrant, there ! hark ! hark! [Cal., Ste., and Trin. are driven out. Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them Than pard or cat o' mountain. Ari. Hark, they roar ! 260 Pros. Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies : Shortly shall all my labors end, and thou Shalt have the air at freedom .- for a little Follow, and do me service. \Exeunt. ACT V Scene I. Before Prospero's cell Enter Prospero in his magic rohes^ and Ariel Pros. Now does my project gather to a head : Isly charms crack not ; my spirits obey ; and time Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? 284 ITAWTEORNE CLASSICS [Act V Ari. On the sixth hour ; at which time, iiiy lord,^ You said our work should cease. Pros. I did say so, When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, How fares the king and 's followers ? Ari. Confined together In the same fashion as you gave in charge. Just as you left them ; all prisoners, sir, lo In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell ; They cannot budge till your release. The king. His brother and yours, abide all three distracted And the remainder mourning over them, Brimful of sorrow and dismay ; but chiefly Him that you termed, sir, " The good old lord, Gonzalo " ; His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em That if you now beheld them, your affections Would become tender. Pros. Dost thou think so, spirit ? 20 Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human. Pros. And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself. One of their kind, that relish all as sharply. Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art ? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, 1 It is late in the afternoon of the same day. Scene I] THE TEMPEST 285 Yet with ray nobler reason 'gainst ray fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 30 Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel : My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves. Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. [^Exit. Pros. Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,^ And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonsliine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 40 To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimmed The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds, And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt ; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs plucked up The pine and cedar : graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth 50 By my so potent art. But this rough magic 1 This passage should be compared with the fairy poetry of A Midsummer- NighV s Dream: that is fanciful, this is imagiuative. 286 ITAWTnORNE CLASSICS [Act Y I here abjure, and, when 1 have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth. And deeper tlian did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book. [^Solemn music. Re-enter Ariel before : then Alonso, with a frantic gesture^ attended by Gonzalo : Sebastian and Antonio in like 7nanner^ attended by Adrian and Francisco : they all enter the circle which Prospero had made^ and there stand charmed; which Prospero observing., A solemn air and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, 60 Now useless, boiled within thy skull ! There stand. For you are spell-stopped. Holy Gonzalo, honorable man. Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine. Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace. And as the morning steals upon the night. Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, My true preserver, and a royal sir 70 To him thou follow'st I I will pay thy graces Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter : Scene I] THE TEMPEST 287 Thy brother Avas a furtherer in the act. Thou art pinched for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertained ambition, Expelled remorse and nature ; who, with Sebastian, Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong. Would here have killed your king ; I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding 80 Begins to swell, and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shore That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them That yet looks on me, or would know me : Ariel, Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell : I will disease me, and myself present As I was sometime Milan -A quickly, spirit ; Thou shalt ere long be free. A KIEL sings and helps to attire Mm Where the bee sucks, there suck 1 : In a cowslip's bell 1 lie , 90 There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Pros. Why, that's my dainty Ariel ! I shall miss thee ; But yet thou shalt have freedom : so, so, so. 1 ouce the Duke of Milau. 288 UAWTIIORNE CLASSICS [AcxV To the king's ship, invisible as thou art : There shalt thou find the mariners asleep Under the hatches ; the master and the boatswain loo Being awake, enforce them to this place. And presently, I prithee. Ari. I drink the air before me, and return Or ere your pulse twice beat. \_Uxit. Gon. All torment, trouble, Avonder and amaze- ment Inhabits here : some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country ! Pros. Behold, sir king. The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero : For more assurance that a living prince Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ; no And to thee and thy company I bid A hearty welcome. Alon. Whether thou be'st he or no. Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me. As late I have been, I not know : thy pulse Beats as of flesh and blood ; and, since I saw thee. The affliction of my mind amends, with which, I fear, a madness held me : this must crave, An if this be at all, a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero 120 Be living and be here ? Pros. First, noble friend, Let me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot Scene I] THE TEMPEST 289 Be measured or confined. G-071. Whether this be Or be not, I'll not swear. Pros. You do yet taste Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all ! [Aside to Seb. and Ant.] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you And justify you traitors : at this time I will tell no tales. Seh. \_Aside] The devil speaks in him. Pros. No. 130 For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother Would even infect my moutli, I do forgive Thy rankest fault ; all of them ; and require My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, Thou must restore. Alon. If thou be'st Prospero, Give us particulars of thy preservation ; How thou hast met us here, who three hours since Were wrecked upon this shore ; where I have lost — How sharp the point of this remembrance is ! — My dear son Ferdinand. Pros. I am woe for't, sir. 140 Alon. Irreparable is the loss, and patience Says it is past her cure. Pros. I rather think You have not sought her helj), of whose soft grace 290 HAWTIIOllNE CLASSICS [Act V For the like loss 1 have her sovereign aid And rest myself content. Alon. You the like loss I Pros. As great to me as late ; and, supportable To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker Than you may call to comfort you, for I Have lost my daughter. Alon. A daughter ? O heavens, that the}^ were living both in Naples, 150 The king and queen there ! that they were, I wish Myself were mudded in that oozy bed Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter ? Pros. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords At this encounter do so much admire That they devour their reason and scarce think Their eyes do offices of truth, their words Are natural breath : but howsoe'er you have Been justled from your senses, know for certain That I am Prospero and' that very duke i&o Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely Upon this shore, where you were wrecked, was landed. To be the lord on't. No more yet of this ; For 'tis a chronicle of day by day. Not a relation for a breakfast nor Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir ; Scene I] THE TEMPEST 291 This cell's mj court : here have I few attendants And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in. My dukedom since you hav^e given me again, I will reqaite you with as good a thing ; [70 At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye As much as me my dukedom. Here Prospero discovers Ferdinand ayid Mi- randa playing at chess Mir. Sweet lord, you play me false. Fer. No, my dear'st love, I would not for the world. Mir. Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle. And I would call it fair play. Alon. If this prove A vision of the Island, one dear son Shall I twice lose. Seh. A most high miracle ! Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merci- ful ; I have cursed them without cause. \_Kneels. Alon. Now all the blessings 80 Of a glad father conqoass thee about ! Arise, and say how thou camest here. Mir. O, wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in 't ! Pros. 'Tis new to thee. 292 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Alo7i. Wliat is this maid with whom thou Avast at play ? Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours : Is she the goddess that hath severed us^ And brought us thus together? Fer. Sir, she is mortal ; But by immortal Providence she's mine : (90 I chose her when I could not ask my father For his advice, nor thought I had one. She Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, Of whom so often I have heard renown. But never saw before ; of whom I have Received a second life ; and second father This lady makes liim to me. Alon. I am hers : But, O, how oddly will it sound that I Must ask my child forgiveness ! Pros. There, sir, stop : Let us not burthen our remembrance with 200 A heaviness that's gone. Gron. I have inly wept. Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods. And on this couple drop a blessed crown ! For it is jon that have chalked forth the way Which brought us hither. Alon. I say. Amen, Gonzalo ! Gron. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice Scene I] THE TEMPEST 293 Beyond a common joy, and set it down With gold on lasting pillars : In one voyage Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis 2IO And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife Where he himself was lost, Prospero his duke- dom In a poor isle, and all of us ourselves When no man was his own. Alon. \_To ¥¥.B..and Mir.] Give me your hands : Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart That doth not wish you joy ! Gron. Be it so ! Amen ! Re-enter Akiel, with the INIaster and Boatswain amazedly following O, look, sir, look, sir ! here is more of us : I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy. That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore ? 220 Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? Boats. The best news is, that we have safely found Our king and company ; the next, our ship — Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split — Is tight and yare and bravely rigged as when We first put out to sea. Ari. [Aside to Pros.] Sir, all this service Have I done since I went. Pros. [^Aside to Ari.] My tricksy spirit! 294 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V Alo7i. These are not natural events; they strengthen From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? Boats. If I did think, sir, I were well awake, =3° rid strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep. And — how we know not — all clapped under hatches ; Where but even now with strange and several noises Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, And moe diversity of sounds, all horrible, We were awaked ; straightway, at liberty ; Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master Capering to eye her : on a trice, so please you, Even in a dream, were we divided from them 240 And were brought moping hither. Art. [Aside to Fros.'] Was 't w^ell done? Pros. lAside to Ari.] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod ; And there is in this business more than nature Was ever conduct of : some oracle Must rectify our knowledge. Pros. Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business ; at picked leisure Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you. Which to you shall seem probable, of every Scene 1] THE TEMPEST 295 250 These happened accidents ; till when, be cheerful And think of each thing well. [^Aside to Ari.] Come hither, spirit : Set Caliban and his companions free ; Untie the spell. [Exit Art.] How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not. Re-enter Artel, driving in Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo, m their stolen apparel Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself ; for all is but for- tune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio ! Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my 260 head, here's a goodly sight. Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed ! How fine my master is ! I am afraid He will chastise me. Seh. Ha, ha ! What things are these, my lord Antonio ? Will money buy 'em ? Ant. Very like ; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. Pros. Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, Then say if they be true. This misshapen knave, His mother was a witch, and one so strong 270 That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs. And deal in her command without her power. 296 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Act V These three liave I'obbed me ; and this deini-devil — For he's a bastard one — had plotted with them To take my life. Two of these fellows you Must know and own ; this thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine. Cal. I shall be pinched to death. Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? /Seb. He is drunk now : where had he wine? Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe : where should they 280 Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? How earnest thou in this pickle ? Trin. I have been in such a pickle since I saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of my bones : I shall not fear fly-blowing. Seb. Why, how now, Stephano ! Ste. O, touch me not ; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. Pros. You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah? Ste. I should have been a sore one then. Alon. This is a strange thing as e'er I looked on. IFointing to Caliban. 290 Pros. He is as disproportioned in his manners As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell ; Take with you 3' our companions; as you look To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. Cal. Aye, that I will ; and I'll be wise hereafter And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass Was I, to take this drunkard for a god And worship this dull fool ! Scene I] THE TEMPEST 297 Pros. Go to ; away ! Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. Seh. Or stole it, rather. l^Exeimt Cal., Ste., and Tein. 300 Pros. Sir, I invite your highness and your train To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest For this one night ; which, part of it, I'll waste With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away ; the story of my life And the ^^articular accidents gone by Since I came to this isle : and in tlie morn I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-beloved solemnized ; 310 And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. Alon. I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. Pros. I'll deliver all ; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales And sail so expeditious that shall catch Your royal fleet far off. [Aside to Ari.] My Ariel chick, That is thy charge : then to the elements Be free, and fare thou well ! Please you, draw near. \_Uxeunt. 298 HAWTHORNE CLASSICS [Epilogue EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY PltOSPERO Now my charius are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint : now, 'tis true, I must here be confined by you. Or sent to Naples. Let me not. Since I have my dukedom got And pardoned the deceiver, dwell In this bare island by your spell ; But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands : Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails. Which was to please. Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, And my ending is despair. Unless I be relieved by pra3^er. Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardoned be. Let your indulgence set me free. Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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