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DEDICATED 
 
 TO THE 
 
 SHAKESPEARE SOCIETIES 
 
 OF 
 
 NYACK, N. Y. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 It seems almost a sacrilege to present merely the 
 framework — the dry bones — of those world-famed 
 masterpieces of diction and character drawing, 
 Shakespeare's Plays; yet, for their right under- 
 standing and enjoyment, it is useful to disentangle 
 the often intricate and confused substructures upon 
 which they are reared, which (with one possible ex- 
 ception) were taken by the poet from earlier plays 
 and transformed and transfigured by his genius. 
 
 To familiarise one's self with the main outlines 
 of the plots or stories, and to refresh and clarify 
 one's memory in regard to the characters and action, 
 leaves one free to appreciate in full the beauty, 
 charm, and force of the complete works, either when 
 seen and heard on the stage, or read and re-read in 
 the study. 
 
 To the student of literature, the theatre-goer, 
 and all worshippers at the shrine of the master poet, 
 we therefore oifer in these pages bald but fairly 
 complete outlines, which follow closely the action 
 of the plays, and which for the sake of clearness 
 and brevity have been left free from criticism, com- 
 ment, and all save the scantiest quotations, although 
 the temptation to insert whole passages proved al- 
 most irresistible. 
 
 While Charles and Mary Lamb, in their ad- 
 
viii Preface 
 
 mirable classic, ' Tales from Shakespeare,' give the 
 main thread of narrative of twenty of the thirty- 
 seven plays, their purpose was not to supply a com- 
 plete synopsis of the plots or characters. We there- 
 fore trust that, owing to its different scope, this 
 new version will find a welcome in the world of 
 books, and hopefully launch out the Comedies, 
 which will soon be followed by the Tragedies and 
 the Historical Plays, thus completing the list of 
 Shakespeare's works for the stage. 
 
 H. A. GUERBER. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream i 
 
 The Tempest 22 
 
 -^As You Like It . 40 
 
 ''The Merchant of Venice ...... 63 
 
 The Taming of the Shrew 91 v- 
 
 Twelfth Night . ji6 
 
 The Comedy of Errors 139 
 
 Two Gentlemeit of Verona 159 
 
 Love's Labour's Lost 1 80 
 
 The Winter's Tale ■ 205 
 
 The Merry Wives of Windsor 231 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing 258 
 
 All's Well That Ends Well 284 
 
 Measure for Measure -311 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Shakespeare at the Court of Elizabeth . Frontispiece 
 Queen Titania and Bottom . 
 Miranda's Intercession 
 Rosalind Gives Orlando a Chain 
 Choosing the Casket . 
 Petruchio's Violence . 
 Malvolio Rebukes the Revellers 
 The Two Dromios Reunited . 
 The Servant's Pun 
 The Nine Worthies . 
 Florizel Cheers Perdita . 
 Falstaff Crowding into the Basket 
 Beatrice and Benedict 
 Helena Offers to Cure the King 
 Isabella Rejects Angelo's Pro- 
 posal " "318 
 
 Facing page 
 
 8 
 
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 28 
 
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 46 
 
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 70 
 
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 98^ 
 
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 124 V 
 
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 144^ 
 
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 164^ 
 
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 186 
 
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 212 
 
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 236 ' 
 
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 264 
 
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 290 
 
STORIES 
 
 OF 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES 
 
 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM 
 
 Act I. The rising curtain reveals a room in the 
 royal palace at Athens, where King Theseus is 
 conversing w^ith Hippolyta, the lady who is to be- 
 come his wife within the next few days. As their 
 wedding is a cause of public rejoicing, the king bids 
 one of his attendants go forth and invite the Athenian 
 youths to prepare plays and other diversions to en- 
 liven the joyful occasion. 
 
 The servant has barely disappeared, when Egeus, 
 an Athenian citizen, is ushered in. He is followed 
 by his daughter and her two suitors, and has come 
 here to ask the king to use his authority and enforce 
 an old Athenian law, which decrees that any maiden, 
 dwelling within the city walls, shall either marry the 
 suitor her father chooses, forfeit her life, or become a 
 votary of Diana. 
 
 Unable to deny the existence of such a law, 
 Theseus talks to the young lady, whose name is 
 Hermia, gravely advising her to obey her father. 
 But Hermia argues that Lysander, the lover of her 
 
2 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 choice, is more than the equal of Demetrius, whom 
 her father wishes her to marry, and that nothing 
 save unreasoning prejudice prevents Egeus from ap- 
 proving of her choice. 
 
 On perceiving how obstinately this fair maiden 
 clings to her lover, Theseus vainly tries to awe her 
 by repeating the conditions of the law, and finally de- 
 cides to grant her a brief respite, during which she 
 can determine what she will do. But Demetrius 
 urges her to favour his suit, demanding coolly that 
 her lover Lysander relinquish all claims to her hand. 
 
 Not at all prepared to desert his lady-love thus, 
 Lysander ironically advises Demetrius to be satisfied 
 with the father's affections, without trying to se- 
 cure those of the daughter as well, adding that he 
 is quite aware that Demetrius has long been en- 
 gaged to Helena, Hermia's bosom friend, and that 
 such fickleness as he is displaying is disgraceful. 
 
 The king, who has already heard rumours to the 
 same effect, bids Egeus and his candidate accompany 
 him into a neighbouring apartment, where he wishes 
 to have some private conversation with them, thus 
 leaving Hermia and Lysander alone upon the scene. 
 To comfort his beloved for her father's harshness, 
 Lysander now gently reminds! her that * the course 
 of true love never did run smooth,' ^ enumerating 
 the many different ways in which lovers have been 
 parted. He adds that as there is no prospect of evad- 
 ing the law, or of persuading her father to change his 
 mind, Hermia had better run away from home, pro- 
 ceeding straight to his aunt's house, where he prom- 
 
 ^ All the quotations are taken from the Eversley Edition. 
 
Midsummer Night's Dream 5' 
 
 hold their rehearsal. At first, this moonlit glade 
 seems entirely deserted, then, suddenly, appear from 
 opposite sides. Puck (will-o'-the-wisp, or hobgoblin), 
 messenger of Oberon, King of the Elves, and one of 
 the fairies of Queen Titania's train. On meeting, 
 these two fellow-sprites exchange greetings, and the 
 fairy gleefully reports she has been wandering to and 
 fro, hanging dewdrops in every cowslip's ear. Puck, 
 in return, expresses pleasure at having met her, as 
 he wishes to caution her to keep her mistress away 
 from this spot, where his master has decided to hold 
 his revels. 
 
 We next learn from their conversation that the 
 fairy couple, once so tenderly united, are now on bad 
 terms, Titania having refused to give her husband 
 her Indian boy, — a refusal which has incensed 
 Oberon. Whenever the King and Queen of the 
 Fairies now meet, they quarrel so violently, that even 
 the elves creep into acorn-cups and quake in fear. 
 
 The fairy next informs Puck in a playful manner, 
 that she has heard of his fine doings, how he mis- 
 leads night-wanderers, frightens young girls, and 
 bewitches churns, — so Puck, laughing heartily at her 
 insinuations, relates in pure glee a few of the mis- 
 chievous pranks he has recently performed for the 
 amusement of his king. 
 
 These two actors have barely finished talking, 
 when Titania, Queen of the Fairies, enters from one 
 side of the stage, followed by her suite, just as 
 Oberon comes in from the other, escorted by his 
 elves. Because they are still on bad terms, the 
 fairy couple greet each other with cutting remarks, 
 
6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Titania accusing her husband of paying attention 
 to other ladies, and Oberon taunting his wife with 
 ungraciousness. Next, they charge one another 
 with having come here from love for the royal 
 couple, and Titania tearfully declares that unless 
 her husband reform, great harm will ensue, as dis- 
 sensions among fairies are sure to have fatal results. 
 
 Although Oberon replies he is ready to cease quar- 
 relling as soon as Titania gives him the coveted boy, 
 she goes off the stage, still denying his request, but 
 vowing she will linger in this neighbourhood until 
 the wedding festivities are over. 
 
 When the Queen of the Fairies has withdrawn into 
 the thicket, followed by her train, Oberon summons 
 Puck, for he has suddenly conceived a brilliant plan, 
 whereby he hopes to get the best of his perverse 
 mate. He explains to his little messenger how 
 he once saw Cupid aim an arrow at a Vestal, and 
 how that arrow, deviating from its course, fell upon 
 a little flower, which immediately changed hue, be- 
 coming ' Love in Idleness ' (a purple pansy). Now 
 he knows that any flower, touched by Love's arrow, 
 is thereafter gifted with special powers, and that the 
 juice of this blossom, dropped upon the eyelids of 
 a sleeper, will cause him to fall in love with the 
 first person upon whom his glance rests on awaken- 
 ing. Oberon, therefore, bids Puck bring him this 
 herb as soon as possible, and the sprite darts off, vow- 
 ing he will soon be back, as he can * put a girdle 
 round about the earth in forty minutes.' 
 
 Puck being gone, Oberon reveals he is going to 
 drop this magic juice into the eyes of his slumber- 
 
Midsummer Nighfs Dream 7 
 
 ing wife, taking his revenge for her refusal by mak- 
 ing her fall violently in love with the first creature 
 she sees, knowing full well that Titania, having once 
 made herself ridiculous, will be only too glad to do 
 whatever he wishes for the sake of escaping his ridi- 
 cule. 
 
 As King of the Fairies, Oberon has, of course, the 
 power to become invisible at will, so he vanishes when 
 he perceives a couple coming in his direction. A 
 moment after he has disappeared, Demetrius runs 
 upon the stage, closely followed by the breathless 
 Helena, who implores him to listen to her instead of 
 pursuing her friend with unwelcome attentions. 
 
 Furious at not finding Hermia at the trysting- 
 spot, and at not being able to vent his jealous rage 
 by slaying Lysander, Demetrius impolitely bids his 
 former sweetheart begone, declaring he no longer 
 cares for her. Then, seeing Helena doesn't immedi- 
 ately obey, he taunts her with unmaidenliness, and is 
 indignant to perceive that his jeers have no effect. 
 This couple soon pass out of sight, the woman plead- 
 ing, the man chiding, and every once in a while 
 angrily threatening to abandon her in the dark. 
 
 Unseen, Oberon has witnessed this scene, and 
 feels so sorry for Helena, that he vows before this 
 couple again leaves his realm, the girl shall flee and 
 the man sue for her love! He has barely finished 
 saying this, when Puck reappears with the desired 
 flower, of which Oberon gives part to his little mes- 
 senger, instructing him to find a youth in Athenian 
 garb, who is wandering in the forest in company 
 with a lady. Puck is to press some of the juice 
 
8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 upon the stranger's eyes, so he may undergo a change 
 of heart, and return the ardent affections of the per- 
 son he now scorns. The remainder of the magic 
 herb Oberon intends to reserve for his own use in 
 regard to his queen. 
 
 The next scene represents the bower of Titania, 
 who lies amid flowers, surrounded by tiny attend- 
 ants, to whom she distributes orders which they are 
 to execute as soon as they have put her to sleep. 
 This they do by singing in chorus a charming lullaby, 
 wherein all noxious things are warned to keep away, 
 and the nightingale summoned to charm their 
 mistress's slumbers. So magical is the effect of this 
 lullaby, that Titania soon sinks back sound asleep, 
 and the fairies flit away, leaving only one of their 
 number to mount guard over their beloved queen. 
 
 It is while Titania is thus peacefully sleeping, that 
 Oberon steals upon the scene, and slyly drops the 
 magic juice upon her eyelids, whispering, ' What 
 thou seest when thou dost wake, do it for thy true- 
 love take.' Of course, in speaking so, Oberon in- 
 tends that the first object upon which his wife's 
 glance rests shall be something utterly ridiculous. 
 
 Within sight of the spot where Titania lies 
 wrapped in slumber, Lysander and Hermia arrive, 
 almost exhausted by prolonged wanderings in the 
 forest, where they have lost their way. Such is 
 Hermia's fatigue, that Lysander tenderly implores 
 her to lie down and rest, promising to remain close 
 beside her. But, although Hermia consents to take 
 the necessary repose, she suggests it will be proper 
 for Lysander to withdraw to a short distance. 
 
^ r - 
 
 +J -D 
 
Midsummer Night's Dream 9 
 
 Thus, when the two lovers fall asleep in the forest, — 
 after exchanging sweet good-nights and promises 
 to remain faithful to each other, — they lie some 
 distance apart. Both are sound asleep when Puck 
 appears, still looking for the man in Athenian garb, 
 upon whose eyelids he is to drop the magic juice. 
 On discovering Lysander, a short distance from 
 Hermia, the sprite sagely concludes this must be the 
 disdainful lover, and stealing up to him, gently drops 
 the juice upon his eyes. 
 
 Puck has just gone to report success to Oberon, 
 when Demetrius and Helena reappear, they, too, 
 having lost their way in the forest and wandered 
 about for hours. By this time, however, Demetrius 
 is so exasperated by Helena's pursuit of him, that, 
 notwithstanding her entreaties not to desert her in 
 the darkness, he suddenly runs away. Too ex- 
 hausted to follow him any longer, Helena glances 
 timidly about her, and is equally surprised and de- 
 lighted to behold Lysander sleeping near by. 
 
 Afraid to remain alone, and quite unconscious of 
 Hermia's presence, Helena wonders whether Lysan- 
 der may not be wounded or dead, and creeping 
 quietly up to him, awakens him. Owing to the 
 action of the magic herb, Lysander no sooner beholds 
 Helena than he begins making violent love to her, 
 swearing he has never cared for Hermia, whom 
 Demetrius can now marry. This sounds so utterly 
 unlike all she has hitherto known of him, that Helena 
 cannot but think Lysander is making fun of her. 
 She is, besides, indignant that the man she loves 
 should thus be coolly awarded to her friend, and 
 
lo Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 when Lysander persists in complimenting her, runs 
 away, leaving him to follow her, for he now scorns 
 the sleeping Hermia, 
 
 When both have vanished out of sight, an evil 
 dream causes poor Hermia to start wildly from her 
 slumbers and gaze about her in terror.- No longer 
 finding her lover near her rustic couch, she rises up 
 in affright to try and find him. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in the woods where 
 Titania is sleeping, so concealed by creepers and 
 overhanging bushes, that her presence is unsuspected 
 by the artisans who have come here to rehearse their 
 play. Bottom, therefore, begins by remarking that 
 if he is to play Pyramus and kill himself, the ladies 
 in the audience will be sorely frightened; so he de- 
 cides to state in the prologue that he is not Pyra- 
 mus at all, but merely Bottom, the weaver, and 
 that his death, being mere pretence, need inspire no 
 alarm. 
 
 The man who is to play the lion, also fearing lest 
 the ladies may dread such a wild animal even more 
 than a mouse, decides to keep one-half of his human 
 face constantly in view, and to reassure the audience 
 by plainly stating he is the joiner and no lion! 
 
 These points being satisfactorily settled, two great 
 difficulties still confront them, for they require moon- 
 shine to illumine one scene, and a wall to separate 
 the lovers. By a brilliant flash of inspiration, how- 
 ever, one of the party suggests that an actor, pro- 
 vided with lantern and thorn-bush, personate Moon, 
 while another, liberally smeared with lime and 
 plaster, play the part of Wall, holding his fingers 
 
Midsummer Nighfs Dream ii 
 
 wide apart so the lovers can talk between them as 
 through the desired crack. 
 
 These points have just been decided, and the 
 actors have barely withdrawn into the thicket, — 
 from whence they intend to emerge in turn accord- 
 ing to their cue, — ^when Puck, who is mounting 
 guard over Titania, slyly remarks he is evidently go- 
 ing to witness a comical scene, and that, although 
 no part has been officially awarded to him, he may 
 yet figure in the play. 
 
 While he Is watching for a good opportunity. 
 Bottom steps forth, and liberally prompted by one 
 of his companions, gives utterance to a melodramatic 
 opening speech. ' Thisby,' his beloved, who is not 
 well up in her part, makes stammering responses, and 
 corrections are so frequent, that the whole speech is 
 a ridiculous jumble. When it is over, Bottom with- 
 draws into the thicket to await his next cue, and in 
 the interval nods. Noticing this. Puck steals up be- 
 hind the sleeper, and slyly draws over his head a 
 quaint mask, which makes him appear like a man 
 with the head of an ass! Still, Bottom's slumbers 
 are so brief, that when the moment comes for him 
 to reappear, he bursts out of the thicket. 
 
 At his strange appearance his comrades flee in 
 terror, leaving him alone on the scene. But, while 
 Bottom stands there amazed. Puck exclaims in an 
 aside that he is going to lead the terrified actors a 
 pretty dance through the forest. As he vanishes, 
 Bottom tries to show indifference for his companions' 
 unaccountable defection by singing a merry song in 
 a blatant voice which soon awakens Titania. She 
 
12 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 no sooner beholds him, than, owing to the magic 
 drug, she deems him an angel, and falls desperately 
 in love with him ! 
 
 Such is Titania's infatuation that, although Bot- 
 tom's voice rivals that of the animal he personates, 
 she implores him to sing again, as he has won her 
 affections. Little moved by such declarations, Bot- 
 tom is nevertheless pleased when she overwhelms 
 him with compliments, offering four fairies to wait 
 upon him and supply him with berries and honey, 
 fanning him with butterfly wings to keep him cool. 
 When, at the queen's call, four fairies appear and 
 bow down before their new master. Bottom, de- 
 lighted at the thought of being waited upon, in- 
 quires their names, making quaint comments upon 
 ' Cobweb ' and the rest. 
 
 Meantime, Titania gazes with rapture upon her 
 new love, whom she bids the fairies lead off to a 
 flowery bank, where they can wait upon him, and 
 where she can deck his nice long ears with garlands 
 of flowers and enjoy his company in peace. 
 
 The second scene is played in a different part 
 of the forest, where Oberon stands, idly wondering 
 whether his wife has awakened, and upon what ob- 
 ject her eyes have first rested? It is just while he 
 is expressing impatience for news, that Puck ap- 
 pears, to report with glee how madly his mistress has 
 fallen in love with a rude mechanic, who has come 
 into the forest with his companions to rehearse a 
 play, and upon whose stupid shoulders Puck has slyly 
 set the head of an ass. The little sprite next so 
 humorously describes the flight of the actors at the 
 
Midsummer Ntghfs Dream 13 
 
 sight of this monster, that Oberon is delighted with 
 the success of the trick they have played. 
 
 However, intense amusement doesn't make 
 Oberon forget that he charged Puck with a second 
 errand, for he now inquires whether the magic juice 
 has been squeezed upon the eyelids of the Athenian 
 youth? Puck satisfies him by relating just how he 
 found the stranger, sleeping a short distance from his 
 lady-love, and declares that on awakening the swain 
 will surely fall in love with his fair companion. 
 
 The king and Puck are still whispering together 
 when Hermia and Demetrius come upon the scene, 
 whereat Oberon exclaims in surprise that here is the 
 very Athenian he meant, but that, strange to relate, 
 the woman he pursues is not the one with him be- 
 fore. Puck, however, declares that, although this 
 woman is the same he saw in the forest, the man is 
 an utter stranger to him! 
 
 Hoping to solve the mystery, the two plotters 
 now listen to the conversation between Hermia and 
 Demetrius, and are duly surprised when the lady 
 chides her unwelcome lover for following her, and 
 expresses suspicions that he may have done away 
 with Lysander. So sure does Hermia feel that her 
 beloved would never have forsaken her were he still 
 alive, that her apprehensions are quieted only when 
 Demetrius swears that he is not guilty of her lover's 
 death. Then Hermia goes off in quest of Lysander, 
 begging Demetrius not to follow her, and, although 
 he ardently longs to do so, he desists, deeming 
 further pursuit vain. 
 
 While Demetrius sinks down upon a green bank, 
 
14 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 where he falls asleep, Oberon reproaches Puck for 
 having pressed the love-juice upon the eyes of the 
 M^rong man, and for having thus separated true 
 lovers instead of uniting those who were estranged. 
 He next bids the sprite make good his mistake by 
 finding Helena, so Puck darts off, ' swifter than ar- 
 row from the Tartar's bow,' while Oberon entertains 
 himself by singing a gay little song about the magic 
 herb with which he has just been playing such queer 
 tricks, and which he now uses on Demetrius. 
 
 Just as Oberon finishes singing. Puck returns to 
 announce that Helena is near at hand, closely fol- 
 lowed by Lysander, the very man upon whose eyes 
 he had dropped the magic juice, and vv^ho evidently 
 has beheld her first instead of his own true love. 
 Watching them from a distance. Puck wisely re- 
 marks, ' Lord, what fools these mortals be,' ere 
 Oberon bids him be silent, for he knows the coming 
 of this couple will rouse Demetrius. 
 
 Fairy King and attendant are invisible when 
 Lysander and Helena enter, the man vainly vowing 
 that he doesn't woo her in scorn as she fancies, but 
 that his affections are deep and true. Helena, 
 knowing how dearly he loved her friend a short time 
 ago, rails at him for denying his affection for Her- 
 mia, and angrily refuses to listen when he urges 
 that Demetrius loves and will soon marry that lady. 
 
 Their voices, thus raised In contention, awaken 
 Demetrius, who, also under the herb spell, no sooner 
 beholds Helena than he falls madly in love with 
 her. His declaration to that effect seems pure mock- 
 ery to his beloved, who cries out indignantly against 
 
Midsummer Night's Dream 15 
 
 the youths for thus making sport of her for pleasure ! 
 But, utterly blinded by the love-juice, Lysander bids 
 Demetrius go in quest of Hermia, leaving Helena 
 free to marry him, an arrangement which seems 
 nothing short of treachery to Helena. 
 
 Meantime Hermia, still seeking Lysander, sud- 
 denly comes upon the trio, and besides being dis- 
 owned by her lover, is accused by Helena of making 
 fun of her, although they were once so intimate that 
 they exchanged confidences in this very spot. Not- 
 only do Helena and Hermia misunderstand each 
 other sorely, but the two men, both anxious to 
 secure Helena, manage to offend both ladies, ere 
 they turn upon each other in wrath, and propose to 
 fight. 
 
 At this juncture, Oberon secretly directs Puck to 
 conceal the duellists from one another by a fog, 
 mimicking their voices so as to separate them, and 
 leading them a merry dance through the forest. 
 Mischief such as this is so congenial to Puck's na- 
 ture, that he promptly disappears, and, in the midst 
 of suddenly rising fog and darkness, lures the rivals 
 from place to place, so eager are they to meet each 
 other and fight the duel for which they pine. Be- 
 sides, Oberon has directed that this delusion be kept 
 up until both fall down exhausted, when a magic 
 herb being again pressed on Lysander's eyes, he will 
 return to his allegiance to Hermia. 
 
 Favoured by fog and darkness, and led by Puck, 
 the quarrelling lovers fail to meet, but are, instead, 
 finally led back separately to the spot from whence 
 they started. But both are so utterly exhausted by 
 
1 6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 their efforts to overtake one another and revenge 
 the insults Puck has been calling out in their re- 
 spective voices, that they sink down and fall asleep. 
 
 The two girls, who have also lost their way in the 
 forest, and have been lured hither by fairy means, 
 next appear and drop down on the grass overcome by 
 fatigue. Quite unconscious of each other's pres- 
 ence, the four lovers thus lie in different parts of 
 the stage, sound asleep, when Puck, stealing for- 
 ward, slyly squeezes magic juice on Lysander's eyes, 
 arranging this time that he atone for Hermia's 
 distress by again lavishing all his love upon her. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in Titania's 
 flowery bower, while she is trying to induce Bot- 
 tom to lie down on a mossy bed, kissing his long 
 hairy ears, and decking him out in garlands of 
 flowers. Bottom, who has taken very kindly to 
 petting, and to the ministrations of the fairies, soon 
 drops off asleep, and while he and the queen are 
 dozing, Puck and Oberon come upon the scene. 
 The latter relates how, her conscience troubling her, 
 the Fairy Queen offered to make friends with him 
 and relinquished the Indian boy in regard to whose 
 possession the quarrel arose. Delighted at having 
 obtained what he wants, Oberon now wishes to undo 
 his mischievous spell, and secretly bids Puck re- 
 move the disguising head from Bottom's shoulders, 
 arranging that on wakening he shall fancy he has 
 been the victim of a queer dream. 
 
 Then Oberon gently touches his sleeping wife's 
 eyelids, whispering softly, ' Be thou as thou wast 
 wont to be; see as thou wast wont to see,' a spell 
 
Midsummer Nighfs Dream 17 
 
 which proves so effective that when Titania rouses 
 a few moments later, she exclaims she has been the 
 victim of a strange dream, wherein she actually 
 fancied she had fallen in love with an ass! When 
 Oberon gravely points out to her the queer shape 
 lying beside her, Titania is utterly at a loss to 
 imagine how any one could feel affection for so gro- 
 tesque a creature. 
 
 The reconciliation between the King and Queen 
 of the Fairies being now complete, they celebrate it 
 by treading a mystic dance, while magic music is 
 played. Next they prepare to go off together to 
 the king's house to bless his marriage, as well as the 
 nuptials of the four lovers, which are to take place 
 at the same time. But, it is only when Puck calls 
 out a reminder that the lark is just beginning to 
 sing, and that fairies, being creatures of the night, 
 should vanish, that the King and Queen of the 
 Fairies cease dancing and disappear. 
 
 They have no sooner gone, attended by Puck, 
 than a gay blast of horns awakens the forest echoes, 
 and a hunting party appears. It is led by Theseus 
 with his betrothed, and Egeus is one of the lords 
 in their train. To his amazement he suddenly per- 
 ceives his daughter Hermia, sleeping out in the 
 forest, and soon after discovers, a short distance 
 away from her, Lysander, the lover whom she has 
 chosen, Helena, her bosom friend, and Demetrius, 
 the man whom he is so anxious to call son-in-law! 
 While Egeus expresses surprise at beholding the 
 four young people in this place, Theseus suggests 
 that having risen early to fulfil May rites, they 
 
'1 8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 have evidently been overtaken by fatigue. He in- 
 quires also w^hether this is not the day upon which 
 Hermia is to make known her choice, and orders the 
 sleepers awakened by a blast of the horns. 
 
 At the merry notes of the huntsmen, the sleep- 
 ers awaken, startled and frightened, only to be 
 greeted by a request from Theseus to be told how 
 it happens that rival lovers should be lying in the 
 forest close together, in such peace and amity? 
 Confused by sleep, but no longer under an adverse 
 spell, Lysander can give no other explanation save 
 that he came hither with Hermia to escape the 
 Athenian law. This statement enrages Egeus, who 
 urges Demetrius to claim his bride; but, this suitor 
 no longer wishes to do so, Oberon's magic having 
 made him return to his former allegiance to Helena, 
 and hence cease to covet the hand of her friend. 
 
 As no man can be forced to marry a maiden if he 
 doesn't wish to do so, Theseus suggests that Egeus 
 allow his daughter to be united to Lysander at the 
 same time as Demetrius is wedded to Helena. He 
 adds that these two marriages can take place at the 
 same time as his own, and goes away with his be- 
 trothed and train, bidding the lovers follow them 
 later to the temple. 
 
 After vainly trying to reach a clear understanding 
 of what has befallen them in the course of this 
 mysterious night, the four lovers conclude they must 
 have been victims of some queer dreams, and hasten 
 off to the temple, where their wedding is to be 
 celebrated and their happiness made secure. 
 
 They have barely gone out of sight when the 
 
Midsummer Night's Dream 19 
 
 sleeping Bottom awakens, — no longer wearing an 
 ass's head, but still labouring under a vague delu- 
 sion that he ought to answer a cue. Little does he 
 suspect how long his slumbers have lasted, and 
 fancies the experiences of the night are merely the 
 effects of some strange dream, which he proposes to 
 put into poetry, and to recite at the end of his play. 
 Then, after a vain search for his companions, Bot- 
 tom decides to return home to find out what has 
 become of them. 
 
 The next scene is played at Athens, in the joiner's 
 house, where the various actors bewail the absence 
 of Bottom, their star, without whom their play can- 
 not take place. Suddenly one of the number sees 
 him coming out of the temple, closely followed 
 by three bridal couples. As their companion will 
 now be in time for the play, the actors begin to re- 
 joice over the largess they expect, and crowding 
 around Bottom as soon as he appears, inquire where 
 he has been and what he has done ? These are ques- 
 tions which Bottom prefers not to answer, so he di- 
 rects them to make all necessary preparations, for 
 their play is to be given in the palace that very 
 evening, notwithstanding the mysterious things 
 which have happened to him, concerning which he 
 drops sundry hints. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens in the palace of 
 Theseus at Athens, when he and his new wife enter 
 the apartment, commenting upon the weird tales told 
 by the four lovers, who have also just been united at 
 the altar, and who are going to view the gay 
 revels. Theseus, however, declares that, although 
 
20 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 their adventures in the forest on Midsummer 
 Night's Eve sound somevv^hat extraordinary, there 
 are many spirits abroad at that time, w^hich delight 
 in tricking mankind. 
 
 The royal bridal couple are next joined by the 
 two other pairs, and all agree to view the sports 
 promised, Theseus selecting from among the sug- 
 gested diversions, * Pyramus and Thisby,' which is 
 to be given by artisans. This decision reached, the 
 actors are summoned, and the play opens with a 
 prologue, wherein due apologies are made for de- 
 ficiencies, and an explanation given in regard to the 
 expedients to which the actors have had to resort 
 to represent both Moon and Wall. 
 
 This introduction finished, the actual play begins. 
 Pyramus and Thisbe ^ talking gravely and grandilo- 
 quently through the crack in the wall, and agree- 
 ing to meet near a neighbouring tomb that very 
 evening. The second scene represents this trysting- 
 place, lighted by the Moon's lantern, where Thisbe, 
 waiting for her lover, is suddenly driven away 
 by the approach of the lion. A few moments after 
 the departure of this beast, — ^which has considerately 
 refrained from frightening the spectators by show- 
 ing a generous half of a human face, — Pyramus 
 comes upon the scene, and perceiving Thisbe's veil, 
 which has been mangled by the beast of prey, rashly 
 concludes his beloved is no more. In his frantic 
 grief, Pyramus stabs himself. He is just breathing 
 his last when Thisbe reappears upon the scene, and 
 after duly lamenting his death, draws the dagger 
 
 ^ See Guerber's ' Myths of Greece and Rome.' 
 
Midsummer Night's Dream 21 
 
 from her lover's breast and plunges it in her own. 
 Frightened by all it sees and hears, the poor Moon 
 now vanishes, exclaiming dramatically, ' Moon, 
 take thy flight ! ' 
 
 This play, — ^which is Interrupted time and again 
 by ludicrous comments from the spectators, — having 
 come to an end, Theseus proposes a dance to con- 
 clude the evening's entertainment, and the com- 
 pany have barely left for the ballroom, when Puck 
 darts upon the scene, declaring the moment has 
 come for his midnight spells, as he has been sent 
 here to prepare for the coming of the fairies. 
 
 When he has swept behind the door, Oberon and 
 Titania enter, escorted by their fairy train. After 
 singing, dancing, and blessing the bridal chambers so 
 as to secure health, happiness, and long life for the 
 three couples who have been united that day, the 
 fairies disappear, while Puck recites the epilogue,* 
 slyly hinting that, should the spectators wonder at 
 all that has occurred, they may find the solution of 
 the problem by remembering that mortals often have 
 mad fancies on Midsummer Night's Eve. 
 
THE TEMPEST 
 
 Act I. When the curtain rises we behold a ves- 
 sel drifting helplessly in a hurricane, in spite of 
 the efforts of a half-drunken crew. The passen- 
 gers, suddenly appearing on the deck, are roughly 
 bidden keep out of the way, as their presence 
 and inquiries only add to the confusion. These 
 passengers, on their way home from Tunis where 
 they went to witness the marriage of the King of 
 Naples' only daughter, are the King of Naples him- 
 self, with his son and brother, accompanied by the 
 usurping Duke of Milan, and a wise old coun- 
 cillor, who indignantly vows these sailors are too 
 impudent to die natural deaths, and will yet live to 
 be hanged! 
 
 The excitement on board reaches its highest pitch 
 when the noise of splintering timbers suddenly rises 
 above the storm, and all become intent upon their 
 own salvation, even the old councillor, — the calmest 
 present, — expressing a fervent desire to be safe on 
 dry land. 
 
 The second scene is played on the island toward 
 which this ship is drifting, the rising curtain re- 
 vealing the magician Prospero, whose dark arts have 
 called up this frightful storm. Suspecting this, his 
 beautiful daughter, Miranda, rushes forward, im- 
 ploring him to abate the tempest, using his super- 
 
 22 
 
The Tempest 23 
 
 natural powers only to save those she has seen in 
 imminent peril. Her generous emotion touches the 
 magician, who reassures her by stating that bad as 
 things appear, neither ship nor any member of its 
 crew shall perish. Having thus quieted her worst 
 apprehensions, Prospero inquires whether she has 
 any recollection of the manner in which they two 
 once reached this island? In reply, Miranda says 
 she remembers nothing, save that women were about 
 her in early childhood, although since then no such 
 human beings have met her eye. 
 
 To her innocent surprise she now learns for the 
 first time, that her father, the rightful Duke of 
 Milan, being far too absorbed in the study of magic 
 to realize all that was going on about him, was 
 supplanted by his own brother, Antonio, helped by 
 his ally the King of Naples. To dispose of the 
 rightful duke and of his infant daughter, without 
 actually staining their hands in their blood, these 
 cruel men cast them adrift in a leaky vessel, ex- 
 pecting, of course, that they would soon perish. It 
 happened, however, that, learning these intentions, 
 an old councillor secretly placed on board all 
 passengers could need, including rich garments and 
 a few of Prospero's best beloved books of magic. 
 
 Thus, instead of perishing, father and daughter 
 drifted to this island, — a little paradise, — ^where 
 they have now dwelt more than twelve years; time 
 employed by Prospero in perfecting himself in magic, 
 until he can now do almost anything he pleases. 
 He has also carefully educated his daughter Mi- 
 randa, until she is an ornament to her sex, although 
 
24 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 he has hitherto kept her ignorant of her origin, 
 and of his dealings with sundry spirits, whom she 
 has never yet seen. 
 
 Requiring the aid of one of these assistants, Pros- 
 pero sends Miranda to sleep by a few passes, ere 
 he summons Ariel, a dainty spirit of the air, who at 
 his command has stirred up this frightful storm. 
 The tempest has been devised to bring to the island 
 both the false brother and his ally, magic having 
 revealed the fact that they are now at sea. Called 
 upon to report what he has done, Ariel vividly de- 
 scribes the wild hurricane, and the apparent wreck 
 of the vessel, which in reality, is riding safely at 
 anchor in a bay, its crew being wrapped in deep 
 slumber. He also states that all the noble passengers 
 have reached land in safety. Prince Ferdinand hav- 
 ing been separated from the rest under such perilous 
 circumstances, that his companions deem him lost. 
 
 Highly pleased with Ariel's report, Prospero 
 warmly praises him, sternly refusing, however, to 
 grant him the freedom from bondage he craves, un- 
 til other orders have been executed. When Ariel 
 ventures to grumble against this decree, Prospero 
 reminds him how he and his fellow-creatures, — all 
 the good spirits on the island, — ^were once under a 
 far more cruel rule; for, having refused to obey the 
 witch who took possession of their realm, one and 
 all had been subject to frightful tortures, Ariel, for 
 instance, being thrust into a cloven pine, where he 
 had remained a groaning, suffering prisoner, until 
 freed by Prospero's magic arts. 
 
 As all this is perfectly true, Ariel humbly prom- 
 
The Tempest 25 
 
 Ises to earn his freedom by implicit obedience, de- 
 parting promptly when Prospero bids him assume the 
 guise of a sea-nymph, invisible to all save his mas- 
 ter. It is while Ariel is executing this command 
 that Miranda rouses from her magic sleep, and is in- 
 vited by Prospero to enter the cave they inhabit, to 
 ascertain whether Caliban, their slave, has fulfilled 
 his tasks. The mere mention of Caliban, — a hideous 
 monster, son of the wicked witch, — causes Miranda 
 to shudder, and she shrinks back in terror when he 
 appears at his master's call, cursing and complain- 
 ing, for he is so stupid and cross-grained that such 
 is the only use he cares to make of the gift of speech 
 cultivated by Prospero. Left to his own devices this 
 monster thinks and does nothing but evil, so the 
 magician, taking advantage of his stupidity, keeps 
 him in subjection by allowing invisible spirits to 
 pinch and tease him whenever he attempts to rebel. 
 
 Caliban's standing grievance is that Prospero has 
 robbed him of the island, where he once ruled at 
 will, so he reviles his master until gravely reminded 
 how kindly he was treated at first, and how pa- 
 tiently taught. It was, in fact, only when his vile 
 instincts prompted him to injure Miranda, that 
 Prospero reduced him to a state of slavery, and 
 condemned him to carry heavy loads of firewood to 
 the cave. 
 
 The monster has scarcely gone in quest of more 
 fuel, in obedience to Prospero's command, when 
 Ariel appears in the guise of a nymph, ready to ex- 
 ecute his master's orders. He is then directed to 
 guide the shipwrecked Prince Ferdinand to the 
 
26 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 magician's cave, and darting away, soon discovers 
 this youth on the shore, bitterlj' mourning the loss 
 of father and friends, for he is convinced he alone 
 has escaped a watery grave. 
 
 Ferdinand is roused from an abstraction of grief 
 by weird music, the invisible Ariel singing above his 
 head a dainty song, which is to serve as lure to 
 guide him to Prospero's cave. But, when the tricksy 
 sprite begins to chant that the royal corpse lies be- 
 neath the waves, where his eyes have turned to 
 pearls, and everything about him has suffered * a 
 sea-change into something rich and strange,' the 
 prince takes it as a sad confirmation of his fear 
 that his father has ceased to exist. 
 
 Following the mysterious, invisible singer, Fer- 
 dinand gradually draws near the spot where Pros- 
 pero and Miranda are standing. While the father 
 expects him, and is already familiar with the aspect 
 of mankind, the daughter seems lost in wonder at the 
 sight of so strange a being, never having seen any one 
 since she was three years old, save her old father, 
 or the hideous Caliban. 
 
 When Miranda expresses innocent admiration at 
 the sight of the youthful newcomer, her father kindly 
 assures her this is no spirit, as she supposes, but 
 merely a shipwrecked prince, vainly seeking his com- 
 panions, and mourning a father's loss. Tender- 
 hearted Miranda is so touched by Ferdinand's sor- 
 row, that Prospero perceives with joy she will readily 
 fall in love with the prince, whom he has brought 
 here for that very purpose. 
 
 Still led by the aerial music, Ferdinand finally 
 
The Tempest 27 
 
 reaches the spot where father and daughter await 
 him, and is so charmed by the young lady's beauty, 
 and so touched by her compassionate glances, that 
 he at first mistakes her for some goddess. On learn- 
 ing, however, that she, too, is a mere mortal, Fer- 
 dinand eagerly inquires whether she is still free to 
 dispose of her hand, and is overjoyed when Miranda 
 innocently replies that she is still a maid. Equally 
 surprised and delighted to discover that so beau- 
 tiful a vision speaks his own language, — the ship 
 having drifted so long and so far he fancied he 
 must have landed on some foreign shore, — the prince 
 indulges in lover-like raptures. 
 
 In reply to Prospero's questions, he then cour- 
 teously explains who he is, and how he and his 
 companions, — whom he duly names, — happened to 
 be at sea when overtaken by the storm. Every word 
 he utters helps to convince the magician that his 
 spells have worked just as he planned, and he is so 
 delighted to think how cleverly Ariel carried out 
 his orders, that he softly vows the sprite shall soon 
 be free. 
 
 Meantime, the prince and Miranda, both young 
 and innocent, have been exchanging admiring 
 glances, every one of which has so increased Ferdi- 
 nand's love for this beautiful island maiden, that 
 he impetuously proposes to make her Queen of 
 Naples. 
 
 Realizing that the young people will prize each 
 other's affections more if difficulties are placed in 
 their way, Prospero now rudely interrupts their con- 
 versation, declaring he knows Ferdinand has come 
 
28 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 to the island as a spy, and threatening in punishment 
 to chain him fast and give him nothing but sea- 
 water to drink! The prince, who is no coward, 
 boldly tries to defend himself by drawing his sword, 
 but the magician, by one word, disarms and makes 
 him helpless. 
 
 The wrath Prospero now simulates seems so 
 alarming, that Miranda, clinging passionately to 
 him, pleads so eloquently in behalf of the stranger, 
 that her father finally pretends to relent. He, 
 therefore, announces that the prince's punishment 
 shall be commuted to slavery, a decree which no 
 longer seems harsh to Ferdinand, since it will en- 
 able him to see Miranda. This scene closes while 
 Miranda is sweetly comforting and encouraging 
 poor Ferdinand, and while Prospero is whispering 
 new orders to Ariel, encouraging him to do his best 
 with the assurance that he shall soon be ' free as 
 mountain winds.' 
 
 Act II. The second act opens upon a remote 
 part of the beach, where we behold the disconsolate 
 group of passengers. The good old councillor, 
 Gonzalo, — who supplied Prospero and Miranda 
 with all things necessary for their journey, — is con- 
 gratulating himself and his companions upon their 
 narrow escape, his remarks being received rather 
 ungraciously by some of the party; the poor King 
 of Naples, for instance, finding it hard for a father 
 to feel grateful for being saved, when his only 
 son and heir has perished! 
 
 While the king plunges back into m.ournful re- 
 flections, his companions comment upon the island, 
 
H Hoffmann 
 
 MIRANDA'S INTERCESSION 
 
 Mira. " If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 
 Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them," 
 
 The Tempest, Act 1, Scene 2. 
 
The Tempest 29 
 
 whose beauty delights them, wondering on what 
 shores the storm can have driven them? They are, 
 besides, greatly amazed to find not only themselves, 
 but even their garments, none the worse for all 
 they have been through. It is only when some 
 time has elapsed that they again try to rouse the 
 king from his state of grief and despondency, by 
 suggesting that the prince, too, may have landed 
 safely, and that hence he must not despair. 
 
 The balmy air of the island, — where the council- 
 lor proposes to found an Utopia, — added to the mys- 
 terious music of Ariel, which now falls upon their 
 ears, has such a peculiar drowsy effect, that all 
 save two soon fall sound asleep. These wakeful men 
 are the usurping Duke of Milan, Antonio, and his 
 match in baseness, Sebastian, brother of the King of 
 Naples. While the others sleep, these two timor- 
 ously wonder whether the trials they have just un- 
 dergone may not have been sent in punishment for 
 their cruel treatment of Prospero and of his 
 daughter. They are, however, so eager for new 
 crimes, that they plan to murder the king, for the 
 prince being safely out of the way, only one life 
 now lies between them and the throne of Naples, 
 which they covet. 
 
 They are just creeping toward the sleeping mon- 
 arch to execute their wicked plan, when Ariel mys- 
 teriously rouses the councillor, who, at sight of their 
 pale faces and fierce glances, shrewdly suspects their 
 villainous intentions. He manages, however, to con- 
 ceal his suspicions, and listens to the conspirators' 
 description of strange sounds that startled them, 
 
3© Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 and made him give the alarm to his companions, who 
 are now all wide awake. 
 
 Sleep being banished for the present, the ship- 
 wrecked noblemen compassionately volunteer to aid 
 the king in searching for traces of his son, and Ariel, 
 satisfied that no further mischief is brewing for the 
 present, flits off to report progress to Prospero. 
 
 In the next scene, we behold Caliban, staggering 
 along under a heavy load of firewood, muttering 
 curses against Prospero and his petty persecutions. 
 While thus giving vent to his anger and rebellion, 
 Caliban suddenly catches sight of the Court Jester 
 (Trinculo), whose cap, bells, and motley attire fill 
 him with such unreasoning terror, that he falls 
 down flat on the ground, hoping his cloak will ef- 
 fectually conceal him. 
 
 The Jester, — ^who has not perceived Caliban, — 
 now comes quickly forward, expressing intense fear 
 lest another storm be imminent, for the noise of 
 thunder is again heard in the air. Glancing wildly 
 about him for shelter from the tempest, the Jester 
 suddenly perceives Caliban's cloak, and thinking it 
 covers some islander slain by a thunderbolt, creeps 
 quickly under it, evidently congratulating himself 
 upon the fact that lightning seldom strikes twice in 
 the same spot, and muttering that ' misery acquaints 
 a man with strange bed-fellows!' 
 
 True to his nature, the Jester no sooner discovers 
 that the man beneath whose cloak he has just taken 
 refuge is still alive, than he begins playing mis- 
 chievous pranks, poking, punching, and pinching 
 him in fun. Believing himself once more a prey to 
 
The Tempest 3 1 
 
 his wonted tormentors, Caliban squirms and groans, 
 until he thus attracts the attention of the ship's but- 
 ler, who now comes upon the scene. Having drifted 
 ashore on a cask of liquor, this man has been com- 
 forting himself ever since landing with so many 
 potations that they have attuned his heart to mirth. 
 His rollicking song, — with frequent pauses to draw 
 comfort from the bottle he carries, — is now inter- 
 rupted by Caliban's wild entreaty to be spared. 
 
 The Butler, who has no evil intentions, is so sur- 
 prised, that he raises the cloak sufficiently to dis- 
 cover Caliban's face. To reassure the strange, 
 trembling creature before him, the Butler gives him 
 a generous drink, which agreeably tickles the mon- 
 ster's palate. It is while Caliban is drinking deeply 
 that his benefactor, who has discovered a second pair 
 of feet sticking out from beneath the cloak, is over- 
 joyed to find that they belong to his friend and fel- 
 low-sufferer, the Jester. They two compare notes in 
 regard to their marvellous escape, until interrupted 
 by Caliban, whose small wits are so sorely affected 
 by the liquor he has drunk, that he implicitly be- 
 lieves the Butler when he audaciously states he is 
 the man in the moon. 
 
 Convinced that all the rest of his companions have 
 perished in the storm, the Butler announces in lordly 
 fashion that he intends to be king of this island; 
 whereupon Caliban, fawningly eager to serve the man 
 who can supply him with such draughts as he has 
 just quaffed, volunteers to wait upon him instead of 
 Prospero, who, he drunkenly chants, can * get a new 
 man.' 
 
32 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Act III. The third act reveals Ferdinand car- 
 rying heavy logs and painfully piling them up, Pros- 
 pero having condemned him to handle a thousand 
 before sunset. While labouring manfully at this hard 
 and unaccustomed task, Ferdinand declares that the 
 thought of Miranda sweetens all his trials, and that 
 her gentleness and compassion offer a strange and 
 pleasing contrast to her father's undue severity. It 
 is while he is thus commenting upon his strange situ- 
 ation, that Miranda steals toward him, thinking her 
 father is still intent upon his books and little suspect- 
 ing that he is following her, and sees and hears all 
 that transpires. Her tender heart is so wrung at 
 the sight of her lover's evident exhaustion, that she 
 implores him to sit down and rest, even offering to 
 carry logs in his stead, a proposal which the prince, 
 of course, gallantly refuses to accept. Instead, he 
 manfully tries to comfort her, assuring her that no 
 trial will prove unbearable as long as she stands by 
 to pity and encourage him. 
 
 ' The eavesdropping Prospero is highly delighted 
 with all this, as he wishes these young people to fall 
 in love with each other; he therefore smiles in- 
 dulgently when his daughter disobeys him, by reveal- 
 ing to the prince her name. No sooner does Ferdi- 
 nand hear it, than, punning upon its meaning, he as- 
 sures her she is indeed the most admirable of women, 
 adding that he has never beheld any member of her 
 sex who could compare with her in beauty or 
 grace. 
 
 Having no recollection of any female face save 
 her own, Miranda is greatly elated by this compli- 
 
The Tempest 33 
 
 ment, and repays Ferdinand's courtesy by assuring 
 him that, although she has never seen any gentleman 
 save her father, she feels certain she will always 
 prefer him to every one else. In return for this 
 artless declaration, Ferdinand informs his lady-love 
 that he is a prince, and probably a king, but that, 
 notwithstanding his exalted rank, he would gladly 
 remain a mere slave for her sweet sake. 
 
 It is while Prospero looks on, well pleased, that 
 this young couple pledge faith, promising to live 
 and die single, unless they can marry one another. 
 Then they pass slowly off the stage, after a tender 
 farewell, while Prospero benevolently watches them 
 out of sight, before again having recourse to his 
 magic books, as there still remains much work for 
 huh to do. 
 
 Y A new change of scene again transfers us to the 
 part of the island where the Butler, the Jester, and 
 Caliban sit around a winecask, pledging each other 
 again and again. Owing to deep drinking, Caliban 
 has become so maudlin that he offers to lick the But- 
 ler's shoes, and positively grovels at his feet. 
 
 While these three are revelling and boasting, Ariel 
 joins them unseen, just in time to overhear Caliban 
 confess he is subject to a magician, who has basely 
 robbed him of this island. When Ariel exclaims 
 aloud, ' Thou liest ! ' a quarrel arises among the 
 drinkers, both Caliban and the Butler hotly accusing 
 the Jester of uttering these offensive words, although 
 he angrily denies doing anything of the sort. 
 
 This quarrel over, Caliban proposes that the But- 
 ler dispose of Prospero by driving a nail through 
 
34 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 his head, and then assume the sovereignty of the 
 island, only to be again interrupted by scornful re- 
 marks from the invisible Ariel. As these are once 
 more attributed to the Jester, he is beaten by his 
 rough companions, ere they resume the discussion of 
 their evil plans. 
 
 They finally settle that Caliban shall lead his com- 
 panions to the cave, — ^where the sorcerer always in- 
 dulges in an afternoon nap, — and that, after murder- 
 ing Prospero and disposing safely of his magic books, 
 the Butler shall marry Miranda and share with her 
 the sovereignty of the island, of which the Jester 
 and Caliban are to be viceroys. 
 
 Ariel, having overheard these plans, watches the 
 conspirators set out to put them into execution, and 
 then flits rapidly on ahead to warn Prospero of their 
 coming, playing a gay little tune, which mystifies 
 both Butler and Jester, but which Caliban recog- 
 nises as music he has often heard before. 
 
 In the meantime, the noblemen have been wander- 
 ing sadly around the island, vainly seeking traces of 
 Ferdinand. They have just abandoned the quest in 
 despair, and Sebastian and Antonio are secretly re- 
 newing their vile plots to murder the mourning King 
 of Naples. They are about to attack him, when 
 Prospero, — ^who knows all, and who has purposely 
 lured them to this spot, — creates a diversion by hav- 
 ing a magnificent banquet served by airy spirits. 
 It disappears again, however, before they can touch 
 it, when Ariel, in the guise of a Harpy, flaps his 
 wings above the table. But, before again vanishing 
 into ' thin air,' Ariel solemnly denounces the King 
 
The Tempest 35 
 
 of Naples, his brother, and the false Duke of Milan, 
 as men of sin, declaring it is in punishment for their 
 crime toward Prospero and Miranda that they have 
 recently suffered shipwreck. 
 
 The King of Naples, who long ago repented his 
 share in this crime, now sadly acknowledges he has 
 indeed met just retribution in the loss of his son, 
 while the two other sinners, utterly unrepentant and 
 bent upon new crimes, set out in a rage to pursue 
 the Harpy, whose clever acting again wins Pros- 
 pero's praise. While the noblemen wonder whether 
 they have not been victims of some new delusion, 
 and the councillor comments on the different ways in 
 which the king, his kinsman, and ally, have re- 
 ceived this reproof, Prospero hastens back to the 
 cave, where the prince and his daughter await him. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens before the cave, 
 just as the magician is courteously apologising to 
 Ferdinand for imposing such hard tasks upon him, 
 explaining that he has done so merely to test the 
 strength of his affection for Miranda. Then Pros- 
 pero promises to bestow his daughter's hand upon 
 the young prince, warning him, however, that ere 
 he can claim her for his bride, he must show how 
 gentle, loving, patient, and unselfish he can be. In 
 return, Ferdinand warmly assures him that, his love 
 being true and honourable, no test will seem hard 
 to win Miranda in the end, so Prospero goes away, 
 leaving the lovers all alone together for the first 
 time. 
 
 The magician has gone to summon Ariel, whom 
 he now directs to guide the shipwrecked mariners to 
 
36 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 this spot, while he amuses the lovers with a pageant, 
 in which Iris, the rainbow, Ceres, the goddess of 
 plenty, and Juno, goddess of the atmosphere, appear 
 in turn to promise them all manner of earthly bliss. 
 After a ballet, in which nymphs and reapers are the 
 performers, this pageant ends, just as Prospero mut- 
 ters it is about time to prepare to outwit Caliban, 
 who is coming hither with two drunken companions 
 to slay him. 
 
 While Ferdinand and Miranda withdraw to the 
 cave, Prospero summons Ariel, bidding him hang 
 out upon a line sundry articles of rich clothing 
 brought from the cave. These garments are to 
 serve as bait for Caliban and his mates, who soon 
 after appear, closely watched by the invisible Pros- 
 pero and Ariel. At the sight of rich clothing, the 
 Butler and Jester greedily seize and prepare to put it 
 on, but even while they are thus engaged, spirits in 
 the shape of huntsmen and hounds, suddenly attack 
 them as if they were game, and drive them out of 
 sight, while the magician and sprite egg them on by 
 loud hunting calls. 
 
 Act V. In the fifth act, Prospero, clad in his 
 magician robes, appears in front of his cell, inquiring 
 of Ariel how soon their joint labours will be con- 
 cluded? The sprite replies the end is now very 
 near, for he has left the King of Naples and his 
 companions close by, under a spell they will not be 
 able to break until they are released. On learning 
 that some of these prisoners seem almost mad from 
 remorse, and that even Ariel pities them, Prospero 
 promises to restore their senses as soon as they are 
 
The Tempest 37 
 
 brought before him. It is while Ariel goes in quest 
 of the noblemen, that Prospero declares this task 
 safely accomplished, he'll break his wand, and cease 
 for ever to practise magic! 
 
 Just then appear within the magic circle drawn 
 by Prospero, the King of Naples and his train, all 
 under a spell they cannot break, which enables the 
 magician to address them, thanking the councillor 
 for his kindly help, reproving the King of Naples, 
 and telling the conspirators that he forgives them, 
 knowing they will soon realise the enormity of their 
 past offence. Then, calling for his ducal attire so 
 he can make himself known as master of Milan, 
 Prospero is arrayed by Ariel, whom he promises 
 soon to free, directing him first to bring the ship's 
 crew to this spot. 
 
 Ariel having vanished, Prospero releases the no- 
 blemen from the spell which has held them en- 
 chained, whereupon the councillor gasps he wishes 
 * some heavenly power ' would guide them ' out of 
 this fearful country.' 
 
 While making brief replies to their questions in 
 regard to his escape, Prospero relates his coming to 
 the island, telling the King of Naples, who al- 
 ludes to his recent sorrow, that he can sympathise 
 with him, as the same tempest has robbed him of his 
 only daughter. The King expressing deep regret 
 that the young people should not have survived their 
 parents to rule together over Naples, Prospero sud- 
 denly grants him a glimpse into the cave, where he 
 beholds Miranda and Ferdinand, apparently playing 
 chess, but in reality so absorbed in each other that 
 
38 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 they pay little heed to their game, and are lost to 
 all the world besides. 
 
 For a brief moment the King of Naples deems 
 this lovely sight one of the many delusions of which 
 he has been victim since landing on this island, but 
 is overjoyed when convinced that it is real. At that 
 moment, Ferdinand, becoming aware at last of his 
 father's presence, falls upon his neck, exclaiming 
 rapturously, 'Though the seas threaten, they are 
 merciful ! ' 
 
 The two fathers gladly bless their children, who 
 are to be King and Queen of Naples, and the young 
 couple are still receiving the congratulations of the 
 noblemen, when Ariel appears, bringing the Master 
 of the vessel and the Boatswain, both of whom are 
 amazed to behold their august passengers safe, and 
 delighted to report their vessel unharmed. 
 
 Meantime, still at Prospero's bidding, Ariel goes 
 in quest of Caliban, the Butler, and Jester, whom he 
 next drives on the stage still tricked out in stolen ap- 
 parel. While the noblemen easily recognise their 
 two shipmates, Prospero explains that Caliban, his 
 man, has induced these two villains to come and 
 murder him in his sleep. They are, of course, un- 
 able to refute this accusation, and when Caliban 
 learns that the creatures whom he took for gods are 
 mere drunkards, he humbly returns to his old servi- 
 tude, and, at Prospero's command, goes ofi with 
 them to trim the cave for the reception of august 
 guests. 
 
 Prospero then invites the noblemen into his cell, 
 where he promises to entertain them that evening 
 
The Tempest 39 
 
 with a detailed account of his adventures, adding 
 that Ariel will favour them on the morrow with 
 breezes which will soon enable them to reach home. 
 There, Ferdinand and Miranda are to be married, 
 and his daughter being happy as future Queen of 
 Naples, Prospero proposes to withdraw to Milan, to 
 prepare for death. 
 
 Having finally released the happy Ariel from 
 bondage, Prospero, in an epilogue, takes leave of 
 the spectators, begging them to free him, in his turn, 
 by granting him their applause. 
 
AS YOU LIKE IT 
 
 Act I, The first act opens in an orchard where 
 Orlando and his servant Adam are engrossed in 
 conversation, Orlando stating that if he remem- 
 bers correctly, his father bequeathed him a certain 
 sum, bidding his elder brother Oliver educate him. 
 He complains, however, that, instead of obeying 
 these injunctions, Oliver has allowed him to remain 
 untrained, although his actions show he is one of na- 
 ture's gentlemen. 
 
 To prove to his old servant how unkindly Oliver 
 treats him, Orlando bids the man lurk in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and listen to their conversation, for his 
 elder brother is just approaching. Oliver begins 
 by roughly inquiring what Orlando is * making or 
 marring,' becoming indignant when told that God's 
 handiwork is, indeed, being marred, since his brother 
 is left in ignorance and treated like a prodigal, al- 
 though he has never behaved like one. 
 
 While not begrudging his elder brother the lion's 
 share of his father's fortune, Orlando, nevertheless, 
 reproaches him for unfraternal conduct, thereby so 
 enraging Oliver that he tries to lay violent hands 
 upon him. This insult is hotly resented by Orlando, 
 who vows he will not remain here to be ill-treated, 
 and compels his brother to hear a few bitter truths 
 ere demanding his portion. This provokes his dis- 
 40 
 
As You Like It 41 
 
 missal empty handed, Oliver bidding Adam accom- 
 pany him when he attempts to intercede. 
 
 Adam and Orlando have barely left the stage 
 v^^hen Oliver begins plotting to punish his brother 
 for his impudence. Inquiring of a servant vi^hether 
 the wrestler has arrived, and learning that the man 
 awaits his pleasure, he has him summoned. Then he 
 jocosely inquires what the news may be, and learns 
 that the good old duke, banished by a wicked 
 younger brother, has sought refuge in the forest of 
 Arden (Ardennes), whither many lords have gone 
 into voluntary exile to keep him company. In re- 
 ply to Oliver's inquiry as to what has become of 
 Rosalind, the good duke's daughter, the wrestler ex- 
 plains she has been kept at court as companion to 
 her uncle's child, for whom she feels more than 
 cousinly affection. 
 
 This news retailed, the wrestler announces he is 
 to exhibit his talents before the usurping duke on 
 the morrow, and has come to warn Oliver not to 
 allow his brother to measure strength with him, as 
 he might injure a stripling. Thanking him for his 
 kindly meant warning, Oliver states his brother 
 has been guilty of such ingratitude that he should 
 feel no regret should an accident befall him ; where- 
 upon the wrestler departs, promising to give Orlando, 
 — ^whom Oliver has painted in the blackest colors, — 
 due punishment for his supposed crime. When he 
 has gone, Oliver, fearing lest Orlando may not 
 challenge the wrestler, decides to taunt him so art- 
 fully, that he will be sure to try his luck on the 
 morrow. 
 
42 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 The next scene is played on the lawn before the 
 duke's palace, where the two cousins are standing 
 together, Cella vainly trying to cheer Rosalind by 
 telling her that although her father is an exile, she 
 ought to be thankful not to be parted from her 
 friend. To comfort Rosalind for her fallen for- 
 tunes, Celia adds, that, being her father's only 
 daughter and heir, she will, at his death, restore the 
 usurped duchy to its rightful owner. 
 
 The young ladies are still discussing these matters 
 and wondering how to beguile the time until even- 
 ing, when Touchstone appears, summoning them to 
 join the duke. When this jester quaintly swears by 
 his honour he was sent for them, the girls teasingly 
 inquire where he learned such an oath, whereupon 
 he whimsically demonstrates how easy it is to swear 
 by what one doesn't possess! The three are still 
 engaged in a playful war of wit when another mes- 
 senger comes, exclaiming the ladies have lost the 
 greater part of the afternoon's sport, during which 
 the wrestler, pitted against three brothers, has de- 
 feated them all in turn, to rhe lasting grief of their 
 aged father. He adds, however, that the match is 
 not over, a stripling having just challenged the cham- 
 pion to wrestle with him on this very lawn. 
 
 A moment later a flourish of trumpets announces 
 the arrival of the usurping duke, followed by his 
 train, which includes the wrestler and Orlando. 
 When the girls perceive how young and slender the 
 challenger seems, they express great pity, only to be 
 told the duke has vainly tried to deter him from 
 risking his life. As a last hope, he now begs the 
 
As Toil Like It 43 
 
 ladies to try what they can do ; so, while Celia quietly 
 advises Orlando to give up the rash attempt for his 
 own sake, Rosalind, with better comprehension of 
 human nature, inquires whether he would withdraw 
 should she persuade the duke to forbid the match? 
 
 Although touched by the solicitude they show, Or- 
 lando quietly declares nothing would induce him to 
 desist, adding that should he be slain no one will 
 mourn him. Seeing him determined, the girls wish 
 they might add their small store of strength to his 
 own, thus enabling him to win, a kindness which 
 nerves Orlando to do his best, for he hopes to earn 
 the approval of Rosalind, with whom he has fallen in 
 love at first sight. 
 
 When, therefore, the call comes for the match, 
 Orlando springs forward, and closing with his an- 
 tagonist, writhes a while to and fro, ere he throws 
 the famous champion by a sudden clever turn. So 
 severe is the fall, that the wrestler has to be carried 
 off the field unconscious, while the duke demands 
 the victor's name. On hearing that he is Orlando, 
 third son of Sir Rowland de Boys, the usurper 
 frowns, for he is aware that this nobleman was a 
 loyal partisan of his deposed brother. 
 
 Instead of praising Orlando for his victory, there- 
 fore, he marches haughtily off the stage, no one re- 
 maining on the green save the abashed victor, and 
 the two young ladies. The former assures the latter 
 that he is proud of being his father's son, whereat 
 Rosalind replies that since his father was a friend of 
 hers, she will atone for the duke's slight, and show 
 her appreciation for what he has done, by giving 
 
44' -Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 him the little golden chain she wears around her 
 neck, although she knows it is but a trifling gift. 
 Having thus shown her favour, she departs with Ce- 
 lia, leaving the youth to regret he had not sufficient 
 presence of mind to express his gratitude as he 
 should. 
 
 It is while Orlando stands there musing, that one 
 of the courtiers comes back to caution him to leave 
 as soon as possible, as the duke in his wrath may 
 resort to treacherous measures. Although grateful 
 for this warning, Orlando is so anxious to ascertain 
 who the ladies are, that he questions the courtier, 
 thus learning that Rosalind and Celia have been 
 brought up together and are closely bound in friend- 
 ship, although the duke has recently taken such a 
 dislike to his niece that his displeasure will probably 
 soon break forth. Having given this information, 
 the courtier departs, and Orlando, deciding that he 
 must ' fly from the smoke into the smother,' van- 
 ishes. 
 
 We next behold a room in the palace, where the 
 girls are discussing the wrestling match, Celia slyly 
 accusing Rosalind of having fallen in love with the 
 youthful champion. Unable to deny the soft im- 
 peachment, Rosalind tries to account for her infatu- 
 ation by her father's love for the parent of the young 
 man, until surprised by the sudden appearance of the 
 usurping duke. His long-smouldering anger now 
 breaks forth in a rough order to Rosalind to leave 
 his court, under penalty of death should she be 
 found within twenty miles of it in ten days' time. 
 When his niece gently asks how she has incurred his 
 
As You Like It 45 
 
 displeasure, he reviles her as a traitor, revealing, 
 how^ever, that the main cause of his displeasure is the 
 fact that she is her father's daughter ! 
 
 Although Celia now eloquently pleads to have 
 Rosalind remain, the vt^icked duke vows that as long 
 as her cousin is at court she will never receive her 
 full share of honors, and having reiterated Rosalind 
 is banished, leaves the apartment. The young ladies 
 first fall upon each other's neck, bewailing what has 
 occurred ; then Celia loyally declares that, as nothing 
 will ever induce her to part from her friend, by 
 one sentence her father has banished them both. 
 When Rosalind sadly inquires whither they shall 
 wander, Celia suggests they join the banished duke 
 in the forest of Arden, proposing male apparel to 
 enable them to travel thither unchallenged. This 
 plan meets with Rosalind's approval, save that she 
 decides one of them garbed as a man can serve as 
 protector for the other, and that, being the taller 
 of the two, she must personate the escort. Next the 
 girls select romantic names, and sally forth to col- 
 lect their valuables, don their travelling costumes, 
 and secure the escort of the Jester, on whose devo- 
 tion they can rely. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens in the forest of 
 Arden, where the banished duke is sitting beneath 
 the trees, in the company of his fellow-exiles, re- 
 marking that although they feel the season's differ- 
 ences, the uses of adversity are sweet, as they have 
 taught him to find ' tongues in trees, books in the 
 running brooks, sermons in stones and good in every- 
 thing.' One of his friends warmly congratulates 
 
46 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 him upon having reached this advanced stage of 
 philosophy, before informing him that ' the melan- 
 choly Jaques,' one of their number, recently shed 
 sentimental tears over a wounded stag, moralising 
 on its suffering and on the indifference shown by its 
 fellow-creatures. Because the banished duke has 
 often found Jaques good company, he decides to 
 hasten to the spot where this sentimentalist is weep- 
 ing over the stricken deer. 
 
 The scene now changes to a room in the palace of 
 the usurping duke, where he is cross-questioning 
 those around him, in hopes of finding some trace of 
 his missing daughter and niece. He learns that, 
 after retiring as usual, the girls must have escaped 
 with the Jester, no clue having been found to their 
 destination, although it is rumoured in the palace 
 that they joined the young wrestler whose feats they 
 so admired. These tidings add such fuel to the 
 duke's wrath, that he has Oliver summoned, intend- 
 ing to demand from him the surrender of the run- 
 aways. 
 
 The scene is transferred to Oliver's house, at the 
 moment when, returning from the match, Orlando 
 encounters the delighted Adam. But, although glad 
 to see him victorious, Adam hints he would have 
 done better not to return home at all, as Oliver, 
 having failed to get rid of him in this way, is plan- 
 ning to burn him alive! Finding it inadvisable to 
 remain at home under these circumstances, Orlando 
 wonders where he can go, whereupon Adam gener- 
 ously offers him the savings of a lifetime, proposing, 
 moreover, to attend him, although nearly four-score 
 
ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN 
 
 Emile Bayard 
 
 Ros. " Wear this for me, one out of suits witli fortune, 
 
 That could give nnore, but that her hand lacks means," 
 
 As You Like It. Act 1 , Scene 2, 
 
As You Like It 47 
 
 years of age. Touched by his generosity and devo- 
 tion, Orlando accepts, realising that his brother's 
 house is equally unsafe for both of them, and hoping 
 soon to be able to provide for his own and his aged 
 servant's needs. 
 
 The next scene is played in the forest of Arden, 
 whither Rosalind, in boy's apparel, Celia, dressed 
 like a peasant girl, and the Jester sink down ex- 
 hausted by the wayside. When Rosalind exclaims 
 that her spirits are weary, the Jester quaintly vows 
 his spirits would not matter were only his legs less 
 tired, and seems half inclined to follow her example 
 when she declares she could find it in her heart to 
 cry like a woman, notwithstanding her manly attire. 
 The trio have been walking many days, the distance 
 being great between the duchy and this forest, and 
 are therefore so worn out with fatigue, and so faint 
 from lack of food, that they are unable to proceed 
 another step. The Jester, after ruefully emitting 
 sundry whimsical remarks on the folly of travelling, 
 decides, * when I was at home, I was in a better 
 place : but travellers must be content ! ' 
 
 It is while all three are wondering where they are, 
 and how they can procure food and shelter, that a 
 couple of shepherds stroll toward them, the younger 
 confiding to the elder his passion for the shepherdess 
 Phebe, describing his feelings so graphically that 
 Rosalind realises for the first time her heart is un- 
 dergoing similar pangs for Orlando. The Jester 
 quaintly comments that he, too, once knew what it 
 is to be in love, but Celia, too exhausted to heed any- 
 thing save her weariness, prosaically urges her com- 
 
'48 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 panions to address the older shepherd and try and 
 obtain aid. 
 
 In reply to the question of Rosalind, — ^whom he 
 naturally takes for a lad, — the old shepherd states 
 that, although sorry for Celia, he cannot assist her, 
 his master having just dismissed him, for he is on 
 the point of selling his farm to the young shepherd 
 who has just left him. On hearing there is a farm 
 for sale in the neighbourhood, Rosalind and Celia, 
 who are well provided with funds, suddenly decide 
 to purchase it, retaining the old man as their servant 
 at higher wages, news so welcome to their inter- 
 locutor, that he joyfully bids them follow him to 
 the farm, where he vows they will be welcome. 
 
 The deserted forest glade is next occupied by 
 some of the duke's merry outlaws, who sing a hunt- 
 ing song which delights the ' melancholy Jaques,' 
 and to which they daily add some verses. Having 
 finished singing their most recent addition, the hunts- 
 men depart, to announce to the duke that a ban- 
 quet awaits him. 
 
 We next behold Orlando and Adam, who have 
 also made their way to the forest of Arden, and who, 
 like the girls and the Jester, have found the journey 
 long and weary. Both are so faint from hunger, 
 that poor old Adam sinks down by the wayside, bid- 
 ding his master forsake him, since he cannot drag 
 himself another step. After trying to stimulate 
 Adam by saying that a little food will restore his 
 strength and spirits, Orlando lays him down beneath 
 a tree, bidding him hold fast to life until his return, 
 for he is going into the forest to get him something 
 
As You Like It 49 
 
 to eat, vowing he will do so or lose his life in the 
 attempt \ 
 
 Meantime, the duke and his companions have gath- 
 ered around the venison they have slain, and are just 
 wondering why Jaques does not appear when he 
 joins them, relating how he has been detained in the 
 forest by a most edifying conversation with a Fool. 
 He claims that ' motley's the only wear,' and begs 
 the duke to appoint him Fool of his forest court, for 
 such an office would enable him to tell the truth in 
 guise of a jest. They have just reached this point 
 in the conversation when Orlando rushes upon them 
 with drawn sword, bidding them refrain from touch- 
 ing the food before themi, under penalty of death! 
 
 The duke, surprised, first inquires why he should 
 be debarred from partaking of his own game; then, 
 suspecting the intruder is in sore need of food, 
 generously ofifers to overlook his rudeness, and in- 
 vites him to partake of the meal. In response Or- 
 lando eloquently describes what a starving man en- 
 dures, adding that before he can touch food him- 
 self, he must, ' like a doe to a fawn,' return to the 
 aged servant who has followed him for love's sake, 
 but who has dropped down exhausted. On hearing 
 this, the tender-hearted duke bids Orlando fetch his 
 companion, promising that not a morsel shall be 
 eaten until the weary travellers can share the meal. 
 Then, while Orlando vanishes into the forest, the 
 melancholy Jaques soliloquises over what has oc- 
 curred, declaring that ' all the world's a stage, and 
 all the men and women merely players,' and de- 
 scribing the seven ages of man in sentences so 
 
50 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 graphic that they have become world-renowned quo- 
 tations. 
 
 He has barely finished when Orlando re-enters, 
 carrying Adam, whom he sets down by the outlaws, 
 heartily thanking them for their kindness to him 
 and to his aged retainer. Seeing the wanderers' 
 pressing need for food, the duke bids both fall to, 
 while his men entertain them with a song. This 
 over, the duke, who has been studying Orlando's 
 countenance, recognises his strong resemblance to an 
 old friend on learning his name, and therefore bids 
 him welcome to Arden. Old Adam, strengthened by 
 food, finally manages to stand, and hobble off in 
 company of the rest. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in the palace, 
 where the wicked duke is interviewing Oliver, who 
 swears his brother has not been seen since the 
 wrestling match, although he has eagerly sought him. 
 Not believing this statement, the duke angrily orders 
 him to produce his brother alive or dead, within the 
 next twelvemonth, or forfeit his property, which is 
 confiscated in the meantime. When Oliver protests 
 against this decree, saying he never loved his brother, 
 the duke reproves him, and turns him out. 
 
 We now return to the forest of Arden, where Or- 
 lando is hanging verses on a tree, for ever since his 
 first encounter with Rosalind, he has been so deeply 
 in love with her, that he has written innumerable 
 poems in her honour, and has carved her name on 
 every trunk! Having hung his last effusion upon a 
 bough, Orlando departs, his place being soon oc- 
 cupied by the old shepherd and Jester, the former 
 
As You Like It 51 
 
 quizzically inquiring of the latter how he enjoys 
 rural life? In reply, the Jester emits sundry philo- 
 sophical remarks, ere he challenges his rustic com- 
 panion to show what he can do in that line, thus 
 eliciting from him a few aphorisms which demon- 
 strate that he is a born philosopher. 
 
 They have just finished a quaint exposition of 
 their respective points of view, when Rosalind, still 
 disguised as a youth, enters, reading aloud one of 
 the many poems she has discovered in the forest, all of 
 which, to her intense amazement, contain her name. 
 When the Jester, who overhears her declaiming 
 this last production, inclines to poke fun at it, Rosa- 
 lind chides him, whereupon he improvises ridiculous 
 rhymes, which he pronounces fully equal to those 
 she holds, although they did not sprout from a tree! 
 They are still good-naturedly sparring on this sub- 
 ject, when Celia, as peasant girl, arrives perusing 
 another poem, wherein Rosalind is described as pos- 
 sessing the combined charms of Helen, Cleopatra,^ 
 Atalanta, and Lucretia. 
 
 But, although this poem tickles Rosalind's vanity, 
 she pronounces it tedious as a sermon, until, left 
 alone with Celia, she wonders how it happens she 
 should be known so far away from home? Her 
 friend then informs her that the poet wears her 
 chain about his neck, rejoicing when Rosalind 
 changes colour, and making her confess that, not- 
 withstanding male attire, she still suffers from fem- 
 inine curiosity. Then she reveals how she has met Or- 
 lando in the forest, whereupon Rosalind asks ten 
 ^See Guerber's ' Story of the Romans.' 
 
52 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 eager questions in a breath, imploring her frienJ to 
 answer in a word, an impossible feat Celia laugh- 
 ingly declines to perform. It is only after some 
 time that Rosalind discovers how Celia surprised the 
 youth, lying in the forest, in huntsman attire, com- 
 posing some of the verses with which he decks the 
 trees. 
 
 While they are still talking, seeing Orlando and 
 Jaques come toward them, the girls hide in the 
 thicket, hoping to overhear what they are saying. 
 Jaques is terming Orlando a poor companion, a 
 compliment the youth returns in kind. Then 
 Jaques bids the youth cease disfiguring trees with 
 love tokens, although in the next breath he curi- 
 ously inquires who the Rosalind may be whom the 
 youth so fervently addresses? 
 
 In reply to a query from Jaques relating to his 
 sweetheart's stature, Orlando pronounces Rosalind 
 * just as high as my heart,' adding that if, as his com- 
 panion avers, his worst folly consists in being in love, 
 he would not exchange it for Jaques' best virtue! 
 
 After a little more conversation, Jaques leaves 
 Orlando beneath a tree, and the moment seeming 
 auspicious, Rosalind, confident not to be recognised 
 in man's garb, whispers to Celia that she is going 
 to play the part of a saucy page. A second later, 
 creeping cautiously out of the thicket, Rosalind peers 
 at Orlando from behind the tree, asking the time. 
 When he reproves her for using the expression ' the 
 lazy foot of time,' she saucily describes how time 
 passes for different persons under varying circum- 
 stances. 
 
As You Like It 53 
 
 These sprightly speeches so captivate Orlando's 
 fancy that he inquires where this page resides, only 
 to learn that his farm is situated on the ' skirts of 
 the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat.' He also 
 discovers that his interlocutor's education is due to 
 a learned uncle, of whose wisdom the page volun- 
 teers samples, ere, deeming it time to turn the tables, 
 he suddenly says some lover must be lurking near, as 
 ' Rosalind ' is carved on every tree, while rhymes 
 in her honour flutter from every bush. When Or- 
 lando pleads guilty to being this lovelorn swain, the- 
 page vows he bears none of the usual hall-marks of 
 a lover, which consist in lean cheeks, sunken eyes, and 
 neglected apparel. 
 
 Notwithstanding this lack, Orlando assures the 
 page he is a lover indeed, grieving sorely because 
 parted from the object of his passion. Thereupon 
 the page offers to cure him by personating Rosalind, 
 declaring that although a mere lad, he can counter- 
 feit women so well, that if Orlando will only make 
 love to him as to his sweetheart, he will soon cease 
 to suffer. Although averring no remedy exists for 
 his complaint, Orlando consents to try the plan, ere 
 he and the page disappear into the forest depths, just 
 as the Jester strolls on the scene with a shepherdess, 
 whom he is helping gather her goats. 
 
 Their conversation is overheard by the melancholy 
 Jaques, who seems duly amused when the Jester 
 wooes this shepherdess in terms she cannot under- 
 stand, and concludes with the proposal to be mar- 
 ried by the vicar of a neighbouring village. Al- 
 though dull and matter-of-fact, the shepherdess read- 
 
54 Stories of Shakespeare' s Comedies 
 
 ily understands a proposal, and has barely signified 
 consent, when a clerical gentleman appears. He is 
 not, however, an orthodox incumbent, but an unac- 
 credited priest. Sir Oliver Martext, and gravely re- 
 fuses to marry the couple unless some one gives away 
 the bride. Thereupon the melancholy Jaques volun- 
 teers his services, although he declares he deems it 
 hardly seemly for a couple to be married like gypsies 
 under a bush. This remark convinces the Jester that 
 this is not the vicar he needs, so he withdraws with 
 the shepherdess, deciding to be properly married some 
 other day. 
 
 The next scene is played in the forest between 
 Rosalind and Celia, the former declaring she is in- 
 clined to weep and the latter teasingly retorting that 
 such behaviour would ill become her array. Rosa- 
 lind's grief is caused by the fact that after promising 
 to come that morning, Orlando has not yet ap- 
 peared! In the course of the ensuing conversation, 
 Rosalind mentions meeting her father in the forest, 
 saying that, owing to her disguise, the duke failed 
 to recognise her, although he asked her name. Even 
 so momentous an occurrence, however, cannot hold 
 her attention long, for she soon returns to the theme 
 of Orlando, compelling Celia to admit that ' he 
 writes brave verses, speaks brave words,' and seems 
 deeply in love. 
 
 Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival 
 of the old shepherd, reporting that in case they care 
 to hear the youth whom they recently overheard, 
 woo his shepherdess, he will guide them to a place 
 in the forest, from whence they can listen unseen. 
 
As You Like It 55 
 
 Both Rosalind and Celia gladly follow him, for 
 'the sight of lovers feedeth those in love!' 
 
 The scene is now transferred to a different part 
 of the forest, where Phebe is being sued by the 
 young shepherd, while Rosalind, Celia, and their 
 old retainer peep out from the thicket. The shep- 
 herdess seems obdurate at first, although the swain 
 tells her that while she may not love him now, the 
 time wall come when, knowing what it is to love in 
 vain, she will pity his sorrows. Rosalind, in page's 
 garb, now emerges from the thicket to inform Phebe 
 how foolishly she is behaving, for although young 
 and good-looking at present, she cannot always count 
 upon so worthy a suitor as the youth now offering his 
 hand. 
 
 While pretending to listen to this lecture, Phebe 
 ogles the youthful page, with whom she has fallen in 
 love, although he has repeatedly told her it is in vain. 
 After bidding her fall down on her knees, ' and 
 thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love,' the 
 page departs with his companions; leaving the shep- 
 herd to complain that Phebe refuses his offers for the 
 sake of this lad who has recently purchased the neigh- 
 bouring farm ! He feels somewhat comforted, how- 
 ever, when she proposes to write the ' peevish boy ' 
 a letter, rebuking him for his impudence, and asks 
 the shepherd to deliver it. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in the forest 
 where Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques having met, the 
 latter, anxious to learn more concerning the new- 
 comers, asks questions which Rosalind saucily an- 
 swers, saying they have heard how melancholy he is. 
 
56 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Jaques then explains that his melancholy is of a 
 peculiar sort, being neither that of the scholar, 
 the musician, the courtier, the soldier, the lawyer, 
 the lady, or the lover, although compounded of all 
 these various kinds. He adds that in the course of 
 his life he has collected a vast amount of experi- 
 ence, whereupon Rosalind pertly retorts that if ex- 
 perience only serves to make him sad, it would be 
 better to have none! 
 
 They are still wittily sparring, when Orlando ap- 
 pears, and the melancholy Jaques, dreading lest they 
 may talk in verse, hastens away. Evidently Rosa- 
 lind has been pining for the sight of her lover, for 
 she twits him with his absence, pretending to be 
 his lady-love, and eggs him on to make such a 
 proposal as he would fain offer to his sweetheart. 
 Playing her part to perfection, Rosalind pretends 
 to flout him, stating, when he threatens to kill him- 
 self, that although the world is six thousand years 
 old, and innumerable lovers have already existed, 
 ' men have died from time to time and worms have 
 eaten them, but not for love ! ' Although so wilful, 
 she finally accepts his hand, suggesting a mock mar- 
 riage, wherein Celia personates the priest and unites 
 her to Orlando. This simulated ceremony is barely 
 over, when Rosalind peremptorily inquires how long 
 Orlando would love his lady should he win her? 
 When he ardently swears 'forever and a day,' she* 
 promptly retorts ' men are April when they woo, 
 December when they wed.' After a little more 
 talk with the saucy page, — ^who positively fascinates 
 him, — Orlando leaves to join the duke at dinner, 
 
As You Like It 57 
 
 promising to return in two hours' time, under pen- 
 alty of forfeiting his friend's good opinion. Then 
 Celia vehemently reproaches her companion for wan- 
 ton behaviour, although Rosalind vows it proves her 
 love for the youth, who still deems her the lad she 
 appears. 
 
 The girls have just left the glade when the 
 melancholy Jaques and a band of foresters return 
 from the hunt, bearing the deer they have slain 
 for the duke's dinner, and celebrate their triumph 
 by a joyful song. 
 
 At the end of two hours, Rosalind and Celia re- 
 visit the trysting-spot in the forest, where, instead 
 of Orlando, they are met by the youthful shepherd, 
 delivering Phebe's letter. Pretending to believe he 
 has written this missive himself, Rosalind reads it 
 aloud to him, vowing the fulsome compliments it 
 contains are pure irony, and bidding the shepherd, 
 instead of other answer, carry back to Phebe the 
 message, ' If she love me, I charge her to love thee,' 
 words the swain is delighted to transmit. 
 
 He has barely gone when Oliver comes upon the 
 scene, inquiring the locality of the farm where he 
 will find a saucy page to whom he is bearing a mes- 
 sage? After a little beating about the bush, discov- 
 ering he is addressing the very lad he seeks, he re- 
 ports that his brother bade him carry to the youth 
 whom he calls ' Rosalind ' in sport, a bloody hand- 
 kerchief. Then, Oliver describes how, after leav- 
 ing them, Orlando discovered a wayfarer lying be- 
 neath a tree, with a deadly serpent coiled around 
 his neck, while a lioness crouched in a neighbouring 
 
58 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 thicket, ready to devour him as soon as a movement 
 revealed he was still alive ! While hesitating how to 
 deliver the unconscious sleeper from his double peril, 
 Orlando suddenly recognized in him his cruel 
 brother ; but, too generous to avenge past wrongs, he 
 drove away the snake, and, standing between the 
 lioness and sleeper, killed the wild beast, which 
 wounded him in the fray. 
 
 The girls interrupt this story with exclamations 
 and comments, ere learning how, reconciled to his 
 brother, Oliver accompanied him to the duke's cave, 
 where, when Orlando fainted away, his wound was 
 discovered. It was on recovering from this swoon 
 that he begged his brother explain his absence to 
 the page, delivering the bloody handkerchief as 
 voucher of the truth of his tale. 
 
 Rosalind, who has listened with keenest interest 
 to this story, no sooner beholds the gory token than 
 she faints away, behaviour passing strange on the 
 part of a man, however natural on that of a woman. 
 But her unconsciousness is very brief, and when she 
 recovers, she bids Oliver tell his brother how clev- 
 erly a page could simulate a swoon! 
 
 Act V. In the fifth act we see the Jester and 
 shepherdess wandering in the forest, still commenting 
 on their narrow escape from being married by a 
 man not entitled to perform the sacred ceremony. 
 Then the Jester inquires whether, his lady-love has 
 ever had other suitors, only to learn that she has 
 been wooed by a clown who now appears, and stu- 
 pidly answers all the questions asked. After lectur- 
 ing this simpleton for not pushing his advantage. 
 
As You Like It 59 
 
 telling him to learn that ' to have, is to have,' the 
 Jester and the shepherdess are summoned by the old 
 shepherd to appear before the duke. 
 
 We next see the brothers, Oliver and Orlando, 
 in the forest, just as the latter declares it is strange 
 that, having only lately beheld Celia, Oliver should 
 have fallen so deeply in love with her, that he can 
 no longer exist without her ! The depth of this new- 
 born passion is proved, however, when Oliver pro- 
 poses to give up everything and turn shepherd for 
 the sake of his peasant lady-love. While fully ap- 
 proving of Oliver's devotion to Celia, and ex- 
 pressing delight at their approaching marriage, Or- 
 lando sees the page draw near, so gladly allows 
 his brother to depart. 
 
 Touched by all her lover has undergone, Rosalind 
 expresses regret to see his arm in a sling, inquires 
 whether he heard of the simulated swoon, and re- 
 ports that Celia and his brother are so deeply in 
 love that they are to be united on th" morrow in the 
 presence of the duke. When Orlando sadly re- 
 marks that the sight of such happiness intensifies his 
 loneliness, the saucy page, whom he has hitherto been 
 wooing in mocking style, volunteers to play the part 
 of Rosalind at the altar, too. 
 
 As Orlando ruefully admits that pretence does not 
 satisfy the heart, the page suddenly proposes to use 
 magic arts to bring Rosalind to the forest on the 
 morrow, ready to marry him. This promise seems 
 vain to Orlando, who is still brooding over it, when 
 the young shepherd and Phebe draw near. The 
 latter hotly reproaches the page for showing her 
 
6o Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 letter, whereupon Rosalind replies it was done on 
 purpose, the shepherd alone being worthy of her love. 
 Then the page proves how deeply the shepherd is 
 enamoured, by making him describe his passion, 
 Phebe exclaiming that he exactly expresses her feel- 
 ings for the page, who saucily retorts he never felt 
 such symptoms for any woman, while Orlando sighs 
 it is thus he loves Rosalind. At the end of this 
 whimsical scene, the page expresses readiness to help 
 the shepherd, adding that should he ever marry a 
 woman it will be Phebe, but exacting in exchange for 
 this conditional promise her solemn pledge to marry 
 page or shepherd on the morrow! 
 
 This settled, the group breaks up, its different 
 members agreeing to meet at the trysting-spot in the 
 forest on the morrow. A moment later the Jester 
 and shepherdess stroll forward, conversing so in- 
 timately that they seem only half pleased when the 
 duke's pages come to entertain them with a song. 
 
 The next scene is also played in the forest, where 
 the banished duke has gathered his friends to grace 
 a quadruple wedding. Turning to Orlando, he 
 wonderingly inquires whether he deems it possible 
 the saucy page should carry out so rash a promise, 
 whereupon Orlando replies that at times he be- 
 lieves and at times he does not, never knowing what 
 to think of the tricksy youth. 
 
 Just then the page appears with the shepherd, and 
 asks the duke whether he will consent to bestow his 
 daughter upon Orlando? The duke having prom- 
 ised to do so, the page next asks Orlando whether 
 he will marry Rosalind, obtaining the prompt reply : 
 
As You Like It 6i 
 
 * That would I, were I of all kingdoms king.' Turn- 
 ing to the shepherdess the page then mischievously 
 inquires whether she is still ready to marry him, 
 repeating the promise that, failing him, she will 
 espouse the shepherd? This promise being wrung 
 from Phebe, together with a corresponding one from 
 the shepherd, Rosalind, sure her arrangements are 
 all complete, departs with Celia, under pretext of 
 summoning the duke's daughter by magic arts. 
 
 It is only after she has gone that the duke com- 
 ments upon a peculiar resemblance between this lad 
 and his beloved daughter, a likeness Orlando has no- 
 ticed, and which has made him fancy the page a 
 brother of his lady-love. The melancholy Jaques 
 also announces the approach of Jester and shep- 
 herdess, whimsically remarking that another flood 
 must be near, since so many couples are preparing 
 to take refuge in the ark ! In the conversation which 
 ensues between Jaques, the duke, and the Jester, 
 the latter keeps interrupting himself, to give instruc- 
 tions in regard to her behaviour to his rustic bride, 
 meanwhile favouring the others with a synopsis of 
 the most approved formulas for challenging and 
 duelling. 
 
 The appearance of Hymen, god of marriage, 
 escorting Celia and Rosalind in woman's garb, in- 
 terrupts this conversation, and the duke discovers 
 his daughter has come here so he can witness her 
 marriage to the lover of her choice, although she con- 
 fesses she owes equal allegiance to them both. Al- 
 though almost too surprised to speak, neither father 
 nor lover seems inclined to disown her, while Phebe, 
 
62 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 who has been gazing in open-mouthed astonishment 
 at the transformed page, now bids farewell to her 
 illusions and prepares to marry the shepherd. 
 
 The fourfold marriage ceremony under Hymen's 
 ministrations, is barely over, when Orlando's sec- 
 ond brother appears, saying he is sent to atone for 
 the wrong the usurping duke has done. Thereupon, 
 he describes how the usurper set out to pursue and 
 slay his brother, but that on entering the forest of 
 Arden, he met a holy hermit, who, after converting 
 him from his evil ways, persuaded him to relinquish 
 his ill-gotten estates, and retire into a monastery. 
 
 The rightful duke now decrees that Orlando shall 
 have his duchy with his daughter's hand, that Oliver 
 shall recover his estates, and Jaques have sole pos- 
 session of his cave ! 
 
 The epilogue of this play is recited by Rosalind, 
 although that part is not generally awarded to a 
 lady. She declares that just as ' good wine needs 
 no bush,' a ' good play needs no epilogue,' before 
 ' conjuring ' the audience by stating that for the 
 love they bear men the women cannot help liking 
 this play, while for the love they bear the women, 
 the men will do likewise. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 Act I. The first act opens in a street in Venice, 
 where Antonio, a wealthy middle-aged merchant, 
 talking to two acquaintances, wonders why he feels 
 vaguely sad and apprehensive. When his friends 
 suggest that, having many vessels at sea exposed to 
 all the winds that blow, he necessarily is anxious, he 
 denies it, as he does also being in love. 
 
 Before the cause of this strange melancholy is dis- 
 covered, Bassanio joins this group with two com- 
 panions, who talk and laugh and appoint a meeting 
 at dinner, although Antonio seems disinclined for 
 festivities. Still, as he has- remarked that every 
 man has soine part to play in the world, one of the 
 speakers, Gratiano, expresses a preference for the 
 role of fool, mirth and laughter being more de- 
 sirable than melancholy. 
 
 Left alone with Bassanio, Antonio comments on 
 the nonsense just uttered, ere inquiring with whom 
 his friend has fallen in love? In reply Bassanio 
 states that, although enamoured of a beautiful 
 lady, he cannot sue for her hand, because he has 
 squandered his fortune, and is deeply in debt to An- 
 tonio and others. Instead of reproaching him, Anto- 
 nio generously consents to make another loan, which 
 Bassanio accepts in hopes of making all good when 
 he has won Portia, the lady of Belmont, with whom 
 63 
 
64 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 he has found favour, although she is besieged with 
 suitors. Because all his funds are at present at sea, 
 Antonio decides to use his credit to borrow the neces- 
 sary sum for his friend's use. 
 
 We are next transported to Portia's dwelling, 
 where she is expressing great weariness of the world 
 to Nerissa, her companion, who slyly suggests her 
 mistress is suffering from superfluity, rather than 
 from any other complaint. She supports the good 
 advice she gives with maxims, which Portia scorns 
 or caps, ere she attributes her troubles to her father's 
 lottery, which leaves her no choice in regard to her 
 future husband. This father, however, was wise 
 and virtuous, as Nerissa maintains, and his lottery 
 scheme shrewd, for he decreed that Portia's suitors 
 should select among three chests — one of gold, one 
 of silver, and one of lead — that containing her 
 portrait, or forfeit her hand. 
 
 Many suitors have already come, whom Nerissa 
 names while Portia pithily describes them, vowing 
 she feels little inclination for the horsey Neapolitan, 
 the melancholy German, the fickle Frenchman, the 
 dumb Englishman, the niggardly Scotchman, or the 
 drunken Saxon, who have come to woo. She there- 
 fore feels no regret when told that these suitors, 
 dreading the test, are about to depart, and joyfully 
 exclaims, ' I dote on their very absence ! ' 
 
 Then Nerissa states that no suitor ever seemed so 
 attractive as the Venetian Bassanio, who visited them 
 in her father's lifetime, a man whom Portia charily 
 admits was worthy of praise. Their conversation is 
 interrupted by the announcement that the strangers 
 
The Merchant of Venice 6^ 
 
 wish to take leave, and that a Moroccan prince has 
 just arrived to undergo the casket test. After ex- 
 pressing great readiness to speed the parting guests, 
 Portia idly wonders whether the newcomer will 
 prove a bolder, or more acceptable suitor than his 
 predecessors. 
 
 We now behold a public square in Venice, where 
 Bassanio is asking the money-lending Jew, Shylock, 
 to loan Antonio three thousand ducats for three 
 months. Gravely repeating each statement, Shylock 
 thoughtfully remarks Antonio is a good man, al- 
 though his funds, at present invested in fleets, seem 
 in jeopardy. After some hesitation, he asks to con- 
 fer with Antonio in person, so Bassanio invites him 
 to dine with them both, an invitation the Jew scorns, 
 fearing viands unclean. He therefore retorts in 
 surly tones, ' I will buy with you, sell with you, 
 talk with you, walk with you, and so following, but 
 I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray 
 with you.' 
 
 They are about to separate, when Antonio ap- 
 pears; whereupon Shylock mutters he hates him for 
 being a Christian, and for lending money without 
 interest, whereby sundry debtors have been saved 
 from his clutches. On that account, he cherishes 
 an ' ancient grudge ' against Antonio, and, brood- 
 ing upon past insults heaped upon him, determines 
 to be revenged. 
 
 Pretending to consider the loan, he murmurs he 
 can obtain the money from a fellow-countryman, so 
 when Antonio joins them, there is some shrewd bar- 
 gaining, in the course of which Shylock expresses 
 
66 Stories of Shakespeare^ s Comedies 
 
 ironical surprise that Antonio, who never deals with 
 usurers, should apply to him. Confessing he has 
 never done so before, and is breaking a rule merely 
 to oblige his friend, Antonio listens to Shylock's ex- 
 position of Jacob's stratagem, which he quotes as a 
 justification for usurious methods, adding piously 
 that ' Thrift is blessing, if men steal it not.' 
 
 Carelessly retorting that even the devil quotes 
 Scripture to attain his ends, Antonio shows con- 
 tempt for such reasoning, while Shylock apparently 
 cogitates on the subject of the loan. On being 
 pressed to give a definite answer, he wonders that An- 
 tonio, who has frequently rated him on the Rialto, 
 should apply to him for funds. His eloquent speech 
 betrays how deeply such treatment rankles, but his 
 manner is so offensive that Antonio haughtily in- 
 forms him he will probably treat him with con- 
 tumely again, and proposes borrowing only on a busi- 
 ness basis. But, when he rashly offers to bind him- 
 self by any penalty the Jew chooses to impose. Shy- 
 lock suddenly becomes pliant and friendly, and of- 
 fers to loan the money without interest, provided 
 Antonio will sign a bond pledging himself ' in a 
 merry sport ' to allow the Jew to cut a pound of 
 his flesh on payment day, should the necessary sum 
 not be forthcoming. 
 
 Believing such a condition imposed as a blind for 
 granting a favour, Antonio gratefully accepts it, ex- 
 claiming: 'There is much kindness in the Jew,' al- 
 though Bassanio implores him not to subscribe to 
 anything so extraordinary. To reassure his anxious 
 friend, Antonio tells him that long before payment 
 
The Merchant of Venice 67 
 
 is due, he will have three times the amount at 
 hand, and Shylock, fearing his revenge may escape 
 him, urges immediate settlement, asseverating he 
 w^ould gain nothing by the forfeiture of the bond, 
 as a pound of human flesh is of less value than the 
 same amount of mutton ! 
 
 Thus persuaded of Shylock's good faith, Antonio 
 promises to meet him at the notary's, where, the 
 document being signed, the money will be paid. So 
 the Jew prepares to return home, where, an un- 
 scrupulous knave being in charge of his property, loss 
 may accrue to him. 
 
 He has no sooner departed, than Antonio vows 
 he is growing kind, while Bassanio, who likes not 
 ' fair terms and a villain's mind,' dreads the outcome 
 of this affair, in spite of all his friend's confidence 
 in his ventures. 
 
 / Act II. The second act opens in Portia's house, 
 where all is prepared for the solemn reception of 
 the Moroccan prince, who, — about to undergo the 
 casket test, — begs Portia not to be prejudiced by his 
 dark complexion, which he would not change for 
 any purpose save to win her heart. Thereupon 
 Portia coldly rejoins that, her father having decreed 
 her hand should be awarded to the discoverer of the 
 right casket, she has no choice, but must first exact 
 his promise that in case of failure, he will depart 
 immediately, and will never marry or reveal the con- 
 tents of the chest he opened. Then she proposes to 
 accompany him to the temple and entertain him at 
 dinner ere he try his fate. 
 
 We are next transported to a street in Venice, 
 
68 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 where the Jew's servant, Launcelot, is soliloquising 
 on the fact that the fiend tempts him to run away 
 from his master, although his conscience disapproves 
 of such a move. He is trying to justify himself un- 
 der the plea that the Jew is a devil, and that no 
 Christian should serve one, when his blind father 
 appears, bringing a present of doves to Shylock. A 
 practical joker, Launcelot amuses himself in be- 
 wildering poor old Gobbo, who little suspects he is 
 asking directions of his own son. Still, after mis- 
 cliievously rousing his father's fears for his safety, 
 Launcelot makes himself known, assuring Gobbo ' it 
 is a wise father that knows his own child,' and 
 begging him to bestow his present, not upon the Jew, 
 but upon Bassanio, whom he is now anxious to 
 serve. 
 
 Just then Bassanio is heard giving his servant 
 sundry orders, so Launcelot and his father approach, 
 humbly offering him the present intended for the 
 Jew. In the ensuing scene, Bassanio engages 
 Launcelot, ere father and son depart to take leave 
 of Shylock. Then, Bassanio bids another servant 
 hasten preparations, and have all ready for a feast, 
 ere they two are joined by Gratiano, who begs per- 
 mission to accompany Bassanio to Belmont, a re- 
 quest first denied, and granted only when Gratiana 
 promises to be discreet after to-night. 
 
 We now behold Shylock's house, where his daugh- 
 ter Jessica, parting from Launcelot, regrets his de- 
 parture, as he has been the one merry inmate of their 
 house. After bestowing her farewell gift, she begs 
 him deliver a letter to Lorenzo, who is to be his new 
 
The Merchant of Venice 69 
 
 master's guest, cautioning him, however, not to let 
 her father know anything about it. Launcelot hav- 
 ing departed amid tears and compliments, Jessica be- 
 wails her own weakness, for she is ashamed of her 
 father, and has fallen in love with a Christian, whom 
 she intends to marry, although she knows such a 
 step will grieve Shylock. 
 
 The next scene is played in the street, where Lo- 
 renzo explains to some supper guests that during the 
 meal they will slip away to disguise themselves as 
 mummers. When one of them exclaims no torch- 
 bearer has been provided, Lorenzo promises to sup- 
 ply one, just as Launcelot hands him Jessica's letter. 
 Amorously vowing ' 'tis a fair hand ; and whiter than 
 the paper it writ on,' Lorenzo peruses his missive, 
 while his friends envy him. Then he charges 
 Launcelot to tell Jessica he will not fail her, and 
 after dismissing him, informs his companions that a 
 torch-bearer will meet them at Gratiano's lodgings. 
 
 The others having gone, Gratiano inquires 
 whether Lorenzo's letter was not from Jessica; and 
 learns that it contains directions for their elope- 
 ment, as Jessica is to leave her father's house in the 
 disguise of a page, carrying off all the gold and 
 jewels she can secure. Her clever device so delights 
 Lorenzo, that he vows if Shylock ever reaches 
 heaven, it will be for the sake of this gentle daugh- 
 ter, who is to personate the torch-bearer in their 
 mummery. 
 
 The rising curtain now reveals Shylock's house, 
 where, encountering his former servant, the Jew 
 swears he will soon perceive the difEerence between 
 
yo Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 his old and new masters ! Because Shylock repeatedly 
 mentions his daughter's name, Launcelot, pretending 
 to think he wants her, calls so loudly that Jessica ap- 
 pears. Then Shylock gives her his keys, saying he 
 is invited to sup with Christians, whose courtesy 
 he will accept to get something out of them. Mean- 
 time, he cautions his daughter to look closely after 
 his property, for, having dreamed of money-bags, 
 he is haunted by premonitions of evil. 
 
 Afraid lest Shylock may remain at home, Launce- 
 lot urges him to accept the invitation, saying a 
 masque is to be given to entertain the guests. There- 
 upon the Jew, knowing that robberies often occur 
 under cover of diversions, bids Jessica close the win- 
 dows and not look out, lest while she appear to take 
 pleasure in Christian diversions, thieves steal into 
 his house. But, Launcelot whispers that if she does 
 peer out of the casement, she will behold a Chris- 
 tian whom she will like to see! 
 
 Seeing her father suspicious of this whispering, 
 Jessica informs him Launcelot is bidding her fare- 
 well, ere she gravely listens to the Jew's strictures 
 on the man's laziness, and his cautions in regard to 
 his property, closing with the well-known proverb, 
 'Fast bind, fast find.' But, as he departs, Jessica 
 remarks in an aside, * If my fortune be not crost, I 
 have a father, you a daughter, lost.' 
 
 In the same street a while later, Gratiano and a 
 friend stand beneath an awning, wondering why 
 Lorenzo is late, as lovers are proverbially impatient. 
 A moment later he joins them, warmly thanking 
 them for their devotion, and promising his aid when 
 
The Merchant of Venice 71 
 
 they wish to steal wives, ere all three stealthily ap- 
 proach the Jew's dwelling'. 
 
 Here Jessica soon appears at an upper window, 
 dressed as a boy, timidly inquiring who they are and 
 what they want? After answering Lorenzo's 
 amorous reply in kind, she bids him catch the casket 
 she is lowering, whispering that it contains part of 
 her father's fortune, and vowing she is afraid to be 
 seen in her present garb, which love only has given 
 her courage to don. When Lorenzo tells her she 
 is to be torch-bearer, she ruefully exclaims a less con- 
 spicuous position should be allotted her, ere she 
 prepares to join her lover, bringing with her allshe 
 can find, as she has systematically plundered the Jew. 
 
 While she is descending, Lorenzo informs his 
 waiting friends he loves her dearly because she has 
 proved herself ' wise, fair, and true,' although mod- 
 ern readers of this play fail to agree with him. A 
 moment after Jessica has joined them, the mummers 
 depart, their movements being hastened by Antonio's 
 coming to warn them Bassanio is about to sail. 
 
 When the curtain again rises we behold the room 
 in Portia's house where the caskets are stored. En- 
 tering with the Moroccan prince, Portia gravely 
 bids him raise the curtain concealing the mysterious 
 chests. Having done so, the suitor reads aloud the 
 inscriptions, which are — 'Who chooseth me shall 
 gain what many men desire ' on the golden casket ; 
 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves ' 
 on the silver casket ; and ' Who chooseth me must 
 give and hazard all he hath' on the leaden casket. 
 
 These inscriptions seem as perplexing as the chests 
 
72 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 themselves, so the prince hesitates which to choose, 
 for only one contains Portia's portrait. After calling 
 upon some god to direct him, he cons the inscrip- 
 tions, and comes finally to the conclusion that no 
 man would be rash enough to risk anything on base 
 lead, and that, although he does not doubt his own 
 deserts, it will be best not to open the silver chest. 
 Vowing no other metal is worthy to enshrine Por- 
 tia's image, he unlocks the golden casket, but instead 
 of a portrait finds therein a skull, with a scroll be- 
 ginning with the time-honoured words, ' All that 
 glisters is not gold,' and closing with the mocking 
 line, ' Fare you well ; your suit is cold ! ' 
 
 As he has solemnly pledged himself to abide by 
 this test, the prince is obliged to take immediate 
 leave of Portia, who, not sorry to see him go, ex- 
 presses a hope that all those of his complexion 
 who come to woo may be no more fortunate 
 than he. 
 
 In one of the streets of Venice on the morrow, 
 some gentlemen are conversing about Bassanio's de- 
 parture, saying they feel sure Lorenzo was not with 
 him, although Shylock searched the vessel for his 
 fugitive daughter and her lover. Then they glee- 
 fully describe the Jew's rage on discovering Jessica's 
 flight with his property, mockingly repeating his 
 wild cry of, ' My daughter! O my ducats! O my 
 daughter! Fled with a Christian! O my Christian 
 ducats! Justice! The law! My ducats, and my 
 daughter! ' Not only do they jeer at this mixture 
 of exclamations, but describe how Shylock was fol- 
 lowed by the rabble of the town while uttering this 
 
The Merchant of Venice 73 
 
 wail, and add that his missing daughter and ducats 
 are evidently with Lorenzo, for it is reported 
 the lovers were seen together in a gondola. 
 
 A little while later they hint Antonio had better 
 be careful, as the Jew, suspecting he had a share in 
 his daughter's elopement, is determined to take a ter- 
 rible revenge should not his debt be paid as soon as 
 due. Besides, rumours are afloat of vessels wrecked 
 at sea ; news to be cautiously broken to the merchant, 
 who so confidently assured Bassanio as he sailed 
 away, that all would be well, and he need think 
 of nothing save securing Portia's hand! 
 
 We now return to Portia's house, where she and 
 Nerissa are preparing for the Prince of Arragon, 
 who is ushered in with a flourish of trumpets. After 
 ascertaining that he understands the conditions, 
 Portia allows him' to examine the caskets, and he, 
 too, comments upon the inscriptions ere he decides 
 to open the silver chest, for, having a lively sense 
 of his deserts, he deems himself quite worthy of 
 Portia's hand. But, the lid raised, the over-con- 
 fident suitor discovers the portrait of an idiot, with 
 a slip of paper stating his chances are gone. He, too, 
 therefore bids Portia farewell, and she comments, 
 'Thus hath the candle singed the moth,' while her 
 maid vows it is evident that ' Hanging and wiving 
 go by destiny.' 
 
 It is at this juncture that a servant announces 
 the coming of a Venetian to try his fate. Little sus- 
 pecting who is to undergo the test this time, Portia 
 idly wonders who this new suitor may be, while her 
 maid secretly hopes Bassanio may appear. 
 
74 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in the streets of 
 Venice, where two of Antonio's friends discuss recent 
 shipwrecks which have caused him severe losses. 
 Their conversation is interrupted by Shylock, of 
 whom they inquire the news, whereupon he reviles 
 them for helping his daughter escape. The Jew 
 seems depressed, not only by the loss of his daugh- 
 ter and ducats, but because the news of Antonio's 
 bad luck makes him fear for his debt. In his 
 wrath, he vows, should the money not be forthcom- 
 ing, to exact his pound of flesh to feed his revenge, 
 working himself up to the utmost against An- 
 tonio, and fiercely demanding whether a Jew has 
 not eyes, hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, 
 and passions, like any other human being? Then he 
 reminds his hearers how if a Jew wrong a Christian, 
 revenge is inevitably sought, adding that he doesn't 
 see why the rule should not work both ways, ere he 
 hisses, " The villainy you teach me, I will execute, 
 and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruc- 
 tion ! ' 
 
 The Jew's tirade against Christians is interrupted 
 by the arrival of a servant, begging the gentlemen to 
 join Antonio. When they have departed, a second 
 Jew joins Shylock to report that he has not been 
 able to trace the missing Jessica, although he has 
 heard of -her here and there, Shylock thus gathers 
 that he has not only lost his jewels, but his daughter 
 as well, and this being the first loss which has ac- 
 crued to him, he bitterly vows that ' The curse 
 never fell upon our nation till now ! ' 
 
 In a vain attempt to comfort him, his companion 
 
The Merchant of Venice 75 
 
 avers others have suffered even more, Antonio, for 
 instance, having lost all he possessed. Although this 
 news pleases Shylock, he sinks back into the depths 
 of grief on hearing hovi^^ his daughter is squandering 
 the money she stole. Then, eager to work off his 
 rage in some way, Shylock bids his companion re- 
 tain an officer to arrest Antonio as soon as the bond 
 comes due, grimly swearing, ' I will have the heart 
 of him, if he forfeit ! ' 
 
 We are next transferred to Portia's house, where 
 she is cordially inviting Bassanio and Gratiano to 
 tarry a month before undergoing the terrible test, 
 for she is too loyal to reveal her father's secret even 
 to the man she loves. Afraid lest some one else 
 may win her, Bassanio refuses to postpone his 
 choice, so preparations are made, and Portia, who 
 has been softly comparing her lover to Hercules, 
 sends him to the caskets, exclaiming, ' Go, Her- 
 cules! Live thou, I live: with much more dis- 
 may I view the fight than thou that makest the 
 fray.' 
 
 While music is played and a song is sung, Bas- 
 sanio softly comments upon caskets and inscriptions, 
 declaring at last, that although the rest of the world 
 might be deceived by glitter, or ready to commit 
 crimes for the sake of silver, he is inclined to think 
 that the leaden casket, which threatens rather than 
 promises, will be best. As he comes to this conclu- 
 sion, Portia, in an aside, expresses her ecstasy and 
 watches him open the leaden receptacle, which con- 
 tains a portrait, over whose beauty he raves, ere he 
 reads the inscription declaring that since he has not 
 
76 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 chosen by view, he has chosen fair and true, and 
 concluding with an injunction to claim his lady with 
 a loving kiss. 
 
 Still doubtful that he has won, Bassanio begs 
 Portia to confirm her father's choice in this manner, 
 and as she has fallen in love with this suitor, Portia 
 concedes the favour, ere stating she wishes she were 
 a thousand times more fair and ten thousand times 
 more rich, in order to bestow herself upon him, 
 adding that although merely an unlessoned girl, she 
 is happy in not being too old or too dull to learn, 
 and ready to commit her ' gentle spirit ' to his to 
 be directed as by ' her lord, her governor, her king.' 
 Having thus made Bassanio master of herself, her 
 house, and all her possessions, Portia gives him a 
 betrothal ring, 'warning him never to part with it, 
 lose it, or give it away, lest ' it presage the ruin of 
 your love.' Overjoyed at so complete a surrender, 
 Bassanio swears to part with the ring only with 
 life. 
 
 Meantime, Nerissa and Gratiano, having decided 
 that their fate also should rest upon the caskets, 
 reach an understanding and exchange rings, ere 
 they oiier congratulations to Bassanio and Portia, 
 and beg permission to be married when they are. 
 This betrothal scene is interrupted by the arrival 
 of Lorenzo, Jessica, and a nobleman from Venice, 
 the latter bringing Bassanio a message. The letter 
 is from Antonio, and the messenger, who delivers it, 
 compassionately warns the recipient it contains bad 
 news. Then, overhearing Gratiano boast that he 
 and Bassanio have won the golden fleece, he sadly 
 
The Merchant of Venice 77 
 
 exclaims they have been far more fortunate than 
 Antonio, who has lost all he possessed. 
 
 Bassanio, who has meantime perused his missive, 
 shows such a changed countenance, that Portia 
 tenderly insists upon sharing his anxieties. There- 
 upon he informs her he has just read ' the unpleas- 
 ant'st words that ever blotted paper,' adding that 
 whereas he told her part of the truth when he stated 
 he was penniless, his condition is even worse, seeing 
 he borrowed the money from Antonio to visit her. 
 Then, after relating the story of the bond, he adds 
 that his friend, having lost all, may be called upon 
 to pay it, for the messenger assures him nothing will 
 satisfy the Jew save the terms of the loan. This 
 statement is confirmed by Jessica, who has over- 
 heard her father and his friends confer on this sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Then Portia insists that her betrothed hasten to 
 his friend's rescue, using her money to pay the 
 debt, adding when told twenty merchants have 
 vainly interceded, that she is willing to offer much 
 more than the bond. She also insists upon Bas- 
 sanio's marrying her immediately so he can dispose 
 of her fortune in his friend's behalf, declaring that 
 until his and Gratiano's return, she and Nerissa will 
 live as widows, and tenderly adding, ' Since you are 
 dear bought, I will love you dear,' ere she bids him 
 remember it is a friend's duty to sacrifice all for the 
 sake of his friend. 
 
 We now return to Venice, where Shylock, meeting 
 Antonio and his jailor, expresses indignation that a 
 prisoner should have the privilege of walking abroad. 
 
78 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 After fiercely enjoining upon the jailor to look well 
 to his charge, Shylock prepares to depart, refusing 
 to listen to Antonio's entreaties, and vociferating, 
 * I'll have my bond,' for since he has been called a 
 dog, he is determined to justify the epithet. 
 
 When he has gone, a Venetian spectator terms 
 him ' the most impenetrable cur that ever kept with 
 men,' although Antonio insists it is natural Shylock 
 should hate him, seeing he has so often delivered 
 debtors from his clutches. On that account he feels 
 the duke's intercession will not avail, and knows the 
 laws will have to be respected if Venice is to endure. 
 Still, Antonio has undergone such anxiety of late, 
 that he ruefully avers there will hardly be a spare 
 pound of flesh on his body when payment comes 
 due on the morrow; and, although resigned to his 
 fate, he ardently hopes Bassanio will return in time 
 to see him loyally acquit the debt. 
 
 We now return to Portia's house, where Lorenzo 
 is complimenting her on her unselfishness in sending 
 off her new-made husband to rescue a friend, al- 
 though he admits Antonio more than deserves all 
 that Bassanio can do for him. After assuring him 
 she has never yet had cause to repent doing right, 
 and that a bosom friend of her husband must be 
 worthy of all devotion, Portia announces that she 
 and Nerissa are going to retire to a convent to 
 pray for their husbands, leaving him and Jessica 
 in charge of the estate. This trust accepted, Portia 
 privately bids a servant carry a letter to her lawyer- 
 cousin in Padua, bringing his answer to the ferry at 
 Venice, where she will meet him. Then, turning to 
 
The Merchant of Venice 79 
 
 the amazed Nerissa, she gleefully announces they 
 will see their unsuspecting husbands ere long! 
 
 In reply to Nerissa's inquiry how this may be, 
 Portia next states they are going to assume men's 
 garments, and joyously boasts what a pretty lad she 
 will make, and how cleverly she will play her 
 part. Then, seeing Nerissa still bewildered, but 
 having no time to explain further at present, Portia 
 leaves the apartment with her, promising a full ex- 
 planation while they travel toward their goal. 
 
 When the curtain again rises, we behold Portia's 
 garden, where Jessica is talking to Launcelot, who, 
 after explaining how the sins of the fathers are vis- 
 ited upon the children, states her only hope of salva- 
 tion lies in having married a Christian, although he 
 fears many conversions may raise the price of pork! 
 This scene is interrupted by the arrival of Lorenzo, 
 to whom Jessica gives an amused account of what has 
 just been said, ere Launcelot is bidden prepare sup- 
 per; but before obeying, this facetious servant exer- 
 cises his wit upon his temporary master, and proves 
 that words can be used in queer ways. Left alone 
 with his bride, Lorenzo comments on Launcelot, ere 
 he begins to make love, and asks Jessica's opinion of 
 Portia, whom he is pleased to hear her praise. 
 Then, after a little more lover-like conversation, the 
 pair depart for supper. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act, containing the grandest 
 scene in the play, opens in a court of justice in 
 Venice, where the duke, sitting in state, summons 
 Antonio, and expresses regret he should have fallen 
 into the clutches of so ' stony an adversary.' Duly 
 
8o Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 grateful for the duke's efforts to release him, An- 
 tonio thanks him, ere stating he knows the bond 
 must be paid. The Jew is next summoned, and 
 the duke asks him whether he has not thought bet- 
 ter of his decision, adding he feels sure he has driven 
 things so far, only to show mercy at the last min- 
 ute. Then, urging the barbarity of the bond, he 
 suggests half the debt be remitted, in consideration of 
 Antonio's great losses, ere he bids Shylock speak, 
 adding warningly, ' We all expect a gentle answer, 
 Jew.' 
 
 But Shylock asserts that, having sworn ' to have 
 the due and forfeit of his bond,' nothing save a 
 pound of flesh will satisfy him ; he also finds a ready 
 answer to Bassanio's objections, and obstinately re- 
 fuses to listen to reason or to accept the money of- 
 fered him. Every word he utters denotes his ran- 
 kling grudge for the wrongs perpetrated against his 
 race for centuries past, and although Bassanio openly 
 calls him an unfeeling man, he insists that he is justi- 
 fied in his claim. 
 
 Seeing the hopelessness of the case, Antonio thinks 
 they might as well ' stand upon the beach and bid 
 the main flood bate his usual height,' as try to change 
 his foe's mind. With a last hope that cupidity 
 may get the better of cruelty, Bassanio offers Shy- 
 lock twice the amount of the debt, only to be grimly 
 told six times that sum would not tempt him, and 
 that, having bought his pound of flesh, he is entitled 
 to it! 
 
 The duke, who has vainly appealed to the Jew's 
 mercy, now declares, unless the doctor from Padua, 
 
The Merchant of Venice 8i 
 
 who is to decide the case, soon appears, he will have 
 to adjourn it, as he cannot allow things to take 
 such a course. He has barely finished speaking, 
 when the arrival of the Paduan doctor is announced. 
 The duke orders him admitted, and while the mes- 
 senger goes in quest of the judge, Bassanio tries to 
 cheer Antonio by saying he will force the Jew to 
 take his own ' flesh, blood, bones, and all,' ere he 
 will allow his friend to lose a drop of blood for his 
 sake. 
 
 In reply Antonio cries, ' I am a tainted wether of 
 the flock, meetest for death,' adding that ill-luck has 
 so dogged his footsteps, that, having lost all the rest, 
 he is glad life will not be prolonged, and bidding 
 his friend write his epitaph. It is at this juncture 
 that Nerissa, as lawyer's clerk, enters the hall and 
 delivers a letter to the duke. While he examines the 
 seal and peruses this missive, the attention of the 
 spectators is diverted to Shylock, who is whetting his 
 knife on the sole of his shoe in anticipation of put- 
 ting it soon to use, — doing so with such fiendish de- 
 light, that Antonio's friends revile him, Gratiano 
 exclaiming he must have wolf's blood in his 
 veins ! 
 
 In spite of all they say, Shylock continues his 
 whetting process, until the duke announces that the 
 learned doctor, unable to appear in person, has sent 
 his colleague, who, although young, is nevertheless 
 competent. While an attendant goes out to sum- 
 mon this substitute, the duke orders his clerk to read 
 aloud the letter, ere he greets the Paduan lawyer's 
 representative. This is, of course, Portia, as doctor 
 
82 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 of laws, who gravely states she has come to settle the 
 case, having studied it in detail with her learned col- 
 league. Then, turning gravely to the two prin- 
 cipals in the trial, she begins her legal interroga- 
 tions, charging Shylock to be merciful, in a speech 
 which is justly considered one of the finest passages 
 the poet has left us. 
 
 Notwithstanding her eloquence, Shylock mali- 
 ciously insists on his bond, although Bassanio again 
 offers to pay twice, ten times the amount, and for- 
 feit hands, head, and heart, rather than permit his 
 friend to suffer for his sake. To the horror of all 
 present, save the Jew, Portia announces * there is 
 no power in Venice can alter a decree established,' a 
 sentence which so delights Shylock that he hails her 
 as a ' Daniel come to judgment ! ' When she asks 
 to see the bond, he eagerly produces it, insisting upon 
 his pound of flesh, although she again offers money 
 and suggests that mercy is better than justice. 
 
 Utterly despairing by this time, Antonio, — who 
 has been long enough on the rack, — demands 
 that his sufferings be ended by an immediate deci- 
 sion, whereupon Portia regretfully bids him prepare 
 for the knife, a decree Shylock receives with an out- 
 burst of fiendish joy. Then, while Antonio bares his 
 breast, Portia reads aloud the document stating the 
 pound shall be taken from the spot nearest An- 
 tonio's heart, ere she inquires whether balances are 
 ready to weigh the amount, and a surgeon at hand 
 to check the bleeding of the wound ? But, although 
 Shylock has carefully prepared knife and scales, he 
 deems a physician superfluous, grimly vowing it was 
 
The Merchant of Venice 83 
 
 not 'nominated in the bond,' upon whose fulfilment 
 he insists so frantically. 
 
 Deeming his end near, Antonio now bids farewell 
 to Bassanio, saying he is glad to die since he has 
 outlived prosperity, and sending his compliments 
 to Portia, who has so generously but vainly sent her 
 husband to his rescue. He adds that if the Jew 
 only cuts deep enough, all will be over in a m.oment, 
 and reminds Bassanio he has loved him so truly that 
 he is about to pay his debt with all his heart. Over- 
 come by grief, Bassanio wildly cries that although 
 married to a wife he adores, he would give her, and 
 all he owns to save his friend, a sacrifice the judge 
 gravely reminds him might not please Portia. Un- 
 willing to show less devotion than Bassanio, Grati- 
 ano also exclaims he wishes his new-made wife were 
 in heaven, to intercede for Antonio and save him 
 from the Jew, a statement the lawyer's clerk mut- 
 ters it is well his wife does not overhear! Such 
 friendly devotion, however, seems incomprehensible 
 to Shylock, who once more wishes his daughter had 
 not married a Christian, before he again urges the 
 judge to decide the case. 
 
 After going through the usual formula, Portia 
 decrees the rabid Jew shall have his pound of flesh, 
 whereupon Shylock, almost beside himself with re- 
 vengeful fury, starts forward to claim it. But his 
 advance is checked by the judge gravely warning 
 him that, whereas the flesh is his, he must not shed 
 a single drop of blood, there being a law in Venice 
 to the effect that should a Jew attempt to shed Chris- 
 tian blood, he forfeits his estates! This reminder, 
 
84 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 which almost paralyses Shylock, delights Gratiano; 
 but the incredulous Jew asks sundry questions, un- 
 til baffled, he sullenly volunteers to accept thrice the 
 amount of his bond, which has been repeatedly of- 
 fered in exchange for the pound of flesh. 
 
 Although Bassanio immediately steps forward with 
 the money, the judge decrees that since Shylock in- 
 sisted upon strict justice and refused anything save 
 the terms of the bond, nothing else will now be 
 granted him, adding the warning that should he cut 
 more or less than the stipulated amount, he will die 
 and his property be confiscated. 
 
 While Gratiano rapturously cries this is indeed a 
 ' Daniel come to judgment,' the Jew grimly pro- 
 poses to accept the principal of the debt and de- 
 part. Even that the judge will not allow Bas- 
 sanio to pay, declaring that the Jew, having con- 
 spired against the life of a fellow-citizen by induc- 
 ing him to sign such a bond, one-half of his property 
 falls by law to Antonio, and the other half to the ^ 
 state. He adds that Shylock's life also is forfeit 
 unless the duke forgive him, a pardon the Jew 
 hardly heeds, for, hearing his property is gone, he 
 hoarsely bids them take his life! 
 
 Portia now inquires whether Antonio is willing to 
 show mercy to the man who showed him none, and 
 notwithstanding Gratiano audibly advises him to 
 give the Jew a halter, Antonio decides Shylock will 
 be sufficiently punished by losing half his property, 
 accepting baptism, lending him sufficient money to 
 trade with, and making a will in behalf of the daugh- 
 ter, who has married a Christian. This decision 
 
The Merchant of Venice 85, 
 
 satisfies the duke, who bids Shylock submit and re- 
 cant. Thoroughly cowed, the Jew sullenly prom- 
 ises to obey the court's decree, ere he retires under 
 plea of illness, asking that the paper he is to sign 
 be sent after him. 
 
 When the duke invites the wise judge to dine, 
 Portia graciously declines under plea of an immedi- 
 ate return to Padua. This being the case, the duke 
 bids Antonio express his gratitude to his saviour; so 
 when he has left, Bassanio exclaims that he and his 
 friend owe their lives to the learned judge, who is 
 begged to accept, as reward for his trouble, the 
 money he saved from the Jew. Besides, Antonio 
 adds in heartfelt tones that they will ever feel in- 
 debted ' over and above, in love and service to you 
 ever more! ' 
 
 To the surprise of both friends, the judge re- 
 fuses the money, stating, ' He is well paid that is 
 well satisfied,' and then, being urged to accept a 
 souvenir of the occasion, suddenly demands An- 
 tonio's gloves and Bassanio's ring. At this request, 
 Bassanio demurs, under plea the ring is unworthy 
 of the judge's acceptance; but, when their saviour 
 insists, he explains with embarrassment that he can- 
 not part with a token given to him by his wife, who 
 made him vow never to sell, give away, or lose it. 
 
 Pretending to consider this a subterfuge to avoid 
 parting with a trifle, the judge leaves the room of- 
 fended, whereupon Antonio urges his friend to send 
 him the ring, promising to justify such an action 
 to his wife. On that account Bassanio draws Por- 
 tia's gift from his finger, and bids Gratiano deliver 
 
86 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 it to the departing judge, ere he leaves the court 
 with Antonio, who is to accompany him to Belmont 
 on the morrow. 
 
 The curtain next rises on a street in Venice, along 
 which the judge is striding, giving directions to his 
 clerk to discover the Jew's house and make him 
 sign the document which Lorenzo will welcome. 
 They are now overtaken by Gratiano, who humbly 
 begs the judge to accept Bassanio's ring; but, al- 
 though Portia takes it, she refuses an invitation to 
 dinner, and begs Gratiano to direct her clerk to Shy- 
 lock's house. Then she watches Nerissa walk ofE 
 with him, after slyly whispering she, too, is going 
 to win from her husband the token she gave him. 
 Meantime, gleefully stating ' We shall have odd 
 swearing that they did give the rings away to men,' 
 Portia returns to her lodgings, where Nerissa will 
 join her as soon as the document is signed. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens in an avenue leading 
 to Portia's house, where Lorenzo and Jessica, 
 strolling by moonlight, talk of lovers and vow they 
 will never forget these evenings. A noise of rapid 
 footsteps interrupts them, and on challenging the 
 newcomer, Lorenzo hears of Portia's return with her 
 maid before morning, as she is merely pausing at the 
 wayside shrines to pray for a happy married life. 
 When the messenger inquires whether news has come 
 from Bassanio, Lorenzo assures him that, although 
 no tidings have been received, he will arrive before 
 long. He and his wife are about to return to the 
 house to welcome the travellers, when Launcelot an- 
 nounces that Bassanio is on his way. After once 
 
IThe Merchant of Venice 87 
 
 more dwelling on the beauty of the starry night, and 
 listening to music which adds charms to the scene, 
 the married lovers are about to leave when Portia 
 and Nerissa appear. 
 
 Drawing near, Portia points out the light in her 
 house, saying it ' shines like a good deed in a 
 naughty world,' ere she begins to praise the music. 
 Then, perceiving Launcelot, she eagerly inquires for 
 her husband, and on learning his return has been 
 announced, gives orders for his reception, just as 
 the noise of an arrival is heard, which 13 soon fol- 
 lowed by Bassanio's appearance. After warmly 
 greeting his bride, Bassanio bids her welcome his 
 friend Antonio, to whom he is ' so infinitely bound,' 
 whereat his wife rejoins he is indeed indebted to him, 
 ere she welcomes Antonio to Belmont. 
 
 Meantime, Gratiano, too, has embraced his bride, 
 who, discovering the loss of his ring, reproaches him, 
 for he is soon heard vehemently protesting her token 
 was given to the clerk of the lawyer who saved 
 his master's friend from Shylock's clutches. Of 
 course, this dispute attracts Portia's attention, and 
 when she inquires what it means, Gratiano indig- 
 nantly replies his wife is making a fuss about an in- 
 significant ring! Then Nerissa retorts that, how- 
 ever trifling the value of her token, he should have 
 prized it for association's sake, paying no heed 
 when he insists it was given to ' a little scrubbed 
 boy,' to whom he could not deny the reward he 
 selected. 
 
 Thereupon Portia gravely agrees with Nerissa 
 that Gratiano was wrong to part with her keep- 
 
88 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 sake, adding confidently that her husband would 
 never have acted thus, a statement which causes 
 Bassanio to mutter beneath his breath it would have 
 been wiser to cut off his hand and swear he lost her 
 ring defending it! But, before he can invent an 
 excuse to account for the absence of his token, 
 Gratiano blurts out, in justification, that he has 
 merely followed the example of Bassanio, who be- 
 stowed his keepsake on the judge. As her husband 
 is unable to deny this accusation, Portia gravely 
 vows she will never be his wife until she sees her 
 ring again, and Nerissa follows suit. 
 
 Such a decision staggers both husbands, but 
 when Bassanio eagerly claims that if Portia knew to 
 whom he gave the ring, for whom he gave the ring, 
 for what he gave the ring, and how unwillingly he 
 gave the ring, she would surely ' abate the strength ' 
 of her displeasure, she mockingly retorts that if 
 he only knew the virtue of the ring, the worthiness 
 of the one who gave it to him, and realised his 
 honour was bound up with it, he would never have 
 parted with such a token! Like Nerissa, she pre- 
 tends to believe their tokens were bestowed upon 
 women, although Bassanio swears his was given to 
 the judge, eloquently describing how Antonio's 
 saviour, after refusing all pecuniary reward, de- 
 manded that onl}^ He adds that honour would not 
 permit ingratitude, and that she herself would have 
 implored him to give it to the doctor had she been 
 present. 
 
 Still feigning to be implacable, Portia declares 
 that since the doctor has the ring, Bassanio must 
 
The Merchant of Venice 89 
 
 watch her, should that worthy ever visit their house, 
 for whenever he is absent, she intends to spend all her 
 time in the doctor's company. Then Nerissa an- 
 nounces she will do the same with the lawyer's clerk, 
 whereupon both husbands protest, while Antonio ex- 
 presses regret to be the unhappy cause of such matri- 
 monial differences. When Bassanio humbly begs his 
 wife's forgiveness, swearing never to break faith with 
 her again, Antonio again volunteers to be his bonds- 
 man, staking his soul this time, notwithstanding his 
 late terrible experience. Thereupon, Portia, pre- 
 tending to relent, hands Antonio a ring to place on 
 her husband's hand, bidding him guard it more 
 sacredly than her first token. To his intense sur- 
 prise, Bassanio recognises in it the token he be- 
 stowed upon the judge, and Portia, to tease him, 
 confesses that the judge gave it to her, when she 
 spent last night in his company! At the same time, 
 Nerissa admits having passed hours alone with the 
 lawyer's clerk! 
 
 When both husbands exclaim, Portia produces a 
 letter, proving she was the doctor and Nerissa her 
 clerk, calling upon Lorenzo to testify how both 
 wives left the house immediately after their hus- 
 bands, and returned just before them, having mean- 
 time succeeded so well in their undertaking. Then, 
 while Bassanio and Gratiano show relief that their 
 wives have not been as faithless as they seemed, 
 Portia delivers to Antonio some letters which prove 
 that certain of his ships have reached port safely. 
 In her turn, Nerissa produces the document prov- 
 ing that Shylock's wealth will eventually come to 
 
90 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Lorenzo's wife, who fancied she had forfeited it by 
 marrying a Christian. 
 
 Then Portia invites all present into the house, 
 where further questions can be answered, and all 
 joyfully follow her, Gratiano solemnly declaring that 
 as long as he lives he will ' fear no other thing so 
 sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring ! ' 
 
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 
 
 Introduction. The opening scenes of ' The 
 Taming of the Shrew ' are often cut out, as the play 
 itself is intelligible without them, the omitted part 
 showing an inn, at the door of which the hostess re- 
 proaches Sly for not paying his debts, ere she de- 
 parts in quest of a constable to arrest him. Too 
 drunk to heed threats, Sly falls asleep near the door, 
 in spite of the noise of an approaching hunting party. 
 
 A lord, dashing upon the scene, gives orders to the 
 huntsmen for the care of his hounds, and, suddenly 
 becoming aware of Sly's presence, is seized with a 
 mad desire to play a practical joke upon him. He, 
 therefore, bids his servants pick up the unconscious 
 tinker, giving them elaborate directions to put him 
 to bed in a luxurious chamber, pretending, when he 
 awakes, that he is their beloved master, who has 
 been insane for some time. 
 
 The servants, delighted with the idea, remove the 
 unconscious man, just as strolling players arrive and 
 are hired to perform that evening for Sly's benefit. 
 These preparations completed, the lord directs that 
 his page dress up like a lady, to play the part of Sly's 
 wife, using an onion, if necessary, to produce arti- 
 ficial tears ! 
 
 The next scene is played in the lord's house, where 
 Sly awakens, surrounded by obsequious attendants, 
 91 
 
92 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 proffering garments, drink, and food. When the 
 bewildered tinker insists that he never owned more 
 than one suit of clothes at a time, the attendants pity 
 his delusions, and reproach him for not inquiring 
 for his devoited wife, who has mourned his sad state 
 for the past fifteen years. It is while Sly is mutter- 
 ing in surprise, that the page enters, dressed as a 
 lady, and weeping profusely, begins to lavish caresses 
 upon him, while he, in his bewilderment, asks the 
 servants how to address this woman. 
 
 Under pretence of preventing Sly's falling back 
 into his sad state of melancholy, a play is riw pro- 
 posed, and ft is this ' play within a play ' which gives 
 its title to this chapter. Although Sly shows so 
 little appreciation for it that he wishes it were done 
 at the close of the first scene, it has delighted the 
 public for the past three hundred years. 
 
 Act I. The rising curtain reveals the public 
 square in Padua, where Lucentio is telling his serv- 
 ant Tranio he has come here to attend the uni- 
 versity, hoping to make good use of the opportunities 
 his father affords him to enlarge his mind. Sent not 
 only to wait upon his young master, but also to watch 
 over him, this servant gives Lucentio the wise ad- 
 vice to vary his studies, working hardest at what he 
 likes best, adding sagely, ' No profit grows where 
 is no pleasure ta'en: in brief, sir, study what you 
 most affect.' 
 
 They are still talking, while awaiting Lucentio's 
 second servant, when people arrive in the square. 
 The newcomers are Baptista, a rich gentleman, ac- 
 companied by his two daughters, Katharine and 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 93 
 
 Bianca, and the latter 's two suitors, Gremio and 
 Hortensio. Drawing aside, master and man com- 
 ment on what is going on, thus overhearing Bap- 
 tista's decision to allow Bianca to receive no further 
 attentions until her elder sister has secured a hus- 
 band; and his intimation that, should either of 
 Bianca's suitors fancy Katharine, he is welcome 
 to her ! Neither gentleman, however, seems inclined 
 to avail himself of this privilege, as Katharine is 
 known for a temper so violent that none dare ap- 
 proach her. 
 
 Baptista's decision, and the evident reluctance of 
 both men to sue for her hand, drive Katharine to 
 rude remarks, which prove that her reputation for 
 shrewishness is well deserved. This violence also 
 attracts remarks from the eavesdroppers, the servant 
 averring the lady must be mad, while his master 
 opines her manners present a startling contrast to 
 those of her sister, the most attractive woman he has 
 ever seen. 
 
 While Lucentio is thus falling in love with Bianca, 
 Baptista informs her he is going to banish her into 
 the housCj where she can amuse herself studying, be- 
 cause, 'as long as she is visible, her sister will never 
 be able to secure a mate. Although Bianca submits 
 without murmur, her lovers protest so vehemently, 
 that her father, who evidently prefers his younger 
 child, offers to sweeten her captivity by supplying her 
 with masters of all kinds, inquiring whether the 
 suitors know of any good teachers in town? 
 
 Although Baptista bids Katharine remain behind 
 while he conducts her sister into retirement, this 
 
94 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 contrary damsel follows them both, leaving the 
 two pretenders to procure not only masters for 
 Bianca, but, if possible, a suitor willing to over- 
 look the shrew's temper in consideration of her 
 large dowry. 
 
 Hortensio and Gremio having gone, the first- 
 comers resume their interrupted conversation, Lu- 
 centio rhapsodising about Bianca until Tranio re- 
 minds him of her father's decree. The youth then 
 boldly decides to become master of literature to the 
 lady, his servant personating him, in the meantime, 
 in town. Charmed to play such a part, the man 
 suggests his companion in service can wait upon 
 him, so he and his master immediately change 
 clothes. They have barely done so when the sec- 
 ond servant comes on the scene, whereupon Lu- 
 centio explains to him that, having killed a man 
 in a duel, he is obliged to hide to avoid punishment, 
 and that, while one of his servants represents him, 
 the other must serve his comrade with all outward 
 respect. 
 
 This matter has just been settled when Petruchio 
 and his servant appear, the former remarking he has 
 come to Padua to visit Hortensio, before whose 
 house he now stands. He bids his man knock at the 
 door, using the expressions, 'knock me, rap me,' 
 etc., — terms the servant is tod simple to interpret 
 otherwise than literally, but dares not carry out. 
 Angry at not being obeyed, Petruchio pulls his man's 
 ears, thus attracting Hortensio, who explains the 
 verbal misunderstanding. The servant now drawing 
 aside, the friends converse confidentially, Pe- 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 95 
 
 truchio revealing that, his father's death having 
 made him a man of means, he has come to Padua to 
 secure a rich wife. On hearing this, Hortensio 
 eagerly suggests he espouse Katharine, vi^arning him 
 loyally that, however rich she may be, she has the 
 reputation of a shrew. Attracted by the lady's large 
 dowry, Petruchio, — ^who deems himself competent 
 to cope with any woman's temper, — enthusiastically 
 declares he will woo and win her. 
 
 The servant, perceiving Petruchio pays no heed 
 to Hortensio's strictures, hints that when his master 
 has once gotten an idea into his head, it can never 
 be dislodged, adding that, having learned Katharine 
 has money, Petruchio will marry her whether or no, 
 and that, being a clever actor, he will doubtless scold 
 harder than she, should occasion arise. 
 
 In reply to eager questions, Hortensio gradually 
 reveals who the lady is, and Petruchio, learning their 
 fathers were once friends, feels sure of a good re- 
 ception. As he is determined not to sleep until he 
 has met the lady whose dowry and temper fascinate 
 him, Hortensio tells him of his love for her sister 
 Bianca, suggesting that in return for the chance of 
 securing so wealthy a bride, Petruchio should intro- 
 duce him disguised to Baptista, as a master of music, 
 fitted to teach all a lady cares to learn. 
 
 It is while they are discussing the details of this 
 scheme that Lucentio comes on the scene, disguised 
 as a master of languages, boastfully assuring Gremio, 
 — ^whom he has secured as patron, — that he is an 
 adept in his profession. Hoping to win Bianca's 
 favour by providing her with an instructor who will 
 
96 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 also prove a friend at court, Gremio proudly an- 
 nounces he is bound for Baptista's house. 
 
 On learning that Petruchio is also going thither 
 to woo Katharine, Gremio is overjoyed, feeling like 
 Hortensio, that the elder sister once out of the way, 
 Bianca can easily be won. It is, therefore, for the 
 sake of disposing of Katharine, that he and Hor- 
 tensio bury all rivalry for the present, and vie in 
 giving Petruchio instructions, warning him, how- 
 ever, to prepare for the worst. 
 
 To all their cautions this bold suitor confidently 
 replies a little noise will not daunt him, as he has 
 heard lions roar, and sea-waves beat against the 
 shore, and that the crash of thunder and the din of 
 battle have so hardened his ears that a woman's 
 tongue has no terrors for him! 
 
 They are about to set out for Baptista's house, 
 when overtaken by Lucentio's servant, personating 
 his master, and closely attended by his comrade. 
 The false Lucentio pretends to have come to town 
 to sue for Bianca's hand, and simulates great surprise 
 when informed that he cannot press his suit until her 
 sister is married. When he learns that Gremio and 
 Hortensio are also candidates for her favour, he pet- 
 tishly demurs; but finally consents to join them in 
 furthering Petruchio's suit, feeling, like the rest, 
 deeply indebted to the man whose wooing of Kath- 
 arine is their only hope. All, therefore, agree to 
 meet at a banquet that evening, where they will 
 drink to Petruchio's success. 
 
 Act n. The second act opens in Baptista's house, 
 where Bianca, hands bound behind her, is undergo- 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 97 
 
 ing torture at her sister's hands. Although she is 
 piteously begging to be set free, cruel Katharine 
 vows she shall remain a prisoner until she has 
 confessed which suitor she prefers. Thinking her 
 sister covets the possession of one of these lovers, — 
 and not caring for either, — Bianca shows suspicious 
 readiness to abandon both, and thus so rouses Kath- 
 arine's anger that she strikes her. 
 
 The father, appearing at this moment, chides his 
 eldest daughter, who, instead of taking this reproof 
 to heart, lets her sister escape, while she reviles him 
 for his preference of his youngest child. Then, 
 Katharine flounces out of the room, leaving Baptista 
 alone to lament his ill-fortune at being plagued with 
 such a daughter! His soliloquy is interrupted by 
 the arrival of the suitors, and, no sooner have the 
 usual courtesies been exchanged, than Petruchio 
 makes himself known, declaring that, having heard of 
 the beauty, wit, and affability of Baptista's eldest 
 daughter, he has come to sue for her hand. He adds 
 that, to insure a welcome, he brings a master for 
 Bianca, and then introduces the disguised Hortensio. 
 In his turn, Gremio boasts of the acquirements of 
 his candidate, while the false Lucentio eagerly prof- 
 fers books and a musical instrument for the use of 
 the young lady whom he, too, hopes to win. 
 
 Baptista has just bidden a servant carry away these 
 gifts, and introduce the new masters to his daugh- 
 ters, when Petruchio, as if unable to brook further 
 delay, impetuously exclaims, * My business asketh 
 haste,' inquiring what dowry Baptista will bestow 
 upon his elder daughter? Anxious to get rid of 
 
98 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 troublesome Katharine, Baptista promises to will 
 her one-half of his wealth, giving her immediate 
 possession of twenty thousand crowns, — an amount 
 so alluring to Petruchio that, after stating what he 
 is ready to settle upon his wife, he proposes the 
 immediate signing of a contract. But to this Bap- 
 tista objects that, before proceeding any further, 
 the lady's favour should be won, a feat Petruchio 
 thinks he can easily perform, being as peremptory as 
 Katharine herself, and fully aware of the fact that 
 a great gust puts out a small fire. When Baptista 
 cautiously endeavours to prepare him for what awaits 
 him, this strange suitor adds the significant state- 
 ment that he is ' rough and wooes not like a babe,' 
 a boast which he carries out, as you will see. 
 
 They are still conversing when Hortensio bursts 
 into the room, holding his hands to his head, for, 
 having attempted to teach Katharine music, he so 
 incensed her, that she brought the new instrument 
 down upon his head, with sufficient force to smash 
 it and cause him pain. The father seems unspeak- 
 ably shocked at such behaviour, but Petruchio loudly 
 vows such manners inspire him with a still livelier 
 desire to see the lady! Baptista, therefore, goes off 
 in quest of Katharine, taking with him the unfor- 
 tunate Hortensio, whom he encourages by promis- 
 ing that henceforth he shall instruct Bianca only, 
 whose gentleness is proverbial. 
 
 Left alone to await the appearance of the fair 
 Katharine, Petruchio lays his plans, proposing to 
 woo the lady ' with some spirit,' pretending when 
 she scolds that she is singing sweetly, when she 
 
PETRUCHIO'S VIOLENCE 
 Pet. " 'Tis burnt ; and so is all the meat. 
 
 There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all ; 
 The Tanning of the Shrew, Act 4, Scene 1, 
 
 Ed. Gruetzner 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 99 
 
 frowns that she is smiling upon him, when she is 
 mute that her loquacity is charming, and vowing 
 that, even should she bid him begone, he will assume 
 she is suggesting the immediate publication of their 
 banns. 
 
 No sooner does Katharine appear, therefore, than 
 Petruchio greets her with a familiarity which she re- 
 sents by making all manner of biting and cutting re- 
 marks, all of which he receives in the most amiable 
 fashion. After a spirited interview, wherein Kath- 
 arine's sharp speeches are answered wittily and 
 wisely, the girl, discovering she cannot otherwise 
 anger this bold suitor, deals him a blow. Although 
 sorely tempted to retort in kind, Petruchio forbears, 
 pressing Katharine to accept him, and declaring that, 
 notwithstanding evil reports, he finds her gentle and 
 loving. He adds that he is determined she shall 
 marry him and no one else, and cautions her not to 
 contradict any statement he makes when her father 
 returns. 
 
 A moment later, when Baptista appears with 
 Gremio and the false Lucentio, Petruchio swagger- 
 ingly declares it was impossible he should not speed 
 in his wooing, although the wrathful Katharine de- 
 nies giving her consent, and reviles her father for 
 expecting her to accept a madman. None of her 
 stinging remarks disturb Petruchio, who coolly an- 
 nounces that, having found Katharine an epitome 
 of all virtues, he will marry her Sunday next ; assur- 
 ing Baptista, when she contradicts him, that she does 
 so merely to appear coy, having been most tractable 
 when they were alone together ! Paying no further 
 
lOO Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 heed to her denials, therefore, he says he will go to 
 Venice to procure wedding garments, and, after bid- 
 ding Baptista prepare a feast, takes courteous leave 
 of the sullen girl, who turns her back upon him. 
 
 When Katharine and Petruchio have left the 
 stage in opposite directions, Gremio and the false 
 Lucentio wonder aloud how any one dare woo so 
 thorny a bride, and marvel at the speed with which 
 this match has been concluded ; while Baptista openly 
 congratulates himself upon disposing of a daughter, 
 so troublesome that he never expected to find a mate 
 for her. 
 
 The matter of Katharine's marriage settled, both 
 suitors deem the time has come to urge their claims 
 to Bianca's hand, Gremio stating that, as an old man, 
 he will make the better husband, while Lucentio 
 pleads his youth as an advantage. When Baptista 
 answers by announcing he will bestow his youngest 
 daughter upon the suitor who can offer most, both 
 begin to enumerate their possessions, eagerly trying 
 to outbid one another. The offers of the false Lu- 
 centio finally so far surpass those of Gremio, that 
 Baptista promises to favour him, provided his father 
 comes to Padua to approve the match. He does not, 
 however, doubt that this consent will be forthcom- 
 ing, for he announces that, whereas Katharine will 
 be married on the following Sunday, Bianca shall be 
 awarded to her successful lover on the next. 
 
 Baptista having gone, Gremio and his rival ex- 
 change taunts, and it is only when left quite alone 
 on the stage, that the false Lucentio ruefully won- 
 ders how he can procure a false father to act as 
 
The Taming of the Shrew loi 
 
 his sponsor, seeing he dare not appeal to the real 
 Vincentio, 
 
 Act III. The third act begins in Baptista's 
 house, where Eianca is sitting with her masters, 
 both of whom are eagerly striving to monopolise her 
 attention. In their anxiety to win her favour, they 
 prove extremely rude to one another, for when Hor- 
 tensio insists that music comes first, Lucentio re- 
 torts it should only be considered as refreshment 
 after serious study. The young lady, evidently 
 greatly taken by Lucentio, now invites him to help 
 her construe Latin, directing Hortensio meanwhile 
 to tune his instrument, so as to give her a music 
 lesson later on. 
 
 Taking advantage of his position as Latin teacher, 
 Lucentio construes two lines from Ovid to signify 
 that he, Lucentio, has come hither in disguise, merely 
 to win Bianca's favour, while his servant sues with 
 her father in his name. He has barely gotten thus 
 far in a declaration to which Bianca listens with 
 praiseworthy attention, when he is interrupted by 
 Hortensio, who pronounces his instrument in per- 
 fect tune. Wishing to learn more about this inter- 
 esting Latin lesson, Bianca pretends to discover a 
 discord and sends the musician away to retune his 
 instrument, while she, in her turn, construes the 
 same Latin sentence to signify that, not knowing 
 who her new suitor may be, she dares not trust 
 him; still he need not despair. 
 
 The musician drawing near again, Lucentio, ap- 
 parently satisfied ^f or the present, allows his rival 
 to instruct Bianca in his turn. But, although Hor- 
 
I02 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 tensio, too, makes use of his art to further his suit, 
 Bianca proves strangely inattentive, finds fault vt^ith 
 his method, and gladly leaves the room when sum- 
 moned away by a servant. Finding no attraction in 
 the room w^hen Bianca is not present, the true Lu- 
 centio departs, leaving his rival alone on the stage, 
 to express dark suspicions of the strange master who 
 has so quickly captivated his fair pupil's atten- 
 tion. 
 
 The next scene is played in front of Baptista's 
 house, where the wedding party vainly await the 
 bridegroom, due long before. Baptista is explain- 
 ing to the false Lucentio that Katharine's wedding 
 would have been concluded earlier in the day, had 
 it not been for Petruchio's absence, which makes 
 them appear ridiculous. His remarks so enkindle 
 Katharine's smouldering wrath, that she suddenly 
 declares the man who ' wooed in haste ' evidently 
 * means to wed at leisure,' and rushes o£E the stage 
 in tears. Anxious to see her safely married, 
 Tranio warmly protests that Petruchio is honest, al- 
 though he cannot but agree when Baptista remarks 
 that, for once, Katharine's outburst of rage is justi- 
 fiable, seeing ' such an injury would vex a very 
 saint ! ' 
 
 It is while the men are standing there idly, that 
 Lucentio's second servant bursts in, announcing Pe- 
 truchio is coming, attired in disreputable garments, 
 riding a nag whose saddle and bridle are held to- 
 gether with strings, and attended by a servant got- 
 ten up in similar poverty-stricken style. The wed- 
 ding guests are commenting upon this strange be- 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 103 
 
 haviour, when Petruchio marches in, well pleased 
 with himself, and calling loudly for his bride. 
 Dreading the effect of such an appearance upon 
 Katharine's temper, Baptista vainly tries to induce 
 him to don more seemly apparel; but Petruchio in- 
 sists that the lady is to marry him and not his 
 clothes, adding that he is so eager to embrace her, 
 that he can brook no further delay. He, therefore, 
 passes off the stage, escorted by the other wedding 
 guests, only the true and false Lucentios remaining 
 face to face. 
 
 This being their first private interview since 
 settling their program.me, the servant hastens to re- 
 port how he has played his master's part, announc- 
 ing at the end that a false father will have to be 
 found to vouch for the false son. On his part, Lu- 
 centio admits that, were it not for the fact his fel- 
 low-instructor watches Bianca so closely, he would 
 try to run away with her, knowing that once 
 married, he could hold her * despite of all the 
 world.' 
 
 Master and servant are still discussing how to 
 outwit Bianca's father and suitors, when Gremio 
 returns from church, exclaiming over the wedding. 
 He avers that, although the bride is noted for a 
 shrewish temper, she is nothing but * a lamb, a 
 dove, a fool,' in comparison with the bridegroom; 
 supporting his statement by a lively account of the 
 manner in which Petruchio knocked down the priest, 
 stamped, swore, called for wine, flung the pieces of 
 toast floating upon it into the sexton's face, and 
 wound up his unseemly proceedings by giving his 
 
104 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 new-made wife such a resounding smack, that it 
 could be heard throughout the church! 
 
 This account of the wedding is just finished, when 
 music heralds the bridal procession, Petruchio 
 proudly leading Katharine, and graciously thank- 
 ing his friends for honouring their wedding ban- 
 quet, which, alas, neither of them can attend. On 
 hearing that he and his bride must depart immedi- 
 ately, Baptista, the guests, and even Katharine, try 
 to persuade Petruchio to change his mind. But he 
 parries all their entreaties, until, irritated by his re- 
 fusal, his bride announces her intention to remain. 
 After replying to this speech by a firm yet calm 
 statement of his rights, Petruchio shows plainly he 
 means to enforce them, for, after again bidding his 
 friends enjoy the banquet without them, he calls 
 upon his servant to help rescue his mistress from 
 the hands of importunate friends, loath to part with 
 her! 
 
 While Petruchio thus sweeps the bewildered 
 Katharine away, the guests wonder how so mad a 
 marriage will turn out, even the gentle Bianca re- 
 marking that, ' being mad herself, she's madly 
 mated ! ' Then, all follow Baptista into the house, 
 where they are invited to partake of the banquet, 
 of which Bianca and the false Lucentio are to do 
 the honours in place of the absent bride and 
 groom. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in Petruchio's 
 house, where his servant has arrived cold, wet, and 
 weary, and is loudly calling for help to build fires 
 and prepare for the bridal couple, In convensation 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 105 
 
 with a fellow-servant, this man gives a lively de- 
 scription of the homeward journey, including his 
 mistress's tumble from her horse in a muddy spot 
 In the road, and vows that, instead of helping Kath- 
 arine rise, Petruchio, pretending to blame him for 
 the fall, began to beat him, desisting only when the 
 bride held his hand! On hearing this, the second 
 servant sagely concludes that his master is even more 
 shrewish than the new mistress, whose fame has 
 come to his ears. 
 
 All the servants are just receiving instructions 
 in regard to their behaviour towards the newly mar- 
 ried couple, when Petruchio marches in, gallantly 
 leading Katharine, yet scolding vehemently at his 
 reception. His servants rush forward with apol- 
 ogies, but are shortly dismissed, and it is only after 
 humming a little tune, that Petruchio seems to re- 
 member the presence of his bride. With exagger- 
 ated courtesy, he now bids her welcome, calls for 
 servants to remove his boots and bring water, treat- 
 ing them so roughly, however, that Katharine is 
 again obliged to interfere. Supper being served, 
 Petruchio escorts his wife to table, but soon after 
 sitting down, angrily declares nothing is fit to set 
 before her, and throws all the viands on the floor. 
 In spite of Katharine's entreaties, he rages on, and 
 on, vowing at last that they will go to bed fasting, 
 seeing there is nothing they can eat! The bridal 
 couple having left the apartment, Petruchio's 
 servants comment upon his strange behaviour, one 
 of them slyly averring the bridegroom evidently 
 Intends to kill the bride ' in her own humour.' Then 
 
io6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 another servant joins them, gleefully reporting how 
 Petruchio is continuing his angry fuss in his wife's 
 bedroom, where he finds nothing suitable for her 
 use, and is storming until she knows not ' which 
 way to stand, to look, to speak! ' 
 
 The servants vanish when Petruchio reappears, 
 pleased with what he has done, and mischievously 
 announcing that, although he knows his wife is 
 hungry, he is going to treat her like a hunting fal- 
 con, and starve her into submission. He also means 
 to prevent her from sleeping, under the pretext of 
 looking after her comfort, declaring that his plan 
 to tame the shrew consists in killing her with kind- 
 ness. 
 
 The curtain next rises showing Baptista's house 
 in Padua, where the false Lucentio and Hortensio 
 are discussing Bianca's evident infatuation for her 
 new teacher. While they are thus talking, Bianca 
 and her language master stroll upon the scene, and 
 the latter is overheard sentimentally declaring that 
 the only art he professes is love ! The suitors in the 
 background are amazed by this revelation, Hor- 
 tensio, in his chagrin, revealing for the first time 
 that he is a gentleman, disguised as a teacher in hopes 
 of winning the fickle lady's affections. Both he and 
 the false Lucentio now conclude their chances are 
 gone, a fact made patent by the actions of Bianca 
 and of the real Lucentio, in one corner of the stage. 
 Hortensio, therefore, decides to resign his office as 
 teacher, and marry a wealthy widow who has long 
 sought his affections. 
 
 When Hortensio has gone, the false Lucentio, 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 107 
 
 turning to the lovers, announces this decision, twit- 
 ting Bianca with losing a good chance, ere the lovers 
 leave the scene. Just then the servant comes to in- 
 form his pretended master that, after long search, 
 he has discovered a man to personate his father, and 
 satisfy Baptista by consenting to his marriage. The 
 man thus selected to play the part of Vincentio is a 
 Pedant, weary from a long journey, who is no sooner 
 introduced to the false Lucentio, than the latter 
 craftily inquires whether he has heard that all trav- 
 ellers coming from Mantua are to be put to death? 
 This news terrifies the stranger, to whom Lucentio 
 graciously promises his protection, provided he will 
 personate Vincentio and signify his consent to his 
 nuptials. Under such circumstances the Pedant 
 dares, of course, not refuse, and soon departs with 
 his protector to assume the disguise which will en- 
 able him to play a father's part. 
 
 The next scene is transferred to a room in Pe- 
 truchio's house, where hungry Katharine is piteously 
 imploring a servant to bring her something to eat, 
 adding pathetically that even beggars were never 
 turned away hungry from her father's door. Faint 
 from lack of food, and giddy from want of sleep, — 
 for Petruchio still pretends no meat or couch is 
 worthy of her, — she hopes to procure a little sus- 
 tenance surreptitiously. The malicious servant, 
 after playing upon her feelings by proposing one 
 dish after another, — ^which she no sooner implores 
 him to serve, than he begins to demur, — finally re- 
 fuses to bring her anything, for fear of incurring his 
 master's displeasure; until, exasperated by these 
 
io8 Stones of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 tantalising offers and subsequent refusals, Kath- 
 arine finally loses patience and beats him! 
 
 The man has gone off to nurse his bruises, when 
 Petruchio comes in with Hortensio, bearing a dish 
 of meat, which he has dressed himself to make sure 
 it will suit his beloved bride. Katharine, sulking 
 at one side of the stage, pays no attention to him, and 
 vouchsafes no response to his lavish expressions of 
 affection and devotion. Perceiving this, Petruchio 
 assumes she scorns the food he has prepared for her ; 
 so he is about to order it removed, when she forces 
 herself to utter a reluctant ' thank you,' as reward 
 for his pains. The lady also allows him to lead her 
 to the table, where, while they take their places, 
 Petruchio whispers to Hortensio to eat as fast and 
 as much as possible, as Katharine is not to get more 
 than a taste of the meal. With elaborate courtesy, 
 he then serves his wife an infinitesimal portion, inter- 
 fering so cleverly with every mouthful she eats, that, 
 long before her hunger is appeased, the table is 
 cleared, and he is loudly calling for the merchants 
 from whom he has ordered rich garments for his 
 bride. 
 
 Two dealers now enter and begin displaying hats 
 and gowns, which Petruchio decries, but which his 
 wife admires, finally becoming so anxious to pos- 
 sess them, that she tries to silence Petruchio by 
 threatening to fly into a rage unless he cease 
 annoying her by constant interference in women's 
 affairs! Pretending her anger is fully justified by 
 the unsuitability of the garments offered, Pe- 
 truchio rudely dismisses the merchants, whisper- 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 109 
 
 ing to Hortensio to follow and indemnify them for 
 their pains. 
 
 Left alone with his friend and wife, Petruchio 
 now proposes a visit to her father, stating they can 
 easily reach Padua by dinner-time. But, still angry, 
 Katharine tartly retorts that they will hardly arrive 
 for supper, thus making Petruchio swear that he 
 will never start at all unless she agrees with instead 
 of constantly contradicting him ! 
 
 The next scene is played before Baptista's house, 
 where the false Lucentio appears with the Pedant, 
 now personating his father, Vincentio. A servant 
 soon reports that Baptista, hearing of their coming, 
 welcomes them heartily, a welcome confirmed a mo- 
 ment later by Baptista, himself, accompanied by his 
 daughter's master of languages. 
 
 After greeting the false father warmly, Baptista 
 receives a formal consent to the young couple's 
 union, the parent of the bridegroom regretting not 
 to be able to grace the ceremony. Under plea of 
 immediate departure, he urges the signing of the 
 contract, in his son's lodgings, since Baptista refuses 
 to do so in his own house lest the other suitors make 
 trouble. Baptista, therefore, agrees to accompany 
 father and son, bidding the language teacher follow 
 promptly with his fair pupil. 
 
 All the others having left the scene, the real Lu- 
 centio and his second servant decide that, for fear 
 of discovery, Bianca's marriage must soon take place. 
 The servant is, therefore, sent to engage the services 
 of a priest, while Lucentio goes off to persuade 
 Bianca to marry him on her way to join her father. 
 
no Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 The following scene is played upon a public high- 
 way, where Petruchio is riding with Katharine, 
 who, for the sake of visiting her father, has been 
 humouring her difficult husband. Although Pe- 
 truchio makes sundry ridiculous tests of her 
 new-born pliancy, and threatens to return home 
 every time she shows the slightest contumacy, she 
 is so weary of his continual outbursts of uncon- 
 trolled anger, that she agrees to all he says, even 
 when he takes sly pleasure in making her contradict 
 herself almost in a breath. This makes the listen- 
 ing Hortensio finally exclaim in triumph, ' the field 
 is won ! ' 
 
 They do not proceed very far ere encountering 
 Lucentio's real father, on his way to Padua to visit 
 his son. When Petruchio informs him that his only 
 son is about to marry Katharine's sister, Vincentio 
 asks many questions, while Hortensio, following in 
 their wake, decides to espouse the widow without 
 further delay, Petruchio having taught him not to 
 fear a woman's tongue. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act begins in Padua, before 
 Lucentio's house, where Gremio stands wondering 
 what is going on within. While he is cogitating 
 thus, Lucentio and Bianca slip past him, guided by 
 the servant, who says the priest awaits them at the 
 altar. Gremio is just commenting on the master's 
 strange absence, when Petruchio and his party halt 
 to point out to Vincentio his son's abode, advising 
 him to knock hard should he wish admittance. 
 
 After repeated knocking, Gremio informs the 
 stranger the people within are too busy to attend 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 1 1 1 
 
 to him, whereupon Vincentio knocks so peremptorily 
 that the Pedant, from a window, demands the 
 meaning of this unseemly noise? False and true 
 fathers now enter into a ridiculous dialogue, neither 
 having the remotest idea of the identity of the 
 other. In a reply to an inquiry for Lucentio, the 
 false father states that, although at home, he is 
 not at liberty, adding grandiloquently, when it is 
 hinted how lads are always glad to admit fathers 
 bringing money, that, being Lucentio's father him- 
 self, no one else shall supply him with funds! This 
 statement naturally causes Petruchio to consider 
 the traveller an impostor, whom he is about to have 
 arrested, when Lucentio's second servant runs up, 
 exclaiming the young people are safe in church! 
 
 On coming suddenly face to face with his old 
 master, this man, hoping to prevent the premature 
 discovery of his young master's plans, decides to deny 
 ever having seen Vincentio before. Indignant at 
 what seems wanton impudence, Vincentio beats him, 
 so that, after loudly calling for help, the man runs 
 away, Katharine and Petruchio watching from the 
 background. 
 
 The clamour at the door brings out the false Lu- 
 centio, hotly demanding who dares beat his man? 
 He, too, is amazed to find himself face to face with 
 Vincentio, who, perceiving him tricked out in his 
 son's clothes, suspects foul play. This servant, too, 
 denies him, and Vincentio, learning that his son's 
 father has been in Padua consenting to his wedding, 
 wails so loudly for Lucentio, that the false bearer 
 of that name summons an officer. Just as this man 
 
112 Stories of Shakespeare* s Comedies 
 
 is about to lead the prisoner away Gremio estab- 
 lishes his identity. 
 
 It is at that moment that the newly made bride 
 and groom appear, and the old father, overjoyed to 
 find his son safe and sound, embraces him raptu- 
 rously, while Bianca falls at Baptista's feet, hyster- 
 ically begging his pardon. Unable to understand 
 what this means, Baptista wonders who the stranger 
 may be who accompanies his daughter? The whole 
 tangle is now unravelled, Lucentio proved the only 
 rightful bearer of the name, and the man about to 
 be arrested his beloved father. The marriage to 
 Bianca is confessed, the bridegroom sagely declaring 
 that ' Love wrought these miracles ! ' and exhonor- 
 ating servants and Pedant. 
 
 Justly indignant at having been gulled, both 
 fathers leave the stage in anger, but Lucentio com- 
 forts his bride with the assurance that ere long the 
 irascible old gentlemen will be appeased. His hopes 
 blasted by Bianca's marriage, Gremio wisely con- 
 cludes to enjoy the wedding banquet, the only com- 
 pensation offered for his disappointment. 
 
 Next, Katharine and Petruchio, silent witnesses to 
 all that has transpired, prepare to follow the rest 
 into the house to partake of the wedding banquet. 
 But first Petruchio demands a kiss, which his obedi- 
 ent wife bestows after slight demur, although still 
 on the public street. 
 
 The last scene is played in Lucentio's house, 
 where the guests are partaking of the banquet, and 
 the bridegroom's speech meets with general approval. 
 As the feast progresses, the widow whom Hortensio 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 113 
 
 has married, begins a battle of words with Kath- 
 arine, which is greatly enjoyed by their respective 
 husbands. Bianca ends it, however, by rising and 
 leading away the ladies, leaving the gentlemen to 
 discuss the verbal encounter. In the course of this 
 conversation, the three bridegrooms challenge each 
 other to test their wives' obedience, agreeing after 
 some demur that their wager be fixed at one hun- 
 dred crowns, and that each husband send for his 
 wife in turn, the one obtaining the promptest obedi- 
 ence pocketing the stakes. These preliminaries 
 settled, Lucentio bids a servant summon Bianca, 
 only to hear the man report a moment later that 
 his mistress is busy and cannot come; a message 
 which causes Petruchio and Hortensio to ridicule 
 their friend, whose wife is not as tractable as he 
 supposed. 
 
 Then Hortensio sends the same servant to en- 
 treat his wife to join him, but although he uses so 
 diplomatic a phrase, the former widow sends back 
 word he must be jesting, and that if he wants her, 
 he must come to her! After a few jeers at his dis- 
 appointed companions, Petruchio roughly bids the 
 servant command his wife's immediate presence, and 
 although the others loudly aver Katharine will never 
 submit to such tyranny, he seems confident of suc- 
 cess. His confidence is not misplaced, for, almost 
 immediately, Katharine runs into the room, in- 
 quiring submissively, ' What is your will, sir, that 
 you send for me ? ' 
 
 Then Petruchio bids her go in quest of the two 
 rebellious wives, bringing them doy^^n by force if 
 
114 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 need be, since they know not their duty to their 
 husbands. She has barely vanished to carry out 
 these lordly commands, when Lucentio and Hor- 
 tensio express surprise over the transformation ef- 
 fected in Katharine's temper, which Petruchio 
 proudly avers, bodes ' peace, and love, and quiet 
 life.' 
 
 Baptista, silent witness of all that has gone on, 
 now declares Petruchio has honourably won his 
 wager, adding he is so overjoyed at the change in 
 his once shrewish daughter, that he will double her 
 dowry. This promise affords Petruchio such satis- 
 faction that he offers to win the wager more fairly 
 still, by giving his friends another proof of his wife's 
 subjection. 
 
 He does so when Katharine returns with Bianca 
 and the widow, by greeting her with the remark 
 that her cap is unbecoming, bidding her pluck it 
 from her head, and trample it under foot. While 
 Katharine unhesitatingly obeys, Bianca and the 
 widow angrily chide their husbands for making 
 foolish tests of their obedience, tests which 
 the gentlemen ruefully confess have cost them 
 dear! 
 
 Turning to Katharine, Petruchio then bids her 
 lecture these rebellious wives on their duties to their 
 husbands, so, after chiding them, Katharine gravely 
 informs them a woman's duty consists in implicit 
 obedience, adding, ' Thy husband is thy lord, thy 
 life, thy keeper.' Then she eloquently describes the 
 perils and fatigues husbands are obliged to undergo 
 to earn sustenance for their wives, adding that, in 
 
The Taming of the Shrew 115 
 
 return for such sacrifices and devotion, they should 
 meet with love and subjection at home. 
 
 Her speech is so complete a vindication of Pe- 
 truchio's proud boast that he has tamed the shrew, 
 that he delightedly bids her come and kiss him, the 
 play concluding with his remark to his friends, 
 ' 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white ; 
 and, being a winner, God give you good-night ! ' 
 
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU 
 WILL 
 
 Act I. The play opens in a palace in Illyria, 
 where the Duke and his court are listening to a 
 concert, of which one song particularly appeals to 
 the august listener, who is in love. When the music 
 ceases and the courtiers inquire whether their mas- 
 ter will hunt, the Duke, still full of his own idea, 
 sentimentally compares himself to Action, who fell 
 in love with Diana, saying his desires for the 
 Countess Olivia pursue him as cruelly as the hounds 
 did that mythical swain. 
 
 It is at this moment that his messenger returns, 
 reporting his lady-love has decided to remain in 
 seclusion for seven years, so as to mourn the death 
 of her beloved brother. On hearing that Olivia in- 
 tends not to appear unveiled during this period, the 
 Duke exclaims that a woman displaying such affec- 
 tion for a brother would prove indeed a devoted 
 wife ! 
 
 We are next transported to the seashore, where 
 shipwrecked Viola is questioning her rescuer in re- 
 gard to the coast upon which she has been cast, 
 and the likelihood of her twin brother's escape from 
 the waves. To quiet her apprehensions, the seaman 
 describes how Sebastian lashed himself to a mast and 
 
 115 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 1 1 7 
 
 drifted safely out of sight, — tidings so welcome that 
 Viola gives him a reward. 
 
 In answer to further questions, she learns that 
 Illyria is ruled by Duke Orsino, a friend of her 
 father, still unmarried, although he has long wooed 
 Countess Olivia, whose refusal to wed on account 
 of a brother's loss touches Viola. At first the ship- 
 wrecked maiden expresses a desire to enter the 
 Countess' service, but Olivia's vow making that im- 
 possible, she decides, instead, to assume the guise 
 of a page and serve the Duke. She, therefore, bids 
 the seaman procure her an outfit and introduction, 
 sure that her many accomplishments will find 
 favour. So thorough^ does the mariner approve of 
 this plan, that he not only promises to guard Viola's 
 secret, but leads her away to prepare for her ven- 
 ture. 
 
 We are now transferred to Olivia's house, where 
 the Maid is taking to task this lady's uncle, Sir 
 Toby, for coming home late at night and for drink- 
 ing. Although Sir Toby vehemently protests, the 
 Maid declares such courses will injure him, adding 
 that the foolish knight he recently introduced to her 
 mistress is worse than himself. This Sir Toby de- 
 nies, claiming Sir Andrew is a musician and linguist 
 as well as a man of means, and when the Maid 
 tartly retorts that his advantages are more than 
 counterbalanced by his dissipated habits, he pains- 
 takingly explains his friend is drunk because he too 
 frequently toasts his lovely niece! 
 
 The suitor in question now appears and is rap- 
 turously greeted by Sir Toby, but his wits are so 
 
Ii8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 clouded that he fails to understand his hint to con- 
 ciliate the Maid. She therefore pertly remarks, 
 when he finally offers her his hand, that there is 
 nothing in it; thereby showing a gratuity would 
 have been far more acceptable than tardy con- 
 descension. 
 
 The Maid having gone, the men converse, Sir An- 
 drew coming to the conclusion that his slow com- 
 prehension is due not to strong drink, but to a too 
 great indulgence in meat. When he hears, there- 
 fore, that Olivia is withdrawing from the world, 
 he wishes to return home immediately, but Sir Toby 
 induces him to remain a little longer and exhibit 
 his talents as a dancer, as he may thereby perchance 
 win the Countess' affections. 
 
 The next scene is played in the Duke's palace, 
 where the page Cesario, — Viola in disguise, — is talk- 
 ing to a courtier, who warns him that, although he 
 has gained great influence at court in three days' 
 time, he must not count upon the continuance of such 
 favour. This warning has barely been acknowl- 
 edged by Cesario, when the Duke appears, calling 
 for his page. When Cesario steps forward, the rest 
 are bidden retire, and the Duke proceeds to instruct 
 the youth, — who has already become his confidant, — 
 to visit Olivia, not returning until he has been ad- 
 mitted to plead his master's cause. 
 
 When Cesario timidly objects that the lady ad- 
 mits no one, the Duke urges him to make use of 
 his almost wom.anly tact to further his master's suit, 
 promising to make his fortune, should he succeed. 
 Thus admonished, Cesario volunteers to do his best, 
 
 i 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 119 
 
 exclaiming in an aside, however, that this will prove 
 a hard task, as ' Whoe'er I woo, myself would be 
 his wife.' 
 
 When the curtain again rises, we see a room in 
 Olivia's house where her Maid and Clown are con- 
 versing, the former receiving ridiculous replies to all 
 her questions. Exasperated by the Clown's eva- 
 sions, the Maid finally bids him prepare a suitable 
 excuse, saying his irate mistress will soon appear. 
 Thus warned, the Clown tries to collect his scat- 
 tered wits, coming to the conclusion that it is bet- 
 ter to be 'a witty fool than a foolish wit,' just as 
 Olivia enters with her steward, Malvolio. The 
 mistress shows her displeasure by immediately order- 
 ing the Clown removed, whereupon, pretending to 
 misunderstand her, he makes witty speeches, offer- 
 ing at last to demonstrate she is the ' fool ' she calls 
 him, provided she will answer a few questions. 
 Olivia expressing willingness to do so, the Clown 
 makes her confess she is mourning the death of a 
 brother, whose soul she indignantly declares is in 
 heaven when the Fool opines that it must be in hell. 
 On hearing this, the Clown promptly retorts that 
 none but a fool would mourn because a relative en- 
 joyed heavenly bliss! Olivia's admiration for this 
 clever deduction irritates Malvolio, who contemptu- 
 ously exclaims he cannot see how she can put up 
 with such a rascal, a remark savouring so strongly 
 of conceit, that his mistress vows he is so ' sick of 
 self-love,' that he cannot bear to hear any one else 
 praised ! 
 
 It is at this juncture that the maid reappears, an- 
 
I20 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 nouncing that some one is asking for the Countess. 
 On hearing that a handsome youth is at the door, 
 Olivia charges Malvolio to report her sick or not at 
 home, as she is determined not to receive any more 
 messages from the Duke. It is while Olivia is re- 
 proving the Clown for some mischief, that her uncle 
 passes across the scene, too tipsy to answer her ques- 
 tions properly, so, after he has gone, Olivia makes 
 the Clown define * drunken man,' praising his defini- 
 tion as apt ere she dismisses him. 
 
 Then Malvolio returns reporting that the youth is 
 so determined to speak to the Countess that he has 
 found a witty retort to all excuses, — retorts which so 
 arouse Olivia's curiosity that she soon orders him 
 admitted. While Malvolio goes out to fetch the 
 page, the maid shrouds her mistress in the folds of 
 a thick veil, so when Cesario is ushered in he is con- 
 fronted by a veiled lady. Told to make his errand 
 known, Cesario begins a set speech, interrupting him- 
 self at the end of a few moments to inquire whether 
 he is addressing the right person? In reply to 
 Olivia's query whence he comes, Cesario urges that 
 is not part of his discourse, although he denies be- 
 ing the ' comedian ' Olivia calls him. He admits, 
 however, that he is not what he seems, so Olivia, 
 caring naught for his speech, ruthlessly interrupts 
 his glib sentences. 
 
 In fact, his appearance so charms her that she 
 finally grants him a private audience, although she 
 pays no heed when he tries to tell her that the text 
 of his discourse lies in the Duke's bosom. A little 
 later, when the page begs for a glimpse of her face, 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 121 
 
 Olivia cannot refrain from showing the youth, — 
 with whom she has fallen in love, — how beautiful 
 she is. She, therefore, raises her veil, assuring 
 Cesario that the colours he sees are fast, and her 
 beauty ingrain. But, when the page exclaims that 
 so lovely a woman should not go down to her grave 
 without leaving children to perpetuate her beauty, 
 she is secretly pleased, although she disdainfully says 
 her charms could easily be inventoried as ' two lips, 
 indifferent red,' ' two grey eyes, with lids to them,' 
 * one neck, one chin, and so forth.' 
 
 In reply to Olivia's question how the Duke shows 
 his affection for her, the page replies, 'With adora- 
 tions, fertile tears, with groans that thunder love, 
 with sighs of fire,' — ^words which evidently fail to 
 impress Olivia, as she coldly states she never will re- 
 turn his affections. Thereupon the gallant page re- 
 torts that were he in his master's place he would ac- 
 cept no dismissal, but, camping before her gates, 
 would call her name day and night until he wearied 
 her into acceptance! Unable to restrain amusement 
 and curiosity, Olivia again inquires who Cesario 
 may be, only to receive the ambiguous reply that, 
 although of gentle birth, his parentage is above his 
 present fortunes. Again told to report to his mas- 
 ter that his wooing is vain, the page finally takes 
 leave of Olivia, saying, ' Farewell, fair cruelty.' 
 
 After Cesario has gone, Olivia admits she has al- 
 lowed his perfections to creep in at her eyes; then, 
 feeling anxious to see more of him, she bids Mal- 
 volio run after him, taking a diamond ring she pre- 
 tends he left behind him, but with which she hopes 
 
122 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 to bribe Cesario to visit her once more. The 
 steward having departed to execute this commission, 
 Olivia marvels at herself, concluding Fate will have 
 to decide her lot, since she herself knows not what 
 to do. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens on the seashore, 
 where a seaman, Antonio, is inquiring of Sebastian, 
 Viola's twin brother, whether he wishes to be ac- 
 companied further? Afraid lest the ill-fortune 
 which has lately dogged his steps should injure his 
 rescuer should they remain together, Sebastian takes 
 leave of the seaman, after describing the loss of his 
 sister, who resembled him so closely that they dif- 
 fered in naught save garments and sex. Sebastian's 
 intention is to present himself before the Duke, whom 
 Antonio wishes to avoid, as he once boarded a ducal 
 vessel. 
 
 Cesario is trudging along the street on his way 
 back to the palace, when he is overtaken by Mal- 
 volio, asking whether he has not recently been with 
 the Countess? The page admitting this, Malvolio 
 delivers ring and message, only to have the jewel 
 rejected. His orders being explicit, however, the 
 steward sternly places the ring on the ground, vow- 
 ing unless the page picks it up it will become the 
 prey of any finder! 
 
 When Malvolio has gone, Cesario shrewdly argues 
 that Olivia has fallen In love with him, and is try- 
 ing to bribe him with this gift. Although he regrets 
 being his master's rival in the lady's affections, he 
 ascribes this conquest to his resemblance to his hand- 
 some brother, concluding, ' O time ! thou must un- 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 123 
 
 tangle this, not I ; it is too hard a knot for me to 
 untie ! ' 
 
 We now return to Olivia's house, where Sir Toby 
 and Sir Andrew are drinking, having come to the 
 sage conclusion that by sitting up until after mid- 
 night, they will keep early hours! Their conversa- 
 tion is interrupted by the Clown, whose nonsensical 
 talk enlivens them, and who finally favours them 
 with a song of his own composition, wherein the line, 
 ' Journeys end in lovers meeting,' is often quoted. 
 
 The noise made by the drinkers so annoys the 
 Maid that she soon bounces in, saying the steward 
 will turn them all out unless they are quieter. This 
 warning is hailed with such a clamour that Mal- 
 volio does appear, sternly requesting them to show 
 more respect for his mistress, but, instead of silenc- 
 ing the tipplers, his strictures excite them to mirth, 
 and they swear to take their revenge when he leaves 
 them. 
 
 On hearing them propose to send Malvolio a chal- 
 lenge, the Maid suggests a better scheme, so all agree 
 to send him letters, purporting to have been written 
 by the Countess herself, and all tending to flatter his 
 overweening vanity. This plan having won general 
 approval, the Maid volunteers to prepare the letters, 
 as she can best imitate her mistress's handwriting. 
 
 The Duke is again in his palace, calling for the 
 song which pleased him the night before, which 
 Cesario strums on his instrument, while awaiting the 
 arrival of the singer. Meantime, the master in- 
 quires whether his page has ever been in love, as- 
 suming that unless he had experienced this tender 
 
124 Stories of Shakespeare' s Comedies 
 
 passion he could not so readily sympathise with his 
 woes. 
 
 On seeking to discover the object of his page's 
 affections, the Duke obtains an artful description of 
 himself. Learning, therefore, that Cesario is hope- 
 lessly enamoured of a person of his own age, the 
 Duke exclaims such a sweetheart is far too old for 
 him, and advises him to select some younger person, 
 because, ' Women are as roses, whose fair flower be- 
 ing once display'd, doth fall that very hour.' 
 
 The entrance of the singer interrupts this talk, but 
 after he has rendered the song and received his re- 
 ward,- the Duke bids Cesario hasten back to Lady 
 Olivia, to tell her that, however large her fortune 
 may be, it has never attracted him. When the page 
 objects that the Countess refuses to listen, the Duke 
 insists upon his obtaining a more favourable answer, 
 exclaiming, when Cesario suggests some one may 
 love him as dearly and as vainly as he does Olivia, 
 that no woman could ever feel such passion as fills 
 his heart ! 
 
 Then Cesario gravely assures him that his father 
 once had a daughter, who could love as deeply as 
 any man, adding, when the Duke asks what befell 
 her, that ' She never told her love, but let conceal- 
 ment, like a worm i' the bud, feed on her damask 
 cheek; she pined in thought, and with a green and 
 yellow melancholy she sat like patience on a monu- 
 ment, smiling at grief.' 
 
 When the Duke wonders whether this faithful 
 lady finally died of love, the page gives the ambigu- 
 ous reply, ' I am all the daughters of my father's 
 
H. Hoffmann 
 
 MALVOLIO REBUKES THE REVELLERS 
 
 Mai. " My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you 
 no wit, manners, nor honesty, " 
 
 Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 3, 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 125 
 
 house, and all the brothers, too,' ere asking what 
 message his master wishes him to carry. This readi- 
 ness to serve so pleases the Duke, that he sends 
 Cesario forth with kindly words, bidding him bear 
 a rich jewel to the obdurate Countess. 
 
 We now behold Olivia's garden, where Sir Toby, 
 Sir Andrew, and their friend Fabian, are discussing 
 the trick they are planning to play upon Malvolio. 
 While they are still talking, the Maid rushes in 
 to warn them that their letters are taking effect, 
 for she has seen Malvolio practising attitudes for 
 the past half hour. She also reports that he is now 
 on his way to the garden, where she drops her last 
 letter, which is to complete their work. 
 
 The Maid has vanished, and the three men are 
 hiding behind bushes, when Malvolio strolls in, 
 talking to himself in conceited fashion. This 
 soliloquy is accompanied by mocking comments from 
 the hidden trio, who laugh when he talks of becom- 
 ing a count, and fatuously dreams of the time when 
 Olivia will be won, and when, master of all her pos- 
 sessions, he will be able to call her kinsman to ac- 
 count for his drunken ways! 
 
 It is while complacently dwelling on such dreams 
 of future bliss, that Malvolio suddenly finds the let- 
 ter concocted to mislead him. Deeming both 
 writing and seal those of the Countess, Malvolio, 
 unaware of a running accompaniment of jeers, 
 reads this missive aloud, gravely deciding to carry 
 out all its instructions, for he is told therein, ' Be 
 not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some 
 achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust 
 
126 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 upon 'em ! ' It is only when Malvolio has gone, 
 that the spectators reappear, delighted with the sport 
 they have had, and congratulating the Maid on the 
 success of her trick. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in Olivia's gar- 
 den, where Cesario and the Clown are entertaining 
 one another with conversation and music. After ob- 
 taining a tip from the visitor, the Clown so fer- 
 vently hopes he may soon have a beard, that Viola, 
 who longs to call the bearded Duke her own, bestows 
 upon him a second coin. The page is too wary, 
 however, to allow the Clown to trick him into a 
 third donation, commenting, after he has gone away, 
 that a Fool's office is hardly enviable, seeing he 
 must so closely 'observe their mood upon whom he 
 jests.' 
 
 Cesario's soliloquy is interrupted by the arrival of 
 Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, who, after exchanging 
 greetings with him, report that Olivia awaits him. 
 It is just as Cesario is about to obey these sum- 
 mons, that this lady comes into the garden with her 
 maid, and the grace of the page's address so dis- 
 concerts Sir Andrew that he becomes madly jeal- 
 ous. After dismissing all the rest, Olivia questions 
 Cesario, bidding him drop complimentary phrases 
 when he styles himself her servant. Thereupon the 
 witty page immediately retorts that, his master being 
 her lover and slave, his servants are hers, too, — a 
 statement Olivia begs him never to repeat, hinting 
 that, although she does not care for his master, she 
 might lend a more favourable ear, should he urge 
 some other suit. It is while Cesario is reproaching 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 127 
 
 Olivia for wasting affections on an unworthy ob- 
 ject, that a striking clock reminds her of the passing 
 of time, so, after wringing from her visitor a sec- 
 ond admission that he is not what he seems, Olivia 
 makes him a declaration of love. The embarrassed 
 page thereupon replies that he has no affections to 
 give her, vowing he will never again plead his mas- 
 ter's vain cause — an announcement which fills Oliv- 
 ia's heart with dismay, as she fears he will cease 
 to visit her. To insure seeing him again she, there- 
 fore, mendaciously intimates that, if he persevere, his 
 master may succeed in the end. 
 
 In the next scene Sir Andrew is just informing 
 Sir Toby and Fabian that, having seen Olivia show 
 greater favour to a page than to himself, he feels 
 obliged to depart. Both his friends, however, per- 
 suade him that the lady is trying to rouse his jeal- 
 ousy, and thus egg him on to fight the objectionable 
 Cesario. While Sir Andrew goes off to write a 
 challenge. Sir Toby gloats over the amusement they 
 are going to derive from a duel between a man of 
 no courage at all and a page anything but brave. 
 
 Just then the Maid rushes in, bidding them follow 
 if they wish to see Malvolio carrying out the ridic- 
 ulous instructions contained in her last letter. Not 
 willing to lose any of the diversion awaiting them, 
 Sir Toby and Fabian eagerly obey her summons. 
 
 In a street in lUyria, we see Sebastian, Viola's 
 twin, and his faithful henchman and rescuer, An- 
 tonio, and overhear the former chiding this sailor for 
 following him. To this reproach Antonio pleads 
 guilty, saying he dares not let his young friend ven- 
 
128 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 ture alone among so rough and inhospitable a people. 
 After thanking Antonio warmly for such devotion, 
 Sebastian proposes they view together the curiosities 
 of the town, an invitation the sailor declines, deem- 
 ing it best not to be seen abroad lest he be recog- 
 nised and arrested. He, therefore, proposes to await 
 his young companion at the inn, leaving his purse 
 with him under pretext that he may want to purchase 
 some trifle ere they meet again. 
 
 We next behold Olivia's garden, where this fair 
 lady is telling her maid she has sent for the page, 
 but does not know how to entertain him. Next she 
 asks ior Malvolio, who she is told is coming in 
 strange attire, and behaving so queerly that he seems 
 ' tainted in his wits.' A moment later the steward 
 appears, wearing yellow stockings cross-gartered, 
 and behaving so unlike a respectable servant that his 
 mistress is shocked. To carry out instructions he 
 thinks penned by her fair hand, Malvolio displays 
 the utmost impudence, ogling Olivia, kissing his hand 
 to her, and quoting whole passages of the letters, 
 until she charitably concludes he is afflicted with 
 ' midsummer madness.' 
 
 As a servant now announces the arrival of the 
 page, Olivia bids her maid summon her uncle to 
 watch over the mad steward, ere she goes away. 
 Left alone, the fatuous Malvolio boasts ' nothing 
 that can be can come between me and the full pros- 
 pect of my hopes,' feeling sure Olivia is in love 
 with him, and that she is now giving him a chance 
 to show his contempt for her kinsman. When the 
 Maid, therefore, returns with Sir Toby and Fabian, 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 129 
 
 the conceited steward, then and there, treats his 
 mistress's uncle with such insolence that, pretending 
 he is mad. Sir Toby orders him locked up in a dark 
 room like an insane man. 
 
 After that. Sir Andrew reappears bearing a 
 ridiculous challenge which he insists Sir Toby shall 
 read aloud. Overhearing this production, the Maid 
 volunteers that the person to whom it is addressed is 
 now with her mistress; so Sir Andrew rushes out to 
 post himself in the page's way, taking to heart Sir 
 Toby's instructions to draw his sword and swear 
 loudly as soon as he sees his antagonist, as that will 
 give him the proper martial air. 
 
 Once rid of Sir Andrew, the two others decide 
 not to deliver his written challenge, lest it betray 
 the fact that he is an ignoramus. Instead, Sir Toby 
 proposes to transmit one by word of mouth, fright- 
 ening the page by picturing his opponent as a para- 
 gon of impetuous fury. 
 
 Both have left to settle plans, when Olivia and 
 the page stroll upon the scene. Alone with the 
 youth for whom she has conceived a violent passion, 
 Olivia regrets having sought his affections only to 
 be told his master suffers from unrequited love. 
 But, before taking leave of the page, she wrings from 
 him a promise to return on the morrow, and gives 
 him a jewel. 
 
 When Olivia has gone, Sir Toby and his friend re- 
 appear, to deliver the challenge of Sir Andrew, 
 whom they depict to the page as a fire-eater. Poor 
 Cesario thereupon anxiously protests he has no quar- 
 rel with Sir Andrew, proffering all manner of 
 
130 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 apologies. His tormentors will, however, allow him 
 no loop-hole of escape, and all he can obtain is that 
 Sir Toby will try to discover the nature of his of- 
 fence, while Fabian keeps him company and inci- 
 dentally amuses himself by increasing his fears. 
 
 Fabian and the page strolling off the stage, the 
 scene is occupied by Sir Toby and Sir Andrew, the 
 latter almost paralysed at the prospect of a duel 
 with Cesario, whom Sir Toby describes as an ex- 
 pert fencer, notwithstanding his youth. In his ter- 
 ror, Sir Andrew offers to withdraw, pacifying his 
 antagonist with the gift of his best steed, by which 
 donation Sir Toby intends to profit ! 
 
 Seeing Fabian return with the page, Sir Toby con- 
 verses a while with his friend, ere both urge their 
 principals to draw swords for appearance sake, it 
 being impossible to conclude a duel honourably with- 
 out fighting. So, v/hile the page, in an aside, fer- 
 vently implores the protection of Heaven, ruefully 
 confessing it would not require much to make him 
 reveal how little of the man there is in his com- 
 position. Sir Andrew is being heartened by his friends 
 to act the part of a man. 
 
 The trembling antagonists have just been brought 
 face to face, and are awaiting the signal, when An- 
 tonio rushes between them, imagining the page is 
 Sebastian, whom he resembles so closely. When 
 Antonio, therefore, offers to fight in his stead, the 
 page proves so eager to grant him that privilege, 
 that Sir Toby interferes, until Antonio in anger 
 challenges him. 
 
 Toby and Antonio are just crossing swords, when 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 131 
 
 officers enter to arrest the latter for his attack upon 
 the ducal vessel. Turning to Cesario, — ^whom he 
 still thinks his protege Sebastian, — Antonio now de- 
 mands the return of his purse, not wishing to find 
 himself penniless in prison. In reply to a request 
 he fails to understand, the page generously offers to 
 reward Antonio for interrupting the duel by shar- 
 ing with him all he has — a sum which appears beg- 
 garly in comparison with the contents of Antonio's 
 purse. Hotly reproaching the youth for ingratitude, 
 — an accusation truthfully refuted, — Antonio indig- 
 nantly describes how he saved Sebastian from the 
 jaws of death, ere the officers lead him away. 
 
 It is only then that the page sufficiently recovers 
 his senses to wonder whether his brother, whose name 
 has just been uttered, may not have been saved by 
 this seaman, and exclaims rejoicing, ' O, if it prove, 
 tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in love ! ' 
 
 Meantime it is evident that Sir Toby and his 
 companions consider Cesario a paltry lad, who not 
 only shows no courage in a fight, but is base enough 
 to deny a friend. Such is the contempt they express 
 after he has gone, that Sir Andrew eagerly offers to 
 follow and slap him, — an act of daring which 
 affords his companions such intense amusement that 
 they follow to witness the fun. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens before Olivia's 
 house, where Sebastian and the Clown are talking, 
 the latter seeming amused that the former should 
 deny his acquaintance, although he has brought 
 him many messages. However, Sebastian good-na- 
 turedly gives the Clown a tip, and this individual is 
 
132 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 just trying to secure a second donation, when Sir 
 Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian arrive. Egged on 
 by his companions, and thinking he is dealing with 
 the cowardly page. Sir Andrew swaggers up and 
 strikes Sebastian. But instead of the passive antago- 
 nist he expects, he suddenly finds himself attacked by 
 an enraged man, who deems all Illyrians mad. 
 
 While the Clown rushes ol¥ in terror to summon 
 his mistress, Sir Andrew, whose courage has evapo- 
 rated at the first blow, vainly tries with Sir Toby's 
 help to patch up the quarrel. But Sebastian indig- 
 nantly refuses to overlook the insult received, so 
 Sir Toby, dreading the outcome of his encounter 
 with Sir Andrew, challenges him himself. 
 
 They are about to fight when Olivia rushes in, 
 reproving her kinsman, and offering lavish apologies 
 to the supposed page. While the three conspirators 
 vanish, Olivia talks to Sebastian, whom she begs to 
 follow her into the house, where she will give an 
 explanation and make amends for the insult he has 
 received. Her sudden appearance, kindly invitation, 
 and familiar address, greatly bewilder Sebastian, 
 who is, nevertheless, so charmed by her beauty that 
 he exclaims, ' If it be thus to dream, still let me 
 sleep ! ' as he wonderingly follows her into the 
 house. 
 
 In a room in Olivia's dwelling, the Maid is next 
 seen dressing the Clown to personate a priest, al- 
 though he ruefully declares he is not learned enough 
 to play such a part with success. His disguise com- 
 pleted, Sir Toby joins them, and bids the Clown 
 knock at the door of Malvolio's cell, informing him 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 133 
 
 In loud tones that he Is the priest. From behind 
 the door the lamentable voice of the steward now 
 begs the priest's intercession, protesting he should 
 not be locked up In the dark, as he Is not mad. 
 Schooled for his part, the Clown declares Mal- 
 vollo must be Insane, seeing the place is flooded with 
 light, and wittily defeats him with his own argu- 
 ments when he tries to reason through the door. 
 
 While he is doing this, Sir Toby and the Maid 
 go out together, whereupon, seeing himself alone, the 
 Clown suddenly changes his tone and, being recog- 
 nised by Malvollo, consents to get him paper and Ink 
 so he can communicate with his mistress. But, be- 
 fore doing so, the Clown impishly teases MalvoHo 
 by pretending to doubt his sanity. 
 
 The next scene Is played In Olivia's garden, where 
 Sebastian gazes around him, wondering how it hap- 
 pens the Countess should have treated him with such 
 kindness. He Is further mystified by her donation 
 of a ring, and by Antonio's absence from the Inn. 
 Although under the impression he Is under some 
 delusion, Sebastian ardently hopes that Olivia may 
 be real, as he has fallen desperately in love with her. 
 When she appears, therefore, accompanied by a 
 priest, begging him follow her to the altar, where 
 the vows they have just secretly exchanged can be 
 duly confirmed, he enthusiastically cries, ' Lead the 
 way, good father; and heavens so shine, that they 
 may fairly note this act of mine! " 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens before Olivia's house, 
 where the Clown and Fabian are conversing, the 
 latter vainly trying to obtain a glimpse of the let- 
 
134 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 ter Malvolio has written. They are interrupted by 
 the arrival of the Duke, who, after discovering that 
 they belong to Olivia's household, shows great con- 
 descension, rewarding the Clown's witty remarks 
 with a gold coin. This tip calls forth new wit- 
 ticisms and a second donation ensues, but the Duke 
 warily refuses to be tricked into a third unless the 
 Clown bring his mistress. 
 
 It is at this moment Antonio is brought before 
 him by the police, only to be recognised by Cesario 
 as the very man who recently rescued him from 
 peril, — meaning, of course, that Antonio saved him 
 from Sir Andrew's sword. Gazing fixedly at the 
 captive, the Duke recognises in him the seaman who 
 once boarded his galley, and is about to vent his 
 anger upon him, when his page intercedes. Ad- 
 dressing Antonio more temperately, therefore, the 
 Duke bids him explain, thus learning that, although 
 Antonio did fight against him on one occasion, he 
 is no pirate, but a seaman who has come to II* 
 lyria out of devotion to the ungrateful lad standing 
 beside him, in whose company he has been night 
 and day for the past three months ! 
 
 Such a statement amazes the Duke, who replies 
 that his page, having been constantly with him, the 
 seaman's declaration is palpably false. But, before 
 he can investigate the matter further, Olivia ap- 
 pears, and, after greeting him, turns to Cesario, re- 
 proaching him passionately for not keeping his prom- 
 ises. These reproaches astonish master and page, 
 until the Duke, fancying that Cesario has tried to 
 supplant him, becomes so irate that he mutters, ' I'll 
 
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will 135 
 
 sacrifice the lamb that I do love,' a threat which has 
 no terror for the page, but which almost paralyses 
 Olivia. 
 
 But, when Cesario swears he will gladly follow 
 the one he loves more than he can ere love wife, 
 Olivia becomes so incensed, that she reveals her 
 secret betrothal to the page, which he indignantly de- 
 nies. Seeing the priest draw near who heard their 
 vows, Olivia charges him to make the truth known, 
 whereupon he duly admits having plighted the couple 
 before him two hours ago. 
 
 While the Duke is angrily reproaching his pro- 
 testing page for such treachery. Sir Andrew rushes 
 in clamouring for a surgeon for Sir Toby, who has 
 been grievously wounded by Cesario. This new ac- 
 cusation the Duke declares cannot be true, seeing his 
 page has remained quietly beside him, although Sir 
 Andrew reviles the lad for injuring his friend. The 
 page truthfully denies ever hurting any one; yet, 
 thinking Sir Andrew refers to the duel, tries to 
 explain how he was compelled to fight against his 
 will. 
 
 It is at this moment that Sir Toby is brought in by 
 the Clown, clamouring for a surgeon. In reply to 
 the Duke's questions, he tries to describe how his 
 wound was received, but is too drunk to do so intel- 
 ligently. Seeing his predicament, Olivia soon orders 
 him off, so Sir Toby, Sir Andrew, and Fabian leave 
 the stage with the Clown. 
 
 They have barely departed when Sebastian rushes 
 in, apologising profusely for injuring Olivia's kins- 
 man, who unaccountably attacked him, and asking 
 
136 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 why his lady-love gazes so coldly upon him? The 
 appearance of Sebastian, — an exact counterpart of 
 the page in face, voice, and apparel, — startles all 
 present, and while the Duke comments softly upon it, 
 Sebastian suddenly falls upon Antonio's neck, vowing 
 he has endured much anxiety in his behalf. Staring 
 at the two youths so exactly alike, the sailor ex- 
 presses a surprise, shared by Olivia and by all the 
 rest. Discovering his counterpart in his turn, Se- 
 bastian exclaims that while he once had a sister just 
 like him, he knows she is drowned. Then he be- 
 gins questioning the page, who admits that his 
 father and brother both bore the name of Sebastian, 
 and that the latter must be resting in a watery tomb, 
 — for Viola feels convinced it is her brother's ghost 
 she sees. After she has given irrefutable proofs of 
 her identity, Sebastian embraces her, exclaiming 
 this is his beloved sister Viola, and obliges her to 
 admit that she donned male apparel to serve the 
 Duke. When she adds that while in his service she 
 often visited Olivia in his behalf, the Countess' mis- 
 take is explained, and Sebastian informs his betrothed 
 that whereas she might have been pledged to a maid, 
 she is now irrevocably bound to a man! 
 
 Although the Duke fancied he could never forget 
 Olivia, he suddenly finds himself less inconsolable 
 than he deemed possible, and turning to his page, 
 eagerly inquires whether he told the truth when he 
 declared he would never love any one as fervently 
 as he loved his master. Unable to deny this im- 
 peachment, Viola is told to resume her former garb 
 a command she promises to obey as soon as Malvolio, 
 
Tv)elfth Night; or, What You Will 137 
 
 who has seized her wardrobe in her absence, can 
 make restitution. 
 
 Not at all sorry to exchange Cesario for his more 
 virile counterpart, Olivia calls for her steward, 
 whereupon the Clown, rushing forward, delivers his 
 letter. In this missive Malvolio accuses his mis- 
 tress of making him behave in unseemly fashion, be- 
 fore imploring her to set him free ; it is so sane, how- 
 ever, that Olivia orders him liberated, ere, turning 
 to the Duke, she welcomes him as brother, he having, 
 meantime, decided to marry Viola, for whom he felt 
 such tender affection when deeming her only a page. 
 He also decrees that both weddings shall take place 
 in his palace, whither all are invited to join in the 
 festivities. Then, turning to Viola, the Duke dis- 
 misses her forever as page, and warmly welcomes 
 her as a sweetheart, just as Fabian produces Mal- 
 volio. On being questioned, the indignant steward 
 exhibits the letter responsible for his offensive be- 
 haviour, and when Olivia denies writing it, Fabian 
 admits it was penned by her maid, adding that Sir 
 Toby has just married this woman to reward her 
 for playing so amusing a trick. 
 
 When the Clown slyly adds ' some are born great, 
 some achieve greatness, and some have greatness 
 thrust upon them,' Malvolio, failing to see any 
 humour in such a remark, stalks off the scene, mut- 
 tering wrathfully, ' I'll be revenged on the whole 
 pack of you ! ' After Olivia has acknowledged that 
 Malvolio has some ground for resentment, the Duke 
 begs his followers hasten after to appease him, ere 
 he bids Viola follow him back to the palace, where, 
 
138 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 having donned suitable garments, she will become 
 ' Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen.' 
 
 All the rest having left the stage, the Clown sings 
 a ridiculous song as epilogue, wherein occurs the 
 platitude that ' A great while ago the world be- 
 gan,' but that in spite of all that ' the play is now 
 done.' 
 
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 
 
 Act I. This play opens in the palace of the 
 Duke of Ephesus, while he is giving audience to a 
 Syracusan merchant, who has come to this city not 
 knowing a recent ordinance condemns all his coun- 
 trymen to death. A fine of a thousand marks be- 
 ing the only alternative, the prisoner despairs of be- 
 ing able to raise it among strangers, and exclaims 
 his woes will end ' with the evening sun ! ' 
 
 This philosophical remark amazes the Duke, who 
 inquires what the Syracusan's life has been, seeing 
 he seems glad to lose it? In reply, i^^geon states 
 that, born and married in Syracuse, he removed to 
 Epidamnum, where his wife gave birth to twin sons, 
 on the same day that a slave woman was similarly 
 blessed. The merchant's sons proving so exactly 
 alike that no one could tell them apart, he gladly 
 secured as attendants for them the twin children 
 of this slave, because they, too, were exact counter- 
 parts. 
 
 Shortly after making this purchase, the merchant, 
 his wife, and the four small children set out for 
 home, only to be overtaken by a tempest, during 
 which the crew deserted them on a dismantled ship. 
 Forced to provide for the safety of his helpless fam- 
 ily, the merchant bound his younger son and slave 
 to a mast with his wife, attaching himself to another 
 139 
 
140 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 with the two elder children, just before the vessel 
 broke up. Although they now drifted apart, i^^geon 
 saw his wife and the children with her rescued, ere 
 he was swept away to be saved later by another 
 ship, which brought him to Syracuse. 
 
 Notwithstanding constant efforts since then to dis- 
 cover traces of wife and missing children, the 
 merchant has heard nothing of them. When 
 eighteen, his sole remaining son insisted upon going 
 in search of them, accompanied by his servant, equally 
 anxious to find a twin. Receiving no tidings of 
 these travellers, i^geon followed them two years 
 later, and, after vainly journeying about five years, 
 landed in Ephesus, convinced of the loss of all he 
 held dear ! 
 
 Touched by i^^geon's sad story, the Duke says he 
 would gladly free him, did not the law forbid ; all he 
 can do is to allow the Syracusan to scour the city in 
 company of an officer, in hopes of raising the sum 
 necessary to save his life. 
 
 In the next scene Antipholus, eldest son of the 
 Syracusan merchant, just landed in Ephesus with 
 his attendant Dromio, is met by a local tradesman, 
 who charitably warns him not to reveal his birth- 
 place, lest he, too, forfeit his life like the traveller 
 to be executed at sunset. Instead, he bids the young 
 Syracusan state he came from Epidamnum, advice 
 which Antipholus gratefully promises to follow. 
 Then, turning to his servant, he bids him go to the 
 inn, entrusting to his keeping all his fortune, and 
 promising to join him there when he has viewed 
 the town. 
 
The Corned^ of Errors 141 
 
 Bearing off his master's funds, Dromio hints that 
 another would decamp with them, words his master 
 explains to the benevolent merchant by stating his 
 man often beguiles his low spirits by similar jests. 
 In reply to Antipholus' invitation to dine with him, 
 the merchant urges a previous engagement, promis- 
 ing, however, to spend the evening with him instead. 
 The merchant having gone, the Syracusan mourn- 
 fully comments on not being able to find his missing 
 brother, saying, ' I to the world am like a drop of 
 water that in the ocean seeks another drop ! ' 
 
 While standing on the market place, he is ap- 
 proached by a man, so similar in appearance to his 
 own servant Dromio that he naturally mistakes him 
 for his slave. This is, however, the second slave, — 
 also called Dromio, — ^who has lived with his master 
 in Ephesus for many years. When the Syracusan 
 master hails the Ephesian servant, asking why he 
 has returned, this man, mistaking him for his em- 
 ployer, volubly bids him hurry home to dinner, for 
 his mistress impatiently awaits his return. 
 
 Deeming this part of the fooling in which his 
 servant indulges to divert him, the Syracusan, who 
 is in no playful mood, bids him desist, and explain 
 instead how he disposed of the money entrusted to 
 him. Imagining his master refers to a sixpence 
 given to pay a bill, the Ephesian servant vows he 
 has delivered it to the sadler, — a statement the 
 Syracusan regards as humorous evasion. But when 
 the servant repeats he should hurry home to his wait- 
 ing wife, Antipholus becomes so indignant that, 
 although Dromio ruefully asserts his mistress has al- 
 
142 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 ready beaten him, he receives a second chastisement. 
 To avoid further blows poor Dromio now runs 
 away, while the Syracusan mutters he will have to 
 hasten to the inn to make sure his money is safe. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens in the house of 
 Antipholus, the Ephesian, who bears the self-same 
 name as his brother, just as his servant bears that of 
 the Syracusan slave. For some time past the Ephesian 
 has dwelt in this house with his wife, a wealthy 
 woman called Adriana. Convers'ng with her sister, 
 this lady impatiently wonders why her husband 
 doesn't return, and what has become of the servant 
 sent to get him? Her sister, Luciana, urges some 
 merchant may have invited her brother-in-law to 
 dinner, adding, to comfort the fretting wife, that 
 men must be allowed some latitude. 
 
 When Adriana tartly inquires whether that is the 
 reason why she has hitherto declined to marry, Lu- 
 ciana retorts that she will never do so until she has 
 learned to be patient with a man's vagaries. Such 
 statements, however, fail to appease Adriana, who 
 bitterly remarks it is easy enough to be patient in 
 regard to the shortcomings of some one else's hus- 
 band! 
 
 They are still arguing when Dromio returns. 
 Asked whether he has delivered his message, and 
 why his master doesn't appear, the servant ruefully 
 describes how he was received, vowing his master 
 spoke of nothing but gold, rudely exclaiming when 
 he mentioned his mistress — ' I know not thy mistress ; 
 out on thy mistress ! ' On learning that she has 
 thus been denied, Adriana, feeling sure her husband 
 
The Comedy of Errors 143 
 
 must be in love with some one else, orders her 
 servant to bring him home immediately, under pen- 
 alty of a whipping. 
 
 The Ephesian Dromio has barely gone, when Lu- 
 ciana tells her sister that if she allows angry passions 
 to distort her features, she will soon become homely, 
 only to hear that it is impossible to refrain from 
 anger and jealousy under such circumstances as 
 these. Adriana then adds she would gladly forfeit 
 the golden chain her husband promised her, were 
 he only safe at home, showing such grief that she 
 leaves the room weeping, while her sister comments 
 upon the folly of jealousy. 
 
 We are next transferred to the market place, 
 whither the Syracusan has returned, after ascertain- 
 ing his money is safe at the inn. His servant not 
 having been found there, he wonders where Dromio 
 may be, when he suddenly sees him draw near. 
 Sternly inquiring whether he has come to his senses, 
 Antipholus, in spite of the man's evident surprise, 
 reproaches him for pretending a while ago that 
 his wife wanted him to hasten home to dinner. But 
 the man truthfully denies all this, vowing he has 
 not seen his master since he left him to carry the 
 gold to the inn. In his anger at what seems wanton 
 evasion, Antipholus beats Dromio, saying that, al- 
 though he occasionally condescends to jest with him, 
 he refuses to be mocked in serious moments. 
 
 The misunderstanding between master and man 
 continues, neither suspecting there are in this town 
 two masters and two servants, bearing the same 
 names and looking exactly alike. They are still dis- 
 
144 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 puting when Adriana and her sister burst upon the 
 scene. Taking the Syracusan for her husband, Adri- 
 ana, calling him by name, hotly reproaches him for 
 not coming home on time, and for publicly denying 
 her existence. In her jealousy, she accuses him of 
 forgetting her for the sake of some other fair dame, 
 — a reproach which amazes the Syracusan, who 
 gravely assures her that never having seen her be- 
 fore, and having been in Ephesus only two hours, he 
 doesn't understand what she means. 
 
 Such a statement, — considering his exact resem- 
 blance to the Ephesian Antipholus, — causes Luciana 
 indignantly to exclaim that he should treat his wife 
 with more respect! On hearing that Dromio, — 
 whom, of course, he deems his servant, — ^was sent 
 to summon him home, only to be ill-treated, Anti- 
 pholus is nonplussed. He, therefore, questions the 
 man, who truthfully denies ever having seen Adri- 
 ana, a statement she and Antipholus refuse to credit, 
 the latter on account of the message brought a while 
 ago. 
 
 Sure now that both husband and slave are in 
 league against her, but determined not to lose sight 
 of them again, Adriana exclaims, ' Come, I will 
 fasten on this sleeve of thine: thou art an elm, my 
 husband, I a vine,' using such eloquence and deter- 
 mination that the Syracusan, fancying there must 
 be some truth in her statement, and that he married 
 her in a dream, prepares to yield. 
 
 When Luciana bids Dromio hurry home, he 
 crosses himself, wildly muttering that witchcraft 
 is at work, and it is only after his master has cer- 
 
THE TWO DROMIOS REUNITED 
 
 Dro. E. " Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother • 
 I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth." 
 Comedy of Errors, Act 5, Scene 1 , 
 
 - (■ It 
 
The Comedy of Errors 145 
 
 tified that he still bears his wonted form, that he 
 feels sure he has not been transformed into some 
 strange creature. The persistent Adriana now leads 
 Antipholus home, charging Dromio to mount guard 
 at the door, and not admit any one, hinting that he 
 can atone for previous misconduct by implicitly car- 
 rying out these orders. It is in a state of bewilder- 
 ment that the Syracusan accompanies his wife and 
 sister-in-law, while his servant decides to obey or- 
 ders and play porter. 
 
 Act III. The Syracusan Dromio is behind the 
 door, when the Ephesian master arrives with his 
 servant and a couple of merchants whom he has 
 invited to dinner. After explaining that they must 
 hurry, — ^his wife being irritable when he is not 
 punctual, — the Ephesian begs one of the guests ex- 
 plain to Adriana that the delay occurred because he 
 was so anxious to bring her the promised golden 
 chain, which can be ready only on the morrow. He 
 then reproaches Dromio for saying he has already 
 called him twice; whereupon his man ruefully cries 
 that were his skin parchment and the blows re- 
 ceived ink, he could prove by his master's own hand- 
 writing the truth of his words. Not guilty of hav- 
 ing beaten Dromio, the Ephesian resents this ac- 
 cusation, and knocks loudly on his door. 
 
 Instead of admittance, he and his servant are 
 jeered at by the Dromio within, who, boldly giving 
 his name, calls himself Antipholus' porter, stating 
 he is guarding the door while his master and mistress 
 dine. The conversation between the real master 
 and servant without, with Dromio within, fairly 
 
146 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 bristles with misunderstandings, the noise they make 
 finally bringing maid and wife to inquire what it 
 means ? 
 
 Both women are so sure Antipholus and Dromio 
 are with them, that they indignantly refuse to ad- 
 mit any one else. Thus locked out, master and 
 man threaten to break in the door, desisting only 
 when one of the merchants suggests such a proceed- 
 ing would cause vulgar comment and cast a slur 
 upon the Ephesian's wife. In his anger, however, 
 the husband swears he will punish Adriana, by- 
 dining at the inn with some courtesan, upon whom 
 he will bestow the golden chain which he bids the 
 goldsmith bring when he sups with him that even- 
 ing. 
 
 The next scene is played in the Ephesian's house, 
 where Luciana, left alone with the Syracusan, re- 
 proaches him for cold behaviour to his wife, telling 
 him that, although he wed her sister for the sake 
 of her fortune, he should atone for the anxiety she 
 has just endured by a few caresses. Her gentle 
 pleading fascinates the Syracusan, who, although 
 not attracted by his brother's wife, is greatly 
 charmed by her sister. Seeing he persists in com- 
 plimenting and wooing her, Luciana, deeming it a 
 mark of disrespect to her sister, refuses to listen 
 when he exclaims, ' Thee will I love and with thee 
 lead my life: thou hast no husband yet nor I no 
 wife.' Instead, she volunteers to fetch Adriana, so 
 they can make friends. 
 
 It is while Antipholus is awaiting Luciana's re- 
 turn, that Dromio runs in, dismayed at being called 
 
The Comedy of Errors 147 
 
 husband by the cook, of whom he gives an unflatter- 
 ing description in reply to his master's questions. 
 Both master and man, mystified at being claimed as 
 husbands by ladies who have no attractions for them, 
 conclude they are victims of some witchcraft, and 
 that they had better leave Ephesus as soon as pos- 
 sible. The master, therefore, bids his servant hurry 
 down to the shore, and put their luggage on board a 
 vessel ready to sail — a command which the servant 
 gladly obeys, saying, ' As from a bear a man would 
 run for life, so fly I from her that w^ould be my wife.' 
 
 His servant having gone, the Syracusan vows he, 
 too, would fain flee from the wife claiming him, al- 
 though he is so deeply enamoured with her sister, 
 that he has to defend him.self against her charms as 
 from a mermaid's song. It is while he is alone that 
 the goldsmith enters, calling him by name, and de- 
 livers the golden chain. Amazed at receiving such 
 a gift, the Syracusan asks what he is to do with it, 
 whereupon the goldsmith states he ordered it, and 
 departs, adding he can pay for it at supper. The 
 Syracusan wonders over this episode, and over the 
 many strange happenings of the day, ere deciding to 
 hasten to the market-place, where his servant will 
 meet him as soon as he has made arrangements to 
 sail. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens on the public 
 square, where a merchant accosts the goldsmith, 
 claiming the immediate payment of a debt, as he 
 wishes to leave that day. Although not denying the 
 debt, the goldsmith does not at present possess the 
 necessary sum, but says he can easily obtain it from 
 
148 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Antipholus, who owes him such an amount for a 
 golden chain. He, therefore, volunteers to go in 
 quest of this customer, accompanied by the merchant, 
 who does not wish to lose sight of him until the 
 money is paid. 
 
 These two soon perceive the Ephesian and his 
 servant returning from the inn, and overhear the 
 master state he is on his way to the goldsmith's, bid- 
 ding his servant go and purchase a rope's end, with 
 which to beat the saucy servant who locked them 
 out that noon. The Ephesian Dromio has just de- 
 parted on this errand, slyly hoping to wield the rope 
 himself, when Antipholus accosts the goldsmith, re- 
 proaching him for not having brought to the inn the 
 golden chain. Unable to understand such a re- 
 proach, after having himself placed it in Antipholus' 
 hand, the goldsmith demands the immediate payment 
 of his bill, so he can rid himself of the merchant's 
 company. 
 
 Instead of dispensing the expected sum, the 
 Ephesian bids the goldsmith claim the money from 
 his wife in exchange for his chain, although the dis- 
 tracted artist insists he has already delivered it. 
 When the Ephesian denies it, he incurs the contempt 
 of both his interlocutors, and contradictory state- 
 ments result in a quarrel, wherein the merchant 
 finally calls for an officer to arrest the goldsmith — 
 an insult the latter immediately avenges by having 
 Antipholus taken into custody, too. 
 
 The double arrest has just occurred when the 
 Syracusan servant returns from the port. Not 
 knowing there is another man in town just like his 
 
The Comedy of Errors 149 
 
 master, this Dromlo hastens up to the Ephesian to 
 report that they can sail immediately; but whereas 
 he expects praise for diligence, he is hailed as a mad- 
 man, the Ephesian hotly denying having sent him on 
 any other errand save to purchase a rope. Not al- 
 lowed to pause long enough to sift this matter to 
 the bottom, the Ephesian, led off by the officer, calls 
 to Dromio to hurry home for the purse of ducats in 
 his desk which will purchase his release. 
 
 Left alone on the square, desk key in hand, Dro- 
 mio debates whether he dare return to the house 
 where the fat cook claims him as husband, but after 
 some cogitation, decides ' servants must their mas- 
 ters' mind fulfil,' and hurries off in quest of the 
 money to free the Ephesian, 
 
 The next scene is played in the house, where the 
 two women are talking, the wife insisting upon 
 hearing every word her supposed husband said to 
 Luciana, who vainly tries to soften the fact that 
 Antipholus denied ever having been married, and 
 made desperate love to her. In her attempt to in- 
 duce the unfortunate Adriana to overlook her hus- 
 band's shortcomings, Luciana, hearing her decry him, 
 exclaims such a husband is no loss, whereupon the 
 wife — however willing to censure him herself, — de- 
 fends Antipholus vehemently, saying, ' My heart 
 prays for him, though my tongue do curse ! ' 
 
 Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival 
 of the breathless Dromio, bringing the key and de- 
 manding the money to free his master, — arrested, 
 he knows not on what charge. While Luciana hast- 
 ens off to procure the ducats, the wife, questioning 
 
150 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 the servant, learns that something has been said 
 about a chain. She has not, however, been able 
 to discover any more, when her sister returns with 
 the money, and Dromio hurries off to free the pris- 
 oner he takes for his master. 
 
 The curtain next rises on a public square, where 
 the Syracusan wonders because almost every man he 
 meets calls him by name, invites him, or offers to sell 
 him some commodity. When his servant runs up, 
 delivering the Ephesian's gold, the master wonder- 
 ingly inquires what it means, and thinks his man 
 must be distracted when he reports seeing him a 
 while ago in custody of an officer. Charitably con- 
 cluding they are both suffering from delusions from 
 which they will be freed only when they have left 
 Ephesus, Antipholus prepares to depart. But, be- 
 fore he can do so, the courtesan, with whom his twin 
 brother has been dining, rushes up demanding the 
 chain he wears around his neck, which was to have 
 been given her in exchange for her ring. When the 
 Syracusan gravely denies having dined with her, 
 received a ring, or promised her a chain, — fearing 
 lest she may receive no equivalent for her token, — the 
 courtesan gives vent to such anger that master and 
 man flee. 
 
 Left alone in the square, the irate courtesan de- 
 cides that Antipholus must be mad, else how could 
 he deny dining with her. Besides, she remembers 
 that the story he told of his exclusion from home 
 sounded suspicious. She, therefore, determines to 
 claim the promised chain from Antipholus' wife, 
 telling her that her husband, in a fit of mental aber- 
 
The Comedy of Errors 151 
 
 ration, rushed into her house and bore off her prop- 
 erty ! 
 
 We next see the Ephesian walking along the street 
 with his guard, promising not to escape, but soon to 
 satisfy all claims with the money his servant will 
 bring. He accounts for the delay by stating his wife 
 has been in a wayward mood lately, and seeing a 
 Dromio appear, naturally deems him the servant 
 he sent in quest of the ducats, as well as to purchase 
 a rope. 
 
 When the Ephesian master demands his money, 
 the man replies there was no change, and delivers 
 his purchase. Thereupon numerous questions, a 
 beating, and considerable abuse ensue, — the servant 
 truthfully insisting he has never been sent for money, 
 but for a rope. It is just at the end of this mis- 
 understanding that the Ephesian's wife, her sister, 
 the courtesan, and a physician appear upon the 
 square. The women are bringing this doctor in 
 hopes he can perform some conjuring tricks, whereby 
 Antipholus will be freed from the evil spirit which 
 makes him deny his wife and bestow gifts upon 
 strangers. 
 
 On perceiving the excitement to which the Ephe- 
 sian is a prey, they naturally conclude it is a symp- 
 tom of insanity — a conviction heightened by his 
 striking the physician, who tries to feel his pulse! 
 Finding this patient possessed by so evil a spirit, 
 the physician begins his conjuring, only to be rudely 
 silenced by the Ephesian, who accuses him of abet- 
 ting his wife in locking him out of his house. This 
 statement causes Adriana to exclaim her husband 
 
152 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 must be mad indeed, seeing he dined at home, — ap- 
 pealing to her servant and to Luciana to confirm her 
 words. But, whereas the servant readily testifies 
 he and his master were locked out, Luciana vows 
 both were at home, one dining, the other acting as 
 porter. 
 
 As Adriana goes on to explain that she has just 
 given Dromio the required bag of gold, the man in- 
 dignantly denies it, protesting he has not been back 
 to the house, and thereby increasing the confusion. 
 In his anger, the Ephesian now shows such violence 
 that Adriana signals to men lurking in the back- 
 ground, who rush forward and bind him fast, to 
 prevent his doing himself any harm. 
 
 It is while the Ephesian Antipholus is being thus 
 secured that the officer refuses to give him up, un- 
 less paid for the chain, — ^money which Adriana 
 is ready to disburse. Meantime, the courtesan 
 clamours that this chain was to have been given to 
 her in exchange for the ring on Antipholus' finger. 
 
 While the Ephesian is led away bound by doctor 
 and attendants, his wife, the courtesan, and officer 
 discuss this affair, until the Syracusan suddenly 
 dashes past them with drawn sword, closely followed 
 by his servant. Owing to the resemblance between 
 masters and men, Adriana thinks her husband has 
 become a raving maniac, and flees screaming, her ac- 
 tions causing the fugitives to pause and recognise her. 
 Deciding it best not to remain in a town where they 
 are likely to be claimed as husbands by women 
 whom they do not affect, both long to depart. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens in a street before a 
 
The Comedy of Errors 153 
 
 Priory, where the merchant and goldsmith are con- 
 versing, the latter apologising for keeping the former 
 waiting for his money, saying it is strange An- 
 tipholus should deny receiving the chain, as he has 
 hitherto enjoyed an enviable reputation for hon- 
 esty. 
 
 They are interrupted by the appearance of the 
 Syracusan Antipholus and his servant, the former 
 wearing the chain in question round his neck. As 
 this seems insult added to injury, the goldsmith hotly 
 reproaches his supposed patron for denying having 
 received his wares — a denial the Syracusan refutes, 
 although the merchant asserts he overheard it. 
 
 To be accused of such baseness so irritates the 
 Syracusan that he challenges the merchant, with 
 whom he is just beginning to fight, when Adriana, 
 her sister, and the courtesan rush upon the scene, 
 the frantic wife imploring the merchant to spare her 
 mad husband, and calling upon her followers to 
 bind fast master and man, and take them home. 
 Terrified at the prospect of such a fate, the Syra- 
 cusan servant hastily advises his master to seek 
 sanctuary with him in the Priory, into which both 
 rush, and from whence the Abbess soon em.erges to 
 forbid further pursuit. 
 
 When Adriana tearfully explains that they have 
 come in quest of her maniac husband, — ^whom the 
 goldsmith acknowledges not to be in his right mind, 
 and whom the merchant regrets having challenged, — 
 the Abbess demands how his insanity revealed it- 
 self? The unhappy wife then states that, although 
 Antipholus has met with neither loss nor sorrow, his 
 
154 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 frequent absences from home have caused her anxi- 
 ety. Her answers to the Abbess' questions so 
 plainly reveal her jealous recriminations have been 
 almost incessant, that the holy woman soon pitifully 
 declares a wife's jealousy has driven Antipholus mad! 
 She, therefore, refuses to let Adriana see her hus- 
 band, declaring that, because he has taken refuge 
 with her, she will defend him, making use of her 
 skill to restore his health and mind. Then, notwith- 
 standing Adriana's recriminations, she vanishes 
 within the Priory gates. 
 
 The Abbess having gone, wife, sister, goldsmith, 
 and merchant decide to petition the Duke to inter- 
 fere in their behalf. The merchant avers they can 
 easily do so, since the Duke is due here within the 
 next few minutes, to witness the execution of the 
 old Syracusan merchant, who has been unable to raise 
 the required fine. All, therefore, decide to linger 
 in this neighbourhood until the Duke arrives, when 
 they intend to fall at his feet and beseech his aid. 
 
 A moment later the Duke appears with his train, 
 and the heralds proclaim the prisoner must die un- 
 less his fine be paid. Rushing forward, Adriana 
 falls at the Duke's feet, hysterically demanding 
 justice against the Abbess, — a request which amazes 
 him, as a lady of such holy repute cannot have done 
 wrong. But, on hearing Adriana explain what has 
 happened, the Duke, who is deeply attached to An- 
 tipholus, immediately promises to investigate the 
 affair. 
 
 It is at this juncture that a servant rushes in, 
 calling to Adriana to save herself, and reporting that 
 
The Comedy of Errors 155 
 
 master and man, exasperated by the doctor's treat- 
 ment, have broken bounds and are at large. That 
 is no news to Adriana, who, therefore, treats the 
 man with contempt. But a great hue and cry in- 
 duces the Duke to call upon his guards to protect 
 the women, and, glancing down the street, Adriana 
 is amazed to behold the husband, whom she thought 
 in the Priory, but whence he has since doubtless 
 escaped by magic arts. Rushing forward, the Ephe- 
 sian and his man implore the Duke to protect them, 
 just as the prisoner exclaims that, unless the fear of 
 death has dazed his mind, he beholds his missing son, 
 Antipholus, and servant, Dromio. 
 
 The Ephesian, who has no recollection of his 
 father's face, fails, of course, to recognise the pris- 
 oner, to whom he pays no heed, entering instead a 
 formal complaint against his wife, who has closed his 
 doors upon him, and revelled during his absence. 
 These accusations Adriana and Luciana hotly deny, 
 insisting that he dined in private with them. The 
 Ephesian now angrily adds he is accused of receiving 
 a chain never delivered to him, summoned to pay 
 for what he has not received, and arrested and 
 treated like a madman, because he will not yield to 
 the vagaries of those around him. Hearing this, the 
 Duke cross-questions the goldsmith, who confirms 
 Antipholus' statement that he was locked out of 
 home, but insists he gave him the chain he saw a mo- 
 ment ago upon his neck. The merchant also vows 
 he saw the chain; and, unable to restrain his curi- 
 osity, inquires how Antipholus escaped from sanctu- 
 ary ? When the Ephesian testily denies ever having 
 
156 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 been within the Priory walls, as well as all knowl- 
 edge of the chain, — which the courtesan claims, — 
 the Duke comes to the conclusion that all present 
 are mad, for none of his questions elicit the truth. 
 
 He has just sent a servant to summon the Ab- 
 bess, — by whose aid he hopes to solve the mystery, — 
 when the prisoner, stepping forward, announces that, 
 his son being there to pay his ransom, he can now 
 be liberated immediately. Allowed to explain, 
 iEgeon asks Antipholus whether such is not his name, 
 and whether his servant is not Dromio ; but, although 
 the Ephesian admits such is the case, he denies ever 
 having seen the prisoner, who concludes grief has 
 made him unrecognisable. In his despair, ^geon 
 appeals to the servant, who, like his master, denies 
 all knowledge of him, and confirms Antipholus' state- 
 ment that his father was lost at sea. When the 
 prisoner states that Antipholus lived with him in 
 Syracuse for eighteen years, the Duke himself con- 
 tradicts him, as he has known the Ephesian all his 
 life. Then, imagining the old man must be doting, 
 he is just bidding him cease advancng foolish claims, 
 when the Abbess appears, followed by the Syracusan 
 Antipholus and his servant. 
 
 Advancing with dignity, the Abbess begs to place 
 under ducal protection a wronged man, and all 
 present start with amazement when they behold two 
 masters and two servants so exactly alike that none 
 can tell them apart! All present express surprise, 
 Adriana thinking she sees two husbands, and the 
 Duke wondering which is the mortal man and which 
 the spirit, as it doesn't seem possible two human 
 
The Comedy of Errors 157 
 
 beings could be such exact counterparts. Startled 
 at coming face to face, the two Dromios, in sudden 
 terror, implore the Duke to send the other man 
 away, each claiming he is the only genuine bearer of 
 the name. 
 
 Meantime, the Syracusan has no sooner caught a 
 sight of the prisoner, than he joyfully embraces him 
 as father, a recognition his man confirms. To every- 
 body's surprise, the Abbess also announces he is her 
 long-lost husband ^geon, relating how, after she, 
 one son, and one slave were rescued, the children 
 were taken from her by cruel pirates, leaving her 
 so bereft that she entered a nunnery, where she has 
 dwelt ever since. 
 
 This explanation reveals to the Duke that there 
 are now two Antipholuses in Ephesus, as well as two 
 Dromios; so, to avoid further confusion, he bids 
 masters and servants stand far apart. Little by little 
 it then becomes clear how the Syracusan and his 
 servant came to town and dined by mistake with 
 the Ephesian lady, who has been claiming her 
 brother-in-law as husband. The goldsmith admits 
 that the chain he fancied having given to the Ephe- 
 sian, was, on the contrary, delivered to the Syra- 
 cusan, who, never having ordered it, could not be 
 held responsible for its payment. 
 
 When the Syracusan produces the bag of ducats 
 brought by his servant, saying he cannot imagine 
 whence they came, nor why they were given him, the 
 Ephesian joyfully claims his property, and offers to 
 pay for his father's release, — which is no longer 
 necessary, as the Duke has pardoned him. Last of 
 
158 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 all, the courtesan claims her ring, which the Ephe- 
 sian cheerfully returns, having borrowed it merely 
 to tease his wife. 
 
 These points being settled, the Abbess invites 
 all present to the Priory, where she intends to cele- 
 brate the joyful reunion of parents, sons, and serv- 
 ants. All, therefore, follow her, save the two An- 
 tipholuses and Dromios, whose resemblance is such 
 that, owing to a slight shifting of position, the Syra- 
 cusan servant again addresses his master's brother by 
 mistake, offering to remove his luggage from the 
 ship in which he was about to sail. For a moment 
 the Ephesian master is again deceived, but his error 
 is soon rectified by his brother, and the twin mas- 
 ters leave the scene together, leaving the two 
 Dromios face to face. 
 
 While the Syracusan servant openly congratulates 
 himself on being brother-in-law and not husband to 
 the objectionable cook, his brother is pleased to find 
 himself as good-looking as this fraternal reflection 
 proves. But not being able to determine who is the 
 elder, and hence entitled to precedence, the Dromios 
 leave the stage arm in arm, exclaiming, 'We came 
 into the world like brother and brother; and now 
 let's go hand in hand, not one before another.' 
 
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 
 
 Act I. This play opens in a square in Verona, 
 where Valentine, talking to his friend Proteus, an- 
 nounces he is about to depart for Milan, where he 
 would fain have his friend accompany him were not 
 the latter Love's slave. Although it is impossible for 
 him to leave Verona, Proteus ironically promises to 
 pray for his friend, who retorts a lover's risks are 
 as great as those of travellers. 
 
 After Valentine has gone, promising to let his 
 friend hear from him, Proteus avers that, whereas 
 Valentine is evidently hunting for honours, he is 
 wholly absorbed in his passion for Julia, who has 
 made him forget everything else. His soliloquy is 
 interrupted by the arrival of Valentine's servant. In- 
 quiring for his master. Before answering, Proteus 
 tries to find out from this man, — whom he had em- 
 ployed as messenger to Julia, — whether he has de- 
 livered his letter, rewarding him for his witty re- 
 marks by a tip. But, the servant gone, Proteus be- 
 gins to doubt whether his missive were delivered, 
 and concludes to send another messenger to make 
 sure that Julia doesn't remain without news. 
 
 We next behold Julia's garden, where she is in- 
 terviewing her maid, Lucetta, of whom she takes 
 advice In her love affairs. After her mistress has 
 enumerated her various suitors, Lucetta comments 
 159 
 
i6o Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 upon each, shrewdly noticing, however, that Julia re- 
 serves all mention of Proteus to the last. She, there- 
 fore, gives a favourable verdict in regard to this 
 swain, ere proffering the letter brought by Valen- 
 tine's man. Having pretended indifference all 
 along, Julia scornfully refuses to accept Proteus' 
 letter, but no sooner has the maid carried it off than 
 she longs to call her back, ruefully admitting that 
 girls in love often act contrary to their feelings. 
 She, therefore, summons Lucetta under some futile 
 pretext, and when the maid ostentatiously drops the 
 missive at her feet, angrily bids her cease annoying 
 her. Then, as the servant, whose remarks ex- 
 asperate her, is about to remove the offending paper, 
 Julia suddenly snatches it and tears it to pieces, 
 ordering Lucetta to leave the fragments on the 
 ground. 
 
 Left alone, the fickle Julia bewails having torn 
 her lover's letter, and, longing to discover what it 
 contains, pieces the bits together. Although unable 
 to restore it entirely, she discovers a few scraps bear- 
 ing affectionate words, which she hides away in her 
 bosom, ere Lucetta summons her to join her father 
 at dinner. In passing off the stage, Julia carelessly 
 mentions the papers on the floor, knowing there is 
 nothing more among them she cares to see. 
 
 We are next transferred to Proteus' house, where, 
 talking to a servant, his father learns people are 
 wondering his son should linger at home while other 
 youths of his age and station are sent abroad to 
 study. Not wishing Proteus to lack advantages 
 other young men enjoy, the father decides to send 
 
\Two Gentlemen of Verona i6i 
 
 him off on the morrow to join Valentine, fancying 
 that at the Milanese court his son will soon learn 
 the accomplishments which will transform him into 
 a graceful cavalier. 
 
 It is at this moment that Proteus enters, poring 
 over a letter he has just received from Julia in an- 
 swer to his partly read epistle. But, when his 
 father inquires what he is reading, Proteus men- 
 daciously replies that he has heard from Valentine, 
 now abroad. His father begging to see the letter, 
 Proteus refuses to show it, volunteering instead that 
 his friend is inviting him to come to Milan, too. 
 Thereupon the father announces Proteus may 
 go thither, and, although the youth tries to post- 
 pone the moment of departure, insists upon his 
 leaving the next day and hurries off with the 
 servant to make preparations for the journey. 
 
 Left alone, Proteus bitterly regrets the vain false- 
 hood which now parts him from his beloved Julia, 
 but has little time to devote to remorse, as the 
 servant soon returns, bidding him join his father. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens in the palace in 
 Milan, where Valentine is conversing with his 
 servant, who, by mistake, hands him a glove be- 
 longing to the Duke's daughter Silvia, with whom 
 Valentine has meantime fallen in love. Having dis- 
 covered his master's passion, the servant ably de- 
 scribes love's symptoms, revealing plainly how he 
 has watched his master stare at his lady-love. But 
 when Valentine rapturously vows the lady's attrac- 
 tions are such that no one can refrain from doing 
 50, his man wittily avoids being entrapped into thq 
 
1 62 Stories of Shakespeare^ s Comedies . 
 
 admission that she is the most beautiful person on 
 earth. 
 
 Next Valentine confides to his man that Silvia 
 has bidden him write lines addressed to one be- 
 loved — lines he has found difficult to compose. Just 
 then Silvia enters, and whWt Valentine greets her, 
 his servant withdraws to the background, whence he 
 slyly comments on all his master says and does. He 
 thus overhears Valentine explain that, although he 
 has composed the required poem, it fails to satisfy 
 him, adding that, had he addressed one he loved, he 
 could have displayed far more eloquence. 
 
 After coolly glancing at the paper he proffers, Sil- 
 via admits the lines are quaintly written, but soon 
 after returns them, stating she would prefer some- 
 thing more spontaneous, and suggests he write from 
 his heart, since that will insure fluency. 
 
 When Silvia has gone after this criticism, the 
 servant remarks that the lady is teaching his mas- 
 ter his duty, as she evidently expects him to write 
 her a love-letter. But, however welcome, these 
 tidings seem too incredible to Valentine, who dis- 
 plays all the diffidence of the true lover. 
 
 The next scene is played in Verona, in Julia's 
 house, where Proteus is reluctantly bidding fare- 
 well to his lady-love, promising to return from Milan 
 as soon as possible, and exchanging keepsake rings 
 with her. When she has left, Proteus dwells with 
 intense satisfaction upon the emotion she has shown, 
 and the tears choking her voice, — delightful 
 memories over which he gloats until his father's 
 servant summons him away. 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 163 
 
 In the same town, but out in the street, Proteus' 
 servant is next seen giving vent to uncouth sorrow 
 at parting from the various members of his family, 
 whose farewells he describes. But, although every 
 one else sheds plentiful tears at his going, he sor- 
 rowfully remarks his dog remained stolid through- 
 out the farewell scenes, which he reproduces in pan- 
 tomime. At this point he is interrupted by a fel- 
 low servant, who bids him hasten to join his mas- 
 ter, vowing that they will otherwise miss the tide. 
 In the course of their talk, these two men exchange 
 puns and indulge in a war of wit, they two being 
 the fun-makers in the play. 
 
 The curtain next rises in the Duke's palace at 
 Milan, where Silvia is talking to Valentine, al- 
 though the fact that she does so enrages Sir Thurio, 
 the suitor her father favours. Even Valentine's 
 servant notices his irritation ere leaving the room, 
 and, before many moments pass, the rival lovers be- 
 gin twitting each other in the lady's presence. See- 
 ing Sir Thurio finally change colour, Valentine pokes 
 fun at him, but although he scores him, he never- 
 theless manages at the same time to compliment Sil- 
 via, whose favour he is anxious to win. 
 
 This three-cornered, bitter-sweet conversation is 
 interrupted by the arrival of the Duke, reporting 
 news has just come from Valentine's father, an- 
 nouncing Proteus' speedy arrival. On hearing his 
 friend is on the way, Valentine praises him as a 
 charming and well-informed young man; his en- 
 comiums becoming so enthusiastic that the Duke de- 
 clares such a youth must be worthy of an empress* 
 
164 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 affections. He therefore bids his daughter and Sir 
 Thurio welcome him cordially ere leaving the room. 
 Valentine then explains to Silvia that this is the 
 gentleman whose love affairs have afforded her so 
 much entertainment, before Proteus is ushered in 
 and presented to her. She admits him to the circle 
 of her followers, proving so gracious, that the youth, 
 who has hitherto been wrapped up in his Julia, sud- 
 denly forgets her, to fall madly in love with his 
 friend's sweetheart. 
 
 A summons from the Duke, forcing Silvia to 
 leave the apartment with Sir Thurio, she bids Val- 
 entire and Proteus use that opportunity to discuss 
 home news, knowing they have a great deal to say 
 to each other. Almost immediately Valentine con- 
 fesses that, whereas his friend's talk of love once 
 bored him, he now cares to converse on no other 
 subject, having himself become victim to the tender 
 passion. 
 
 When Proteus inquires who the object of his de- 
 votion may be, Valentine not only admits he loves 
 Silvia, but that he is so beloved by her in return, 
 adding that, as the Duke refuses to countenance any 
 suitor but Sir Thurio, they have decided to elope 
 that very night. In reply to his friend's questions, 
 Valentine explains how he is to climb to his lady's 
 bower by means of a rope ladder, and bear her away. 
 Then, having secured his friend's aid for the elope- 
 ment, Valentine leaves the room ; whereupon Proteus 
 wonders that one love should so soon have driven the 
 other out of his head, his passion of Julia having 
 thawed ' like a waxen image 'gainst a fire,' until it 
 
THE SERVANT'S PUN 
 
 C Green 
 
 Speed. " What an ass art thou ! 1 understand thee not," 
 Launce. " What a block art thou, that thou canst not ! 
 My staff understands rne," 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act 2, Scene 5, 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 165 
 
 now ' bears no impression of the thing it was.' Be- 
 cause he wishes to win Silvia himself, Proteus sud- 
 denly determines, ' If I can check my erring love, I 
 will ; if not, to compass her I'll use my skill.' 
 
 Meantime, in the streets of Milan, the servants 
 of Valentine and Proteus meet, exchanging wel- 
 comes, remarks, and comments on their masters' af- 
 fairs. In the course of this conversation, the one 
 confides that his master took sad leave of Julia, 
 after exchanging rings with her, there having not 
 been time to marry, while the other propounds co- 
 nundrums and makes puns, both servants evidently 
 deriving considerable entertainment from quizzing 
 each other. 
 
 The curtain again rises in the palace, where Pro- 
 teus is still pondering how to supplant his friend in 
 Silvia's affections. Although fully realising he will 
 be foresworn should he forsake Julia and betray his 
 friend, the temptation proves too strong to resist. 
 After some specious reasoning, therefore, Proteus 
 persuades himself that charity begins at home, and 
 that, as Silvia so far surpasses Julia in attractions, 
 he must win her for his own. 
 
 He, therefore, decides to reveal Valentine's plot to 
 the Duke, knowing the latter will prove grateful for 
 such a warning, and will speedily banish the un- 
 welcome suitor in hopes of forcing his daughter to 
 accept Sir Thurio, a rival who appears far less 
 dangerous than Valentine, and whom he can easily 
 outwit. 
 
 The next scene is played in Verona, In Julia's 
 house, where, after calling Lucetta into council, 
 
1 66 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 she bids her devise means whereby she can journey 
 to Milan, to rejoin the lover v^^hom she misses so 
 sorely. Although the handmaiden offers sundry ob- 
 jections, Julia declares she ' hath Love's vv^ings to 
 fly,' vovi^ing that, unless the journey be undertaken 
 pretty soon, she will pine away for lack of her be- 
 loved. 
 
 As all objections only increase her ardour for the 
 journey, the servant finally ceases to oppose Julia, 
 and inquires what disguise she proposes to assume? 
 Having determined on a page's garb, Julia discusses 
 with her maid the cut and style of the costume she 
 is to wear. But even so interesting a subject as 
 this cannot long divert her attention from Proteus, 
 whom she praises to the skies, mentioning his tears 
 at the moment of parting as proof of his affection. 
 The maid, however, does not consider tears con- 
 vincing, for she merely remarks she hopes her mis- 
 tress may find Proteus as faithful in Milan as in 
 Verona, ere she departs to prepare for the journey. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in the palace in 
 Milan, just as the Duke is dismissing Sir Thurio 
 to give audience to Proteus. Taking advantage of 
 his first private interview with the Duke, Proteus, 
 after sundry false protestations of fidelity to his 
 friend and of loyalty to his master, finally confesses 
 that duty forces him to reveal that Valentine plans 
 to elope with Silvia that very night; adding, sancti- 
 moniously, that, although asked to become an ac- 
 complice in this deed, he cannot reconcile it to his 
 conscience to do so. 
 
 After expressing gratitude for Proteus' warning, 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 167 
 
 the Duke confesses his suspicions have been so roused 
 for some time past that his daughter now lodges in 
 a tower of which the key is always in his own cus- 
 tody. Although he, therefore, fancies Silvia safe, 
 Proteus proves how Love laughs at locksmiths by in- 
 forming him of the rope-ladder scheme, which is to 
 enable the lady to escape. Having thus thoroughly 
 exposed his friend's plans, Proteus implores the Duke 
 not to betray him, and leaves the room, calling his 
 attention to Valentine's approach. 
 
 Turning to the new-comber, — who endeavours to 
 steal past him, concealing a rope-ladder beneath his 
 cloak, — the Duke inquires what he is carrying, only 
 to hear it is a parcel of letters. But Valentine dis- 
 plays considerable annoyance when the Duke de- 
 tains him to discuss his daughter's projected alli- 
 ance with Sir Thurio, although he tries to dis- 
 guise his impatience by saying it would be a fine 
 match, and by inquiring how the lady views the 
 swain ? 
 
 Thereupon the Duke exclaims his daughter is un- 
 dutiful, as she has refused to accept his choice. He 
 professes to be angry enough to cast her off, consol- 
 ing himself for her loss by marrying again. When 
 Valentine inquires how he can serve the Duke in so 
 delicate a matter, this nobleman replies he is anxious 
 to learn the newest methods for courting. Valen- 
 tine thereupon suggests that he woo his lady-love 
 with gifts, and when the Duke vows she scorns his 
 presents, assures him that no lady's refusals are to 
 be taken seriously. He winds up his lecture on 
 courtship by saying, ' That man that hath a tongue, I 
 
1 68 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 say, is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a 
 woman.' 
 
 When the Duke describes how inaccessible this 
 lady is, Valentine suggests his visiting her by night, 
 bidding him use a rope-ladder to reach her. This 
 scheme appeals to his grace, who minutely inquires 
 what such a ladder may be, and where it can be 
 procured? Whereupon Valentine promises to sup- 
 ply him with one that very evening, advising him to 
 wear a cloak like his, so he can carry it unnoticed. 
 
 The Duke, who has been asking all these questions 
 with a purpose in view, now insists upon removing 
 the cloak from Valentine's shoulders to try it on; 
 thereby revealing the fact that the youth is carrying 
 a letter addressed to Silvia, and ,a rope-ladder such 
 as he has described. After taking possession of the 
 letter, the Duke reads it aloud, only to discover 
 that it contains eloquent protestations of affection, 
 and a promise to free Silvia that very night. 
 
 Turning upon Valentine, the Duke now reviles 
 him as an impudent wretch, who has presumed to 
 raise his eyes to his daughter, vowing he shall be 
 exiled from court and slain if caught within the lim- 
 its of his territory! 
 
 After pronouncing this stern decree the Duke de- 
 parts, while Valentine wails that to leave Silvia is 
 equivalent to death, and that no happiness remains 
 to him on earth if he cannot see her. Still, mindful 
 of the ducal threats he dares not tarry, and is about 
 to flee to save his life. 
 
 It is at this moment Proteus appears, calling to 
 his servant to find Valentine, whom he seems re- 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 169 
 
 joked to discover here. He announces, however, 
 that he is bearer of bad news, and when Valentine 
 anxiously inquires whether any harm has befallen 
 Silvia, replies that a recent ducal proclamation exiles 
 him from Milan. When Valentine asks whether Sil- 
 via is aware of this decree, Proteus describes her tears, 
 saying she fell at her father's feet and implored him 
 with clasped hands to spare her lover. Her grief 
 and intercession, however, only added fuel to the 
 Duke's wrath, making him decree her imprisonment^ 
 which news adds bitterness to Valentine's sorrow. 
 
 In attempting to comfort his friend, Proteus bids 
 him remember that ' hope is a lover's staff,' ere he 
 urges him to depart, promising to transmit his letters 
 to Silvia. Thereupon Valentine bids his friend's 
 servant notify his own man to meet him at the north 
 gate, ere he leaves the stage arm in arm with Pro- 
 teus. They have barely gone when the servant re- 
 marks that Proteus is a knave, having cheated his 
 friend out of his lady-love. He, therefore, con- 
 cludes it better not to tell any one of his own love 
 affairs, although immediately thereafter he begins 
 talking to himself of the milkmaid he is wooing, 
 whose perfections he has jotted down upon a paper. 
 
 It is while he is conning this list, that Valentine's 
 servant enters; so both men begin one of their spar- 
 ring, punning conversations, in the course of which 
 Valentine's man snatches the paper from his com- 
 panion's hand and rattles off the lady's faults and 
 virtues. Only when considerable time has been 
 wasted in this manner, does Proteus' man suddenly 
 remember to deliver his message, and Valentine's 
 
lyo Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 man hurries off to join his master, while his com- 
 panion gleefully comments that he will probably be 
 beaten for his delay. 
 
 The next scene is played in the palace, where the 
 Duke is interviewing Sir Thurio, assuring him that, 
 now Valentine is banished, he will soon be able to 
 win his daughter's favour. This reasoning does not, 
 however, convince Sir Thurio, who explains that, 
 since Valentine's departure, the lady has been most 
 unkind. Their conversation is interrupted by the 
 entrance of Proteus, from whom the Duke inquires 
 whether Valentine has gone, commenting on his 
 daughter's grief at his banishment. 
 
 When Proteus assures him this sorrow will soon 
 cease, the Duke gladly agrees, while Sir Thurio 
 continues despondent. Meantime, entirely deceived 
 by Proteus' pretended devotion to him and to his 
 daughter, the Duke pours out into the youth's ear 
 complaints in regard to Silvia's perversity in con- 
 tinuing to love a suitor of whom her father does not 
 approve. In hopes of changing the young lady's 
 mind, the Duke also begs Proteus to visit her fre- 
 quently, slandering his friend whenever he has access 
 to her, so as to undermine her affection for Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 It is under pretence of serving the Duke that 
 Proteus accepts this charge, being secretly delighted 
 with the opportunity it affords him to be with the 
 lady, press his own suit, and win her favour. Still, to 
 throw dust in the eyes of the father who deems him 
 safe because betrothed, Proteus bids Sir Thurio 
 compose sonnets in honour of his lady-love and 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 171 
 
 serenade her. This advice is approved by the Duke, 
 who pronounces Proteus an expert lover, and Sir 
 Thurio gravely promises to carry it out, leaving the 
 room immediately in quest of musicians to serenade 
 Silvia that evening. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens on the frontiers 
 of Mantua, in a forest, where outlaws are watch- 
 ing all the paths to arrest travellers. When the 
 brigands, therefore, behold Valentine and his servant, 
 they challenge them to stand and deliver, although 
 their victims claim they have nothing save their 
 clothes, having just been exiled from Milan. 
 
 Having suffered a similar penalty, the outlaws 
 eagerly inquire for what cause Valentine has been 
 banished; whereupon he pretends to have fought a 
 duel in which his opponent was fairly slain. As 
 such a murder seems perfectly legitimate to the 
 outlaws, they fraternally invite Valentine to join 
 them, explaining that they, too, have been exiled 
 for like offences. Next, they invite Valentine to 
 become their chief, threatening to kill him unless he 
 complies; so he determines to make a virtue of 
 necessity, provided they will pledge themselves 
 to * do no outrages on silly women or poor pas- 
 sengers ; ' for, like Robin Hood, he is willing to 
 despoil the rich, but eager to protect the poor. 
 
 The next scene is played in Milan beneath Silvia's 
 window, where Proteus stands alone, commenting 
 upon his treachery to his friend and his proposed dis- 
 loyalty to Sir Thurio, whose suit he is pretending to 
 further. He adds that, although granted free ac- 
 cess to Silvia, he has not yet been able to undermine 
 
172 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 her trust in his friend, and that she reproaches him 
 for disloyalty to Julia, his former sweetheart, when- 
 ever he tries to make love to her. Although Silvia 
 has been so unkind that any other suitor would feel 
 discouraged, Proteus dccl^ares that, ' spaniel-like, the 
 more she spurns my love, the more it grows and 
 fawneth on her still.' 
 
 His soliloquy is interrupted by the arrival of Sir 
 Thurio with musicians to serenade Silvia, and it 
 is while the performers are tuning their instruments 
 that Julia, disguised as a page, is led into the back- 
 ground by the host, who has brought a despondent 
 guest into this garden, hoping to cheer him with 
 music. As they enter, the host declares the page 
 will here see the gentleman concerning whom he in- 
 quired. Then, after decrying the singing of a 
 dainty sonnet, the page asks whether Proteus ever 
 visits Silvia, only to learn that his servant reports 
 him madly in love with the Duke's daughter. Be- 
 sides, the host volunteers, this servant has just been 
 sent to procure a dog, to be offered to the lady in 
 his master's name on the morrow. 
 
 The serenaders now leave, and Sir Thurio follows 
 them, promising to meet Proteus on the next day. 
 All have gone when Silvia opens her window, and 
 thus Proteus receives the thanks intended for the 
 serenader. When he fervently exclaims he is al- 
 ways anxious to fulfil her wishes, Silvia bids him 
 cease annoying her with attentions, and return to 
 his former lady-love. Thereupon, Proteus swears 
 Julia is dead — a remark which Silvia answers in- 
 dignantly, while Julia softly vows that, although 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 173 
 
 she may be dead, she is not yet buried! When Pro- 
 teus ventures to assert that Valentine, too, has 
 passed away, Silvia refuses to believe him, but is 
 wtak enough to yield to a flattering request for her 
 picture, vowing, however, that it will speak to him 
 in the same strain as she does herself. 
 
 After Silvia and Proteus have withdrawn, the 
 page rouses his nodding host to inquire where Pro- 
 teus now lodges, as he wishes to visit him. Then, 
 all being quiet on the scene, Sir Eglamour, a knight- 
 errant, steals near, having come to receive Silvia's 
 orders. At his call, the fair lady opens her win- 
 dow and begs him to escort her, when she leaves 
 home on the morrow to avoid marrying the suitor her 
 father is forcing her to accept. She adds that she 
 can trust Sir Eglamour, knowing he has vowed fidel- 
 ity to the memory of his beloved, and implores him 
 to take her to Mantua, where she hopes to rejoin 
 Valentine. She also agrees to meet Sir Eglamour at 
 the cell of a holy friar, where she often goes for con- 
 fession, and all arrangements being completed, both 
 leave the stage. 
 
 A while later the scene is occupied by Sir Pro- 
 teus' servant, with the dog he took to Silvia. It is 
 not, however, the choice animal his master wished 
 to bestow upon his lady-love, but his own cur, whose 
 training has little fitted him for a lady's drawing- 
 room. A moment later Proteus comes upon the 
 scene, talking to the page, whom he fails to recog- 
 nise, but whose appearance is so prepossessing that 
 he wishes to employ him as messenger to Silvia. 
 On discovering his servant's presence, Proteus in- 
 
174 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 quires how the lady received his gift, only to be 
 told she refused the dog with scorn, — a refusal quite 
 comprehensible to Proteus when he discovers that 
 his man offered her a cur in his name ! 
 
 While the servant departs in quest of the valuable 
 animal which he claims was stolen from him, Pro- 
 teus resumes his conversation with the page, bidding 
 him carry a ring to Silvia which was once given 
 him by one who loved him dearly. When the page 
 artlessly inquires whether the giver is dead, Proteus 
 denies it; so the page pities the lady, hinting she 
 may have loved him as passionately as he now 
 loves Silvia, remarks to which Proteus pays no heed. 
 Instead, he directs his emissary how to reach the 
 lady, bidding him claim, in exchange for the ring, 
 the promised picture. 
 
 When Proteus has gone, Julia comments upon 
 the strange fate which makes her the bearer of such 
 a message, and compels her to carry her own ring 
 to the person who has supplanted her in her lover's 
 affections. Instead of pleading Proteus' cause, as 
 has been enjoined upon her, Julia intends to do the 
 contrary, and, therefore, eagerly questions a lady 
 who steps upon the scene. On ascertaining it is Sil- 
 via, the page delivers both message and ring, claim- 
 ing the picture which he is sent to procure. Silvia 
 not only refuses to read Proteus' letter, but tears it 
 up contemptuously, declaring she has no respect for 
 the writer. Then she spurns the ring, knowing it 
 was given to him by a lovely lady he once loved, and 
 adding that she will never so wrong a fellow- 
 woman. 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 175 
 
 At these words the page heartily thanks her, and 
 when Silvia wonderingly inquires whether it is be- 
 cause he knows the lady in question, vows he is as 
 well acquainted with Julia as with himself. He 
 adds that this lady was once dearly beloved by Pro- 
 teus, and describes her beauty and figure, saying she 
 is exactly his height, for she once allowed him to 
 wear her garments to act a play. All this informa- 
 tion proves vividly interesting to Silvia, who be- 
 stows a reward upon the page ere leaving the scene 
 with her attendants. 
 
 The page now has an occasion to comment upon 
 her generosity to a stranger, her gentle compassion 
 for a forsaken lady, and her loyalty to her own sex 
 and lover. Then, in the picture which has been 
 delivered to him, he studies Silvia's attractions, 
 ascertaining with delight that she is no better look- 
 ing than Julia, who, he hopes, may some time re- 
 cover Proteus' love. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act Is begun in the friar's cell, 
 where Sir Eglamour is waiting at sunset for Sil- 
 via, who is to join him there. When he sees her 
 appear, he greets her eagerly, only to be told to 
 go and await her at the postern gate, as she fears 
 they may be spied upon. To reassure her, Sir Egla- 
 mour states the forest is near, and that, once within 
 its mazes, they will be safe from pursuit. 
 
 The next scene is played in the palace, where Sir 
 Thurio is questioning Proteus in regard to his pros- 
 pects of winning Silvia. He seems delighted when 
 told he has made progress, the lady only criticising 
 certain defects in his person, which he proposes to 
 
176 Stories of Shakespeare^ s Comedies 
 
 remedy by altering his dress, although the page, 
 present in the background, saucily comments such 
 alterations will be of no avail. 
 
 After some more conversation, devoted to feeding 
 Sir Thurio's vanity, the Duke comes in, inquiring 
 M^hether Sir Eglamour and his daughter have been 
 seen? It soon becomes evident Silvia has fled w^ith 
 the knight, a friar reporting having seen them both in 
 the forest, near the cell vv^here Silvia goes for con- 
 fession. In his indignation at his daughter's escape, 
 the Duke bids both young men accompany him in 
 pursuit of the fugitives, w^hom he hopes to overtake 
 before they cross the frontier. 
 
 The Duke having gone. Sir Thurio vows it is a 
 peevish girl who tries to escape such a suitor as 
 himself, and decides to join the pursuit only to 
 avenge the insult Sir Eglamour has put upon him. 
 Meantime, Proteus decides to join the expedition for 
 love of Silvia, and the page so as to outwit his 
 treacherous plans. 
 
 We next behold the forest on the frontier of Man- 
 tua, where outlaws have just seized Silvia, whom 
 they are leading away to their captain. By their 
 conversation we discover Sir Eglamour has man- 
 aged to escape, and that, while two of their number 
 are pursuing him, the rest are accompanying the lady 
 to their chief's cave, where they promise her honour- 
 able treatment. Meantime, in another part of the 
 forest, Valentine is cogitating over his position in 
 this solitude, and dreaming of the lady whom he 
 loves so dearly, but cannot see. In spite of his ab- 
 straction, however, he soon becomes aware of some 
 
Tvjo Gentlemen of Verona 177 
 
 commotion in the forest, and idly wonders what 
 travellers his companions have arrested? 
 
 Just then he beholds an advancing group, consist- 
 ing of Proteus, Silvia, and Julia, still disguised as 
 a page. Having surprised the outlaws leading Sil- 
 via away, Proteus has boldly rescued her, and is now 
 claiming as reward some mark of her favour, which 
 she still refuses to bestow upon him. Overhearing 
 this, Valentine can scarcely credit his ears, and 
 listens intently when Silvia wails that she would 
 rather have been seized by a hungry lion than by so 
 false a man as Proteus. She adds that the love she 
 bears Valentine is so true she cannot but despise his 
 treacherous friend, who should be ashamed of for- 
 getting the loyalty due to Valentine and his oaths 
 to Julia. Then, she concludes by urging Proteus 
 to show greater fidelity to both lady-love and friend, 
 paying no heed to his arguments in defence of his 
 passion. But, when Proteus attempts to lay forcible 
 hands upon Silvia to bend her to his will, Valentine 
 suddenly steps foi-ward, bidding him desist, and re- 
 viling him for conduct he never would have credited. 
 
 Being thus confronted by Valentine's contempt, 
 Proteus, suddenly realising how deeply he has sinned, 
 makes an humble apology, which Valentine accepts, 
 being generous enough to pardon any injury done 
 him, and saying, 'Who by repentance is not satis- 
 fied is not of heaven nor earth.' Then, thinking 
 it possible Silvia may love his friend better than 
 himself, and that only virtue keeps her loyal, Val- 
 entine magnanimously offers to relinquish all rights 
 to her. Afraid this will prevent her recovering 
 
178 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 her lover, Julia now faints away, so both men 
 hasten to the rescue of the fainting page. On re- 
 covering his senses, the page exclaims he has been 
 very remiss, for he has not yet delivered the ring 
 which Proteus bade him give Silvia. But Proteus 
 now perceives with surprise it is no longer the token 
 he gave the page, but that which Julia received as 
 his parting gift! An explanation ensues, in the 
 course of which Proteus discovers the page is Julia, 
 who has assumed male garb only to follow him. 
 The devotion she has shown so touches him that 
 he declares himself cured of inconstancy, and glad 
 to return to his former allegiance. 
 
 This conclusion pleases Valentine, who bestows 
 his blessing upon the reunited lovers, just as the 
 outlaws bring in the Duke and Sir Thurio, whom 
 they have captured in the forest. The brigands 
 seem delighted to have secured such a prize, but Val- 
 entine no sooner recognises the Duke than he does 
 obeisance to him, bidding his men immediately set 
 him free. 
 
 Surprised to discover Valentine and his daughter 
 together, the Duke does not interfere when Valen- 
 tine demands that Sir Thurio relinquish all rights 
 to Silvia or forfeit his life. When Sir Thurio 
 promptly acquiesces, asseverating — ' I hold him but 
 a fool who will endanger his body for a girl that 
 loves him not ' — this statement proves to the Duke 
 that he is too much of a cov/ard to strike a single 
 blow to defend his claim to Silvia. Besides, the 
 father is now so struck with admiration for Valen- 
 tine, that he bids him marry his daughter and re- 
 
Two Gentlemen of Verona 179 
 
 turn to court, where, bygones being forgotten, they 
 can begin a new life. 
 
 This consent to his marriage charms Valentine, 
 who takes courage to beg another boon, which the 
 Duke graciously promises to grant, whatever it may 
 be. Then Valentine eloquently pleads in behalf of 
 the outlaws, all of whom are pardoned and re- 
 instated, after promising to become good citizens. 
 
 This settled, all return to Milan, Valentine prom- 
 ising to shorten the way by an account of his ad- 
 ventures, and explaining that the youthful page is 
 none other than the fair Julia, who has come hither 
 in quest of a recreant lover. The only punishment 
 inflicted upon Proteus consists in an exposition of 
 his treacherous plans, ere he is allowed to marry 
 Julia, — ^while Valentine espouses Silvia, — and all 
 thereafter enjoy ' one feast, one house, one mutual 
 happiness.' 
 
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST 
 
 Act I. The first act opens in the park of the 
 King of Navarre. He enters upon the scene an- 
 nouncing he has decided to lead the contemplative 
 life hereafter, with three friends, who have sworn 
 to share his studies for the next three years. Dur- 
 ing this time ' Navarre shall be the wonder of the 
 world,' and his court ' a little Academe, still and 
 contemplative in living art.' One of these noble- 
 men, Longaville, fancies that during that time ' the 
 mind shall banquet, though the body pine,' Dumain, 
 that he will enjoy ' living in philosophy,' while the 
 third, Biron, deems it will be easy to study that 
 length of time, but that the stipulations not to speak 
 to women, to fast, and never to sleep more than three 
 hours a night, will prove ' barren tasks, too hard 
 to keep.' 
 
 The king, however, assures him that, having 
 joined his company, he will have to keep the oath, 
 although Biron objects it was taken merely In jest. 
 He declares his private study shall henceforth be 
 how to feast when told to fast, how to meet some 
 lady fair, and wittily demonstrates that such is the 
 aim and end of all study. His humorous retorts 
 to royal objections fill up the greater part of the 
 scene, the remarks exchanged bristling with witty 
 epigrams, wherein the poet's talent is freely dis- 
 i8o 
 
Love's Labour's Lost l8l 
 
 played. Seeing his principal companion has turned 
 restive, the king finally suggests that Biron leave 
 them to their studies, whereupon the latter rejoins 
 he will remain with them, and sign the paper the 
 king produces. Before doing so, however, he reads 
 aloud the peculiar item, ' that no woman shall 
 come within a mile of my court,' a decree published 
 four days ago under penalty that any woman draw- 
 ing near the palace will lose her tongue. The sec- 
 ond item is that any man seen talking to a woman 
 during the next three years will have to undergo 
 such punishment as his companions decree. 
 
 When Biron hints the king himself will be the 
 first to break this rule, since the French King's 
 daughteV is on her way to consult with him in re- 
 gard to the cession of Aquitane, Navarre admits 
 he forgot that fact when the paper was drawn up, 
 and that there will have to be an exception made 
 in the princess' favour. Hearing his royal master 
 plead necessity, Biron sagely remarks, ' Necessity 
 will make us all forsworn three thousand times 
 within this three years' space, for every man with his 
 affects is born ! ' Nevertheless, he signs the decree, 
 and states that, although he seems ' so loath,' he is 
 confident he will be ' the last that will last keep his 
 oath!' 
 
 When he inquires what recreation is to be granted, 
 the king explains how Armado, a refined traveller 
 from Spain, who ' hath a mint of phrases in his 
 brain,' will delight them with tales of his native coun- 
 try. Hearing this, Biron seems to be satisfied, but 
 the others frankly admit their chief amusement will 
 
1 82 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 be derived from Costard, the rustic. Just then, this 
 man is brought in by the constable Dull, who also 
 delivers to the king a letter from Armado. While 
 his majesty is reading it. Costard informs Biron 
 how he was caught with Jaquenetta in the park, 
 and that, although ' it is the manner of a man 
 to speak to a woman,' he is now to be punished 
 for it. 
 
 The king next proceeds to read aloud his letter, 
 wherein, with much wordy circumlocution, Armado 
 describes how he found Costard — ^whom he honours 
 with epithets the rustic acknowledges as applicable 
 to him — talking ' with a child of our grandmother 
 Eve, a female ! ' The letter concludes with the state- 
 ment that the swain is sent in the constable's cus- 
 tody to the king to be judged, Armado meanwhile 
 keeping the other delinquent in his house ready to 
 produce her at the king's request. This reading fin- 
 ished, his majesty begins to cross-question Costard, 
 who admits speaking to a woman, although he in- 
 sists he did not thereby infringe the law, as it de- 
 clared any one taken with a ' wench ' would be 
 arrested! The rustic claims that a virgin, damsel, 
 or maid, is not a 'wench,' an excuse the king re- 
 fuses to accept. He, therefore, decrees that in pun- 
 ishment. Costard shall fast a week on bran and 
 water, Biron himself delivering him over to Armado, 
 who is to act as keeper during that space of time. 
 Then the king leaves the scene with two of his 
 friends, while Biron lingers to exclaim he is ready to 
 wager his head ' these oaths and laws will prove an 
 idle scorn.' This assurance Costard echoes, stating 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 183 
 
 he is suffering for truth's sake ere Dull leads him 
 away. 
 
 The next scene is played on the same spot, where 
 Armado is bidding his pupil Moth tell him what it 
 portends when a man grows melancholy ? Then the 
 two indulge in a duel of repartee, wherein they 
 parade their wit and learning. After calling for an 
 explanation of almost every term Moth uses, Armado 
 finally reveals he has promised to study three years 
 with the king, but has already broken his promise by 
 falling deeply in love with a lowly maiden. To 
 comfort himself, he has his disciple recapitulate the 
 names of the world's great lovers, and describe the 
 charms of their lady-loves. Still, Armado avers all 
 pale before the ' white and red ' of his own charmer, 
 in whose toils he is completely caught. Next, still 
 hoping to divert his thoughts, the master invites 
 the pupil to sing, but before the song can begin sev- 
 eral persons draw near. 
 
 Among them we see the constable Dull, who re- 
 ports the king has sent Costard to Armado to be de- 
 tained a prisoner, and has decreed that Jaquenetta 
 shall remain in the park as dairy-maid. This news 
 pleases Armado, who arranges to visit his new 
 sweetheart at the lodge, ere he dismisses her and 
 Dull. Then, he entrusts Costard's keeping to Moth, 
 and when they have gone off together, indulges in a 
 soliloquy in regard to his passion for Jaquenetta, for 
 whose sake he is forsworn, and in whose honour he 
 proposes to indite a sonnet ! 
 
 Act II. The second act opens before the same 
 park, just as the Princess of France and her train 
 
184 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 arrive on the scene. The chamberlain, Boyet, now 
 bids his mistress pluck up spirit, as her father has 
 sent her hither to obtain from the King of Navarre 
 the restoration of Aquitaine. The princess, how- 
 ever, deeming this task beyond her strength, dreads 
 it, for she counts little upon her physical charms. 
 Besides, she has heard it rumoured Navarre has with- 
 drawn from society for three years of silent stud}!', 
 during which no woman will be allowed to ap- 
 proach his court ! Not daring to brave such a decree 
 herself, the princess sends her chamberlain into the 
 park, to inform the King of Navarre that the daugh- 
 ter of the King of France is waiting at his gates for 
 an interview, * on serious business, craving quick dis- 
 patch.' 
 
 The chamberlain having departed with cheerful 
 alacrity to execute these orders, the princess inquires 
 of her train whether any of them know the gentle- 
 men who have joined the king in his studious retire- 
 ment? When Longaville, Dumain, and Biron are 
 mentioned, Maria, Katharine, and Rosaline describe 
 in turn how they becanie acquainted with these 
 lords, each description proving so laudatory on the 
 whole, that the princess declares all three must be 
 in love, for each has garnished her lover with ' be- 
 decking ornaments of praise ! ' The ladies have 
 barely finished their euphuistic descriptions of the 
 three knights, when the chamberlain returns, an- 
 nouncing that, unable to admit them on account of 
 his oath, the King of Navarre will come out and 
 speak to them at the gate, as that will be no infringe- 
 ment of his word. 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 185: 
 
 A moment later, his majesty appears with his three 
 companions and train, and gallantly bids the fair 
 French princess welcome to his court of Navarre. 
 When the princess, in return, ironically welcomes 
 him ' to the wide ^fields,' the king explains with em- 
 barrassment that he has sworn an oath he cannot 
 break. The princess, however, archly predicts it 
 will soon be violated, and enters into a conversa- 
 tion with the king, while Biron entertains Rosaline, 
 both couples testing each other's mettle in the then 
 fashionable game of repartee. 
 
 After some polite verbal skirmishing, the king 
 states the question as he understands it, promising 
 that, as the princess has come to settle the business 
 in her father's behalf, she shall return * well satis- 
 fied to France again,' although he intimates the King 
 of France's demands are unjust. When the princess 
 reproaches him with not acknowledging the payments 
 her father has made, Navarre courteously rejoins he 
 has never heard of them, but is willing, if she 
 proves her case, either to repay the sum in full, or to 
 surrender Aquitaine, which he holds in pledge. Al- 
 though unable to produce the required documents on 
 the spot, — for the packet containing them has not yet 
 arrived, — the princess accepts the offer and begs the 
 king to postpone decision until the morrow. Na- 
 varre, therefore, takes courteous leave, again regret- 
 ting not to be able to receive the fair princess more 
 worthily within his gates, but assuring her ' here 
 without you shall be so received as you shall 
 deem yourself lodged in my heart, though so 
 denied fair harbour in my house.' Then, returning 
 
'1 86 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 her gracious farewell with the oft-quoted, 'Thy 
 own wish wish I thee in every place ! ' Navarre 
 'departs. 
 
 Meantime, Biron, who has been conversing with 
 the quick-witted Rosaline, takes leave of her, too, 
 and rejoins his master, while Dumain and Longa- 
 ville linger behind to ask the chamberlain the names 
 of two of the princess' attendants who have par- 
 ticularly attracted their notice. It is quite evi- 
 dent both these gentlemen have fallen in love, as well 
 as Biron, who, as soon as they have gone, returns to 
 ask Boyet Rosaline's name, and to ascertain whether 
 she is already married? 
 
 The gentlemen once out of hearing, Maria de- 
 clares the last to go was Biron, a man who enjoys 
 the reputation of never uttering a word save in 
 jest. Such being the case, the chamberlain rejoins 
 he answered the stranger in his own vein, and en- 
 couraged by Maria's playfulness, volunteers to kiss 
 her. She, however, refuses such advances, declar- 
 ing her lips are ' no common,' and chaffing him un- 
 til the princess remarks they must save their wit to 
 exercise it on Navarre and ' his book-men.' Hearing 
 this, the chamberlain gallantly assures his royal mis- 
 tress the King of Navarre fell so deeply in love with 
 her at first sight, that, provided she play her part 
 well, he will give her * Aquitaine and all that is 
 his,' in return for ' one loving kiss.' Pretending to 
 consider such a remark impertinent, the princess re- 
 tires to her pavilion, while her maids linger to gibe 
 at Boyet, whom they term ' an old love-monger,' 
 since he is to be their messenger whenever they wish 
 
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 HP^ 
 
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Love's Labour's Lost 187 
 
 to communicate with the unapproachable court of 
 Navarre. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in the same place, 
 just as Armado is enjoining upon Moth to sing to 
 him, and after listening to his song, bids him release 
 Costard, so he can carry a letter to his love. After 
 commenting upon these orders in wordy style, and 
 arguing for a while about love, the pupil goes, and 
 Armado, the pedant, sinks into melancholy. He is 
 roused from his reflections by Moth's return with 
 Costard, whom he introduces by a pun, which gives 
 rise to another display of recondite wit on the part 
 of master and pupil. It is only after some time, 
 therefore, that the love-letter is entrusted to the 
 wondering Costard, who is told to deliver it to 
 Jaquenetta. Delighted with his freedom, and with 
 the gift which the pedant grandiloquently terms a 
 * remuneration,' Costard watches master and pupil 
 depart, and then reaches the conclusion that re- 
 muneration must be the Latin for * three farthings.' 
 Still, as that is a larger sum than he has ever before 
 received, he is so pleased with the term that he 
 vows, ' I will never buy or sell out of this word.' 
 
 The rustic is still commenting upon his unusual 
 luck, when Biron joins him, and, after some talk in 
 regard to the purchasing power of three farthings, re- 
 tains his services for the afternoon. Then Biron 
 confides to the rustic that he wishes a letter deliv- 
 ered to Rosaline, one of the ladies in the princess' 
 train. He has noticed that the ladies daily hunt in 
 this part of the forest, and wishes his ' sealed up 
 counsel,' safely placed in Rosaline's fair hand. To 
 
1 88 Stories of Shakespeare^ s Comedies 
 
 insure this he now hands Costard, with the letter, a 
 * guerdon,' which proves to be a whole shilling, thus 
 causing the rustic to hope none but ' gardons ' will 
 henceforth come his way ! 
 
 The delighted Costard having departed, Biron, in 
 a soliloquy, confesses he has fallen victim to * Dan 
 Cupid,' whose wiles he eloquently describes, for he, 
 who has ever made fun of ' his almighty dreadful 
 little might,' is now reduced to * love, write, sigh, 
 pray, sue, and groan.' 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act, played in the same 
 place, reveals the princess with her hunting train in- 
 quiring of the chamberlain whether it was the king 
 who in the distance, 'spurred his horse so hard 
 against the steep uprising of the hill ? ' Because the 
 chamberlain seems doubtful, the princess haughtily 
 remarks that, whoever it was, he showed a ' mount- 
 ing mind,' and concludes that his majesty's answer is 
 due to-day, and that they will return home as soon 
 as it is received. Then, turning to the forester, she 
 inquires where she had better post herself, for she 
 prides herself upon her fine shooting. While con- 
 versing wittily with this gentleman forester, and 
 with her chamberlain, the princess is suddenly ac- 
 costed by Costard, who blunderingly asks whether 
 she is ' the head lady ? ' Amused by his awkward- 
 ness and simplicity, the princess mystifies him for a 
 while, and then only asks for whom his message is 
 intended? On learning it is a letter, from Mon- 
 sieur Biron to Lady Rosaline, the princess takes pos- 
 session of it, vowing it shall be read aloud to all 
 present. She, therefore, breaks the seal, and hands 
 
Lovers Labour's Lost 189 
 
 it to her chamberlain, who finds it is addressed to 
 Jaquenetta. Still, as his mistress insists upon hearing 
 it, the chamberlain reads aloud a missive couched in 
 such grandiloquent style that it hugely amuses the 
 princess. She is still marvelling at its succession of 
 parentheses within parentheses, when Boyet assures 
 her it can have been penned only by Armado, a fan- 
 tastic traveller, who * makes sport to the prince and 
 his book-mates.' 
 
 Hearing this, the princess questions the rustic, who 
 artlessly tells her Lord Biron gave him the letter 
 for Lady Rosaline. Coldly informing him he has 
 made a mistake, the princess hands over the letter 
 to Rosaline, and leaves, followed by most of her 
 train. The chamberlain, lingering behind with 
 Rosaline, teasingly tries to obtain some information 
 from her, but encounters only clever, evasive an- 
 swers, couched in the style of the times. When Rosa- 
 line and Katharine have followed their mistress, the 
 chamberlain and Maria pump the rustic, who an- 
 swers their witticisms in kind until they leave him 
 with a reproof. Thus left to his own devices. Cos- 
 tard declares he is 'a most simple clown,' whom 
 these lords and ladies are trying to mystify, but ex- 
 presses keen admiration for Armado, whose manners 
 in ladies' company seem to him the acme of ele- 
 gance. 
 
 After the rustic has left, the scene is occupied by 
 the schoolmaster Holofernes, the curate Sir Natha- 
 niel, and the constable Dull, who discuss learnedly 
 about hunting matters, the schoolmaster, in par- 
 ticular, interspersing his remarks with Latin words, 
 
190 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 which he ostentatiously translates for the benefit 
 of his companions. They are both duly impressed, 
 although the constable, ignorant of classic tongues, 
 often mistakes a Latin word for some similar sound- 
 ing expression in English. The curate, however, 
 charitably explains and excuses such errors, by say- 
 ing Dull has ' never fed of the dainties that are bred 
 in a book,' that ' he hath not eat paper, as it were ; 
 he hath not drunk ink ! ' These excuses seem some- 
 what uncalled for by Dull, who, to exhibit some 
 learning, too, propounds a riddle as old as the hills, 
 which his companions solve without difficulty. This 
 three-cornered conversation continues until inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 
 Returning their greetings in his pedantic way, the 
 schoolmaster learns that Jaquenetta has received a 
 letter through Costard, which she wishes to have 
 read aloud to her. After a sonorous Latin quotation 
 from Holofernes, — ^which the curate admires, — the 
 latter reads aloud Biron's flowery epistle, couched in 
 verse far too elegant for Jaquenetta to understand. 
 The pedantic schoolmaster, however, criticises the 
 curate's mode of reading poetry, and vows he did not 
 accent the lines properly. Then he demands of the 
 damsel who the writer of this epistle may be, and 
 when told, * Biron, one of the strange queen's lords,' 
 glances in surprise at the superscription. Now only, 
 he discovers it is addressed ' to the snow-white hand 
 of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline,' and notices 
 that the signature is ' your ladyship's in all desired 
 employment, Biron.' From this fact he sagely con- 
 cludes the letter has fallen into the wrong hands, 
 
N 
 
 Love's Labour's Lost 191 
 
 and bids Jaquenetta hasten to deliver it to the King 
 of Navarre. Afraid to venture alone, Jaquenetta 
 again bespeaks Costard's escort, and, after they have 
 gone, the schoolmaster and curate discuss the verses, 
 ere both depart; the former to dine vuith one 
 of his pupils, to vi^hich meal he invites the constable 
 Dull. 
 
 They have barely left this picturesque glade vA\tn 
 Biron appears there, holding a paper, and declaring 
 that, while the king is hunting the deer, he is 
 coursing himself, for love pursues him incessantly 
 and inclines him to melancholy and rhyming. While 
 regretting he should have perjured himself so soon, 
 he vi^onders vt^hether his companions are afflicted 
 with the same mad disease, until he suddenly be- 
 comes aware the king is drawing near, and hides 
 in the bushes to take note of what he is doing. 
 Deeming himself alone, the king sighs in such a 
 sentimental way that Biron exclaims in an aside 
 that his master has fallen victim to Cupid's art. 
 He decides that by lending an attentive ear he may 
 discover the royal secrets, and is soon rewarded by 
 overhearing Navarre thoughtfully recite some 
 verses he has composed, wherein he reveals how 
 desperately he has fallen in love with the French 
 princess. These lines he intends lo drop in her way, 
 just as Longaville draws near in his turn, also read- 
 ing aloud. Wishing to ascertain why his follower 
 is prowling thus alone in the forest, and what he is 
 reading, the king plunges into the bushes, to spy 
 upon him. 
 
 Utterly unconscious of two listeners, Longaville 
 
192 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 now strolls forward, wailing he is forsworn, which 
 causes the king and Biron to remark separately that 
 he is acting exactly like a man on the stage. But 
 when the unfortunate man wonders whether he is 
 first to perjure himself, a whisper from Biron in 
 the bushes avers that three, at least, of their band 
 are guilty of this sin! Meantime, Longaville ex- 
 presses fear lest his stubborn lines fail to impress 
 * sweet Maria, empress of my love,' and seems for 
 a while inclined to tear them up and resort to plain 
 prose. Still, after perusing them aloud, to the 
 secret entertainment of his listeners, who comment 
 upon his pompous lines, he decides to send them, 
 although he does not know by what agency. 
 
 At this point, Longaville is disturbed in his cogi- 
 tations by the sound of approaching footsteps, and 
 promptly hides in his turn, while Biron mutters 
 that they are acting just like children, while he 
 sits aloft like a demigod in the sky, discovering 
 'wretched fools' secrets.' Unconscious of three 
 eavesdroppers, Dumain comes in sighing, * O most 
 divine Kate,' and proceeds to make sundry remarks 
 about his lady-love's charms. Meanwhile, Biron, 
 the king, and Longaville ironically comment upon 
 his statements, although they all fervently echo 
 his lover-like ' O that I had my wish ! ' Dumain, 
 too, reads aloud verses he has composed, which he in- 
 tends to send with ' something else more plain, that 
 shall express my true love's fasting pain.' He ex- 
 presses so ardent a desire that the king, Biron, and 
 Longaville were lovers too, for ' none offend where 
 all alike do dote,' that Longaville emerges from his 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 193 
 
 hiding place, virtuously exclaiming he ought to 
 blush to be ' o'erheard and taken napping so ! ' But, 
 scarcely has Longaville finished this hypocritical re- 
 proof, when the king, issuing from the bushes in his 
 turn, vows Longaville has doubly offended, since 
 he is in a similar plight, and has spent considerable 
 time expatiating upon Maria's charms. This royal 
 reproof, addressed to Longaville, simply delights 
 Biron, who waits until it is ended, ere he steps out 
 in his turn to 'whip hypocrisy,' for, although he 
 humbly begs his master's pardon, he cannot re- 
 frain from wittily describing how he overheard 
 Navarre behaving just as sentimentally as Longa- 
 ville or Dumain. Biron is still ridiculing all three, 
 — ^who are covered with confusion to have been 
 overheard and wince when Biron repeats their 
 speeches, — and has just launched into a tirade, 
 wherein he states he holds it sin ' to break the vow 
 I am -engaged in,' when tramping is heard, and 
 Jaquenetta and Costard rush in. 
 
 After greeting the king, this couple breathlessly 
 declare they have a paper, which must be treason, 
 and which they hand over to him. While the king 
 questions the messengers, — ^who declare the missive 
 was given them by the pedant Armado, — the king 
 carelessly hands it over to Biron, who no sooner 
 glances at it, than he furiously tears the paper to 
 pieces. His master, wonderingly inquiring why he 
 does this, Biron rejoins it was a mere trifle, but 
 Dumain and Longaville insist it ' moved him to 
 passion,' and curiously gather up the bits to see 
 what they mean. To Dumain's surprise he discov- 
 
194 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 ers they are in Biron's handwriting! Seeing him- 
 self betrayed by Costard's stupidity, Biron now 
 confesses he made fun of his friends without having 
 any right to do so, seeing he is in the same predica- 
 ment as they. He acknowledges ' that you three 
 fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess,' and that 
 they four ' are pick-purses in love,' and hence ' de- 
 serve to die.' Then, urging his master to dismiss the 
 rustic couple, — ^who depart with the virtuous con- 
 sciousness of having ably fulfilled a weighty duty, — 
 Biron rapturously embraces his fellow-sinners, de- 
 claring sagely, ' young blood doth not obey an old 
 decree.' 
 
 When the king asks him whether the torn lines 
 were addressed to some one he loves, Biron en- 
 thusiastically launches out into a panegyric of 
 ' heavenly Rosaline,' over whose charms he raves, 
 until the king and his friends proceed just as rap- 
 turously to claim the palm of beauty fox their lady- 
 loves. The duo between the king and Biron, who 
 are the readiest speakers, is varied by an occasional 
 quartette, in which Dumain and Longaville take 
 part, so as to defend and uphold the attractions of 
 their sweethearts. In the course of this fourfold 
 rhapsody and dispute in regard to the preeminence of 
 their beloveds' charms, these men employ the ex- 
 travagant euphuistic expressions current at that day 
 to describe female attractions. Finally, Biron pro- 
 nounces that the only study worthy of mankind is 
 that of the opposite sex, and declares women's eyes 
 are 'the ground, the books, the academes, from 
 whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.' The 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 195 
 
 four lovers, therefore, conclude ' it is religion to 
 be thus forsworn,' and decide, instead of foolishly 
 carrying out their original programme, to lay siege 
 to the hearts of all four ladies. This motion being 
 enthusiastically carried, plans are made to entertain 
 the ladies in their tents with a series of masques, 
 revels, and dances, each suitor pledging himself to 
 do his best to entertain his special inamorata, and 
 strew ' her way with flowers.' 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens on the same spot, 
 just as the schoolmaster, the curate, and Dull are 
 expatiating in characteristic fashion upon the en- 
 joyment they have derived from their meal. The 
 curate and schoolmaster use many pretentious words, 
 until interrupted in their verbal pyrotechnics by the 
 arrival of the very man whose arts they were dis- 
 cussing. When Armado, with Moth, and Costard 
 have joined them, a conversation is begun, wherein 
 the learned speakers parade considerable false Latin 
 and make far-fetched puns, while Moth slyly 
 whispers to Costard that ' they have been at a 
 great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps ! ' 
 Then, taking his part in the discussion. Moth dis- 
 plays wit which appeals so strongly to Costard's 
 limited sense of humour, that he bestows upon him 
 the ' remuneration ' he received a little while 
 ago. 
 
 Finally, Armado informs his companions, in such 
 a maze of words that it is difficult to discover their 
 meaning, that the king and his companions wish to 
 entertain the ladies with a pageant. Knowing the 
 schoolmaster's and curate's talents in this line, Ar- 
 
196 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 mado has come to bespeak their aid. Flattered by 
 such a compliment, the schoolmaster enthusiastically 
 suggests they present the * Nine Worthies,' he him- 
 self volunteering to play three of the parts, and 
 awarding the rest to his companions. When they 
 object that Moth, — whom he selects for Hercules, — 
 is far too small and puny to suit the character, he 
 readily declares the page shall personate the infant 
 Hercules, and strangle serpents, declaiming an 
 apology of his composition, while Dull accompanies 
 him on the tabor. This settled, all depart to prepare 
 for this wonderful play. 
 
 The princess and her maids now appear in their 
 turn, commenting merrily upon the rich gifts, or 
 fairings, their respective lovers have sent them, each 
 token being accompanied with verses which they 
 discuss. In the course of this conversation they 
 chaff each other wittily, and exhibit their letters and 
 gifts. Finally the chamberlain bursts in, almost 
 choking with laughter, bidding them prepare for a 
 great onslaught, and exclaiming, ' Muster your 
 wits; stand in your own defence; or hide your head 
 like cowards, and fly hence!' When the princess 
 eagerly inquires what he means, he explains that, 
 while dozing beneath a sycamore, he overheard the 
 king and his companions plotting to surprise the 
 four ladies in the guise of Russian mummers, and 
 laboriously teaching a page the speech he is to recite 
 in herald's guise. Boyet adds, that, after dancing 
 before the ladies, these Russian lovers will each 
 invite the object of his affections to tread a meas- 
 ure with him, all feeling confident they can recog- 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 197 
 
 nise even masked sweethearts, thanks to the orna- 
 ments they will doubtless wear. 
 
 The princess no sooner learns this merry plot, 
 than ^he decides to outwit it, an<l, quick as a flash, 
 exrChanges tokens with her companions, so that each 
 Russian will lead away the wrong masked lady, to 
 whom he will doubtless make a formal proposal. 
 Her intention is * to cross theirs,' for she feels sure 
 * they do it but in mocking merriment,' and is, there- 
 fore, anxious to pay them back in their own coin. 
 Her conclusion that ' there's no such sport as sport 
 by sport o'erthrown,' meets with such approval 
 from the other three ladies, that they promptly as- 
 sume masks as soon as trumpets are heard, and pre- 
 pare to carry out the deception they have planned to 
 bewilder their disguised suitors. 
 
 A moment later the promised entertainment is 
 ushered in, the page Moth marching ahead, prepared 
 to recite his piece. He remembers it, however, so 
 imperfectly, that the attitude of the ladies, — who, in- 
 stead of facing him, suddenly turn their backs upon 
 him, — puts him out entirely. Although Biron 
 frantically prompts him, the poor youth gets so 
 tangled up that he finally flees in disgrace! Be- 
 cause she personates the princess, Rosaline now 
 haughtily inquires of the chamberlain who these 
 people may be, and asks that they make known the 
 purpose of their call? When the chamberlain re- 
 plies they have come to dance before her, she seems 
 to hesitate; still, after exchanging a few witticisms 
 on the subject with Boyet and Biron, permits them, 
 at the king's request, to exhibit their talents. She 
 
198 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 and her companions, however, utterly refuse to tread 
 a measure with them ; but in spite of this refusal, the 
 king and his friends manage to lead aside the ladies 
 wearing their respective tokens, whom they, there- 
 fore, naturally suppose to be the objects of their 
 love. In this part of the scene the king is paired 
 with Rosaline, the princess with Biron, Longaville 
 with Katharine, and Dumain with Maria, and each 
 lady proceeds to lead her lover on and flout him 
 wittily. All four suitors finally depart, having de- 
 rived little satisfaction from this coveted interview, 
 although each has manfully tried to make the depth 
 of his attachment clear. 
 
 Boyet, the amused spectator of these asides, wisely 
 remarks ' the ,tqn^ue£ of mocking wenches are as 
 keen as is the razor's edge Tn visible,' and when the 
 Russians have gone, laughingly compares them to 
 tapers ' with your sweet breaths pufE'd out,' before 
 each lady describes how her swain proposed to her. 
 They laugh merrily over all the speeches, but, con- 
 vinced the suitors will soon reappear, retire to their 
 tents to remove their masks, and restore the bor- 
 rowed tokens to their rightful owners. They in- 
 tend, however, to continue the game, by facetiously 
 describing to the king and his companions the 
 ridiculous mummers who have just visited them. 
 
 While they are still in their tents, the King of 
 Navarre returns with his three companions, dressed 
 as usual, and inquires of the chamberlain where the 
 princess may be? After courteously rejoining she 
 is in her tent, Boyet hastens thither to announce 
 to his mistress that the King of Navarre craves audi- 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 199 
 
 ence. During his absence, Biron, who has repeat- 
 edly exchanged witticisms with the chamberlain, re- 
 marks that this fellow ' pecks up wit as pigeons 
 pease, and utters it again when God doth please,' 
 a very good sample of much of the wit in this 
 play. 
 
 In a few moments the princess reappears, followed 
 by her ladies, and, after returning the king's greeting, 
 refuses his tardy invitation to enter the park, insist- 
 ing she cannot be a party to his breaking his vows. 
 Besides, she avers she has not been dull, and, to 
 prove it, describes how they have just been enter- 
 tained by ' a mess of Russians ! ' Then Rosaline 
 exclaims that throughout the hour these men spent 
 with them, they ' did not bless us with one happy 
 word,' a cutting remark resented by Biron, who 
 returns that her wit ' makes wise things foolish.' 
 This proves the signal for a new sparring match, in 
 the course of which Rosaline routs Biron utterly by 
 revealing that she and her companions saw through 
 their disguise. Finding himself detected, Biron 
 promises never again to try and deceive Rosaline, 
 but invites her to bruise him with scorn, confound 
 him with a flout, thrust her sharp wit quite through 
 his ignorance, and cut him to pieces with her keen 
 conceit ! 
 
 Meanwhile, the king having also craved the 
 princess' pardon, she bids him confess what he whis- 
 pered in his lady's ear when last he was here? 
 When Navarre rejoins how he assured her ' that 
 more than all the world ' he did respect her, the 
 princess asks whether he will reject that lady's hand 
 
200 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 in case she claims him ? Hearing him swear, ' Upon 
 my honour, no,' the princess summons Rosaline, and 
 bids her state exactly what her Russian suitor whis- 
 pered in her pretty ear. When Rosaline repeats 
 Navarre's speech, word for word, his amazed 
 majesty exclaims he never swore love to Rosaline, 
 but to the princess, who wore his token! 
 
 Thereupon the princess drily informs him how on 
 that day Rosaline wore his jewels, and he, turning 
 to Biron, vows some ' carry tale ' must have betrayed 
 their secret. They are just accusing the chamber- 
 lain of doing so; and the whole matter is barely 
 cleared up, and the Russians forced to acknowledge 
 they have been defeated in a brave and merry tilt, 
 when Costard awkwardly enters upon the scene, 
 inquiring whether they would like to see the Nine 
 Worthies, who have come? As three men only 
 have entered, Biron playfully inquires where the 
 nine may be, only to hear the simple Costard as- 
 sure him that three times three is nine, for each 
 man will take three parts. To tease him, Biron 
 tangles him up with questions he cannot understand. 
 Undeterred by all this, Costard demands again 
 whether the company are ready to see the Nine 
 Worthies, volunteering that he is to play the part 
 of ' Pompion the Great.' Gracious permission be- 
 ing granted the Worthies to appear, the clown hur- 
 ries out, while the king murmurs this man will 
 surely disgrace them; but Biron comforts him with 
 the assurance it will be good policy to let the ladies 
 see a worse show than that presented by ' the king 
 and his company.' Besides, the princess insists 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 201 
 
 upon seeing the production, as ' that sport best 
 pleases that doth least know how.' 
 
 A moment later Don Armado enters, and, after 
 conversing a while apart with the king, hands him 
 a paper. Meanwhile the princess wonderingly asks 
 Biron whether this man serves God, for his speech 
 is so bombastic and involved that it proves almost 
 unintelligible. When Armado disappears, assur- 
 ing them the schoolmaster is ' exceeding fantastical,' 
 all prepare for the appearance of the promised 
 Nine Worthies. Costard, the first player, en- 
 ters on the scene, tricked out as Pompey, and has 
 scarcely uttered a few words of his speech when the 
 chamberlain contradicts him, and soon succeeds in 
 putting him out. Such is Costard's confusion, that 
 he finally piteously entreats the princess to say 
 ' thanks Pompey,' and thus grant him the privilege 
 to withdraw. To humour the rustic, the princess 
 promptly complies, and, Costard having vanished, 
 the curate appears, personating Alexander. He, too, 
 is so guyed by Boyet and Biron that he is soon 
 obliged to leave the scene. 
 
 The rustic now reappears, jealously remarking 
 the curate represented Alexander no better than he 
 did Pompey, and announcing that the schoolmaster 
 will personate Judas Maccabeus, and his disciple, 
 Hercules. After introducing the infant Hercules, 
 in a mixture of Latin and English, Judas Mac- 
 cabeus vainly tries to play his own part, but is pre- 
 vented from doing so by numerous interruptions on 
 the part of the spectators, whose unkind remarks 
 drive him away in despair before he has finished 
 
202 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 his speech. When the pedant comes on the stage 
 as Hector, he, too, is mocked by all present, even by 
 the princess, who claims she has been hugely en- 
 tertained by their performance. Her commenda- 
 tions merely amuse the other spectators, who keep up 
 their gibes, until Costard blurts out that Don Ar- 
 mado is not the hero he tries to appear, but merely 
 a good for nothing wretch, unless he right poor 
 Jaquenetta. Such an accusation results, naturally, 
 in a vehement quarrel, which the gentlemen enjoy, 
 until their attention is diverted. 
 
 The interruption is caused by the arrival of a 
 French courtier, who bears so sober a face that even 
 before he can voice his message the princess ex- 
 claims her father must be dead ! Such being, indeed, 
 the case, Biron dismisses the Worthies, who seem 
 glad to escape without further ado, although Ar- 
 mado mutters he will ' right himself like a soldier.' 
 The king now tenderly implores the princess to 
 tarry in Navarre a while longer, but she assures him 
 they must start for home that very evening. Then, 
 with courteous thanks for his fair entertainment, 
 which her * new-sad soul ' will not allow her to men- 
 tion any further, she bids him farewell. 
 
 The King of Navarre, who regrets her visit should 
 have been marred by bad news, vows he will not 
 annoy her at present with ' the smiling courtesy of 
 love,' although he fully intends to renew his ' holy ' 
 suit later on. It is, as Biron assures her, for her 
 sake and that of her fair companions, that the king 
 and his friends have violated their oaths, a fact of 
 which the princess is fully aware, all the letters they 
 
Love's Labour's Lost 203 
 
 have forwarded having been duly received. Still, 
 as it is not fitting to answer love missives at pres- 
 ent, the princess gravely bids her suitor show his 
 constancy by retiring into a hermitage for a year, 
 spending his time there, remote from the pleasures 
 of the world, and promising to reward him at the 
 end of that period, in case he still feels the same de- 
 votion for her. Meanwhile, she will pass the year 
 mourning for her parent's death. Such a term of 
 probation seems neither too long nor too hard a 
 test for Navarre's love, for he solemnly rejoins: 
 ' If this, or more than this, I would deny, to flatter 
 up these sudden powers of mine with rest, the sud- 
 den hand of death close up mine eye ! ' 
 
 Meantime, turning to Rosaline, Biron entreats 
 an answer to his suit, only to be told that if he 
 wishes to obtain her favour, he must spend a twelve- 
 month tending the sick. Dumain is bidden wait a 
 year, grow a beard, and prove he is to be trusted, 
 while Maria coyly promises at the end of the year 
 to lay aside her mourning and reward ' a faithful 
 friend.' 
 
 When Biron, unsatisfied, inquires from Rosaline 
 exactly what he is to do, this lady informs him that, 
 before she ever saw him, she had been told he was a 
 man ' replete with mocks, full of comparisons and 
 wounding flouts.' She, therefore, enjoins upon him 
 to ' weed this wormwood ' from his fruitful brain if 
 he would please her, and use his wit only ' to enforce 
 the painted impotent to smile,' and cheer and divert 
 those who are in pain. At first Biron exclaims 
 what she requires is an impossibility, but Rosaline 
 
204 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 urges him to make the effort, and thus learn that ' a 
 jest's propriety lies in the ear of him that hears it, 
 never in the tongue of him that makes it.' 
 
 When the ladies again express regrets and fare- 
 wells, the King of Navarre and his friends assure 
 them they vi^ill escort them part way, and all are 
 about to leave the scene, when Don Armado an- 
 nounces they have not heard him vow to turn farmer 
 for Jaquenetta's sake, and have missed the best part 
 of his entertainment, the dialogue in praise of the 
 owl and the cuckoo. To gratify Don Armado, the 
 king orders him to present the dialogue; where- 
 upon schoolmaster, curate, disciple, and clown re- 
 turn to the scene, respectively personating Winter 
 and Spring, the owl and the cuckoo. This part of 
 the play consists in a graceful spring song with a 
 coarse refrain, and a descriptive ditty of winter's 
 cold, during which the owl chants his mournful 
 song. 
 
 The curtain falls after the last rustic refrain, and 
 just as the pedant wisely remarks that * the words 
 of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo ! ' 
 Then the king and ladies depart in one direction, 
 while the extempore actors vanish in the other. 
 
THE WINTER'S TALE 
 
 Act I. When the curtain rises for the first act 
 on an antechamber in Leontes' palace, in Sicilia, 
 we overhear his councillor Camillo talking with a 
 follower of the King of Bohemia. They are dis- 
 cussing the meeting between their masters, who, 
 after having been brought up together, and separated 
 for years, have been enjoying a renewal of their 
 former friendship. They also mention the little 
 prince of Sicilia, Mamillius, who promises to become 
 a fine man, although at present merely an engaging 
 child. 
 
 The second scene is played in a state apartment 
 of the same palace, where Leontes enters with his 
 family, guests, and train, and where Polixenes, King 
 of Bohemia, courteously states it is time to bid his 
 host farewell, and return to his own kingdom. Al- 
 though Leontes warmly urges his friend to prolong 
 his sojourn, his entreaties prove vain, until he turns 
 to his wife, Hermione, suggesting she try her skill. 
 With grace and eloquence, Hermione, at his request, 
 uses such persuasive arguments that Polixenes finally 
 yields, and enters into sprightly conversation with 
 her, describing his happy youth with her husband, 
 and his grief at their long separation. 
 
 Meantime, Leontes, perceiving his wife's persua- 
 sions have proved more efficacious than his own, ex- 
 205 
 
2o6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 claims she never spoke to better purpose save when 
 he wooed her, and she consented to become his wife ! 
 This praise so elates Hermione that she prizes her- 
 self happy in having spoken twice to such good pur- 
 pose that she earned a royal spouse, and a worthy 
 friend. Her innocent joy, however, kindles the 
 jealousy of Leontes, who suddenly fancies she is 
 speaking too warmly of their guest. With keen 
 suspicion he begins watching wife and guest, pre- 
 tending meanwhile to play with his boy, and soon 
 concludes they have some secret understanding. This 
 discovery causes him such jealous pangs, that, seiz- 
 ing Mamillius, he questions whether he is his off- 
 spring? Although the child's marked resemblance 
 to himself clearly proves his legitimacy, Leontes 
 nevertheless deems his wife faithless, and frowns 
 so portentously that he rouses the wonder of his 
 guest, who asks Hermione what can cause her hus- 
 band's irritation ? 
 
 Urged to speak by wife and friend, Leontes pre- 
 tends to have been dreaming over the past, when he, 
 too, was a mere lad. Then he asks whether 
 Polixenes loves Florizel as dearly as he does Mamil- 
 lius, whereupon the King of Bohemia enthusiastically 
 declares his boy makes ' a July day short as De- 
 cember,' for him. A moment later, Leontes bids 
 Hermione, if she loves him, show their guest all cour- 
 tesy, and considers her unsuspecting obedience such 
 hypocrisy that he mutters she is wooing his guest be- 
 neath his very eyes. He, therefore, grimly watches 
 them out of sight, speaks roughly to his boy, and 
 murmurs that wives have often proved faithless, 
 
The Winter's Tale 207 
 
 and that he is suffering the usual lot of man- 
 kind. 
 
 Such is Leontes' state of raging jealousj'^ that it 
 disquiets the child ; and when the lad has gone, the 
 king turns to Camillo, his counsellor, and remarks 
 their guest is going to stay. Because Camillo replies 
 he does so only on account of Hermione's entreaties, 
 the jealous husband fancies he is already a laughing- 
 stock for the Sicilians, Drawing Camillo apart, 
 therefore, he accuses him of being a coward or faith- 
 less, which latter suspicion the counsellor can truth- 
 fully deny. Still, knowing his. master's nature, he 
 temperately bids Leontes point out in what way he 
 has transgressed, promising to atone for his short- 
 comings as soon as possible. But, when Leontes ex- 
 presses suspicions of the honour of guest and wife, 
 Camillo waxes indignant that so noble a lady 
 should be traduced. This causes Leontes to demand 
 angrily whether 'whispering is nothing?' But 
 when he describes the actions of his wife and guest 
 from his jaundiced point of view, Camillo rejoins 
 he is suffering from a diseased imagination, and 
 urges him to cure it betimes, lest the complaint be- 
 come dangerous. 
 
 In his wrath at being misunderstood, Leontes 
 taxes Camillo with lying, adding that he himself 
 has been blind for months, during which his guest 
 and wife have systematically deceived him. Sud- 
 denly, he orders Camillo to poison his guest, and 
 thus avenge his honour; so, seeing him determined 
 to dispose of Polixenes, and dreading lest he entrust 
 the task to some one else, Camillo pretends to con- 
 
2o8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 sent, after providing, as he fancies, for the queen's 
 restoration to favour. Warmly thanking Camillo, 
 and assuring him that by this deed he will win half 
 his master's heart, Leontes adds the grim threat 
 that, in case he does not obey, he will lose his 
 life! 
 
 No sooner has Leontes left the room than Ca- 
 millo muses upon Hermione's sad plight, and his 
 own quandary, being compelled to turn poisoner or 
 forfeit life. Even if others, similarly placed, have 
 stricken down anointed kings, he feels he cannot 
 soil his hands with such a crime, so decides to leave 
 home. Just then Polixenes joins him, remarking 
 that he seems to have fallen suddenly out of favour 
 at the Sicilian court. He relates how Leontes has 
 just passed him, with such looks of scorn that he 
 was barely recognisable. Then, perceiving Camillo 
 is aware of the reason for this strange conduct, 
 Polixenes urges him to reveal all he knows. After 
 some demur, Camillo advises the King of Bohemia 
 to leave Sicilia secretly, because his host intends to 
 slay him for making love to his wife. On hear- 
 ing this absurd charge, Polixenes indignantly refutes 
 it, and conscious of irreproachable conduct, declares 
 this is ' the greatest infection that e'er was heard 
 or read ! ' 
 
 When Camillo explains that his master has sworn 
 his guest shall die, and has forced upon him a cruel 
 alternative, Polixenes accepts his suggestion that 
 they slip away together at nightfall, and, embarking 
 on his waiting ship, escape from a land where it is no 
 longer safe for them to sojourn. After promising 
 
The Winter's Tale 209 
 
 Camillo a warm welcome in Bohemia, Polixenes ex- 
 presses compassion for the queen, whom, however, 
 he dares not try to defend, lest he increase Leontes' 
 jealous suspicions. 
 
 Act II. When the curtain rises on the second 
 act, we see a room in Leontes' palace, where Her- 
 mione and her attendants are playing with Mamil- 
 lius, who, like all the poet's children, is a fright- 
 fully precocious lad. The ladies talk to him and 
 before him as if he were grown up, teasing him in 
 particular in regard to the coming brother or sis- 
 ter, who will soon supplant him in his mother's af- 
 fections. Preferring Hermione to all the rest, the 
 boy finally sits down beside her, and, after stating 
 that ' a sad tale's best for winter,' volunteers to tell 
 one of his own. 
 
 He has scarcely begun whispering it, when Le- 
 ontes angrily enters with Antigonus, — his chief ad- 
 viser, — and several retainers. He has just heard of 
 the flight of Polixenes, who was seen vanishing be- 
 hind the pines in Camillo's company, and traced to 
 the vessel now disappearing from sight, and taking 
 them beyond his reach. This report duly confirms 
 Leontes in the belief that Camillo has betrayed him, 
 and was party to his wife's wrong-doing. 
 
 Snatching his boy from Hermione's arms, he 
 hisses it is fortunate she never nursed him, and 
 when she wonderingly inquires whether he can be 
 joking, orders the child removed from her custody. 
 Then, after decreeing she shall never see Mamillius 
 again, he sends her off to prison, accusing her of 
 infidelity! Amazed by such a charge, Hermione 
 
210 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 proudly rejoins that had a villain said so, he would 
 be base indeed, ere she humbly assures her angry 
 spouse he is mistaken. But Leontes, too jealous to 
 hear reason, goes on reviling her, although she 
 realizes he will be sorely grieved when he comes to 
 the ' clearer knowledge,' that he has disgraced her 
 without cause. 
 
 Unwilling to listen to her, Leontes banishes her 
 to prison, where she entreats some of her women 
 may accompany her, as she will soon need their care. 
 Having obtained this favour, Hermione goes off to 
 her cell without further protest than that she hopes, 
 for the first time in her life, to see her husband 
 sorry ! 
 
 Horrified by the scene they have just witnessed, 
 the lords, headed by Antigonus, now implore their 
 monarch not to act rashly, reminding him that he 
 attacks his own reputation as well as that of his 
 wife and heir. When one of them offers to lay 
 down his life in proof of Hermione's innocence, An- 
 tigonus adds he will never trust his own consort 
 again, if the queen has failed in her duty. These 
 protests only exasperate Leontes, who insists upon 
 carrying out his revenge in his own fashion, reiterat- 
 ing that the flight of Polixenes and Camillo proves 
 their guilt. When the courtiers feebly suggest he 
 should seek advice on so weighty a question, Leontes 
 says he has sent messengers to Apollo's temple at 
 Delphi, and that their return with a sealed oracle 
 will settle the matter. Hearing this, the lords are 
 reassured, for they feel certain the gods will protect 
 Hermione's innocence. 
 
The Winter^ s Tale 211 
 
 We are next transferred to the prison, where 
 Paulina, wife of Antigonus, has come to visit Her- 
 mione. When she asks for the jailor, he promptly 
 appears, but only with difficulty yields to her en- 
 treaties sufficiently to allow her to see one of the 
 queen's attendants. The jailor, in introducing Emilia, 
 announces he will have to be present at their con- 
 ference, as the king has given orders that the pris- 
 oners be constantly watched. In this momentous 
 interview Emilia reveals how her poor mistress, 
 shaken by past emotions, has prematurely given 
 birth to a little daughter, and relates how she wel- 
 comed her new treasure with the pathetic cry, ' my 
 poor prisoner, I am as innocent as you.' 
 
 The visitor, fully convinced of this fact, now 
 sends word to Hermione, that if she will only en- 
 trust the babe to her, she will carry it to the king, 
 in hopes that its innocence will plead for its wronged 
 mother. This suggestion is seized with delight by 
 Emilia, because her mistress has expressed a great 
 desire that some friend should take this very step. 
 With the assurance that she will use all her elo- 
 quence to plead Hermione's cause, Paulina sends 
 Emilia back to the queen, and bargains with the 
 jailor to let the babe pass out of prison. 
 
 The curtain next rises in a room in the palace, 
 where Leontes is brooding over his wife's supposed 
 adultery and his own terrible wrongs. Suddenly, he 
 sends a servant to inquire for his son, Mamillius be- 
 ing dangerously ill through fretting over his 
 mother's disgrace. In fact, the child has been sink- 
 ing so fast that his father is very anxious; but 
 
212 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 even while waiting for tidings, he reverts to the 
 bitter thought that Camillo and Polixenes are laugh- 
 ing at him, and grimly adds they should not do so, 
 could he only reach them! 
 
 It is while he is rejoicing that his wife, at least, 
 is still in his power, that a clamour arises in the 
 antechamber, where Antigonus and other lords try 
 to prevent Paulina from entering. Browbeating 
 them all, Paulina forces her way into Leontes' pres- 
 ence, closely followed by her protesting husband. 
 Seeing her appear thus, Leontes discharges his wrath 
 upon Antigonus, reminding him that he ordered 
 Paulina should not be admitted under any pretext. 
 When Antigonus tries to excuse himself under plea 
 he could not prevent it, Leontes indignantly demands 
 whether he is not able to rule his wife? But, with- 
 out giving her husband a chance to reply, Paulina de- 
 clares he cannot prevent her doing what honour re- 
 quires, adding that she has come in the name of the 
 good queen. Because Leontes starts angrily at this 
 adjective, the tactless Paulina insists that, were she 
 only a man, she would fight in Hermione's behalf; 
 then, depositing the helpless babe at Leontes' feet, 
 she reports that the good queen sends his little daugh- 
 ter for his blessing. Starting back from the bundle 
 as if it contained some loathsome object, Leontes 
 furiously orders it removed, thereby rousing Pau- 
 lina's indignation to such a pitch, that she gives him 
 a vehement piece of her mind. In his paroxysm of 
 rage, Leontes roars that the child is to be removed, 
 while Paulina just as emphatically forbids any one 
 touching it, attacking Leontes and all who try to 
 
FLORIZEL CHEERS PERDITA 
 
 Flo. "Lift up your countenance, as it were the day 
 Of celebration of that nuptial which 
 We two have sworn shall come," 
 
 Winter's Tale. Act4, Scene3, 
 
The Winter's Tale 213 
 
 silence her. But, although she persistently points 
 out the child's resemblance to its father, and al- 
 though Antigonus intercedes, Leontes refuses to 
 acknowledge his offspring. His match in obstinacy, 
 Paulina reiterates it is his, and leaves the apartment 
 without it. 
 
 When she has gone, Leontes vents some of his 
 anger upon Antigonus by ordering him to have the 
 child burned alive under penalty of death. Hop- 
 ing to free himself from blame, Antigonus calls the 
 other lords to witness how he tried to prevent his 
 wife from approaching the king, and all present 
 exculpate him and intercede for the babe. Because 
 Antigonus volunteers to pawn what little blood he 
 has left to save the child, Leontes promises its life 
 shall be safe provided Antigonus obeys his orders. 
 Thus wringing a solemn oath from too trustful a 
 servant, the cruel Leontes next bids Antigonus 
 carry the babe off to some remote spot, and there 
 abandon it, * without more mercy, to its own pro- 
 tection and favour of the climate.' Bound by oath 
 to fulfil these commands, Antigonus tenderly picks 
 up the babe, and departs, fervently hoping wolves 
 and bears, — who have occasionally shown tenderness 
 for helpless human beings, — will prove more com- 
 passionate to it than its father. While he goes out, 
 Leontes, still a prey to jealous delusions, grimly 
 mutters he ' will not rear another's issue.' 
 
 A few moments after Antigonus' departure, a 
 servant announces the return of the messengers from 
 Delphi, bringing Apollo's sealed oracle. Their re- 
 turn, in twenty-three days' time, seems nothing short 
 
214 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 of miraculous to Leontes, who summons all present 
 to witness the trial of his disloyal wife, for he 
 declares he will be just, although his heart will be a 
 burden to him as long as she lives. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens just as the two 
 Sicilian lords, sent in quest of the oracle, land in 
 their native isle, and comment upon its delightful 
 climate. Their minds are still full of their event- 
 ful journey, which, they hope, may prove so suc- 
 cessful, that the sealed oracle they bring will free 
 the queen from all suspicion. 
 
 The curtain next rises on the court of justice, 
 where Leontes proclaims that, although it grieves 
 him, he has been obliged to summon his wife to ac- 
 count for her conduct. Then, the prisoner appears, 
 still weak and pale, supported by Paulina and other 
 attendants, and an officer reads aloud an indictment 
 accusing Hermione of conspiring with Camillo to 
 slay . her husband in order to marry Polixenes. 
 Sadly rejoining it is useless to plead not guilty, 
 since every word she utters is accounted a false- 
 hood, Hermione bids them consider her past life, 
 urging that if she ever said or did anything to give 
 rise to suspicion, she wishes to know it, as she has 
 always been faithful to the husband who accuses 
 her so wantonly. When Leontes contemptuously 
 retorts that criminals of her kind never lack the ef- 
 frontery to excuse themselves, she rejoins that has 
 never been one of her characteristics, adding that she 
 loved Polixenes only as her duty required, and that 
 her persuasions to him were made at her husband's 
 request. As for Camillo, she warmly defends him as 
 
The Winter's Tale 215 
 
 an honest man, and states she cannot conceive why 
 he secretly left court. 
 
 When Leontes angrily insists that she knew of 
 Camillo's departure, Hermione fails to understand 
 him, and when he repeats that she is ' past all 
 shame,' she pathetically states she is unhappy enough, 
 having been robbed of her place as wife, deprived of 
 the sight of her son and of her new-born treasure, 
 to call forth no further cruelty on his part. Then, 
 in her desperation, she appeals to Apollo, and, while 
 the messengers are sent for, exclaims that her father, 
 the Emperor of Russia, would pity her were he to see 
 her now ! 
 
 At this juncture, the messengers appear, and sol- 
 emnly testify that they have been to Delphi, and 
 that the oracle they bring was handed to them, 
 sealed, by Apollo's priest. In the presence of the 
 assembly, an officer breaks the seal, and reads aloud 
 a statement declaring Hermione chaste, Polixenes 
 blameless, Camillo loyal, Leontes a jealous tyrant, 
 the innocent babe his offspring, and decreeing he 
 shall ' live without an heir, if that which is lost be 
 not found.' In their relief at Hermione's acquittal, 
 the lords give spontaneous thanks to Apollo, but 
 Leontes, still too angry to credit the oracle, hotly 
 declares it is a falsehood. 
 
 He is just ordering the trial to proceed as if no 
 oracle had been given, when a servant rushes in, re- 
 porting that Mamillius has died, news which causes 
 the father to realize that Apollo is angry, and the 
 poor mother to swoon from grief. Vowing this last 
 blow has killed her mistress, Paulina gladly ^beys 
 
2i6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Leontes when he bids her bear the queen away and 
 try and revive her. 
 
 Brought by calamity to his senses, Leontes now 
 humbly begs Apollo's pardon for failing to respect 
 his oracle, promises to be reconciled to Polixenes, to 
 recall Camillo, — whose reputation he clears by re- 
 vealing how basely he tried to induce him to 
 poison his guest, — and to ' new woo ' his queen. 
 Scarcely has Leontes finished this recantation, when 
 Paulina staggers in full of woe, to announce that 
 Leontes' cruel behaviour has slain his wife! In 
 reviling him, she pitilessly sets forth how many lives 
 have been blasted by his jealousy, for she rightly 
 ascribes to him not only the death of his son and that 
 of his wife, but the exposure of his daughter. Un- 
 able to believe Hermione dead, Leontes forces 
 Paulina to repeat her tidings and describe the tests 
 which proved life extinct. Then, conscious of de- 
 serving the severe punishments Paulina ruthlessly 
 calls down upon him, Leontes displays such grief 
 that even this accuser pities him and begs his for- 
 giveness, declaring she reviled him so hotly only 
 because of her love for his wife and children. 
 In his grief, Leontes begs to be taken where the 
 corpses lie, vowing one grave shall hold them both, 
 and that he will water it with his tears, for he is now 
 a thoroughly repentant, broken-hearted man. 
 
 The curtain next rises on the desert coast of Bo- 
 hemia, where Antigonus has just arrived with the 
 unhappy babe he must abandon in obedience to the 
 king's orders. Besides, in a vision which visited him 
 on shipboard, Hermione herself bade him call the 
 
The Winter's Tale 217 
 
 babe Perdita, and expose her in Bohemia. Con- 
 vinced by this apparition that Hermione is dead, and 
 that Perdita is Polixenes' daughter — since she has 
 been sent to his realm, — ^Antigonus lays down the 
 babe, and has barely bidden it a touching farewell, 
 when a huge bear comes toward him. Antigonus 
 and this bear have scarcely rushed out of sight, 
 when a shepherd appears, grumbling that youths 
 should be suppressed between the ages of ten and 
 twenty-three, as during that time they are prone 
 only to mischief. While talking thus, he stumbles 
 across the abandoned babe, whom he deems the il- 
 legitimate offspring of some youthful couple. 
 
 While he is investigating his find, his son, — ^who is 
 dubbed a clown in the play, — rejoins him, crying he 
 has just beheld two awful sights, a bear devouring 
 a stranger, who only had time to cry his name was 
 Antigonus, and a ship sinking in a tempest before 
 his very eyes! Then his father calls his attention 
 to the babe, who is robed in rich garments, and has 
 jewels and gold enough beside her to make them rich 
 as long as they live. The father finally concludes to 
 take the foundling home, while the son goes off to 
 ascertain whether the bear has finished dining on 
 Antigonus, and whether he has left any remains to 
 be buried. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens with the appari- 
 tion of Father Time, who proclaims that sixteen 
 years have elapsed since the previous events, and 
 that another turn of his glass will reveal how Le- 
 ontes has repented of his jealousy, and how his 
 daughter has grown up in Bohemia, where she is 
 
2i8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 now beloved by Prince Florizel, although he deems 
 her naught but a shepherd lass. 
 
 The curtain rises on Polixenes' palace, just as he 
 is conversing with Camillo, who is anxious to re- 
 turn to Sicilia, now that he no longer need fear Le- 
 ontes' wrath. During his sojourn in Bohemia, Ca- 
 millo has been Polixenes' chief adviser, so he con- 
 sents to postpone his return home, on hearing the 
 King of Bohemia still needs his aid. It transpires 
 that Polixenes is troubled by a report that his son 
 is in love with a shepherdess, and that, disguised, he 
 wishes to attend the sheep-shearing festival with 
 Camillo, and thus discover whether the prince is 
 seriously entangled. 
 
 We next see a road near the shepherd's cottage, 
 along which strolls Autolycus, the peddler, singing 
 a merry song. When it is finished, he murmurs that, 
 having been born under the planet Mercury, he is 
 justified in stealing all he can. Autolycus is the 
 archtype of a merry rogue, and no sooner sees the 
 clown, than he deems him a likely subject for his 
 mischievous arts. Meanwhile, the clown is labori- 
 ously trying to calculate how much his fleeces will 
 bring, and to remember all the articles his adopted 
 sister bade him purchase for the sheep-shearing 
 festival, where all their neighbours are to be enter- 
 tained. 
 
 As the clown draws near, Autolycus grovels on 
 the ground, loudly calling for aid. When the in- 
 nocent rustic compassionately approaches, he is im- 
 plored to remove the sufferer's clothes, but avers 
 that, dirty and ragged as they seem, they are better 
 
The Winter's Tale 219 
 
 than none. The rogue, however, rejoins that he has 
 been robbed and beaten, his good apparel taken from 
 him, and nothing but rags left to cover him. Not 
 only does the gullible clown believe every word 
 Autolycus says, but gently helps him to rise, little 
 suspecting that while he does so his pocket is clev- 
 erly picked. After comforting Autolycus, — ^who 
 tells a most extraordinary tale, — the clown goes ofS 
 to do his errands, while the rascal congratulates him- 
 self upon having robbed him, and having learned 
 about the sheep-shearing feast, where he will be 
 able to practise some of his arts. He, therefore, 
 leaves the scene, singing how ' a merry heart goes 
 all the day, your sad tires in a mile-a.' 
 
 We are now transferred to the shepherd's holding, 
 where Prince Florizel, in guise of a rural swain, is 
 wooing Perdita, who playfully tries to turn aside 
 his compliments. When she states, however, that 
 she trembles lest his father should discover them by 
 accident, and resent all this secrecy, Florizel avers 
 that the gods, themselves, assumed disguises, and 
 quotes instances where deities transformed them- 
 selves into beasts. Besides, he is so earnest in his 
 wooing that he tells Perdita, if he cannot be hers, 
 he will never marry at all, and implores her not to 
 look sad when so many guests are coming, but to 
 wear as cheerful a countenance as If this was to be 
 their wedding day. 
 
 A host of shepherds and shepherdesses now come 
 trooping in, the disguised Polixenes and Camillo 
 among them. Ushering in his guests fussily, the old 
 shepherd chides his adopted daughter for not being 
 
220 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 everywhere at once, like his wife on similar occa- 
 sions, and bids her welcome the strangers. With 
 modest grace, Perdita offers the strangers flowers, 
 and Polixenes, seizing this opportunity, begins to 
 converse with her, pointing out that different kinds 
 of flowers do not blend together successfully. Al- 
 though only half understanding his veiled allusions, 
 the maiden lovingly discourses about her garden, 
 disclosing, while doing so, the delicacy and purity 
 of her mind. Her talk not only enraptures Florizel, 
 who hovers close beside her, but wrings from 
 Polixenes the admission that she is ' the prettiest . 
 low-born lass that ever ran on the green sward," 
 and that all she says and does, smacks ' of something 
 greater than herself, too noble for this place.' This 
 opinion is shared by Camillo, who happily dubs Per- 
 dita a ' queen of curds and cream,' ere the music 
 strikes up and the young people present engage in a 
 dance. 
 
 Meanwhile, their elders step aside to watch this 
 performance, the old shepherd garrulously informing 
 Polixenes that the swain with whom his daughter 
 is dancing is deeply in love with her, and slyly 
 adding that he does not think there is ' half a kiss 
 to choose who loves the other best.' He also hints 
 that the man who marries Perdita will be far bet- 
 ter off than he expects, little dreaming that the 
 youth he points out is Prince Florizel, and that his 
 interlocutor is the king. 
 
 At this point, a servant enters, enthusiastically de- 
 scribing a peddler who has just arrived with choice 
 wares. When this vendor is ushered in, he chants 
 
The Winter's Tale 221 
 
 the list of the goods he has for sale with all the 
 gusto of the born bagman. Shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses crowd around him, chattering among them- 
 selves, calling out for various articles of apparel, 
 and especially for ballads, for which they seem to 
 have a particular fancy. Then, discovering one for 
 three voices, set to a tune they know, they gaily sing 
 it, ere the peddler renews the enumeration of his 
 wares. 
 
 It is in the midst of this lively hubbub that the 
 servant proclaims the arrival of a party of Satyrs, 
 who enter dancing gaily, and indulge in mad jumps 
 which excite great admiration among the spectators. 
 Taking advantage of the general confusion, 
 Polixenes now addresses his son, — who does not 
 recognise him, — and remarks that when he was 
 young, he lavished tokens upon his lady-love, 
 whereas the young man has bought naught for Per- 
 dita. The prince proudly rejoins that his beloved 
 ' prizes not such trifles as these,' but looks to him 
 for gifts 'lock'd up in his heart.' Then, seizing 
 Perdita's hand, he calls the stranger guest to wit- 
 ness that he loves this fair damsel, who satisfies his 
 every fancy. Polixenes admits that this declaration 
 of love sounds genuine, and, hearing Perdita timidly 
 confess she fully returns it, the old shepherd sug- 
 gests that the young couple be betrothed, promising 
 to bestow upon his daughter a portion equal to the 
 swain's. 
 
 The contract is about to be sealed when 
 Polixenes interferes, reminding them it will not be 
 legal unless the young man's father consent. Still 
 
22 2 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 protected by his disguise, he asks whether Florizel's 
 father is incapable or childish, only to hear the 
 prince boast his sire enjoys better health and strength 
 than most men of his age. When Polixenes sug- 
 gests, that in that case, this father might feel of- 
 fended should his son mate without consulting him, 
 a discussion arises whether the match should be 
 postponed. When the prince, however, insists upon 
 an immediate betrothal, Polixenes suddenly reveals 
 himself, declaring he will never allow this marriage, 
 and angrily threatening to have Perdita's beauty 
 marred, so she may no longer bewitch his offspring. 
 It is breathing such terrifying threats that he leaves 
 the scene. 
 
 The king having gone, Perdita wails that, although 
 strongly tempted to remind Polixenes that ' the self- 
 same sun that shines upon his court hides not his 
 visage from their cottage but looks on all alive,' she 
 will now return to her ' ewes and weep.' Mean- 
 time, the shepherd, upon whom it has dawned, at 
 last, that the prince has been wooing his daughter, 
 steals out to meditate over the disgrace which threat- 
 ens him, while Florizel assures Camillo he is not at 
 all afraid of his father. Deeming it wiser, Florizel, 
 Perdita, and both shepherds avoid the king's sight 
 until ' the fury of his highness settle,' Camillo sug- 
 gests that they flee to Sicilia. By this time he feels 
 satisfied that Perdita must be some fair princess, 
 and declares that, when her birth becomes known, no 
 further objection will exist to their union. For 
 that reason he urges flight, offering all necessary 
 aid, and pledging himself to use his influence to 
 
The Winter's Tale 223 
 
 bring PoHxenes to a better frame of mind. Over- 
 joyed with the prospect of escaping from his father's 
 wrath, and especially of securing Perdita against 
 the terrible fate threatening her, Florizel consents 
 to depart, although he wonders how he will be re- 
 ceived in Sicilia, when he appears there without such 
 a train as befits his rank. 
 
 While Camillo and the prince indulge in an aside, 
 the peddler appears, gleefully soliloquising upon the 
 fashion in which he has picked pockets and fleeced 
 the rustics, the sheep-shearing having proved a profit- 
 able field of action for him. As he concludes, Ca- 
 millo states he will pave the way by letter for 
 Florizel's arrival in Sicilia, and that King Leontes 
 will doubtless plead his cause with Polixenes. 
 Then, becoming aware of Autolycus' presence, 
 Camillo suggests that he and the prince change gar- 
 ments, which they immediately do, and that Per- 
 dita, in disguise, hurry down to the seashore to em- 
 bark. Although he fancies Polixenes will pursue 
 the fugitives, Camillo intends to accompany him, 
 as this will give him the desired opportunity to 
 bestow good advice upon him, and revisit his na- 
 tive land, for whose sight he has ' a woman's long- 
 ing.' 
 
 The rogue, after listening attentively to all that 
 is said in his presence, and watching Florizel, Per- 
 dita, and Camillo depart, shrewdly concludes the 
 prince is meditating some iniquity, which he will 
 further by keeping it secret. Then, the shepherd 
 and his son re-enter, the youth urging his father 
 to tell the king that Perdita is only a foundling, and 
 
224 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 thus divert royal wrath from their heads. Over- 
 hearing them state they are bound for the palace to 
 exhibit the garments found with Perdita, the rogue, 
 who has uttered sundry asides, suddenly volunteers 
 to accompany the rustic pair thither. They gladly 
 accept this offer, as his clothes proclaim him a man 
 of wealth and influence, a delusion he diligently 
 fosters. But, after wringing from the simpletons 
 the admission that there is a secret connected with 
 Perdita which they alone can reveal, the rogue so in- 
 timidates them with descriptions of the tortures 
 awaiting them, that they consent to follow his ad- 
 vice. He, therefore, proposes to smuggle them 
 secretly on board of the prince's ship, and there, — 
 for a consideration, — to arrange that their confession 
 be graciously heard. This bargain concluded, 
 Autolycus sends the shepherd and his son on ahead, 
 and follows them, exclaiming Fortune will not allow 
 him to be honest ! 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens in Leontes' palace, 
 where . one of his lords tells him that, after long 
 years of penance, he should 'do as the heavens have 
 done,' and forgive himself. Leontes' sadness, how- 
 ever, is too deep-seated for such consolations, so he 
 assures this courtier that, remembering Hermione's 
 perfections, and his wrongs toward her, no joy re- 
 mains for him in this world. This sad admission 
 is overheard by Paulina, who rejoins that even if 
 Leontes were to take the perfections of all the 
 women in the world and mass them together, he 
 could never create so perfect a wife as the one he 
 killed, a statement which renews his remorse. 
 
The Winter's Tale 225 
 
 When a courtier suggests that, as the king has no 
 heir, he should cease mourning, and marry some 
 new companion with whom he might spend happy 
 days, Paulina, displeased by his advice, again urges 
 no woman would equal Hermione, and that such a 
 move would be vain, since the oracle asserted Le- 
 ontes would have no heir until the lost child were 
 found. Because the king has not forgotten his wife, 
 and wishes he had followed honest Paulina's advice 
 sooner, he now swears he will never marry, until he 
 can find a woman so like Hermione that he can- 
 not detect any difference between them. 
 
 They are still conversing, when the announce- 
 ment is made that Prince Florizel, son of Polixenes, 
 has landed in Sicilia with his princess, and begs to be 
 received. This unexpected arrival amazes Leontes, 
 who is further surprised to learn the prince is ac- 
 companied only by his wife, a princess whom the 
 messenger enthusiastically describes as ' the most 
 peerless piece of earth that e'er sun shone bright on,' 
 thereby rousing Paulina's ever ready jealousy on 
 Hermione's behalf. 
 
 The moment seeming inauspicious for dwelling 
 upon the perfections of his dead wife, Leontes pro- 
 poses to forget his own griefs by welcoming the 
 newcomers. He, therefore, bids some of his 
 courtiers go and get them, and when Paulina mur- 
 murs that Prince Florizel and Mamillius were just 
 of the same age, sorrowfully exclaims, ' thou know- 
 'st he dies to me again when talk'd of.' A mo- 
 ment later Florizel and Perdita are ushered in and 
 warmly greeted by Leontes, who concludes the 
 
226 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 prince's mother was a faithful wife, as his strong 
 resemblance to his father leaves no doubt in regard 
 to his parentage. Then, bidding his guests wel- 
 come, Leontes warns them they have come to a sor- 
 rowful court, for he has lost two children, who, had 
 they lived, would have been just their age. When 
 he proceeds to inquire for Polixenes, Florizel states 
 how his father sent him first to Africa to secure his 
 princess, then hither to Sicilia to visit his friend, 
 his suite meanwhile returning to Bohemia. 
 
 Leontes has just invited the young couple to 
 linger with him as long as they please, when a lord 
 hurries in, bringing greetings from Polixenes, and 
 summoning Leontes to ' attach his son, who has his 
 dignity and duty both cast off^' by fleeing from Bo- 
 hemia with a shepherd's daughter! On hearing 
 these words, Leontes eagerly inquires where the 
 King of Bohemia may be, and is amazed to learn 
 he has just landed in Sicilia, but is detained by a 
 sudden encounter with Perdita's father and brother. 
 
 Concluding Camillo has betrayed him. Prince 
 Florizel reviles him, while Perdita, who has been 
 silent hitherto, wails that spies have been set upon 
 them to prevent the celebration of their marriage! 
 These words revealing that they are not yet united, 
 Leontes inquires whether Perdita is really the daugh- 
 ter of a king? As Florizel only rejoins she will be 
 when she is his wife, Leontes informs the youth he 
 has been undutiful, and regrets his choice is not ' so 
 rich in worth as in beauty.' At these words Flor- 
 izel implores the humbled Perdita to remember that, 
 although Fortune pursues them, their love is unal- 
 
The Winter's Tale 227 
 
 terable, and, turning to Leontes, begs him to plead 
 in their favour, for his father will grant any favour 
 his friend asks. Fascinated by Perdita, Leontes ex- 
 claims he would fain ask for her himself, when Pau- 
 lina hastens to remind him that the queen at Per- 
 dita's age was even more lovely. Insisting that Per- 
 dita strangely reminds him of his dead wife, Leontes 
 volunteers to go and meet Polixenes, for he now 
 feels equally friendly toward him and toward his 
 son. 
 
 It is in front of Leontes' palace that a dialogue 
 next takes place between Autolycus and a gentleman, 
 the peddler eagerly asking whether his interlocutor 
 was present when the shepherd related his story, 
 and exhibited what he had found in the bundle with 
 the abandoned babe? The courtier whom he ques- 
 tions admits that the king and Camillo were amazed, 
 and when another of his companions appears, eagerly 
 inquires of him whether any further discoveries have 
 been made? The newcomer joyfully proclaims that 
 the oracle is fulfilled, for Leontes' daughter is found, 
 — news which Paulina's steward soon confirms, 
 stating that Hermione's mantle and jewels were 
 easily recognised, as well as the letter signed by An- 
 tigonus. When asked whether he witnessed the 
 meeting between the two kings, the courtier regrets 
 having missed it, as the good steward informs him 
 it was a grand sight, the encounter between the 
 father and daughter having been touching in the 
 extreme. After describing the thanks lavished on 
 the shepherd, — ^who saved the babe from death, — 
 he repeats the clown's account of Antigonus' death 
 
228 Stories of Shakespeare^ s Comedies 
 
 and of the wreck of his vessel, which explains why 
 Paulina never received any tidings of the husband 
 she mourned so faithfully. Still, it is said, the re- 
 union was not unmarred by sorrow, for when Per- 
 dita learned how her beautiful mother died, she 
 wept freely, and expressed a keen desire to know 
 what she looked like when alive. Then only Pau- 
 lina revealed she had a statue of Hermione, painted 
 by Julio Romano, of such life-like fidelity that it 
 might be mistaken for the living queen. As both 
 father and daughter seemed anxious to view it, 
 Paulina invited them and all the court to visit it 
 in her country house on the morrow. 
 
 While the rest now leave, the peddler lingers upon 
 the scene, congratulating himself upon having 
 brought the old shepherd and his son to Sicilia, but 
 regretting that seasickness prevented an earlier 
 revelation of their secret, as he would then have 
 reaped the benefit of Florizel's gratitude. While he 
 is soliloquising, he is joined by the shepherd and his 
 son, the latter glorying in the title of gentleman, 
 which has just been bestowed upon him, and in re- 
 gard to which he accepts the peddler's mock homage. 
 
 The last scene is played in the chapel of a de- 
 serted house, which Paulina has secretly visited twice 
 a day for years. The royal party are ushered in, 
 while the king is thanking his hostess for all she 
 has done for him and his, and expressing eagerness 
 to behold her wonderful statue. After assuring him 
 that this work of art is so lifelike it has to be kept 
 apart, Paulina draws aside a curtain, and reveals the 
 living Hermione, standing on a pedestal, as if she 
 
The Winter^ s Tale 229 
 
 were a statue. Such is the effect produced, that 
 silence reigns, and it is only when invited to express 
 his opinion that Leontes, full of remorse, implores 
 the image to speak, were it even to chide him. 
 Then he pronounces it a perfect likeness of his 
 queen, although somewhat older than when he last 
 saw her. Hearing this, Paulina avers the sculptor 
 wisely represented Hermione as she would have 
 heen had she lived among them until now. 
 
 While lost in contemplation of this wonderful 
 likeness, Leontes murmurs Hermione looked thus 
 when he wooed her, and that he is more remorseful 
 than ever for his vile suspicions. Meanwhile, Per- 
 dita, also overcome by the sight, craves permission to 
 kiss the statue's hand, but Paulina objects that the 
 colors are not yet dry, and that hence it cannot be 
 touched. While Camillo and Polixenes are offer- 
 ing consolations to the grieving Leontes, Paulina 
 tries to draw the curtain, saying that the statue 
 has so impressed them that presently they will 
 imagine it is moving. But Leontes beseeches her 
 to let him gaze upon his wife's image a while 
 longer, exclaiming that the blood seems to circulate 
 in its veins, and that its lips and eyes are alive. 
 When Paulina again tries to hide her masterpiece, 
 he restrains her, declaring he must embrace his wife, 
 although Paulina forbids. Then, seeing she cannot 
 entice him away, the hostess suddenly exclaims if 
 he is sufficiently prepared for a great surprise, she 
 will, by lawful magic arts, induce the statue to 
 descend from its pedestal and take him by the hand. 
 
 Eager for such a revelation of magic power, Le- 
 
230 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 ontes urges her to make use of it; so, after soft 
 music has been played, Paulina bids the statue step 
 down among them. At her command Hermione 
 advances toward them, silently offering her hand to 
 Leontes, who no sooner touches it than he discovers 
 it is warm! A moment later, his beloved wife is 
 clasped in his arms, and Paulina assures the won- 
 dering Polixenes and Camillo that Hermione is in- 
 deed alive, although she has been deemed dead so 
 many years. 
 
 The recognition between husband and wife over, 
 Paulina urges Perdita to claim her mother's bless- 
 ing, which blessing Hermione joyfully bestows, 
 stating she has lived in hopes of seeing this beloved 
 child, as Paulina has sustained her courage by con- 
 stantly repeating Apollo's oracle. 
 
 The faithful Paulina now urges her guests to 
 leave her and enjoy their happiness, for she alone 
 still has cause to grieve, having just learned how 
 her husband was devoured by the bear. 
 
 Unwilling that any one should sorrow while he is 
 joyful, Leontes bestows Paulina upon the faithful 
 Camillo, knowing two such worthy people will be 
 happy together. Then, turning toward friend and 
 wife, who dare not look at each other, he humbly 
 begs their pardon for having suspected them of 
 wrong-doing, welcomes his new son-in-law, and de- 
 parts with all present, remarking that they will 
 question each other at leisure, and thus make up 
 the gap of time ' since first we were dissever'd.' 
 With these words the curtain falls. 
 
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 
 
 Act I. The curtain rises before Page's house, 
 where Justice Shallow, his cousin Slender, and the 
 Welsh pastor, Sir Hugh Evans, are busy talking. 
 The Justice declares that in spite of their persua- 
 sions, he will no longer be abused by Sir John 
 Falstaff, and is supported in all he says by a show 
 of legal knowledge on his cousin's part. When 
 Shallow boasts he has signed ' Esquire ' for the past 
 three hundred years, Slender avers all * his suc- 
 cessors gone before him ' and ' all his ancestors that 
 come after him ' can claim the same privilege, as 
 well as sport a coat of arms, in describing which 
 Slender confuses 'luces' (a species of fish), with 
 the insect the Welsh parson characterises as a ' beast 
 familiar to man! " 
 
 The conversation continues thus with malaprop- 
 isms from Slender and quaint Welsh expressions on 
 the part of Evans, who finally remarks he never saw 
 a prettier girl than Mistress Anne Page, whom 
 Slender describes as speaking * small like a woman.' 
 Because this damsel is to inherit seven hundred 
 pounds when seventeen, Evans suggests all further 
 discussions be dropped and a marriage arranged be- 
 tween her and Slender, who is not averse to a bride 
 with such great expectations. All, therefore, decide 
 231 
 
232 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 to visit Master Page, although Shallow knows he 
 will encounter there his foe, Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 A moment later. Page admits them, and, after ex- 
 changing greetings, thanks the Justice for sending 
 him some venison. Closely imitating his cousin, 
 who inquires about Mistress Page's health, Slender 
 asks whether his host's greyhound won the last 
 race? Unable to restrain his spleen any longer, 
 Shallow now demands whether Sir John FalstaliE 
 is within, and is just insisting he has been wronged, 
 when this knight joins them. In reply to his jocose 
 inquiry whether the Justice intends to complain to 
 the king. Shallow angrily rejoins that FalstafE has 
 beaten his men, killed his deer, and broken open his 
 lodge! These charges the unrepentant culprit 
 doesn't deny, but impudently adds that he also broke 
 Slander's head. The latter admits this fact, al- 
 though claiming he owes a greater grudge to Bar- 
 dolph, Nym, and Pistol, for carrying him ofE to the 
 tavern, and picking his pockets while he was drunk. 
 Turning to these men, who have entered with him, 
 Falstaff demands whether this accusation is true? 
 So they begin abusing and baiting their former 
 victim, who blusters he will never get drunk again, 
 as long as he lives, or will do so only in the company 
 of God-fearing men, and not in that of knaves. 
 
 At that moment Anne Page brings in wine; and 
 is closely followed by her mother and Mistress Ford. 
 Overcome by the appearance of the beautiful maiden, 
 Slander gets hopelessly tangled in his speech, while 
 Falstaff jauntily offers to kiss Mistress Ford. Be- 
 ing invited to share the venison pasty, all now fol- 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 233 
 
 low Page out of the room, except Shallow, Slender, 
 and Evans, who linger behind. The young suitor 
 is ardently wishing he had his book of songs and son- 
 nets with him, when his servant Simple appears, 
 from whom he inquires where it may be ? The mat- 
 ter of marriage is next discussed, Slender expressing 
 his readiness to espouse Anne Page, although he 
 will not admit he loves her. All he will do, is to 
 promise to marry whoever his cousin selects, trusting 
 that ' upon familiarity will grow more contempt,' 
 an answer the Welsh parson deems eminently dis- 
 creet. 
 
 The lady in question now re-enters, announcing 
 dinner is on the table, and her father awaiting his 
 guests; Shallow and Evans, therefore, enter the 
 dining-room, while Simple draws aside. Because 
 Slender hesitates to enter, Anne kindly states she 
 cannot go in without him; but, while this suitor, 
 blunderingly trying to be polite, reveals his paucity 
 of wit. Page becomes impatient and appears in his 
 turn to urge him to come in. After vain efforts 
 to induce his hostess to precede him. Slender yields 
 at last to her desires, remarking, * I'll rather be un- 
 mannerly than troublesome.' 
 
 They have been in the dining-room only a short 
 time when the Welshman comes out to bid Simple 
 carry a letter to Mistress Quickly, housekeeper to 
 Dr. Caius, — a woman well acquainted with Anne 
 Page, — wherein he bespeaks her furtherance of Slen- 
 der's suit. This done, the Welshman gleefully re- 
 turns to partake of desert. 
 
 In the next scene we are transferred to the inn, 
 
234 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 where Falsta£F is talking to his companions and 
 host, all of whom greatly admire him. Unable 
 longer to maintain four followers, Falstaff decides 
 that Bardolph shall become a tapster, while he 
 proposes to renew his exchequer by paying court to 
 some rich ladies in town. Next he fatuously de- 
 scribes how both Mistress Ford and Mistress Page 
 have gazed upon him with favour, and deems he can 
 derive good entertainment from them, as they are 
 ladies of means. To reach his ends, he has penned 
 letters to them, which his page Robin is to deliver, 
 and which, he feels confident, will speed his wooing. 
 
 Falstaff has barely gone out with the page to see 
 his orders properly carried out, when Pistol and 
 Nym determine to profit by these confidences, — Nym 
 by revealing his master's scheme to Page, while Pis- 
 tol does the same by Ford, whose jealous tempera- 
 ment is the talk of the town. 
 
 We next perceive a room in Dr. Caius' house, 
 where Mistress Quickly, bustling about, orders the 
 man-servant to watch for his master's coming, and 
 promises to reward him with posset. When he has 
 gone to earn it, she describes him to Simple, — ^who 
 has just entered, — as a worthy man much ' given to 
 prayer.' Then, inquiring who Simple may be, and 
 learning he is sent by Slender, she induces him to 
 describe his master, whose beard he terms ' a little 
 yellow beard, a Cain-coloured beard.' Mistress 
 Quickly has just expressed her readiness to favour 
 Anne Page's new suitor, when the servant reports his 
 master is coming; so not wishing her visitor to be 
 seen, — for Dr. Caius also wishes to marry Anne, — 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 235 
 
 Mistress Quickly hides Simple in the closet, and then 
 bustles about, talking to her fellow-servant. The 
 doctor, on coming in, bids his housekeeper get a 
 green box from the closet, which order she hastens 
 to obey, congratulating herself upon the fact her 
 master did not go in quest of it himself, and thus 
 discover Simple. 
 
 In broken English, — for he is a Frenchman, — 
 Caius converses with his housekeeper, ere he sum- 
 mons his man-servant to escort him to court. He 
 is about to depart, when he suddenly remembers 
 some simples in his closet, and, going to get them 
 himself, finds Simple hiding there ! The French doc- 
 tor now flies into such a rage that Mistress Quickly 
 pleads Simple is honest, and came here to bring her 
 a message. Little by little it transpires that Simple 
 was despatched by the Welsh parson to bespeak 
 Mistress Quickly's offices in Slender's behalf, as he 
 is anxious to marry Anne Page. This discovery 
 enrages Caius, who, however, to his housekeeper's 
 surprise, merely sits down to write a letter. Then 
 the missive finished, the peppery doctor orders Simple 
 to deliver it to Sir Hugh, whom he is challenging, 
 and whose throat he proposes to cut for meddling 
 with the lady he loves. After Simple has departed 
 on this errand, Mistress Quickly, hoping to pacify 
 her irate master, assures him Anne loves him, and 
 watches him depart with his man. 
 
 Left alone, Mistress Quickly murmurs she knows 
 more about Anne's mind than any other woman in 
 Windsor, and doesn't fancy her master will ever 
 get her! She is still talking to herself on this sub- 
 
236 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 ject, when Fenton appears, also in regard to Anne, 
 who, Mistress Quickly assures him, loves him dearly. 
 In proof of this she playfully asserts Anne conversed 
 with her for an hour in regard to the wart above 
 his eye, and says she never laughs so heartily as when 
 in her company, although, of late, Anne has been 
 inclined to * allicholy and musing.' Mistress Quick- 
 ly 's report so encourages Fenton, that he bestows a 
 munificent tip upon her, begging her to plead his 
 cause whenever the opportunity offers. He has no 
 sooner gone, however, than Mistress Quickly as- 
 serts Anne does not love him at all, but that it be- 
 hooves her to make as much profit as she can 
 out of the young lady's numerous suitors. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens in Mistress Page's 
 house, just as she wonders that having escaped love- 
 letters in her youth, she should be favoured with 
 them now. She then reads aloud a missive, in 
 which Falstafif professes great devotion, winding up 
 his amorous tirade with the ridiculous rhyme, * Thine 
 own true knight, by day or night, or any kind of 
 light, with all his might for thee to fight ! ' This 
 epistle both amuses and angers Mistress Page, who 
 wonders how the fat knight dares address her thus, 
 having seen her only a few times. Indignant, yet 
 wishing to punish Falstaff for such impudence, she 
 decides to make him an object of general ridicule. 
 
 She is still pondering over the affair, when Mis- 
 tress Ford enters, all in a flutter, she, too, having re- 
 ceived a love-letter, the exact counterpart of the 
 one her friend holds in her hand. After a few 
 preliminaries. Mistress Ford blurts out her secret, and 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 237 
 
 exhibits her letter, which Mistress Page is amazed 
 to find a mere copy of her own. She, therefore, 
 lays both missives beneath her friend's eyes, and be- 
 speaks her aid in securing revenge. Although more 
 than willing, Mistress Ford knows she will have to 
 be cautious, for her husband is jealous, a fault from 
 which Mistress Page joyfully acquits her spouse. 
 
 They have just retired to consult over plans for 
 revenge, when Page and Ford enter, conversing with 
 Pistol and Nym, who have evidently been betraying 
 Falstaff's amorous plans. Because he is jealous. 
 Ford fumes over the tidings and dismisses Pistol in 
 a rage, while Page calmly refuses to believe any- 
 thing detrimental to his wife. Just as Ford de- 
 cides to seek Falstaff and demand satisfaction, the 
 two women enter, and Mistress Ford tenderly in- 
 quires why her husband seems so melancholy? 
 
 Meantime, Mistress Page perceives Mistress 
 Quickly coming, and whispers to her friend they can 
 use her as ' messenger to this paltry knight.' They, 
 therefore, warmly welcome, the newcomer, who has 
 come to visit Anne, and lead her away, imploring 
 her to grant them an hour's conversation. The 
 women having gone, the men resume their dis- 
 cussion. Ford emitting all manner of jealous sus- 
 picions, while Page feels confident FalstafE will en- 
 counter nothing further than sharp words, if he at- 
 tempt to make love to his wife. 
 
 They are still talking, when the innkeeper enters, 
 followed by Justice Shallow, with whom he is laugh- 
 ing over the coming duel between the Welsh par- 
 son and the French doctor. After inviting Ford 
 
238 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 and Page to witness it, the host reveals he has ap- 
 pointed different places to both principals, whose 
 rage will be part of the fun. Seizing this oppor- 
 tunity. Ford now draws the host apart to question 
 him in regard to FalstafE, while Page does the same 
 with Shallow. Then, under pretext of a jest, Ford 
 persuades the innkeeper to present him to Falstaff 
 as Master Brook, that very day. 
 
 When all the rest have left. Ford concludes 
 that, although Page trusts in his wife's virtue, he 
 mistrusts his spouse so sorely that he will sound the 
 fat knight in disguise, for he argues ' if I find 
 her honest, I lose not my labour; if she be other- 
 wise, 'tis labour well bestowed ! ' 
 
 The curtain next rises on a room in the Garter 
 Inn, where Falstaff refuses to loan Pistol any more 
 funds, boasting how he has saved him and Nym 
 from prison many times, and forgiven their many 
 peculations. It soon transpires, however, that this 
 forgiveness was not disinterested, since he shared in 
 the profits thus made. 
 
 Falstaff is hotly reviling his man, when the page 
 reports a woman wishes to speak to him. A mo- 
 ment later Mistress Quickly enters, and begs for a 
 private hearing. When Falstaff carelessly remarks 
 he has no secrets from his men, Mistress Quickly 
 draws him a trifle aside, and informs him that, al- 
 though Dr. Caius' housekeeper, she has been sent by 
 Mistress Ford to say his letter has been received. 
 Her husband will be absent from home between ten 
 and eleven on the morrow, when he can view the 
 picture * he wots of.' This message is delivered with 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 239 
 
 an infinite amount of repetition, sly innuendo, and 
 many voluble assurances that Mistress Ford could 
 have all the lovers she pleased, were not her husband 
 so terribly jealous. 
 
 Delighted with the appointment, — ^which he 
 ascribes to his surpassing charms, — Falstaff is doubly 
 triimiphant when Mistress Quickly proceeds to 
 state Mistress Page also entrusted a message to her. 
 Still, for a moment he fears the two ladies may 
 have confided in each other, and is, therefore, much 
 relieved when Mistress Quickly assures him such is 
 not the case. Then she delivers Mistress Page's 
 message to the effect that, if he will lend her his 
 page, she will send him word whenever her husband 
 is away. This scheme delights Falstaff, who feels 
 so confident of soon replenishing his funds that he 
 richly rewards Mistress Quickly ere she leaves with 
 his page. 
 
 Left alone, Falstaff plumes himself upon his con- 
 quests, until interrupted in these self-gratulations 
 by the announcement that Master Brook is below, 
 asking to drink with him. Such an invitation is too 
 tempting for FalstafE to refuse, so he orders Mas- 
 ter Brook shown upstairs, and is still chuckling over 
 his bright prospects when Ford enters, in disguise. 
 With the utmost affability Brook now invites Fal- 
 staff to drink, and soon exhibits a bag of money 
 which he offers to share with the knight, as he does 
 not know how to dispose of his superfluous funds. 
 This offer proves so acceptable, that Falstaff, in a 
 friendly mood, inquires what he can do in return? 
 Pretending to confide in this new friend, Brook now 
 
240 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 admits he is deeply in love with Mistress Ford, 
 whose jealous husband permits no one to approach 
 her. 
 
 On hearing that Brook has never even addressed 
 the lady, Falstaff, proud of his successes, reveals 
 how he has made an appointment with her, and 
 promises to use his influence in furthering his host's 
 suit. This assurance charms Brook, who feels cer- 
 tain if the lady will once step down from her 
 pedestal of virtue, he will have an easy time here- 
 after. In his satisfaction, he promises FalstafE a 
 rich reward if he undermines her virtue, and little by 
 little learns all about the coming rendezvous. When 
 Falstaff finally leaves him, promising to meet him 
 that evening and report success. Ford jealously raves 
 over his wife's infidelity, vowing he will expose her, 
 and dubbing Page ' a secure ass ! ' 
 
 In an empty field near Windsor, irate Dr. Caius 
 and his second vainly await the Welsh parson. 
 The Frenchman, while railing in broken English at 
 his opponent, vows he will kill him as soon as they 
 stand face to face, and is demonstrating the thrusts 
 he means to use, when the innkeeper, Shallow, Slen- 
 der, and the page appear. While the others have 
 come to see the fight. Shallow's intention is to pre- 
 vent the duel, for he pompously orders the doctor 
 to follow him home and keep the peace. 
 
 Meantime, the host gleefully whispers to Page 
 that Sir Hugh is awaiting the doctor's arrival in 
 another meadow, and suggests their bringing him 
 thither by a roundabout way, so as to prolong the 
 fun. After some whispering this plot is settled. 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 241 
 
 so Page leads Shallow and Slender away, while the 
 innkeeper entices Caius to Frogmore, under the pre- 
 text of meeting Mistress Anne, with whom he is in 
 love. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in a field near 
 Frogmore, where the Welsh parson, and his second 
 Simple, are waiting for the doctor's coming. In 
 his impatience and anger, the Welshman blusters 
 and tries to beguile time by singing in the strongest 
 of Welsh accents. Having gone to reconnoitre, 
 Simple soon returns, volunteering that Dr. Caius is 
 coming, whereupon the parson assumes a truculent 
 bearing. Instead of the doctor, however, Page, 
 Shallow, and Slender appear on the scene, and, while 
 Page jocosely inquiries why the parson stands there, 
 sword in hand. Slender, who is trying to pose as a 
 lover, bleats out at intervals, ' Sweet Anne Page.' 
 
 After some conversation, these actors are joined 
 by the innkeeper, Caius, and his servant. The host 
 now suggests that, instead of weapons, the champions 
 fight their duel with their tongues, a feat they seem 
 quite able to perform, and which becomes extremely 
 comical, owing to their diverging accents. From 
 their vituperation we learn that the innkeeper de- 
 coyed Caius hither to join Anne Page, and, when 
 the antagonists discover they have been victims of a 
 practical joke, they join forces to secure revenge. 
 
 In a street in Windsor, we see Mistress Page, 
 closely following Falstaff's page, who is proud of 
 being leader instead of follower. Joined by Ford, 
 who suspiciously inquires where she is going. Mis- 
 tress Page replies she is on her way to visit his wife, 
 
242 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 and when he jealously remarks that, were their hus- 
 bands dead, they would doubtless marry, retorts they 
 certainly would take other consorts. When she has 
 gone with the page whom FalstafE loaned her. Ford 
 wonders how his friend can so blindly allow his wife 
 to keep thus close at hand a lad who doubtless car- 
 ries messages to the knight. 
 
 While Ford is wondering how to surprise his 
 wife in Falstaff's company, he sees the returning 
 duellists and their friends appear. He, therefore, 
 persuades them all to accompany him, an invitation 
 Shallow and Slender decline, because they are to 
 dine at the parson's to learn the answer to their 
 proposal. Hearing this statement, the doctor swears 
 Anne Page loves him, while the host opines that Fen- 
 ton, being young and handsome, is more likely to 
 have found favour in her eyes. Page, however, vows 
 his daughter shall not marry without his consent, 
 and says he disapproves of Fenton, because he is an 
 associate of the Prince and Poins. Then he and 
 the rest gladly follow Ford, who promises to show 
 them a monster, while the host, alone, returns to the 
 inn, preferring to spend the time drinking with 
 Falstaff. 
 
 The curtain next rises in Ford's house, where the 
 mistress, calling her two men-servants, orders them 
 to bring in a huge clothes basket (a buck basket), 
 which they set down as she directs. They are to 
 carry it, as soon as she summons them, to a neigh- 
 bouring meadow, and dump its contents into the 
 muddy waters of the Thames. After repeating her 
 instructions, — adding a warning to show no sur- 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 243 
 
 prise, should the basket weigh more than usual, — 
 Mistress Ford dismisses these men, just as the page 
 reports Falstaff at the back door. 
 
 After making sure the page has not revealed the 
 fact that Mistress Page is in the house. Mistress 
 Ford orders her suitor admitted, while her friend 
 retires into the adjoining room. The hostess is 
 just muttering they will teach Falstaff to distin- 
 guish good women from bad, when the fat knight 
 strides in, grandiloquently exclaiming this is a 
 blessed hour, and vowing he would like to make 
 her ' my lady.' With coquettish arts, Mistress 
 Ford leads the fat knight on to making ponderous 
 compliments, and when she pretends to be jealous 
 of the attentions he has shown Mistress Page, in- 
 duces him to swear this lady is as hateful to him ' as 
 the reek of a lime-kiln ! ' Just then the page screams 
 that Mistress Page is at the door, and Falstaff deftly 
 slips behind the arras, while Mistress Ford advances 
 to welcome her friend. Reproaching her neighbour 
 for harbouring a lover in her husband's absence, 
 Mistress Page breathlessly exclaims that Ford is 
 coming with a posse of friends to expose her ! With 
 pretended dismay. Mistress Ford confesses that she 
 is, indeed, entertaining a visitor ; so her friend, after 
 some virtuous reproaches, suggests hiding the in- 
 truder in the huge clothes basket, since all the doors 
 are guarded to prevent his escape. 
 
 Although Mistress Ford vows FalstafE is too large 
 to be stowed away in such a receptacle, the knight 
 bustles out of his hiding-place, vowing he can get in, 
 and bespeaking their aid to conceal him. He then 
 
244 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 crowds into the basket, where they hastily cover him 
 up with foul linen, before they summon the bearers 
 who are to remove it. These men are just car- 
 rying off their burden, when Ford arrives, calling 
 to his friends to follow him, and promising, in case 
 he has brought them here fruitlessly, to be their 
 laughing-stock and give them a treat. On meeting 
 his servants with the basket. Ford angrily demands 
 where they are carrying it, and when his wife an- 
 swers ' To the laundress, forsooth,' he allows them 
 to pass, ordering his companions to search the house 
 and * unkennel the fox ! ' He does this, notwith- 
 standing Page's attempts to pacify him, and al- 
 though both Caius and Evans wonder at the raging 
 jealousy he displays. 
 
 Meantime the women are slyly enjoying the fun, 
 not knowing what is most diverting, FalstafE's plight 
 or Ford's rage. Then, hoping to secure further 
 amusement, they plan to send Mistress Quickly to 
 Falstalf to beg him to excuse the treatment he has 
 received, and to invite him a second time. The de- 
 tails in regard to a new appointment are barely 
 settled, when the searchers return. Ford raging not 
 to have discovered the fat knight, and muttering that 
 he bragged of what he could not compass. Pretend- 
 ing injured feelings. Mistress Ford berates her hus- 
 band, while Page vows he should be ashamed of his 
 suspicions. 
 
 Meantime, Caius and Evans, who have been fore- 
 most in the search, return averring no traces have 
 been found of a lover, and that Ford must be suf- 
 fering from a bad conscience. They, therefore, in- 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 245 
 
 sist he shall pay the agreed penalty, thus securing 
 an invitation to breakfast for the morrow, with a 
 promise of hawking to follow. 
 
 In a room in Page's house we next see Fenton, 
 assuring Anne he has vainly tried to induce her 
 father to listen to his suit. He states her father's 
 main objections are his high birth, his association 
 with the wild prince, and a suspicion that he is court- 
 ing Anne for her money. When she inquires 
 whether there is any truth in the latter accusation, 
 Fenton loyally confesses that although he came 
 wooing for mercenary purposes, he has been deeply 
 ashamed of it since, having found her to be of more 
 value ' than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags ! ' 
 Because he fervently assures her, ' 'tis the very riches 
 of thyself that now I aim at,' Anne graciously bids 
 him continue trying to obtain her father's consent, 
 hinting, in case he does not obtain it, that she will 
 run away with him. 
 
 Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival 
 of Shallow, Slender, and Mistress Quickly, the 
 Justice fussily bidding the lady to break off so 
 dangerous a tete-a-tete, and give his cousin a chance 
 to woo for himself. Slender, who has nothing to 
 say, now approaches Anne Page, who disdainfully 
 comments this is the suitor her father has chosen on 
 account of his three hundred pounds a year ! While 
 Mistress Quickly monopolises Fenton's attention, 
 Slender awkwardly tries to woo Anne, his courtship 
 complacently watched by Shallow, who tries to 
 further it by occasionally putting his oar in the con- 
 versation. But, Anne's abrupt inquiry in regard 
 
246 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 to his wishes so confuses Master Slender that he 
 stammers ' little or nothing,' adding that his father 
 and uncle can tell her better than he. Just then 
 Page and his wife come in, the former pleased to 
 see Slender beside his daughter, and both he and his 
 wife inform Fenton their daughter is no match for 
 a man of his rank, ere they invite Shallow and Slen- 
 der into the other room. Though dismissed, Fenton 
 lingers to impress upon Mistress Page how dearly he 
 loves her daughter, and to bespeak her aid. This 
 lady, however, favours Caius' suit, so she dismisses 
 Fenton, coolly stating she will ascertain her daugh- 
 ter's feelings, but that they must both join Page, or 
 he will be angry. 
 
 To secure Fenton's favour. Mistress Quickly now 
 assures him this encouragement is due to her inter- 
 vention, thus obtaining a new gratuity, together with 
 a ring she is to deliver to Anne Page in his name. 
 After he has gone. Dame Quickly sighs he has a 
 good heart, and that she wishes all three suitors 
 could secure the damsel, since she promised to aid 
 them all. She does not, however, tarry long on the 
 scene, as she has another message to deliver to Sir 
 John FalstafE from the two married ladies. 
 
 We now return to the Garter Inn, where FalstafE 
 is loudly calling for a drink to warm him after his 
 wetting. In a fume he describes his uncomfortable 
 plight in the basket, and his ducking in the river, 
 where he would have drowned had not the water 
 been shallow. He is greedily quaffing his liquor, 
 when Mistress Quickly enters, and when she states 
 she comes from Mistress Ford, he indignantly mut- 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 247 
 
 ters he has had ford enough ! Volubly assuring him 
 the lady was not to blame for his ducking, Mistress 
 Quickly reports that Mistress Ford would like to 
 see him between eight and nine on the morrow, whert 
 her husband will be away bird-hunting. 
 
 As this invitation flatters Falstaff's colossal van- 
 ity, he delightedly accepts it. He is alone, wonder- 
 ing why he has heard nothing of Brook — ^whose 
 money he is lavishly spending — ^when this gentleman 
 appears. In reply to his questions, FalstafE gives a 
 boastful account of his visit to Mistress Ford, de- 
 scribing his escape in the basket, and thus causes 
 the disguised husband to mutter in an angry aside 
 that he has been badly cheated. Brook, however, 
 manages to express regret for the sufferings which 
 Faistaff vows he has undergone in his behalf, so 
 the fat knight noisily protests he will be thrown in 
 a volcano, rather than give up his efforts to outwit 
 Ford. Then he reveals he has a second appoint- 
 ment, and hastens off to keep it, while Ford regis- 
 ters an oath to catch him without fail this time, as 
 he does not propose being tricked again. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in a street in 
 Windsor, where Mistress Page is asking Dame 
 Quickly whether Falstalf has already gone to keep 
 his appointment with Mistress Ford, and whether 
 he is angry at having been thrown into the Thames ? 
 Just then the Welsh parson — ^who is schoolmaster- — 
 comes along, announcing he is giving a holiday, so 
 Mistress Page can take her little boy home. In 
 hopes of having her maternal vanity gratified by an 
 exhibition of her offspring's learning. Mistress Page 
 
248 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 beseeches the schoolmaster to question his pupil, and 
 listens admiringly to her son's answers, upon which 
 Mistress Quickly makes quaint comments. This 
 extempore examination finished, the parson goes off, 
 while the others betake them.selves to Mistress 
 Ford's. 
 
 We now behold a room in this dwelling, where 
 Falstaff is graciously accepting his hostess' ex- 
 cuses, and appears overjoyed to learn that her hus- 
 band is out of reach. He is about to begin his 
 wooing, when, hearing the voice of Mistress Page, 
 his hostess implores him to step into the adjoin- 
 ing room. On meeting her entering friend, Mistress 
 Ford whispers that she must speak loudly enough 
 to be heard in the next room, so in excited tones, 
 Mistress Page exclaims how glad she is to to hear 
 the fat knight is not here, since Mr. Ford is 
 again coming with friends to search the house and 
 murder Falstaff, who, he has discovered, was carried 
 out before in a clothes basket. 
 
 On learning her husband is near at hand. Mistress 
 Ford wails she is undone, for the knight is with 
 her, although she denied his presence a while ago. 
 Mistress Page now suggests that Falstaff depart im- 
 mediately, while Mistress Ford wonders whether 
 they can make use of the same trick ? Having heard 
 every word, Falstaff appears, vowing nothing will 
 ever induce him to get into that basket again ! But, 
 when he suggests escaping through the back door, 
 Mistress Page warns him that Ford's brothers are 
 posted there; and when he volunteers to climb up 
 the chimney, Mistress Ford exclaims he would run 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 249 
 
 great risk, as the hunters invariably discharge their 
 pieces up the flue. Persuaded her husband will 
 search every nook and corner, she wrings her hands 
 in despair, until Mistress Page suggests a disguise. 
 Then, only. Mistress Ford remembers her maid's 
 aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, left clothes up- 
 stairs, which she bids Sir John hasten and don, while 
 she finds a kerchief to tie round his head. 
 
 While FalstafE bustles off, Mistress Ford ex- 
 presses a malicious hope her husband will meet the 
 knight in this disguise, for he is so angry against 
 the fat woman that he has promised her a good 
 beating next time she enters his door. Then, as- 
 sured the alarm is not a false one, and that Ford is 
 really on his way. Mistress Ford decides to gain 
 time by sending the clothes basket off again, and 
 bustles off in search of linen. While she is absent, 
 Mistress Page avers that their trickery is justified 
 by Ford's absurd jealousy, and that they are merely 
 determined to prove to their husbands that 'wives 
 may be merry, and yet honest too.' 
 
 A moment later Mistress Ford hurries in with 
 her men, whom she bids carry out the basket, 
 setting it down quickly, should their master request 
 them to do so. So they move off with the burden, 
 gleefully commenting it is less heavy than the last 
 time, just as Ford and his companions burst into the 
 house. Seeing the fatal basket on its way out. Ford 
 fancies he has secured his game, and swearing ve- 
 hemently, makes the men set it down. In loud 
 tones he then bids the rascal come forth, feverishly 
 casting the linen hither and thither to discover 
 
250 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 the culprit concealed beneath it. His companions 
 are deriding his vain efforts, when Mistress Ford 
 comes into the room, and in reply to a marital 
 tirade, declares her husband, as usual, is suspecting 
 her without cause. Paying no heed to her. Ford 
 continues his investigations, bidding his friends, 
 meanwhile, search the house. On hearing this, Mis- 
 tress Ford calls to Mistress Page and the old 
 woman to come down, and when her husband sus- 
 piciously inquires who is upstairs, calmly rejoins it 
 is the witch of Brentford. 
 
 Furious that his command should be disregarded. 
 Ford seizes a stick which he lays lustily across the 
 old woman's shoulders, ere he drives her out of 
 doors. In vain Mistress Page and Mistress Ford 
 remonstrate, the master of the house exclaims she 
 deserves a beating for being a witch, and the school- 
 master concludes he may be right, since women 
 with beards are always suspicious ! 
 
 To calm the jealous husband, his friends now 
 scatter through the house, and while they search, 
 Mistress Ford and Mistress Page chuckle over Fal- 
 stafE's beating, feeling sure he will never wish to 
 try love-assignations with them again. This time, 
 however, they propose to confide the whole story 
 to their husbands, and rejoice to think that FalstafE 
 will be publicly shamed when his tricks are exposed. 
 
 In a room at the inn, we next hear Bardolph tell 
 the host that some Germans want three of his 
 horses, so as to go and meet a Duke, who wishes 
 to retain all the rooms in his house. Delighted 
 with the prospect of entertaining such a grandee, the 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 251 
 
 host supplies the horses, and promises to turn away 
 all other guests. 
 
 We next return to Ford's house just as the search 
 is concluded, and the wives, having made their con- 
 fession, exhibit the two letters they received. While 
 Page marvels that FalstafiE should have so little wit 
 as to send two missives exactly alike, Ford humbly 
 begs his wife's pardon, promising never to suspect 
 her again. To continue the sport, however, all four 
 decide that another tryst be made with FalstafE, in 
 the park, at midnight, although the parson doubts 
 whether a man, who has been half drowned and 
 sorely beaten, will accept a third invitation. Bid- 
 ding their husbands devise how to treat Falstaff, 
 once in their power. Mistress Ford and Mistress 
 Page engage to beguile him into the park. Then 
 they quote a local legend that the spirit of a former 
 keeper, wearing horns and rattling a chain, prowls 
 around one of the oaks. 
 
 They propose that Falstaff assume the guise of 
 this hunter, and meet them there at midnight, and 
 that Anne Page and a number of other young peo- 
 ple, disguised as elves and fairies, suddenly emerge 
 from the sawpit. These are all to surround Falstaff, 
 sing songs, pinch him, and burn him with their 
 lights, for having dared to venture within their 
 realm. The schoolmaster volunteers to train and 
 lead the children, while Ford procures the necessary 
 disguises. Although Mistress Page murmurs that 
 her daughter, in white, shall personate the queen of 
 the fairies. Page mutters this will be the best oppor- 
 tunity for Slender to kidnap her. These prelim- 
 
252 Stories of Shakespeare^ s Comedies 
 
 inaries settled, Ford undertakes to visit Falstaff once 
 more, in the guise of Brook, to find out whether he 
 will keep the tryst. Then, the men having gone, 
 * the merry wives ' prepare their message for Fal- 
 staff, which Mistress Ford departs to send. When 
 she has gone, Mistress Page murmurs she will ar- 
 range matters so the French doctor can lead Anne 
 away from the rest of the fairies, and marry her that 
 very night. 
 
 Returning to the inn, we find Simple informing 
 the host he wishes to speak to Falstaff. When told 
 to knock at the knight's door. Simple refuses to do 
 so, because he has seen an old woman enter that 
 room. Pretending to be shocked at Falstaff's be- 
 haviour, the host jocosely calls to him to send the old 
 woman down, only to hear Falstaff rejoin she has al- 
 ready gone. This fact vexes Simple, for he has fol- 
 lowed her thither to ask what she knows about the 
 chain Nym beguiled from his master. Under pre- 
 tence of knowing all about this, Falstaff reports that 
 the witch pronounced the chain lost forever, an an- 
 swer Simple believes. He next proceeds to inquire 
 whether his master will win Anne Page, and, on 
 hearing the witch promised such a consummation, 
 hastens away to carry the good news to Slender. 
 
 When he has gone, the host inquires whether the 
 wise woman really was there, and is told by Falstaff 
 that she was indeed, and taught him more than he 
 ever learned before! Host and guest are still con- 
 versing, when Bardolph bursts in, wailing the Ger- 
 man grooms were horse-thieves who have run away 
 with their steeds. This bad news is confirmed by the 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 253 
 
 parson, who rushes in to warn the host to guard his 
 property well, as horse-thieves are abroad. A mo- 
 ment later Dr. Caius comes in his turn to caution 
 his friend that the German duke is a charlatan, be- 
 lated warnings which only incense the host, who 
 rushes out in hopes of recovering his property. 
 
 Left alone, FalstafE soliloquises that luck has for- 
 saken him, since he forswore himself at cards. 
 He is talking thus when Mistress Quickly brings 
 him the message from Mistress Ford, which he at 
 first refuses to receive. But, when the messenger 
 assures him poor Mistress Ford has been beaten 
 black and blue, yet is longing for him, he con- 
 descends to accept her tryst. 
 
 Meantime, in another room, Fenton is interview- 
 ing the host, promising him a hundred pounds over 
 and above the value of his lost steeds, if he will 
 only help him and keep his counsel. The prospect 
 of such gain decides the host to listen, and he soon 
 learns how dearly Fenton loves Anne Page, and how 
 little chance there is of obtaining her fairly, since 
 her father is plotting to give her to Slender, and 
 her mother to the French physician. Fenton adds 
 that Anne Page has revealed to him the tryst by the 
 oak, and the fact that she is to personate the fairy 
 queen; also that her father has ordered her to wear 
 white and go with Slender, and her mother to wear 
 green and follow Caius. When the host asks which 
 parent the maiden will deceive, Fenton replies she 
 will trick both by hastening with him to the par- 
 sonage, where the host must have some one ready 
 to marry them, and thus earn the promised reward. 
 
254 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens just as Falstaff is 
 promising Mistress Quickly to meet Mistress Ford, 
 and fervently hoping his third venture will prove 
 successful. Volubly promising to procure chain and 
 horns for his disguise, Mistress Quickly bustles off, 
 just before Ford enters, still personating Master 
 Brook. 
 
 The fat knight now boasts that If his friend 
 comes to the park at midnight, he will behold won- 
 ders, and then fatuously reveals the whole plot, 
 telling how sorely he was beaten while disguised as 
 a witch, a punishment he has not undergone since 
 last attending school. It is with the understanding 
 that they are to meet in the forest, that Falstaff 
 parts from his visitor, assuring him that Mistress 
 Ford will be handed over to him there. 
 
 We now behold Windsor park, where Page, 
 Shallow, and Slender are preparing to hide until 
 the fairy lights appear. Not only has Slender been 
 duly coached for the part he is to play, but he re- 
 veals how he has agreed upon passwords with Mis- 
 tress Anne. He, therefore, feels confident of suc- 
 cess, and goes with his companions to lie in wait for 
 Falstaff, whom they expect to recognise by his broad 
 antlers. 
 
 On a street leading to the park, the Merry Wives 
 of Windsor encounter the doctor, whom Mistress 
 Page instructs to seize the fairy in green, and hurry 
 her off to the deanery, where she has arranged for 
 the marriage. Then she bids him hasten on and 
 hide, since he must not be seen in their company. 
 When he has gone, Mistress Page remarks her hus- 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 255 
 
 band will resent the trick she is playing, but deems 
 it is better to be beaten than to be disappointed in 
 her plans. Both women now hasten off to the park, 
 and, shortly after they have vanished, the school- 
 master appears with the fairy train, bidding them in 
 the broadest of Welsh accents to trip along, be 
 mindful of their parts, and duck low down in the 
 sawpit, so as not to be seen before the right time. 
 
 In another part of the park we behold Falstaff, 
 disguised as the phantom hunter, just as he is con- 
 cluding that since the clock has struck twelve, he 
 may soon hope to behold his beloved. In his usual 
 bombastic vein he reminds us how Jove underwent 
 sundry transformations during his courtships, and 
 does not hesitate to compare himself to the king of 
 the gods. When Mistress Ford joins him, he sen- 
 timentally addresses her as his doe, but is checked 
 in his first attempt at familiarity by the warning 
 that Mistress Page is present, too. Nothing 
 daunted, however, the gallant Falstaff proposes to 
 make love to both. While they admire his fine dis- 
 guise, a sudden noise so terrifies the women that 
 they rush away, and Falstaff ruefully concludes it 
 is written his trysts shall be interrupted! 
 
 Going in the direction of the noise, he beholds the 
 parson and Pistol, disguised as hobgoblins, closely 
 followed by Mistress Quickly, Anne Page, and the 
 other fairies. As it is death for a mortal to spy 
 upon fairy doings or address them, Falstaff flings 
 himself face downward on the grass, and in this posi- 
 tion overhears Mistress Quickly instruct the fairies 
 to perform their duties, while the hobgoblins pre- 
 
256 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 pare to visit the places where maids have been slack. 
 Then, suddenly, the spirits scent the nearness of some 
 man, and, discovering Falstaff, gather around him, 
 and pinch and burn him, singing a mocking song. 
 While they are thus skipping madly, Dr. Caius 
 slips away in one direction with a boy dressed in 
 green, while Slender carries off a boy in white. 
 Meanwhile, Fenton experiences no difficulty in en- 
 ticing the real Anne Page away from the revels, 
 which continue until the blast of a hunting horn 
 summons the fairies away. 
 
 Free from the imps' tormenting presence, FalstafiE 
 rises, and is removing the buck's head forming part 
 of his disguise, when Mr. and Mistress Page and 
 Mr. and Mistress Ford appear, mockingly asking 
 what he thinks of Windsor wives? Their taunts 
 reveal how he has been tricked, although he had mis- 
 trusted the pinches and burns inflicted by those elves. 
 When the parson thereupon admonishes him never 
 to indulge in such pastimes as courting married 
 ladies again, the fat knight ruefully promises reform, 
 regretting he should be the hero of so ridiculous a 
 tale! 
 
 Accused also of swindling Brook out of money, 
 FalstaS becomes so dejected, that Page cheers him 
 with the assurance he can soon laugh at those who 
 made fun of him, since it gave Slender the oppor- 
 tunity to marry Anne Page. The mother refuses to 
 believe this, for she feels certain her daughter is now 
 pledged to the doctor; even while the parents are 
 disputing on this subject, Slender bursts in, bellow- 
 ing for * father Page,' and swearing he has been 
 
The Merry Wives of Windsor 257 
 
 tricked, for, on arriving at his destination, he found 
 his fairy a ' great lubberly boy ! ' Hotly reproached 
 by Page, he explains how carefully he carried out the 
 programme; whereupon Mistress Page avers he was 
 not to blame for the mistake, as she arranged her 
 daughter should leave with the doctor. She is still 
 talking when Caius comes in, roaring indignantly 
 that he has married a boy! He, too, insists he did 
 not blunder, and Ford and Page are just wondering 
 what can have become of the missing Anne, when 
 Fenton and his bride appear, begging pardon and an- 
 nouncing their wedding. In reply to the parents' 
 indignant questions, Fenton explains how, unable 
 to obey them both, Anne saved herself from present 
 disappointment and future sin by marrying the man 
 she loved. As their marriage is an accomplished 
 fact, — which Ford decides cannot be remedied, — 
 Page decides to wish his new son-in-law happiness. 
 Meantime, Falstaff rejoices that, although the 
 plot was aimed at him, its worst consequences have 
 fallen on the plotters' heads. All therefore decide 
 to forgive the past, and return home amicably, to 
 laugh over their adventures by the fireside; but as 
 they depart. Ford slyly assures Sir John that one of 
 his promises has not been broken, since Brook is 
 hereafter to enjoy the company of Mistress Ford! 
 
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 
 
 Act I. The opening of the first act shows Le- 
 onato, Governor of Messina, standing before his 
 house with his daughter Hero, and niece Beatrice, 
 to receive the gentleman messenger, announcing the 
 victorious return of Don Pedro of Arragon. After 
 perusing his letter, Leonato inquires how many 
 lives have been lost, and is delighted to hear few 
 have perished. He then remarks that the most 
 lauded person in his dispatches is Claudio, who 
 the messenger enthusiastically declares ' better bet- 
 tered expectation.' 
 
 The ladies, who have listened eagerly, now join 
 in the conversation, Beatrice pertly inquiring whether 
 Lord Mountanto is returning with the troops? As 
 the messenger fails to recognise the person she men- 
 tions by this nickname. Hero explains her cousin 
 means Signior Benedick, of Padua, who, Beatrice 
 adds, once challenged a fool, and whose victims she 
 has volunteered to eat, because she does not believe 
 they exist ! 
 
 Although amused by his niece's pertness, the gov- 
 ernor thinks she is making too much ado about 
 nothing, for he good-naturedly exclaims she is tax- 
 ing too sorely a good soldier. Then, as Beatrice 
 continues to gird at her absent foe, Leonato ex- 
 plains how his niece and Signior Benedick never meet 
 258 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 259' 
 
 without indulging in a * merry war ' of wit. Toss- 
 ing her head, Beatrice rejoins this youth has never 
 yet gotten the better of her, and claims that in their 
 last encounter she routed four of his five wits. Be- 
 cause the messenger adds Benedick is returning 
 with his friend Claudio, she pities the latter, declar- 
 ing he will pay dear for such intimacy. 
 
 At this juncture Don Pedro of Arragon, his 
 brother Don John, Claudio, and Benedick appear, 
 and are courteously welcomed by Leonato, who, in 
 reply to their apologies for troubling him with their 
 entertainment, assures Don Pedro trouble never came 
 into his house in the guise of his Grace. Turning to 
 the ladies, Don Pedro next inquires whether one is 
 not Leonato's daughter, and enters into conversa- 
 tion with Hero, just as a remark from Benedick 
 calls forth Beatrice's scornful, * I wonder that you 
 will still be talking, Signior Benedick; nobody 
 marks you.' This gibe is promptly returned by 
 * What, my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet living ? ' 
 whereto Beatrice avers Disdain will never die, so 
 long as it has such food to feed upon as Signior 
 Benedick. These two continue thus to bandy bit- 
 ter-sweet remarks, until Benedick, piqued by his com- 
 panion's jeers, exclaims he wishes his horse had 
 the speed of her tongue, and were so ' good a con- 
 tinuer.' Don Pedro, who has paid no attention 
 to this skirmish, now announces he has accepted Le- 
 onato's invitation to tarry in Messina a month, a 
 decision pleasing to his host, who welcomes even the 
 obnoxious Don John, recently reconciled to the 
 brother against whom he rebelled. 
 
26o Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 While the princes of Arragon are escorted off the 
 scene by Leonato and the ladies, the two young men 
 linger on the stage. Seizing this favourable oppor- 
 tunity, Claudio asks Benedick whether he has noted 
 Leonato's fair daughter, whom he admired before 
 the war began, and with whom he now feels deeply 
 enamoured, although fickle by nature. Benedick, the 
 confirmed bachelor, ridicules his friend for yielding 
 to feminine charms, and does his sarcastic best to 
 find fault with Hero, pronouncing her attractions 
 greatly inferior- to those of Beatrice. Then, seeing 
 his strictures remain without effect, he wonders 
 whether he will ' never see a bachelor of three-score 
 again,' just as Don Pedro returns on the scene. 
 
 When he pleasantly inquires what can detain 
 them, Benedick playfully volunteers to reveal Clau- 
 dio's secret, provided the prince command him to 
 do so, and, enjoined to speak, reveals how dearly 
 Claudio loves Hero. Unable to deny this, Claudio 
 is overjoyed when Don Pedro pronounces the lady 
 worthy of him, although Benedick continues to 
 rail at him for contemplating matrimony. Good- 
 naturedly remarking that even Benedick may yet 
 change his mind, Don Pedro is told that, should 
 such be the case, they may take him for a laughing 
 stock, and adorn him with the sign, ' here you may 
 see Benedick the married man ! ' 
 
 A little more conversation ensues, ere Don Pedro 
 sends Benedick to inform Leonato they will honour 
 the supper to which he has invited them. Then 
 turning to Claudio, his favourite, Don Pedro prom- 
 ises to aid him secure Hero's hand. In fact, his 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 261 
 
 Grace proposes to sound the young lady in disguise 
 that evening, and in case he finds her favourably in- 
 clined tow^ard Claudio, to arrange w^ith her father 
 for an immediate marriage. 
 
 The curtain next rises on a room in the gov- 
 ernor's house, v^here Leonato is asking his brother 
 Antonio v^^hether music has been ordered for the 
 evening's entertainment? After answering in the 
 affirmative, Antonio reports that one of his servants 
 overheard Don Pedro and Claudio discussing Hero, 
 with whom the prince has evidently fallen in love. 
 Delighted with this news, Leonato proposes to warn 
 his daughter, so she may be ready to answer, should 
 the prince sue for her hand. 
 
 Scarcely have he and his brother passed off the 
 stage when Don John draws near with one of his 
 followers, who inquires why he seems sad? Reply- 
 ing in a misanthropic vein, Don John admits that he 
 longs to show himself * a plain-dealing villain,' and 
 how he has determined to seize every opportunity to 
 make trouble for Claudio, whom he hates. These 
 two men are joined by another follower of Don 
 John, who announces he has been royally entertained 
 at supper, where he has heard that Hero is about to 
 marry Claudio. Such a piece of good fortune as an 
 heiress-wife for the man he detests, irritates Don 
 John, who inquires how his friend discovered the 
 secret, and proposes to devise a plot whereby this 
 love-affair will be crossed. His two friends, equally 
 ready for villainy, gladly promise to aid him as much 
 as they can. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens in Leonato's 
 
262 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 house, while he is questioning his brother and the 
 ladies of his household in regard to Don John's ab- 
 sence from the supper? Beatrice, who declares Don 
 John always looks so sour that she suffers from 
 heartburn whenever he is near her, seems glad he was 
 away. She suggests that were he and Benedick 
 blended together, they might make one fair-looking 
 man, an opinion she expresses with so sharp a 
 tongue, that her uncle vows she will never secure a 
 husband until she learns to control it. This reproof 
 calls forth further witticisms on Beatrice's part, for 
 she avers she does not want any husband, but would 
 far rather remain an old maid. When her uncle 
 ventures to remind her that old maids ' have to lead 
 apes into hell,' she pertly rejoins the devil will take 
 the apes from her at the door, and send her back to 
 heaven, to sit among the bachelors, and live ' as 
 merry as the day is long.' 
 
 Turning to his niece Hero, Antonio inquires 
 whether she, too, proposes to follow her cousin's ex- 
 ample? Whereupon Beatrice mocks Hero for 
 tamely accepting any husband her father cares to 
 choose. When Leonato exclaims he doesn't despair 
 of seeing his niece married some day, too, Beatrice 
 continues to gibe at the men, vowing her cousin's 
 wedding will be a time of great annoyance for her, 
 until the noise of approaching revellers forces 
 the party to mask and receive the arriving guests. 
 
 Among those who crowd in, wearing masks and 
 dominoes, we discern Don Pedro, who, singling out 
 Hero, engages her in conversation, and gradually 
 draws her away from the rest, so as to be able to 
 
 i 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 263 
 
 discuss serious matters. Meantime, one of his com- 
 panions draws aside Margaret and Ursula, Hero's 
 companions, and he and Antonio entertain them, 
 while Beatrice, who has been joined by Benedick, im- 
 mediately begins with him a wordy battle, wherein 
 each shatters the other's lance as soon as possible. 
 Still, they leave the room together, to join the dance, 
 just as Don John appears with one of his followers 
 and Claudio. 
 
 Pretending to mistake the masked Claudio for 
 Benedick, Don John, who is bent upon mischief, 
 comments to him upon the fact of his brother's 
 marked attentions to Hero; then, perceiving he has 
 roused a lover's jealousy, he falsely states his brother 
 intends to marry the governor's fair daughter. A 
 moment later, Don John and his follower having 
 gone, Claudio angrily mutters this is terrible news, 
 for he now believes the prince is, indeed, wooing 
 on his own account. He, therefore, bitterly con- 
 cludes ' friendship is constant in all other things save 
 in the office and affairs of love,' and that every man 
 should do his own wooing, especially as Benedick 
 joins him, and teasingly advises him to wear the 
 willow, since the prince has secured his lady-love. 
 Then, seeing Claudio depart greatly depressed, Bene- 
 dick comments upon his disappointment, and wonders 
 why Lady Beatrice called him ' the prince's fool,' 
 an epithet which sorely rankles. 
 
 Such is the wound his vanity has received, that he 
 determines to be revenged, and is just about to seek 
 Beatrice's society once more, when Don Pedro ap- 
 pears asking where Claudio may be? When Bene- 
 
264 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 dick describes his friend's melancholy, Don Pedro 
 wonders what could have caused it, and when told 
 it is because he has stolen his friend's nest, rejoins 
 merrily he did so merely to teach the birds to sing 
 for their rightful owner ! Then, detecting a note of 
 pique in his companion's tone, Don Pedro slyly in- 
 quires whether Benedick has again been quarelling 
 with Beatrice ? This opens the floodgates. Benedick 
 vowing he would not marry so sharp-tongued a lady, 
 were she * endowed with all that Adam had left 
 him before he transgressed.' He is still holding 
 forth on this subject when Beatrice enters with a 
 few of her guests, so seeing her draw near. Benedick 
 implores Don Pedro to dismiss him, and vanishes 
 after exclaiming, * I cannot endure my Lady 
 Tongue ! ' 
 
 Addressing Beatrice, the prince teasingly informs 
 her she has lost the heart of Signior Benedick, to 
 which the young lady retorts it had only been lent 
 to her for a while ; finding an equally ready repartee 
 to every remark he ventures. Turning to Claudio, 
 Don Pedro then rallies him on his sadness, and, al- 
 though the young man answers him shortly, kindly 
 informs him he has so successfully wooed Hero in 
 his behalf, that her father has given consent to the 
 marriage, and all now remaining to do is to settle 
 the wedding day. These tidings are gravely con- 
 firmed by Leonato, who invites Claudio to take his 
 daughter's hand, — a move the young lover accom- 
 plishes in silence. Noting this, Beatrice ventures 
 to taunt him, whereupon he rejoins that ' silence is 
 the perfectest herald of joy. I were but a little 
 
BEATRICE AND BENEDICT 
 
 Bene. " Do not you love nne ? " 
 Beat. "Why, no; no more than reason." 
 Bene. " Why, then your uncle, and the Prince, and Claudio 
 have been deceived ; for they swore you did." 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. Act 5, Scene 4. 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 265 
 
 happy, if I could say how much.' Then, turning 
 to his betrothed, Claudio tells her he loves her 
 dearly, only to be urged by Beatrice to kiss her 
 instead. 
 
 Fascinated by Beatrice's merry ways, Don Pedro 
 now playfully proposes to marry her, but she, 
 catching his spirit, promptly returns his Grace would 
 be too costly a husband for every-day wear, and that 
 she would not think of accepting him unless she 
 could have another for working days. It is only 
 when her uncle begs her to attend to some house- 
 hold matters that Beatrice departs, while Don Pedro 
 remarks that she is a ' pleasant-spirited lady.' 
 
 This praise pleases Leonato, who vows his niece 
 is never sad or cross, although she gibes so con- 
 stantly at marriage. When Don Pedro suggests 
 she would make an ideal wife for Benedick, Leonato 
 exclaims they would talk themselves mad in the 
 course of a week. Paying no heed to this com- 
 ment, Don Pedro inquires of Claudio when his 
 marriage is to take place, and, learning it will be 
 only on the following Monday, — a date too distant 
 to suit the lover, although the father considers that 
 space of time far too brief to accomplish all that 
 must be done, — proposes to beguile the time of wait- 
 ing by bringing together Beatrice and Benedick, 
 who, he feels certain, can easily be induced to fall 
 in love. Enlisting Leonato's and Claudio's ready 
 aid to carry out this scheme, Don Pedro bids them 
 follow him, so he can instruct them what moves to 
 make to compel these wayward young folks to love 
 each other, gleefully boasting that a double marriage 
 
266 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 will result, and that Cupid is not the only match- 
 maker. 
 
 This group has barely left the room when Don 
 John and his friend return to resume their dis- 
 cussion of Claudio's marriage. Perceiving Don 
 John's desire to cross this plan in some way, his 
 interlocutor suggests it can be done, although not 
 honestly. When Don John inquires what he means, 
 he explains how, having won Margaret's favour, he 
 can easily make her appear at her mistress's window 
 at night. He suggests that, if he call her Hero, 
 it will seem as if Claudio's bride were secretly enter- 
 taining a lover. This vile plot meets with such en- 
 thusiastic approval from Don John, that he and the 
 courtier decide to draw Don Pedro and Claudio 
 aside, and tell them Hero is faithless, offering to 
 prove the truth of their words if they will lie in am- 
 bush beneath her window. There, Don John's 
 friend will personate the lover, thus earning the re- 
 ward of a thousand ducats. 
 
 The next scene occurs in Leonato's orchard, 
 where Benedick summons a boy and sends him for a 
 book, as he wishes to enjoy a little solitude. Left 
 alone. Benedick marvels that Claudio should have 
 fallen so deeply in love, as hitherto this youth has 
 been devoted to his profession as a soldier. It is evi- 
 dent love can effect strange transformations, for 
 Benedick mockingly concludes it may some day 
 transform him into an oyster. Still, he deems that 
 day far distant, for he avers that, while one woman 
 may be fair, another wise, another virtuous, ' till all 
 graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 267 
 
 in my grace ! ' He further declares that his ideal 
 much be rich, wise, virtuous, fair, mild, noble, 
 capable of good discourse, an excellent musician, ' her 
 hair being of what colour it please God.' This 
 whole soliloquy betrays great self-appreciation, and 
 when it is concluded. Benedick complacently with- 
 draws to a leafy arbour, so as not to be disturbed 
 in his meditations by the people drawing near. 
 
 From this arbour Benedick notices Don Pedro, 
 Claudio, and Leonato strolling in the garden, ap- 
 parently listening to music, but in reality bent on 
 carrying out the deception they have planned. After 
 asking Claudio, in a whisper, whether their victim 
 is at hand, Don Pedro calls for a pretty song with 
 a senseless refrain, and compliments the singer upon 
 his way of rendering it. Meantime, from his hiding- 
 place, Benedick sarcastically criticises this music, 
 averring that had a dog howled thus, he would have 
 been hanged. After dismissing the musician, — 
 who is hired to serenade Hero that night, — Don 
 Pedro strolls nearer to the arbour, inquiring of Le- 
 onato whether he meant what he said when he 
 stated his niece Beatrice loved Benedick madly? In 
 spite of the fact that Claudio exclaims this cannot 
 be true, Leonato asserts his niece dotes upon that 
 cavalier, although she pretends to abhor him. 
 
 The vanity of the hidden Benedick is so tickled 
 at the thought of having achieved the conquest of 
 so difficult a lady, that he greedily listens, only to 
 hear the gentlemen repeat that Beatrice counter- 
 feits dislike. So serious are they while making 
 these statements that Benedick feels convinced they 
 
268 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 are telling the truth, even when Leonato declares his 
 niece constantly writes love letters she never sends. 
 After discussing at length these letters, Beatrice's 
 tears, and her amorous exclamations, — all of which 
 information Leonato claims to have obtained from 
 Hero, — Don Pedro gravely suggests Benedick should 
 be informed of this passion; but Claudio declares 
 such a move would be passing cruel, as his friend 
 does not believe in love, and would surely make 
 fun of the lady. All three, therefore, decide to 
 allow Beatrice to pine, hoping she may in time 
 forget her mad passion for Benedick, whom they 
 pronounce utterly unworthy of being beloved by so 
 charming a lady. Having thus executed their plan, 
 the three conspirators move away, Claudio whisper- 
 ing to his companions that if Benedick doesn't dote 
 upon Beatrice hereafter, he will never trust his ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 The gentlemen having gone. Benedick issues from 
 his hiding-place, marvelling at all he has heard, and 
 deciding it will never do to allow so lovely a lady 
 to pine away. Instead, he proposes to sacrifice his 
 desire to remain single, and has just decided to 
 marry soon, when Beatrice comes into the garden, 
 tartly stating she has been sent, — ^much against her 
 will, — to summon him to dinner. Instead of an- 
 swering this remark in kind. Benedick, convinced 
 that Beatrice is doing violence to her feelings, proves 
 so deferential that she fails to recognise him. Be- 
 cause she flounces off, he conceitedly comments that 
 her manner is confirmation strong of all he has over- 
 heard, and declares that, if he does not take pity 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 269 
 
 upon her, he is a villain, and that if he does not 
 love her he is a Jew ! 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in the governor's 
 garden, where Hero bids Margaret run into the 
 parlour and whisper to Beatrice, — who is conversing 
 there with the prince and Claudio, — that her cousin 
 and Ursula are in the orchard talking about her, and 
 that, if she cares to overhear them, she can do so by 
 hiding in a neighbouring bower. Promising to in- 
 duce Beatrice to come soon, the maid vanishes, while 
 Hero instructs her companions to talk loudly about 
 Benedick, praising him highly, and depicting him as 
 desperately in love with Beatrice; for it is by such 
 means Hero hopes to induce her cousin to fall in 
 love with this swain. A moment later, having seen 
 Beatrice steal to her hiding-place, Hero strolls in 
 that direction, talking carelessly of her cousin's light 
 ways, and of Signior Benedick's love for her. She 
 declares this suitor deserves everything that is good, 
 but, knowing Beatrice's scorn for him, she avers 
 she has advised him never to make his love known. 
 In support of her opinion, she describes how Beatrice 
 ridicules every man who approaches her, and vows 
 the only way to cure Benedick of his hopeless passion 
 will be to ' devise some honest slanders ' to stain her 
 cousin with. Such a proceeding seems objection- 
 able to Ursula, who inquires why Beatrice does not 
 look favourably upon Benedick, whom she considers 
 a fine young man? Thereupon Hero assures her 
 the young man is, indeed, excellent, and that she re- 
 grets he has so sorely misplaced his affection. Then, 
 feeling her work done, Hero suggests they return to 
 
270 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 the house to decide upon the wedding attire for the 
 morrow. 
 
 After they have gone, Beatrice emerges from her 
 hiding-place, amazed at what she has heard, and 
 radically cured of her most serious fault, by the life- 
 like picture her cousin has held up before her eyes. 
 She now decides to cease gibing, to bid maiden pride 
 and contempt farewell, and to reward Benedick for 
 his great love. 
 
 The next scene is played in a room in Leonato's 
 house, where Don Pedro, talking to the governor 
 and to others, states he is lingering in Messina to 
 witness the marriage, after which he intends to re- 
 turn home. When Claudio volunteers to accom- 
 pany him, he playfully rejoins that as it would be 
 cruel to separate him from his bride, he has de- 
 cided to take Benedick in his stead, knowing he is 
 good company, and leaves no lady-love behind him. 
 Hearing this. Benedick shamefacedly rejoins he is 
 no longer what he has been, and when they twit 
 him with having a toothache, mutters it is easy for 
 every man to ' master a grief but he that has it.' 
 
 Having observed his friend closely, Claudio now 
 exclaims Benedick must be in love, for he has marked 
 sundry tell-tale signs, such as hat-brushing, fre- 
 quent barbering, fine dressing, and going to such 
 unheard of sixteenth-century lengths as washing his 
 face ! After enduring their gibes for a while, Bene- 
 dick begs Leonato for a secret hearing, so, while 
 they two draw aside, Don Pedro and Claudio glee- 
 fully whisper that Hero and Margaret must have 
 carried out their part of the plot, and that these 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 271 
 
 * two bears will not bite one another when they 
 meet.' 
 
 •^ At this moment Don John joins them, and, after 
 greeting his brother, states he has a matter to im- 
 part which concerns Claudio closely. Invited to 
 speak, he asks Claudio whether he is really to be 
 married on the morrow, looking so compassionately 
 at him, that the youth anxiously inquires whether he 
 has heard of any impediment to his nuptials ? With 
 pretended reluctance, Don John now declares Hero is 
 disloyal, ofEering to prove the truth of his state- 
 ment, provided Claudio station himself beneath her 
 window that night. He adds that should Hero's 
 lover choose to marry her after that, he may do so, 
 but that he feels confident he will never wish to trust 
 her again. His jealousy roused by these remarks, 
 Claudio swears, should he behold any reason why he 
 should not wed Hero, he will shame her in the face 
 of the congregation on the morrow, a decision upheld 
 by Don Pedro, who feels his honour, too, is at stake, 
 and they are still discussing what steps to take when 
 the curtain falls. 
 
 When it rises again, it is night in the street 
 before Leonato's house, where Dogberry and his 
 henchman Verges are placing the watch. Giving 
 them long-winded instructions, Dogberry misuses his 
 words in a comical fashion, and cautions his men not 
 to meddle with thieves or any wrongdoers, lest they 
 run into danger. The watchmen wisely conclude to 
 sleep rather than watch, closing their eyes tight 
 when thieves pass by, lest they should be tempted 
 to interfere with their occupations.' The whole 
 
272 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 scene is ludicrous in the extreme, and vhen Dog- 
 berry goes away, he bids the men keep particular 
 watch of the governor's door,- as a wedding is pend- 
 ing and disturbances can be expected. 
 
 No sooner have Dogberry and Verges gone, than 
 two of Don John's men steal forward, closely noted 
 by the watchmen, who have taken up their post on 
 the church bench, to rest until it is time to go to 
 bed. From this place of vantage they overhear 
 one man boasting he has earned a thousand ducats 
 in compassing an act of villainy, and mention how, 
 posted beneath Hero's window, he called the cham- 
 bermaid by her name, until he deluded the hidden 
 Claudio into believing his lady-love faithless. Al- 
 though only half understanding what they see and 
 hear, the watchmen excitedly comment to each other 
 about the plot they have discovered, and decide to 
 arrest the malefactors, who protest vehemently. 
 
 The scene is next transferred to Hero's apart- 
 ments, on her wedding morning, just as she is calling 
 for Beatrice and discussing fashions. In the midst 
 of the voluble talk in regard to styles and the ap- 
 proaching ceremony, Beatrice seems so out of tune, 
 that she is twitted for it by one of the attendants. 
 This occasions a witty and wordy skirmish, which 
 is interrupted by Margaret's announcement that all 
 the gentlemen in town have come to escort the bride 
 to church. 
 
 Meantime, in another room in the same house, 
 Leonato is interviewing Dogberry and Verges, bid- 
 ding them state their errand briefly, as he is very 
 busy. As it is an impossibility for Dogberry to be 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 273 
 
 brief, he informs the governor with endless circum- 
 locution that two knaves were caught last night, 
 beneath his windows, who should be examined im- 
 mediately. Unwilling to be detained by trifling 
 matters, Leonato deputes Dogberry to examine these 
 prisoners himself, whereupon, proud of this charge, 
 the constable hurries his prisoners off, bidding Verges 
 summon a secretary with pen and inkhorn to take 
 down all they say. Just as Dogberry vanishes with 
 men and prisoners, the governor is summoned to join 
 his guests for the wedding. 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in the church, 
 as Leonato is enjoining upon the friar to celebrate 
 the marriage as briefly as possible. In compliance 
 with these orders, the friar begins his momentous 
 questions, and is startled to hear Claudio deny he has 
 come here to marry Hero. Deeming this a mere 
 quibble in regard to terms, he nevertheless pro- 
 pounds the same question to the lady, who returns the 
 conventional answer. When the friar next asks 
 whether any one knows any * inward impediment 
 why they should not be joined in marriage,' Claudio 
 meaningly asks his bride whether she does not? 
 Hearing her truthfully rejoin there is no obstacle 
 as far as she knows, Claudio demands of Le- 
 onato whether he is giving away a maiden daughter? 
 This question also being answered in the affirma- 
 tive, Claudio turns toward the wedding guests, indig- 
 nantly denouncing Hero as a whited sepulchre and 
 vowing he has good reasons for knowing she is not 
 pure. When the father tremblingly demands 
 whether this means he anticipated his wedding, 
 
274 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Claudio rejoins he has always treated Hero in broth- 
 erly fashion with ' bashful sincerity and comely love.' 
 His villainous accusations are so incomprehensible to 
 the innocent Hero, that fancying he has been taken 
 suddenly ill, she speaks gently to him. Hearing this, 
 Don Pedro interferes, angrily vowing he feels in- 
 sulted because such a person was offered to his friend. 
 Then, in the course of the lively dialogue which en- 
 sues, Don Pedro, Claudio, and Don John reveal 
 how, standing beneath Hero's window last night, 
 they saw a lover climb into her room. Their accusa- 
 tions prove so circumstantial, that Leonato tragically 
 inquires whether there is no dagger-point for his 
 heart, while poor Hero swoons, and is caught as 
 she falls by her cousin Beatrice. 
 
 Seeing Hero apparently lifeless, Don John 
 nervously suggests they go away, and succeeds in hur- 
 rying his brother and Claudio out of the church. 
 Meantime, Benedick and Beatrice, bending over the 
 fainting Hero, call for help, which Leonato refuses 
 to give, averring ' death is the fairest cover for her 
 shame that may be wish'd for,' and saying he hopes 
 Hero will never open her eyes again! His opinion 
 is not shared by Benedick and Beatrice, for when 
 he wails nothing can ever ' wash her clean again,' 
 his niece exclaims her cousin is belied. In hopes of 
 clearing Hero's reputation. Benedick now asks 
 Beatrice whether she slept with her cousin last night 
 as usual, and is appalled to hear how, for the first 
 time, she omitted doing so. Although the heart- 
 broken father considers this an additional proof of his 
 daughter's guilt, the friar insists no culprit ever bore 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 275 
 
 so Innocent a face, claiming that long experience 
 would enable him to detect the slightest trace of 
 wrong-doing. He is, therefore, ready to swear the 
 sweet lady lies ' guiltless here under some blighting 
 error,' although the father does not believe him. 
 While they are talking, Hero's eyes open, so the friar 
 eagerly inquires who has misled her? Truthfully, 
 yet sadly. Hero rejoins she does not know what they 
 mean, never having even conversed with a man at an 
 improper time or in an improper way. This state- 
 ment convinces the friar and Benedick that some 
 treachery is afoot, which the latter unhesitatingly 
 ascribes to Don John, 'whose spirits toil in frame 
 of villainies.' Hearing this, Leonato vows that, 
 should his daughter prove guilty, he will tear her to 
 pieces with his own hands, but if she is wronged, 
 ' the proudest of them shall well hear of it.' 
 
 To check his rising wrath, the friar suggests that, 
 since the wedding guests departed under the im- 
 pression that Hero had died at the altar, it will be 
 well to keep her recovery secret, and adds that 
 when the rumour of her death spreads abroad, and 
 the pretence of an interment is made, people will 
 feel so sorry for her that their pity will ' change slan- 
 der to remorse.' He fancies Claudio, in particular, 
 will feel reproached, and adds that, should his ac- 
 cusation prove true. Hero's shame can be hidden in 
 a religious house, the place which would best befit 
 * her wounded reputation.' 
 
 This advice seems so wise that Benedick urges Le- 
 onato to follow it, so he arranges to carry out the 
 friar's plan. All the rest now leaving the scene of 
 
276 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 this tragedy, Benedick tenderly addresses Beatrice, 
 inquiring whether she has wept all the time, and 
 showing such sympathy that she feels deeply touched. 
 When he offers to be her friend, confessing he loves 
 her, Beatrice rejoins that, although she does not 
 love him, she thinks well of him. As usual, she 
 relapses into efforts at wit, but instead of answering 
 sharp speeches in kind, Benedick tries by every means 
 in his power to disarm her. Hearing him 
 vehemently offer to do anything she bids him, 
 Beatrice calls out in righteous indignation she wishes 
 he would kill Claudio, or at least prove him mis- 
 taken in accusing Hero. She vehemently adds that 
 were she only a man, she would avenge this insult, 
 whereupon Benedick gallantly pledges himself to 
 challenge his friend for slaying Hero, since it is 
 agreed she is to be considered dead. 
 
 The curtain next rises on the prison, where Dog- 
 berry and his henchman are fussily cross-examining 
 their prisoners. This whole scene is comical in the 
 extreme, for Dogberry, full of his importance, bids 
 the secretary write down one irrelevant statement 
 after another. The only official showing any sense 
 is the sexton, who has had experience in such mat- 
 ters. Still, amidst the confusion it gradually 
 transpires that the courtiers were paid by Don 
 John to play a vile part that Hero might be pub- 
 licly disgraced. This testimony is written down, 
 although Dogberry regrets the secretary has de- 
 parted before one of his prisoners termed him an 
 ass, as he deems it important this statement be put 
 down on the minutes, too! The prisoners, having 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 277 
 
 fully confessed their wrong-doing, are led away 
 bound, so Leonato can deal with them as he sees fit. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens in front of Leonato's 
 house, just as Antonio assures his brother he will 
 kill himself if he continues mourning in this ex- 
 travagant way. There is, however, no consolation 
 for Leonato's deep sufferings, so he states such 
 counsel is as profitless as pouring water in a sieve! 
 When he eloquently expresses his sorrow, and his 
 brother accuses him of acting like a child, Leonato 
 bitterly retorts, ' there was never yet philosopher that 
 could endure the toothache patiently,' and vows his 
 brother would show more heat if the wrong con- 
 cerned him. His main object in life henceforth is to 
 prove Hero has been belied by Claudio and the 
 prince. 
 
 It is at this moment that Don Pedro and Claudio 
 try to pass by and are detained by Leonato, who 
 reviles them for wronging him and his child. When 
 he hotly terms them villains, and threatens to prove 
 it at the point of his sword, Don Pedro and Claudio 
 vainly try to soothe him. Such is the excitement of 
 both Leonato and Antonio, that they challenge 
 Claudio to fight, while Don Pedro temperately states 
 they are sorry to hear the lady has died, although 
 she was charged with nothing 'but what was true 
 and very full of proof.' This reiterated insult sends 
 Leonato and his brother off the stage in a rage. 
 
 A moment later Benedick enters, and when 
 Claudio inquires what news there is, answers in so 
 cold and sarcastic a tone, that his companions fancy 
 this is some new joke. Benedick, however, soon 
 
278 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 manages to draw Claudio aside, and challenges him 
 in a whisper; in the same tone Claudio accepts this 
 duel, although the prince, thinking they have made 
 an appointment for an entertainment, chaffs them^ 
 about it in a witty way. Then, still in pursuit of his 
 former plan, Don Pedro reports how he heard 
 Beatrice praise Benedick's wit, and urges Claudio 
 to repeat the nice things she is supposed to have 
 said about it. 
 
 In spite of all this jocularity. Benedick returns 
 haughty answers, and finally states he does not care 
 to consort with them any longer, since he has heard 
 that Don John has fled, not daring to remain in the 
 city, now it is rumoured Hero's death is due to his 
 machinations. Seeing Benedick go off in anger after 
 this statement, Don Pedro expresses amazement, un- 
 til he and Claudio realise the young man has man- 
 fully espoused Beatrice's cause. 
 
 They are still discussing the question when Dog- 
 berry enters with his prisoners, in whom Don Pedro 
 recognises with surprise two of his brother's men. 
 When he questions the watch, Dogberry asserts they 
 have been guilty of sundry misdeeds, becoming so 
 verbose that Don Pedro finally turns to the pris- 
 oners themselves for information. They humbly 
 confess their villainy, having been stricken with re- 
 morse on hearing the tragic result of their night's 
 work. Their report positively staggers Don Pedro 
 and Claudio, who can scarcely credit their ears, 
 and only with difficulty realise how Don John started 
 the slander which has such results. 
 
 In his remorse, Claudio is loudly mourning for 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 279 
 
 Hero, when Leonato bursts into the room, Le, too, 
 having, meantime, heard the news. Clamouring for 
 the villain so he m.ay take his revenge, Leonato is 
 told the prisoner is not to blame for his child's 
 death. He soon realises it is to be ascribed mainly 
 to Don John, although the prince, and Claudio, have 
 had their share in the evil work. Hearing his 
 strictures, Claudio implores Leonato to impose upon 
 him any penance he chooses, vowing his sin consisted 
 solely in m.isapprehension. As the same excuse is 
 pleaded by Don Pedro, Lebnato declares he will 
 hold himself satisfied, provided they both repair to 
 Hero's tomb, and do penance there for the insult 
 offered her. Not only do Claudio and the prince 
 engage to fulfil this duty, but the lover further 
 pledges himself to meet the irate Leonato on the 
 morrow to learn what other atonement he can make. 
 Then Leonato decides that, since Claudio can no 
 longer be his son-in-law, he shall marry his niece, 
 who is ' almost the copy of my child that's dead,' a 
 reparation the penitent Claudio is ready to make. 
 
 Meanwhile, Leonato intends to confront Mar- 
 garet and the prisoners, so as to sift the whole 
 story down to the bottom, although the courtier 
 voluntarily testifies she has always been virtuous, and 
 was not aware of their vile plot. After receiving 
 Leonato's thanks for ferreting out this affair, Dog- 
 berry retires with his men, uttering a most involved 
 speech. Then, taking leave of Don Pedro and 
 Claudio, who are to spend the night at Hero's tomb, 
 Leonato and his brother go off with their prisoners 
 to cross-question Margaret. 
 
28o Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 The next scene is played in the governor's garden, 
 where Benedick is imploring Margaret to secure for 
 him an interview with Beatrice. To tease this 
 ardent suitor, Margaret bids him write a sonnet in 
 praise of her beauty, and when he gallantly says she 
 deserves it, enters into witty conversation with him, 
 ere going away to summon her mistress. While 
 waiting for Beatrice, Benedick sings to himself, mus- 
 ing upon the great lovers of history, and conning 
 the rhymes he wishes to use in composing a poem 
 in honour of his lady-love. Although Beatrice on 
 joining him answers his remarks in her wonted 
 strain. Benedick makes a greater effort than ever 
 before to win a hearing. His evident solicitude for 
 her cousin touches Beatrice's heart, and she has 
 barely reported Hero very ill, when Ursula bursts 
 in, full of excitement, exclaiming Leonato has just 
 discovered how Hero had been falsely accused, and 
 the prince and Claudio tricked! These tidings 
 prove so joyful to Beatrice that she graciously in- 
 vites Benedick to go with her and hear all about it, 
 an invitation he gladly accepts. 
 
 The curtain next rises on the church where Hero 
 was disgraced, whither Don Pedro and Claudio 
 have come with attendants and tapers to place upon 
 her monument, a statement fully retracting the slan- 
 ders they uttered on this spot. After singing a 
 touching requiem, Claudio promises to do yearly 
 penance in this style in memory of the lovely lady 
 ' done to death ' by his cruelty. 
 
 It is only when Don Pedro warns him dawn is 
 near at hand that Claudio departs, saying mourn- 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 281 
 
 fully he and his friends must change garments, and 
 hurry to Leonato's, where he is to atone for his 
 wrongdoing by marrying the governor's niece. 
 
 At the hour for the wedding, many people as- 
 semble in Leonato's house, where the friar 
 triumphantly states he pronounced Hero in- 
 nocent from the very first. All rejoice that the 
 mystery has been solved, and Benedick is relieved 
 not to have to fight his friend. Turning to his 
 daughter, who stands among the guests in wedding 
 array, Leonato bids her and her cousin withdraw, 
 appearing masked only at his summons. Then, 
 he warns the remaining guests that the prince and 
 Claudio will soon appear, and bids them play their 
 parts properly, his brother personating the bride's 
 father and giving her away to Claudio, although the 
 masked lady will be Hero, and not Beatrice, as the 
 bridegroom supposes. Even the friar consents to aid 
 in this mystification, and Benedick suddenly pro- 
 poses to give the ceremony double importance, by be- 
 ing united to Beatrice, with whom he has finally 
 reached an understanding. 
 
 It is at this juncture that Don Pedro and Claudio 
 enter, and, after greeting the assembled guests, 
 gravely state they are ready to proceed with the 
 marriage. While the governor's brother goes out 
 to get the bride, the prince, Claudio, and Benedick 
 indulge in sprightly conversation, which continues 
 until the ladies appear. Hesitating which to ap- 
 proach, Claudio begs a glimpse of the bride's face, 
 but Leonato tells him that is not allowed, and points 
 out the lady he is to wed. After plighting troth by 
 
282 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 taking hands in the friar's presence, Hero removes 
 her mask, saying, 'when I lived, I was your other 
 wife, and when you loved, you were my other hus- 
 band.' This sudden appearance of a lady he deems 
 dead, causes Claudio to start back in terror, but 
 when the bride assures him one Hero was done to 
 death, but that another is alive to marry him, he is 
 so relieved to think she is still on earth that he 
 welcomes her with rapture. All Hero's statements 
 are, besides, fully confirmed by the friar, who prom- 
 ises to explain everything after the wedding cere- 
 mony. 
 
 Meantime, Benedick has approached Beatrice, 
 who, removing her mask, asks what he wishes? 
 When he inquires whether she loves him, she jauntily 
 rejoins ' no more than reason,' although he claims 
 her uncle, the prince, and Claudio swear such is the 
 case. Turning the tables upon him, Beatrice then 
 asks whether he loves her, and when he replies by 
 repeating her words, and by revealing that Mar- 
 garet, Ursula, and Hero aver she is sick of love 
 for him, she seems surprised. Their witty differ- 
 ence finally attracts the attention of the rest, but 
 when Leonato tries to make them publicly admit 
 they like each other, they obstinately refuse to do so ! 
 Then Claudio slyly produces a paper on which Bene- 
 dick was composing a sonnet to his lady, while Hero 
 exhibits another on which Beatrice's sentiments for 
 Benedick are betrayed. In face of this proof, the 
 rebellious lovers no longer deny their passion, and 
 Benedick stops all further protest on Beatrice's part 
 by kissing her. 
 
Much Ado About Nothing 283 
 
 When rallied by Don Pedro for breaking his oath, 
 and becoming the very thing he vowed he v\70uld 
 never be, ' Benedick the married man,' the youth 
 glories in his new bonds, jocosely bidding the prince 
 get a wife, too, and inviting all present follow him 
 and his bride to the dancing hall. 
 
 The wedding party has just vanished out of sight 
 when a messenger announces that the traitor Don 
 John has been caught, and is being brought back to 
 Messina, where Benedick promises to help Don 
 Pedro devise ' brave punishments for him.' 
 
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 
 
 Act L The first act opens in the palace of the 
 Count of Rousillon, just as his widow is bidding 
 farewell to her son, Bertram, who has been sum- 
 moned to court. The mother is loath to part with 
 him, but Lafeu, the messenger, graciously assures 
 her the king will father the youth, and further his 
 fortunes. Close beside the countess stands Helena, 
 whose tears the messenger notices, just after his 
 hostess has mentioned how she regrets the death of 
 the physician, who sojourned with them, — the father 
 of the young lady beside her, — for she feels sure he 
 could have cured the king's illness, which the courtier 
 reports serious. When Lafeu inquires the name of 
 this doctor, the countess introduces Helena, and 
 fancies her tears are for her dead parent. Although 
 warmly praising the maiden, who ' derives her hon- 
 esty and achieves her goodness,' the countess warns 
 her people may deem her grief affectation, until 
 Helena exclaims hers is no feigned sorrow. She 
 does not even notice Lafeu's remark that ' moderate 
 lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief 
 the enemy to the living,' but turns aside to escape 
 further attention. 
 
 Meanwhile, the countess bestows good advice 
 upon her son, bidding him bear himself suitably at 
 court; then addressing Lafeu, she begs him watch 
 284 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 285 
 
 over the youth, whom she blesses ere leaving the 
 room. The young lord now takes leave of Helena, 
 urging her to ' be comfortable to my mother, your 
 mistress, and make much of her,' while the courtier 
 bids her uphold her father's credit. 
 
 After they have gone, Helena reveals in a soliloquy 
 that her tears are for Bertram, whose image is 
 graven in her heart, although she knows he is far 
 above her in station. Her reminiscences of past joy 
 in watching him are interrupted by the entrance of 
 Parolles, Bertram's follower, whom she knows to be 
 a ' notorious liar,' a. fool and coward, but with whom 
 she indulges in frequent bouts of repartee. When 
 he addresses her as ' queen,' therefore, she retorts by 
 hailing him as ' monarch,' and for a while they bandy 
 remarks in Elizabethan taste. This word-skirmish 
 ceases only when a page summons Parolles to attend 
 his master, and Helena, relapsing into soliloquy, 
 concludes that * our remedies oft in ourselves do 
 lie,' for she has suddenly thought of a plan whereby 
 she can, perchance, relieve the king and avoid losing 
 sight of the man she loves. 
 
 In the next scene we are transferred to the king's 
 palace, just as he is telling his courtiers that Flor- 
 ence and Sienna being at war, a call for assistance 
 has come from the former city. Although the king 
 himself does not wish to appear openly in the fray, 
 he gives his nobles permission to enter Tuscan 
 service; for this war, — as one of the courtiers ex- 
 plains, — ^will serve as ' a nursery to our gentry, who 
 are sick for breathing and exploit.' 
 
 Just then Bertram is ushered in, — followed by 
 
286 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Lafeu and Parolles, — and is graciously welcomed by 
 the king, who remembers his father as one of the 
 cherished companions of his youth. Such is the 
 praise the monarch lavishes upon the deceased count 
 of Rousillon, that Bertram rejoins his father 'lies 
 richer in your thoughts than on his tomb,' for even 
 an epitaph could not laud the departed more ex- 
 travagantly. Consumed with sadness and suffering, 
 the king soon adds he wishes he were beside his 
 former companion, one of whose favourite sayings 
 was, ' let me not live after my flame lacks oil.' Al- 
 though the courtiers try to encourage their monarch, 
 he insists he has not long to live, and inquires when 
 the famous physician died in the castle of Rousillon? 
 When Bertram states this happened six months ago, 
 the king sighs that were this man still living, he 
 would gladly try his skill, for nature and sickness 
 have long been disputing the possession of his poor 
 body. Then, after a last gracious word to the 
 newcomer, the monarch departs with his train. 
 
 We return to the castle of Rousillon, where the 
 countess, summoning her steward and clown, in- 
 quires what they have to report in regard to her 
 gentlewoman? Such are the rambling answers she 
 receives, and the clown's anxiety to obtain her con- 
 sent to his marrying, that she has to dismiss him 
 ere she can question the steward in peace. She then 
 learns that Helena has been brooding lately, and 
 that, while talking to herself, was overheard to con- 
 fess she loved Bertram, and that fortune was cruel 
 to place such difference between their estates. He 
 feels confident the young lady has, besides, some 
 
'All's Well that Ends Well 287 
 
 plan in view, and hence deems it his duty to warn 
 his mistress. After thanking the steward for this 
 information, the countess dismisses him, with orders 
 not to mention the matter, and, while waiting for 
 Helena, murmurs she felt just the same when she 
 was young, for ' this thorn doth to our rose of youth 
 rightly belong.' 
 
 As soon as Helena comes in, the countess ad- 
 dresses her in tender tones, saying she considers her- 
 self her mother. Because the maiden starts at the 
 word * mother,' the countess repeats it, seeming sur- 
 prised when Helena rejects such relationship. Urged 
 to explain, the girl declares it is impossible a humble 
 maiden should be sister to the high-born Bertram, 
 whose servant and vassal she will always be, but 
 whom she has no desire to call brother. When the 
 countess tenderly inquires whether she is equally 
 reluctant to accept her as mother, the girl hesitates; 
 then replies she would not be Bertram's sister under 
 any circumstances. With kindly emphasis, the 
 countess then explains she might become her daughter 
 by marrying her son, and noting Helena's change of 
 colour and lack of response gently reproves her for 
 obstinacy. She thus gradually induces the girl to 
 admit a love for Bertram, which, in spite of all her 
 attempts to root it out of her heart, has constantly 
 grown and increased. Still, because her affection is 
 pure and true, Helena implores the countess ' let not 
 your hate encounter with my love for loving where 
 you do,' and craves permission to carry out a cher- 
 ished plan. This consists in a journey to Paris, 
 to offer the king one of her father's prescrip- 
 
288 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 tions, which, she feels confident, will cure his 
 disease. 
 
 When the countess shrewdly inquires whether this 
 is her sole motive, Helena truthfully rejoins that, 
 had not Bertram gone there first, she might never 
 have thought of carrying medicine to his majesty. 
 But, when the countess objects that the learned 
 physicians at court may refuse to let a maiden' try 
 her skill, Helena declares that, if the king will only 
 grant her leave to try, success will ensue, and that 
 no time is to be lost. Convinced by these words, 
 the countess not only allows her to depart, but fur- 
 nishes money and attendants, so she can present her- 
 self at court in a suitable manner, proposing, mean- 
 while, to remain at home, and pray God to bless her 
 undertaking. 
 
 Act n. The second act opens in the palace in 
 Paris, just as the king is taking formal leave of the 
 nobles who are to take part In the Florentine wars. 
 After expressing thanks for his good wishes, one 
 lord voices the fervent hope they will find him better 
 on their return. The monarch, however, sadly re- 
 joins this cannot be, although his ' heart will not con- 
 fess he owes the malady that doth his life besiege.' 
 Then, playfully cautioning the youths against the 
 wiles of Italian maidens, the king leaves the room. 
 While the lords chat together, Bertram openly re- 
 grets being ordered to remain at court, for he longs 
 to take part in the adventures his companions are 
 seeking abroad. Perceiving his regret, his com- 
 panions playfully suggest he steal away, advice he is 
 inclined to follow when they take leave of him 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 289 
 
 and Parolles, who, meantime, has been boasting 
 freely of the deeds he once performed in Italy. 
 The lords, have scarcely gone, when Parolles urges 
 Bertram to remain with them until they leave, for he 
 secretly hopes his master will yet decide to join them 
 in Florence. 
 
 As Bertram and his attendant pass out of the 
 room, the king comes in and sits down. He is sunk in 
 reverie when Lafeu kneels before him, begging par- 
 don for intruding, but craving a boon. Invited to 
 speak, the courtier inquires whether the king would 
 like to be cured of his infirmity, and hearing him 
 answer ' no,' pityingly rejoins it is the old story of 
 fox and grapes! When he adds that a doctor has 
 come whose remedies can raise the dead, the king in- 
 quires who it may be, and is so surprised on learning 
 it is a woman, that curiosity overcomes his reluctance. 
 He therefore bids Lafeu admit her, threatening him 
 with ridicule in case he spoke too highly of her. De- 
 lighted with the success of his venture, Lafeu hurries 
 out, to return imnjediately with Helena, whom he 
 fussily introduces, bidding her speak her mind to the 
 king, and leaving the two together only after mak- 
 ing a would-be facetious remark. 
 
 The monarch now questions Helena, who gravely 
 states her father, on his deathbed, entrusted to her 
 keeping a wonderful remedy for the very disease 
 from which the king is suffering. It is this nostrum 
 she tenders, for which kindness the king graciously 
 thanks her, saying, however, it is useless to try it 
 as his physicians have pronounced his malady past 
 cure. Hearing him refuse her ofFer, Helena begs 
 
290 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 to be dismissed with a kind thought, so she can re- 
 turn home. Then the king, touched by her unselfish 
 desire to serve him, expresses such gracious thanks, 
 that Helena feels emboldened to urge it would do 
 him no harm to try her remedy, and to remind him 
 that wisdom has often come from the mouth of 
 babes. Although the king persists in his refusal, 
 Helena, detecting wavering in his tone, expresses 
 such confidence in her drug that he finally inquires 
 how long it would take to show its effect? Hear- 
 ing the young lady state the miracle would be ac- 
 com.plished in forty-eight hours, the king asks what 
 she would be willing to stake on the venture, and 
 when she exclaim.s her very life, decides to try her 
 physic. Although he warns her it may minister to 
 her death should he succumb, Helena remains un- 
 daunted, and confidently inquires what reward he 
 will grant her if she succeed? The king swearing 
 by his scepter she shall choose it herself, she requests 
 that since he can dispose of the bachelors in his realm, 
 he will permit her to select a husband among those 
 beneath royal rank. Not only does the king readily 
 subscribe to this, but shakes hands upon it ere leav- 
 ing the room with ' Dr. She,' who is to make the im- 
 mediate test of her remedy, and thus save his life, if 
 possible. 
 
 We are next vouchsafed another glimpse in the 
 castle of Rousillon, just as the countess has sum- 
 moned her clown, and, after wasting many words in 
 bandying witty remarks with him, entrusts to his 
 keeping a letter he is to carry to Helena at court. 
 
 Meantime Bertram, conversing in the palace with 
 
HELENA OFFERS TO CURE THE KING 
 
 " And, hearing your high Majesty is touch'd 
 With that malignant cause wherein the honour 
 Of nny dear father's gift stands chief in power, 
 i come to tender it, and my appliance," 
 
 All's WellThat Ends Well. Act 2, Scene 1, 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 291 
 
 Lafeu and Parolles, learns that, although people 
 claim the age of miracles is past, strange things can 
 still happen! The miracle now causing a sensa- 
 tion at court is the fact that, at the end of two days, 
 the new remedy has caused such a difference in the 
 king's health that he has been pronounced cured. 
 They are still discussing the wonder, when the king 
 enters with Helena, whom all regard curiously, and 
 whom Parolles recognises as an old acquaintance, 
 when the king presents her to the court as his pre- 
 server. 
 
 After summoning all his followers, the king bids 
 Helena consider the bachelors and select among 
 them the one she desires to marry. Greeting them 
 courteously, Helena considers each in turn, while 
 Lafeu openly regrets not to be eligible for her favour. 
 Addressing the bachelors, Helena states that, being a 
 maid, she blushes at having to make a public choice. 
 Still, encouraged by the king, she approaches one 
 noble and asks whether he would be willing to listen 
 to her suit? Although he expresses cordial readi- 
 ness, she passes on to another, whose answer Lafeu 
 deems too cold, since he mutters * these boys are 
 boys of ice ! ' Finally, Helena pauses before Ber- 
 tram, declaring she dares not say she takes him, but 
 that she is willing to give herself and her service 
 ever, whilst she lives, into his guiding power. 
 
 Seeing her choice is made, the king orders Bertram 
 to marry her, but the youth restively vows he will 
 select his own wife ! When the monarch indignantly 
 reminds him of what Helena has done in his behalf, 
 Bertram acknowledges her services, but persists that 
 
292 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 is no reason why he should marry her. Then the 
 king insists, but Bertram expresses such disdain for 
 a person brought up as dependant in his mother's 
 house, that his sovereign reproves him for haughti- 
 ness, and promises to bestow gifts upon Helena, 
 which, backed with her virtue, will equal any rank! 
 Because Bertram petulantly rejoins he cannot love 
 her and will not try to do so, Helena implores the 
 monarch not to insist, and declares herself satisfied; 
 but this fails to please his majesty, who, feeling his 
 honour engaged, orders Bertram to make good his 
 word, under penalty of his ' revenge and hate.' Thus 
 adjured, Bertram is forced to yield, although he mut- 
 ters he submits his fancy to the king's eyes, when, at 
 the monarch's command, he takes Helena's hand, and 
 all file out of the room for the wedding. 
 
 The only persons left on the stage are Lafeu and 
 Parolles, who discuss this forced match. During 
 this interview Lafeu discovers what a hollow boaster 
 Parolles is, and shows such contempt for him that, 
 when he leaves the room for a moment, his inter- 
 locutor mutters he will get even with him yet! On 
 returning, Lafeu reports the marriage concluded, 
 and, when Parolles resumes his boasting, calls him a 
 worthless, saucy fellow, and turns his back upon him 
 in scorn. 
 
 Shortly after Lafeu has gone, Bertram joins 
 Parolles, petulantly complaining he is undone, and 
 ' forfeited to cares forever ! ' In his anger, he vows 
 he will have nothing to do with the bride forced 
 upon him, but will hasten off to the Tuscan wars, 
 in spite of the king. He has, besides, no desire to 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 293 
 
 ascertain what the letters contain which have come 
 from his mother, but is eager to depart, a decision 
 welcome to Parolles, who is longing to go to 
 Italy. He, therefore, strengthens his young mas- 
 ter's resolution by every means in his power, assur- 
 ing him, among other things, that ' a young man 
 married is a man that's marr'd,' and urging him to 
 avenge the wrong the king has done him by for- 
 saking his bride. 
 
 After they have gone, Helena enters with the 
 clown, who has brought her letters, and from whom 
 she inquires about her mistress's health. These two 
 are soon joined by Parolles, who, after a wordy en- 
 counter with the clown, delivers a message from 
 Bertram, to the effect that Helena is to return im- 
 mediately to Rousillon, as business calls her Husband 
 away, and will prevent his joining her for a few 
 days, in spite of his fervent desire to be with her. 
 Bertram's orders are that his new-made wife take 
 immediate leave of the king, offering such apologies 
 as she thinks fit, and, this done, present herself be- 
 fore him, as he wishes to give her his last orders. 
 
 Meantime, Lafeu has gone in quest of Bertram, to 
 warn him that his follower, Parolles, is a mere 
 trifler — a warning the youth scorns because he has 
 taken this man at his own estimate. When 
 Parolles enters, therefore, reporting Helena is al- 
 ready on her way to the king, Bertram states that, 
 having written his letters, collected his treasures, and 
 given orders for his horses, he will depart at the very 
 hour when he should take possession of his bride! 
 During this scene, Parolles vainly tries to conciliate 
 
294 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Lafeu, who dubs him a nut without kernel, tells 
 Bertram ' the soul of this man is in his clothes,' and 
 repeats he is not to be trusted ' in matter of heavy 
 consequence,' all of which warnings prove vain. 
 
 It is now that Helena humbly presents herself 
 to receive her husband's orders, and is told that, al- 
 though called away from her side, Bertram will soon 
 rejoin her, but that, meantime, she is to hasten 
 home, and deliver to his mother the letter he en- 
 trusts to her keeping. Rejoining that she is his 
 obedient servant, and will try ' with true observance 
 to eke out that wherein toward me my homely 
 stars have fail'd to equal my great fortune,' Helena 
 is impatiently interrupted by Bertram, who bids her 
 begone. Although she implores him to part kindly 
 from her with a kiss, he dismisses her abruptly, and 
 after she has vanished, grimly vows he will never 
 visit his home as long as she is there! Then, turn- 
 ing to his companion, he invites him to flee with 
 him to Italy. 
 
 Act III. The third act opens in a palace in 
 Florence, where the duke has interviewed the French 
 noblemen, and explained to them his quarrel with 
 Sienna. All the young adventurers pronounce his 
 cause holy, and report that, although their monarch 
 would gladly help him, he can do so only by allow- 
 ing his nobles to join in the enterprise. Promising 
 to welcome all who come, the duke announces they 
 will take to the field on the morrow. 
 
 In the castle of Rousillon the countess has just 
 finished perusing a letter brought by the clown, 
 which announces her son's marriage and the return 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 295 
 
 of the bride. She marvels that Bertram should not 
 accompany Helena, which causes the clown to term 
 him a melancholy man, a statement he explains by 
 describing how absent-mindedly the youth continu- 
 ally sang the same tune, thereby betraying a pre- 
 occupied mind. While the countess reads her mis- 
 sive a second time, the clown avers court life has 
 spoiled him for his country sweetheart, and leaves 
 the room. 
 
 Left alone, the countess cons aloud her news, for 
 Bertram writes that forced to marry against his 
 will, he refuses to live with his wife, and has run 
 away. Indignant at such conduct, the mother calls 
 him a ' rash and unbridled boy, to fly the favours 
 of so good a king,' and adds he is shaming a maid 
 too virtuous to be scorned by an emperor. 
 
 It is at this moment the clown announces the 
 arrival of his young lady, escorted by two gentle- 
 men who bring terrible tidings. When the countess 
 tremulously inquires what he means, he comforts 
 her with the assurance that war is not the most 
 dangerous occupation! Just then Helena and her 
 companions enter, and, after greeting them, the 
 countess, without heeding a despairing cry from 
 Helena, asks about her son ? The gentlemen explain 
 that Bertram has gone to Florence to offer his 
 services to the duke, and then Helena tenders the 
 letter they brought her, wherein this youth baldly 
 states that, until she secure possession of his an- 
 cestral ring, and can boast she is mother of his 
 child, he will never behold her! Learning this 
 cruel ultimatum was entrusted to these gentlemen, 
 
296 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 the countess informs them she will have nothing 
 further to do with her recreant son, but will adopt 
 Helena as her child in his stead. This gives Helena 
 sufHcient courage to finish perusing her letter, which 
 contains the additional statement that, until Ber- 
 tram learns he is wifeless, he will never return 
 home. 
 
 Such a decision increases the wrath of the countess, 
 who vows her daughter-in-law deserves ' a lord that 
 twenty such rude boys might tend upon.' But 
 when she learns how Bertram has gone to Italy with 
 Parolles, she realises her boy's ' well-derived na- 
 ture ' is being corrupted by a ' man full of wicked- 
 ness.' She, therefore, enjoins upon the gentlemen, — 
 who are on their way to Florence, — to tell Bertram 
 * his sword can never win the honour that he loses,' 
 and to convey a letter she will write. Promising 
 obedience, the gentlemen follow her out of the room, 
 while Helena, left alone on the stage, muses on Ber- 
 tram's cruel ultimatum, and decides he shall soon 
 have no wife in France, since she means to run away, 
 in hopes that when rumours of her flight reach him, 
 he will return and cease exposing his ' tender limbs ' 
 to ' the event of non-sparing war ! ' Then she 
 leaves the stage, exclaiming that, as soon as night 
 falls, she will steal away like a thief. 
 
 We now behold the palace in Florence, where 
 the duke is appointing Bertram his general of horse, 
 a charge the youth modestly deems beyond his 
 capacity, although his superior encourages him to 
 assume and perform it with valour. 
 
 Returning to the castle in Rousillon, we next per- 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 297 
 
 ceive the countess interviewing her steward, who 
 has just delivered a letter from Helena. The mis- 
 tress reproves him for accepting such an errand, 
 stating he might have known the missive would 
 never have been entrusted to him unless his young 
 lady was about to depart. On reading the letter 
 aloud, the steward discovers that Helena has gone 
 on a pilgrimage to St. Jacques, and wishes her hus- 
 band informed that she is no longer in France, so 
 he may return home without breaking his vow. 
 Meantime, she fervently hopes death may overtake 
 her during this journey, and thus set Bertram 
 definitely free. Had the countess known Helena's 
 intentions sooner, she would have defeated them, 
 for she vows her unworthy son will never thrive, 
 unless his wife's prayers divert Heaven's wrath from 
 him. Then she bids the steward write to Bertram 
 all that has occurred, hoping he will return, and 
 that Helena, urged by love, will come back, for, 
 ' which of them both is dearest ' to her she cannot 
 tell. Finally, oppressed by all the sorrows assailing 
 her at once, she leaves the stage crying, ' grief would 
 have tears, and sorrow bids me speak.' 
 
 The next scene is played outside the walls of 
 Florence, where a number of people have assembled 
 to witness the return of the troops, it having been 
 rumoured that Bertram has distinguished himself 
 in the late encounter. Chief among the spectators 
 is a widow lady, with her daughter and neighbours, 
 and the latter rally the young woman upon having 
 made a conquest of the French nobleman. This 
 damsel, whose name is Diana, doesn't deny the 
 
298 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 fact, but good-naturedly receives her neighbours' 
 warning that men are deceivers, and that many 
 dangers beset maidens. While all stand talking, 
 Helena joins them in the guise of a pilgrim, and the 
 widow, who entertains such travellers, eagerly of- 
 fers her lodgings. 
 
 While they are talking, a military march re- 
 sounds, and the widow informs Helena that if she 
 will wait a few moments, she can witness the tri- 
 umphal return of one of her countrymen, who has 
 ' done worthy service.' On hearing this hero is the 
 Count of Rousillon, Helena claims to have already 
 heard his praises, and listens eagerly while Diana 
 relates how the youth stole away from France, hav- 
 ing been married, contrary to his will, to a lady 
 of whom his companion, Parolles, speaks most dis- 
 paragingly. At mention of this name, Helena ex- 
 claims she can credit Parolles had nothing good to 
 say of her, a remark Diana does not heed, for she 
 avers it must be hard to be wife to a lord who de- 
 tests you, while her proud mother plainly intimates 
 her child experienced no difficulty to win that 
 young nobleman's affections! Then, perceiving 
 Helena's interest, the widow relates how Bertram 
 has been courting Diana for some time past, adding 
 that naught save honesty prevented her listening to 
 his suit. Just then the troops file past, and the 
 widow points out Bertram, while Diana, designating 
 Parolles, vows, were she Bertram's wife, she would 
 poison that rascal for leading his master astray. The 
 troops having passed, the widow offers to guide the 
 pilgrim to her house, an invitation Helena accepts, 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 299 
 
 bidding all present to supper, and promising to be- 
 stow some good advice upon Diana. 
 
 We now behold the camp before Florence, where 
 Bertram, talking to his mother's messengers, is told 
 he is greatly mistaken in his estimate of Parolles, 
 whom the lords sweepingly designate as ' a most 
 notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an 
 hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good 
 quality worthy your lordship's entertainment.' In 
 proof of the truth of this estimate, they propose 
 Parolles be challenged to recover a lost drum, in re- 
 gard to which he has been making a great fuss. As 
 Bertram consents to this test, Parolles no sooner en- 
 ters than a lively and amusing dialogue ensues, dur- 
 ing which the lords and Bertram play upon Parolles' 
 vanity, until the boaster finally sallies forth upon 
 his venture. Meanwhile his companions aver he 
 Vuill take no steps for the recovery of the drum, but 
 will return, with some astounding tale, and form a 
 plot to expose him. 
 
 One of the lords departing, Bertram volunteers to 
 conduct the other to the widow's house and show 
 him the beautiful lass of whom he has spoken so en- 
 thusiastically. Still, he admits she met his advances 
 coldly, although Parolles had assured him she was 
 ready to accept his proposals. 
 
 We are now transferred to the widow's house, 
 where Helena, after an interview with her hostess, 
 exclaims she must be convinced by this time of her 
 identity. When the widow demurs that she will 
 risk her reputation, Helena reiterates she Is the 
 count's lawful wife, and that, if her hostess will 
 
300 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 only aid her, she will not only give her a purse of 
 gold, but will promise a greater reward later on. 
 Helena's plan is that, since the count has been wooing 
 the widow's daughter, Diana should pretend to yield 
 to his suit and make an appointment with him, pro- 
 vided he give her as pledge his ring. This jewel, 
 Diana is to deliver to Helena, remaining chastely 
 absent while Bertram's wife receives him in her 
 stead; earning in return for such services a sum of 
 money sufficient to enable her to contract an honour- 
 able marriage. 
 
 Enticed by such a bribe, the widow yields, and 
 it is arranged that meeting shall take place that very 
 night, Helena assuring her hostess that, if their plot 
 succeed, it will be ' wicked meaning in a lawful 
 deed, and lawful meaning in a lawful act, where 
 both not sin, and yet a sinful fact.' 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in the Florentine 
 camp, where some practical jokers are lying in am- 
 bush to capture Parolles on his way back from his 
 supposed enterprise, and make him think he has been 
 taken by the foe. The men are instructed to use 
 varieties of gibberish to gull Parolles, who is wel- 
 come game to them all. A few minutes later the 
 boaster draws near, muttering he has lain low for 
 three hours past, and can now return with a plausi- 
 ble tale to account for the lack of the drum. Talk- 
 ing to himself, he wonders whether it would be bet- 
 ter to slash his garments and break his sword as 
 colour to his tale, while the plotters comment on 
 what he says. Suddenly, the men in ambush 
 crowd around him, vociferating meaningless words, 
 
AlVs Well that Ends Well 301 
 
 which are supposed to represent foreign languages. 
 Seized and blindfolded, Parolles cries that, if they 
 will only take him where he can speak, he will ' dis- 
 cover that which shall undo the Florentine.' The 
 whole scene proves most comical, owing to the 
 gusto with which the soldiers play their part and, as 
 Parolles leaves the stage under guard, one of the 
 officers sends word to the Count of Rousillon that 
 they have ' caught the woodcock,' and will keep him 
 until his arrival. 
 
 The curtain rises once more on the widow's 
 house, where Bertram is interviewing Diana, upon 
 whom he lavishes compliments to entice her to con- 
 sent to his wishes. Pretending reluctance, Diana 
 gradually yields to her suitor's entreaties, stipulat- 
 ing, however, that he give her the ring he wears. 
 When Bertram objects to part with such an heir- 
 loom, Diana pertly vows her chastity is equally 
 precious, and makes it so apparent she will consent 
 only if he yields to her request, that he bestows the 
 ring upon her. Then she directs him to knock at 
 her chamber window at midnight, so softly her 
 mother shall not hear, promising to admit him, pro- 
 vided he does not speak and remains with her but 
 an hour. During that interview in the dark, she 
 proposes to give him a ring as pledge of their secret 
 troth, and of the explanation she promises him later 
 on. Delighted with his success, Bertram departs, 
 while Diana concludes her mother is a wise woman, 
 since she told her exactly what Bertram would say, 
 by what steps he would proceed, and how fervently 
 he would promise marriage as soon as his wife was 
 
302 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 dead. The curtain falls just as she sagely decides 
 it is no sin ' to cozen him that would unjustly 
 win.' 
 
 In the Florentine camp, we now overhear the 
 lords who have brought the countess' letter, openly 
 blaming Bertram for having shaken off a good wife. 
 They add that the king is sorely displeased with 
 him, and that rumours are afloat in camp he has 
 perverted a Florentine lady upon whom he be- 
 stowed his ancestral ring. By their talk we further 
 learn that peace will speedily be concluded, and that 
 the Count of Rousillon's occupations being over, he 
 will soon leave Florence for home. They add his 
 wife left Rousillon two months before, and that her 
 pilgrimage to St. Jacques has proved fatal, as a report 
 claims she died by the way. At this point a mes- 
 senger joins them, stating Bertram has already taken 
 leave of the duke, who graciously ' offered him let- 
 ters of commendations to the king,' which will re- 
 store him to favour. 
 
 A moment later Bertram appears, commenting 
 upon the fact that he is winding up his affairs, and 
 has already written to his mother to announce his 
 return. All that now remains for him to do is to 
 see that Parolles convicts himself, and to keep his 
 love-tryst. He, therefore, orders Parolles taken out 
 of the stocks, — in which he has languished all night, 
 — and brought blindfolded before him as before a 
 court-martial. 
 
 Before long the prisoner is ushered in, volubly 
 offering to reveal everything, provided he is let go. 
 Throughout this scene the soldiers use gibberish, and 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 303 
 
 when his interrogatory begins, Parolles eagerly re- 
 veals the exact number of the Florentine forces, and 
 answers every question asked. He even offers to 
 prove his statements by letters on his person. As the 
 first they open and read is his warning to Diana 
 in regard to Bertram, he jauntily proceeds to betray 
 his master's private affairs, terming him contemptu- 
 ously ' a foolish, idle boy.' After wringing from 
 Parolles all the information they desire, and fright- 
 ening him with dire threats of immediate execution, 
 the soldiers unbind him, and remove his bandage. 
 Then only the wretch discovers he is in the midst of 
 his own people, in whose presence he has uttered 
 all these mingled truths and lies. 
 
 With a glance of withering scorn for his treach- 
 ery, Bertram leaves him, an example soon followed 
 by the rest, and Parolles, perceiving all chance of 
 favour and advancement gone, decides to thrive 
 hereafter by villainy only, and not mind his 
 shame. 
 
 Returning to the widow's house, we find Helena 
 telling her hostess and daughter that, although she 
 is supposed to be dead, and her husband has pre- 
 ceded her on his way home, she will have to hasten 
 to Marseilles with them to secure the king's aid. 
 The widow, who admires Helena, vows she * never 
 had a servant to whose trust her business was more 
 welcome,' and expresses fervent thanks when Helena 
 hopes her daughter may secure a good husband, 
 thanks to the dowry she has earned. It is evident 
 Diana does not mind the obloquy under which she 
 rests, for she and her mother gladly accompany 
 
304 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Helena, who exclaims : ' All's well that ends well,* 
 adding, 'whate'er the course, the end is the re- 
 nown.' 
 
 The curtain next rises on the castle of Rousillon, 
 where the countess is learning from Lafeu how her 
 son was led astray by a worthless fellow named 
 Parolles, and how, had it not been for this, Helena 
 might be still alive and Bertram in full enjoyment 
 of royal favour. The countess wishes her son had 
 never known so bad an adviser, and entertains Lafeu 
 and her clown with praises of the dead Helena. 
 Dismissing the clown, whose witty remarks call forth 
 a tip from Lafeu, and whom the countess excuses by 
 saying her husband made so much of this jester that 
 he considers it ' a patent for his sauciness,' the former 
 conversation is resumed. Lafeu reports he is about 
 to return to court, where he hopes to make Ber- 
 tram's peace with the king, and arrange for his mar- 
 riage with his daughter, for he has heard the youth 
 is arriving from Marseilles with a suite of twenty 
 men. On learning her son will be with her 
 soon, the countess expresses delight, just as the glad 
 tidings are confirmed by the clown's announcement 
 that his master is coming, wearing a bandage across 
 his face, which, Lafeu explains, covers a wound 
 honourably received. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens in Marseilles, where 
 Helena, the widow, and Diana, have arrived, weary 
 with posting night and day. In spite of her own 
 fatigue, Helena greatly pities her companions, just as 
 a gentleman joins them, whom she remembers having 
 seen at court. To this emissary she eagerly en- 
 
AWs Well that Ends Well 305 
 
 trusts a petition, and is dismayed to learn the king 
 has already left Marseilles. Still, comforting herself 
 with her favourite maxim, ' all's well that ends well,' 
 she inquires whither he is bound, and, learning he 
 is to spend the night at Rousillon, bids the gentle- 
 man hurry on with her petition, leaving her to 
 follow as fast as possible, so as to receive the king's 
 answer in person. 
 
 We now behold a square before the castle of 
 Rousillon, where the clown and Parolles meet. On 
 this occasion, Parolles, — who brings a letter for 
 Lafeu, — is so muddy and povery-stricken in appear- 
 ance, that the clown orders him to stand at a re- 
 spectful distance, as he cannot endure filth too close 
 by. When Lafeu appears, the clown vanishes, and 
 Parolles humbly presents himself as ' a man whom 
 Fortune hath cruelly scratched.' Deeming he 
 richly deserves such treatment at her hands, Lafeu 
 feels no pity, but taunts Parolles with the matter 
 of the drum, ere he bids him begone. Then, hear- 
 ing a trumpet announce the arrival of the king, he 
 suddenly relents and sends Parolles to the kitchen 
 for something to eat, a small favour the villain 
 thankfully receives. 
 
 Next, the king is seen approaching, speaking to the 
 countess, and assuring her his court lost a jewel in 
 Helena, and that her son must be mad since he 
 * lack'd the sense to know her estimation home ! ' 
 Excusing Bertram under plea his shortcomings 
 were due to ' the blaze of youth,' the countess pleads 
 for his pardon, while Lafeu reminds the king that 
 Bertram wronged himself most by losing a wife of 
 
3o6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 such perfection. The king graciously expressing his 
 forgiveness and desire to see Bertram, a gentleman 
 hurries off to get him. 
 
 Meantime the monarch asks Lafeu whether ru- 
 mour is correct when it states this youth is about 
 to marry his daughter? Learning such a plan has 
 been mooted, the king consents to the match, be- 
 cause the letters he has recently received speak so 
 highly of Bertram. Just then, the youth in ques- 
 tion humbly presents himself, and, when the mon- 
 arch addresses him as a sun which has been ob- 
 scured for a time by clouds, he dutifully begs the 
 royal pardon. After granting it, the monarch in- 
 quires whether Bertram remembers Lafeu's daugh- 
 ter, and hearing him enthusiastically praise her 
 beauty, promises to forget the past, provided he im- 
 mediately marry this young person. 
 
 The countess expresses a fervent hope her son's 
 second m.arriage will be more blessed than the first, 
 and Lafeu welcomes his new son-in-law, who gives 
 him a ring for his daughter, upon which the noble- 
 man stares in amazement, because he saw it on Hel- 
 ena's hand, when he took leave from her at court. 
 As this is the ring Bertram received at Florence, dur- 
 ing his midnight interview, he swears Helena never 
 owned it. Hearing this, the king demands sight of 
 the jewel, and recognises it as the one he bestowed 
 upon Helena, in case ' her fortunes ever stood neces- 
 sitied to help,' when, at sight of the token, he would 
 grant any favour she asked. Unable to believe 
 Helena would part with such a treasure, he does not 
 credit Bertram's assertion that the ring was never in 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 307 
 
 her hands, especially as both the countess and Lafeu 
 swear they saw her wear it. 
 
 To account for his ownership of the ring, Bertram 
 claims it was tossed to him from a casement in Flor- 
 ence by a noble lady, whom he could not marry, 
 being already bound. Deeming this mere evasion, 
 the king repeats he gave the ring to Helena, and 
 that Bertram can have obtained it only by rough 
 means, or as love token. When Bertram reiterates 
 that Helena never saw it, the king decrees the mat- 
 ter be sifted to the bottom, and, knowing how Ber- 
 tram hated his wife, orders him arrested until the 
 affair is cleared up. But, as the guards lead the 
 youth away, he angrily cries they can just as easily 
 prove the ring was Helena's as that he lived with 
 her in Florence, where she never was! 
 
 At this juncture a gentleman delivers a petition 
 sent by a Florentine lady, who vows it concerns the 
 king as well as herself. On reading the petition, 
 the king learns that Diana claims the Count of 
 Rousillon as her husband, — now he is a widower, — 
 he having promised her marriage in Florence. In- 
 dignantly refusing to accept such a trifler as son-in- 
 law, Lafeu is told by the king he must have won 
 Heaven's favour, since this discovery occurred before 
 the marriage with his daughter took place. Then, 
 his majesty orders Bertram brought again before 
 him, crying he fears foul play in regard to Helena. 
 
 Once more ushered in, Bertram is undergoing re- 
 proof at the king's hands, when the widow and 
 Diana appear. When the king inquires who these 
 strangers may be, Diana states she is the lady whose 
 
3o8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 petition he holds, her mother adding they have come 
 here to have their w^rongs righted. Confronted with 
 the ladies, Bertram does not deny knowing them, but 
 glances so coldly upon Diana that she reproaches 
 him for looking thus at his wife. When Bertram 
 denies being her husband, Diana claims he prom- 
 ised to marry her, while Lafeu mutters his reputa- 
 tion is far too smirched to aspire to his daughter. 
 Wishing to extricate himself from an awkward 
 predicament, Bertram pronounces Diana ' a fond and 
 desperate creature that some time I have laugh'd 
 with,' until she exhibits his ring, asking whether 
 a family treasure would have been bestowed upon 
 her in that case? Besides, the countess, recognis- 
 ing the jewel and perceiving the blush which rises 
 to her son's cheek, declares the lady must have 
 some claim upon him. When the king asks whether 
 any one knows Diana, she calls for Parolles, who 
 is immediately summoned ; but hearing this man is to 
 testify, Bertram protests he is 'a most perfidious 
 slave ' who will say anything they wish, until 
 silenced by a royal reminder that the lady holds his 
 ring. 
 
 Seeing no other way out of the dilemma, Bertram 
 now confesses Diana angled for him, and by cunning 
 methods obtained possession of his ring. Rejoining 
 that a man who rejected so noble a first wife must be 
 patiently dealt with, Diana offers to release Ber- 
 tram, provided he will return her own token. When 
 he says it has passed out of his keeping, the king ques- 
 tions him, until he discovers that the very ring sup- 
 posed to have been thrown out of a window is the 
 
All's Well that Ends Well 309 
 
 one bestowed upon him in the midnight interview! 
 The monarch is chiding Bertram for duplicity, when 
 Parolles is shown in, and testifies that his master has 
 tricks ' which gentlemen have.' But, when the king 
 inquires whether Bertram loved Diana, Parolles 
 states he did and did not, admitting that he served 
 as go-between, and was aware of their midnight 
 tryst. 
 
 Satisfied in regard to this point, the king asks how 
 Diana obtained the ring she bestowed upon her 
 lover, and learns it was neither lent nor found, al- 
 though she was not present at the love tryst! Be- 
 cause she refuses to add anything further, the king 
 bids her to speak or die within an hour, and orders 
 her removed from the scene. Driven thus to bay, 
 Diana offers bail, declaring she has accused Ber- 
 tram ' because he is guilty and he is not guilty,' and 
 reiterating that her reputation has been smirched, 
 although she can swear she is a maid. Because such 
 contradictory statements are received with incredu' 
 lity, Diana urges her mother to produce her bail, im- 
 ploring his majesty to postpone judgment until he 
 hears the jeweller who owns the ring. Meantime, 
 she insists that Bertram's conscience should trouble 
 him, and adds a pertinent statement, just as the 
 widow ushers in Helena, whom the king immedi- 
 ately recognises, although she claims to be only the 
 ' shadow of a wife.' 
 
 At the same moment, recognising his wronged 
 spouse, Bertram humbly begs her pardon, while 
 Helena tells him, ' When I was like this maid, I 
 found you wondrous kind.* She then produces his 
 
3IO Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 letter stating under what conditions he will acknowl- 
 edge her, and claims they have all been fulfilled, 
 thanks to Diana's aid. Still half incredulous, yet 
 greatly relieved, Bertram promises to love Helena 
 dearly, provided all is made clear, while she rejoins 
 that unless he is satisfied, she hopes ' deadly divorce ' 
 may step between them. 
 
 The scene wherein husband and wife are thus 
 brought together, proves so affecting that Lafeu has 
 to borrow a handkerchief from Parolles to staunch 
 his tears! Meantime, the king promises to pay 
 Diana's- dowry provided she has told the truth, and 
 the play closes with an epilogue, stating the dowry 
 had to be paid, and calling for the public's applause. 
 
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 
 
 Act I. The first act opens in Vienna, in the 
 palace, just as the duke is informing his worthy 
 counsellor, Escalus, that, trusting in his wisdom, he 
 appoints him chief adviser of the man who will rep- 
 resent him during his absence. Then, after sending 
 for this individual, he asks Escalus' opinion of his 
 choice? The counsellor gravely rejoins that, if any 
 man in Vienna ' be of worth to undergo such ample 
 grace and honour, it is Lord Angelo,' v/ho just then 
 appears. 
 
 After praising Angelo for his modest, virtuous 
 character, the duke bids him take charge of the gov- 
 ernment during his absence, altering and amending 
 the laws as he sees fit. Although Angelo demurs 
 that a test of his merit should be made before en- 
 trusting him with such responsibility, the duke names 
 him his substitute, and gives him Escalus as ad- 
 viser. Then, refusing Angelo's escort, the duke 
 departs, confident he is leaving his affairs in good 
 hands. After he has gone, Escalus begs to consult 
 with Angelo, who invites him therefore to accom- 
 pany him home. 
 
 When the curtain next rises, we behold a street 
 in Vienna, where Lucio, a gentleman, talking to two 
 companions, wonders whether the duke will suc- 
 ceed in making peace with Hungary? Their 
 311 
 
312 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 sprightly conversation touches upon sundry other 
 topics, thus giving the spectators an idea of society in 
 Vienna at that epoch. These three young men are 
 finally interrupted by Mistress Overdone, keeper of 
 a house of ill-fame, with w^hom all three are ac- 
 quainted. She seems agitated, and, in answer to 
 their questions, informs them a man has just been 
 arrested who is worth five thousand of them all! 
 This statement rouses their curiosity to such a 
 pitch that she has to explain how Claudio has just 
 been sent to prison by the duke's deputy, who has 
 suddenly revived an old law condemning seducers to 
 death. While there is no doubt of Claudio 's guilt, 
 the law not having been enforced for the past nine- 
 teen years, no one anticipated it would ever be 
 called into play. Dismayed by these tidings, the 
 three gentlemen hurry away, while the woman hails 
 her servant Pompey, who breathlessly reports she 
 has heard aright, — for Claudio is arrested, with 
 Juliet his victim, — and further pursuit of their 
 nefarious business is prohibited. 
 
 It is at this moment that the provost passes, escort- 
 ing his two prisoners to jail. When Claudio objects 
 to being thus exposed to public view, the provost re- 
 joins he is acting by Lord Angelo's orders, and the 
 young man bitterly realises how ' the demigod 
 Authority makes us pay down for our offence.' A 
 moment later, he is accosted by Lucio and the two 
 gentlemen, who hasten up inquiring why he is in cus- 
 tody? Without trying to gloss over his wrong- 
 doing, Claudio explains how Juliet was betrothed 
 to him, and that, had not her relatives wished to 
 
Measure for Memure 313 
 
 use her dower money for trading, their marriage 
 could have taken place and the present catastrophe 
 have been averted. Unable to marry immediately, 
 the impatient lovers met secretly, as is betrayed by 
 Juliet's condition. Still, it is plain the new deputy 
 is using his authority to make his power felt, since 
 he has just revived this long disregarded law. 
 
 When Lucio suggests that an appeal be made to 
 the duke, Claudio rejoins he has vainly tried to 
 do so, but that the ruler has vanished, leaving no 
 trace. His last hope is that his sister Isabella will 
 intercede in his behalf, so he beseeches Lucio to 
 hasten off to the convent where she is a novice, ac- 
 quaint her with his peril, and implore her to use her 
 influence with the governor to secure his pardon. 
 Promising to fulfil this request, Lucio hurries off 
 in one direction, while the officers lead away their 
 prisoners in the other. 
 
 We next behold a monastery outside of Vienna, 
 where the duke assures Friar Thomas he is asking 
 for shelter and disguise, merely so as to circulate 
 through the streets of Vienna unrecognised, and 
 ascertain how his substitute is executing the laws. 
 The duke sadly adds he is to blame for many of the 
 disorders, because he feared, by enforcing certain 
 laws, to forfeit the love of his people. Nevertheless, 
 seeing crime flourish, he realises it is imperative to 
 check it, and bring the people back to virtuous ways. 
 He has, therefore, appointed Angelo, a man of 
 merit, as his substitute, but wishes to make sure he 
 is all he seems, and that the exercise of power will 
 not change his character. 
 
314 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 The next scene is played in the nunnery, where 
 Isabella, talking to a sister, inquires what privileges 
 are granted to nuns ? The answers she receives cause 
 her to exclaim conventual restraint is not nearly so 
 severe as she anticipated, just as a man's voice is 
 heard without clamouring for admittance. Bid- 
 ding Isabella take the key and open the door (be- 
 cause she, as a professed nun, cannot speak to a man), 
 the sister withdraws, leaving the young novice to 
 open, Isabella thus finds herself face to face with 
 Lucio, who breathlessly inquires for ' the fair sister 
 to her unhappy brother, Claudio.' These words so 
 startle Isabella that she asks why Claudio is un- 
 happy, ere she thinks of saying she is the person he 
 seeks. When Lucio states her brother is in prison 
 for seduction, Isabella fancies at first he is mocking 
 her, but when the messenger reiterates this state- 
 ment, naming the lady in trouble, Isabella cries her 
 brother should atone for his crime by marrying Juliet 
 immediately. Then Lucio explains how the duke's 
 substitute proposes to enforce a long disregarded law 
 by making an example of Claudio, and that the only 
 way to save him is to try and soften Angelo's heart 
 by her entreaties. Frightened by the imminent 
 danger of her belov^oDrother, Isabella promises to 
 do all she can in his behalf, sending word to Claudio 
 that she will let him know how she speeds, and de- 
 laying only long enough to inform the Superior of 
 her intentions. 
 
 Act II. The second act opens in Angelo's house, 
 where he and the counsellor sit in state rendering 
 justice, and where Angelo virtuously states ' we must 
 
Measure for Measure 315 
 
 not make a scarecrow of the law, setting it up to 
 fear the birds of prey, and let it keep one shape, till 
 custom make it their perch and not their terror. 
 The counsellor, knowing he is referring to Claudio's 
 case, nevertheless pleads in behalf of the youth, 
 whose family he knows. When he ventures to re- 
 mind the governor that, exposed to similar tempta- 
 tions, they might have fallen in the same way, 
 Angelo sanctimoniously rejoins, ' 'Tis one thing to 
 be tempted, Escalus, another thing to fall.' Then, 
 determined the law shall be executed to the letter, 
 he reiterates Claudio must die, and, calling for the 
 provost, bids him provide the culprit with a confessor 
 to prepare for ' the utmost of his pilgrimage,' and 
 see that the execution take place at nine o'clock on the 
 morrow. The provost having departed to carry out 
 these orders, the counsellor hopes Heaven will for- 
 give the governor and them all, as it seems a pity a 
 youth should be condemned for one fault only, since 
 * some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.' 
 
 It is at this juncture a constable ushers in Pom- 
 pey and another youth, whom he reports having ar- 
 rested as ' notorious benefactors,' for he constantly 
 misuses words in this way. His report in regard 
 to the prisoners proves so long-winded that Angelo 
 goes away, bidding Escalus try the case and whip 
 the offenders if guilty. The counsellor, therefore, 
 continues the examination, and, being inclined to 
 leniency, dismisses both hardened and punning sin- 
 ners with a reprimand, warning them they will be 
 liable to all the severity of the law should they re- 
 lapse into evil ways. 
 
3i6 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 The accused dismissed, Escalus interviews the 
 constable, and, finding he has held office many years 
 in succession, bids him select a substitute. Then, 
 inviting the judge to dinner, Escalus leaves, still 
 shaking his head over Claudio's sentence, although 
 he knows severity is needful, for 'mercy is not it- 
 self, that oft looks so; pardon is still the nurse of 
 second woe.' 
 
 In another room of the same house, a servant in- 
 forms the provost that Angelo is trying a case, but 
 will soon appear. This man having gone, the 
 provost expresses a hope Angelo may relent, just as 
 his superior enters the apartment. When he dif- 
 fidently inquires whether Claudio must die, remark- 
 ing that judges have repented of sentences when too 
 late, he discovers repentance is far from the heart of 
 Angelo, who sternly orders him to do his office 
 or relinquish his place! Not daring offer further 
 objections, the provost humbly inquires what he is 
 to do with Juliet, whose time of trial is drawing 
 near? After giving the necessary directions in re- 
 gard to her custody, Angelo is informed by a servant 
 the sister of the condemned man begs for an audi- 
 ence. Surprised to think Claudio has a sister (whom 
 the provost describes as a virtuous lady shortly to be 
 admitted into a sisterhood), Angelo orders his vis- 
 itor admitted, and repeats his orders in regard to the 
 culprits. 
 
 The opening door now admits Isabella and Lucio, 
 just as Angelo bids the provost assist at this inter- 
 view. In touching terms Isabella declares that, 
 although she abhors one vice above all the rest, she 
 
Measure for Measure 317 
 
 must plead for its forgiveness, seeing it is her 
 brother who is condemned to die. She, therefore, 
 beseeches the governor to punish the fault, yet let the 
 culprit live, her plea being supported by muttered en- 
 couragements from the provost. But vi^hen Angelo 
 sternly rejoins that a fault cannot be condemned 
 without the doer, poor Isabella, deeming her prayers 
 vain, recognises it is a just but severe law, and sighs 
 she had a brother. 
 
 She is about to turn away in despair, when Lucio 
 softly admonishes her not to give up, but kneel and 
 implore, exclaiming that if she needed a pin she 
 could not ' with more tame a tongue desire it.' 
 Thus encouraged, Isabella again inquires whether 
 her brother must really die and entreats the judge 
 to make use of his unlimited authority to pardon 
 Claudio. Although admitting he could do so, 
 Angelo insists sentence has been pronounced, and 
 that it is too late to recall it. Still urged by Lucio, 
 Isabella pleads eloquently in favour of mercy, saying, 
 ' not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, the 
 marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, become 
 them with one-half so good a grace as mercy does.' 
 She also sadly reminds the governor that if her 
 brother ' had been as you and you as he, you would 
 have slipt like him; but he, like you, would not 
 have been so stern.' 
 
 Although Angelo turns his back upon her, Isa- 
 bella continues to entreat, her prayers being prompted 
 by Lucio, who softly urges her to keep them up. 
 She, therefore, does so, even after Angelo repeats 
 her brother ' is a forfeit of the law,' and that her 
 
31 8 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 words are wasted. When he baldly states Claudio 
 shall die on the morrow, Isabella wails her brother 
 is not prepared for death, adding that, even ' for 
 our kitchens we kill the fowl of season: shall we 
 serve heaven with less respect than we do minister 
 to our gross selves ? ' Then she urges that Claudio 
 be at least granted time to repent, gently reminding 
 Angelo that, although many have been guilty of sim- 
 ilar offences, none have died for it heretofore. Al- 
 though this argument seems pertinent to Lucio, An- 
 gelo rejoins * the law hath not been dead, though 
 it hath slept,' and that, had it only been rigidly en- 
 forced from the beginning, no such disorders would 
 have ensued as prevail at present in Vienna. 
 
 Implored in spite of this logic to show mercy, An- 
 gelo insists he can best do so by enforcing justice, 
 and reiterates Claudio must die, although Isabella 
 reminds him he is the first to pronounce so cruel a 
 sentence, and her brother the first to feel its weight. 
 Egged on by secret signs from Lucio and the provost, 
 Isabella urges that a man in authority should make 
 use of that power mercifully, that gods never 
 waste their thunders on small offences, and that it 
 is only the man ' drest in a little brief authority ' 
 who inclines to undue severity. Both Lucio and 
 the provost subscribe to this, and, as they covertly 
 sign to her to keep it up, she begs the governor to 
 exercise Christian charity, remembering it is not 
 right to ' weigh our brother with ourself,' and im- 
 ploring him to look down in his own heart, and see 
 whether he has always been free from sin ? By this 
 time, her beauty and emotion have produced so vivid 
 
Measure for Measure 319 
 
 an impression upon Angelo that he has fallen in love 
 with her, but he yields to his passion only enough 
 to bid her call again on the morrow, when he may 
 have a different answer to give her. Delighted 
 with this slight concession, Isabella rapturously 
 cries she will ' bribe ' him, and, when Angelo in- 
 dignantly inquires how, declares not with gold or 
 precious stones, but with fervent prayers in his be- 
 half. 
 
 Then, overjoyed at having obtained a reprieve, 
 Isabella retires with Lucio, while Angelo acknowl- 
 edges ' I am that way going to temptation, where 
 prayers cross.' Left alone, he next marvels that a 
 man, who has never felt the attraction of women 
 before, should succumb now, and wonders whether 
 * modesty may more betray our sense than woman's 
 lightness ? ' He realises, however, that he has 
 granted Isabella a second interview merely for the 
 pleasure of seeing once more the spotless maiden, 
 who has made a deeper impression upon his heart 
 than he ever felt before. 
 
 We next behold the prison, in which the duke 
 enters, disguised as a friar, and telling the provost 
 he has come to visit the prisoners. So as to min- 
 ister intelligently to their needs, he inquires the 
 nature of their offences; and, seeing Juliet pass, the 
 provost points her out as one of the victims of the 
 recently enforced seduction law. On learning a 
 young man is to die on the morrow on this charge, 
 the friar questions Juliet, only to discover that, lov- 
 ing and truly beloved, she feels no remorse for her 
 sin, but is ready ' to take her shame with joy.' 
 
320 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 After dismissing her with his blessing, the friar visits 
 the prisoner who is to die on her account, while 
 Juliet bewails her lover's fate as the provost leads 
 her off the scene. 
 
 We are now transferred to a room in Angelo's 
 house, where he is debating whether to yield to Isa- 
 bella's solicitations, for the temptation which as- 
 sails him prevents his seeking aid in prayer as 
 usual. It is while he is soliloquising on this sub- 
 ject that a servant announces the arrival of Isabella, 
 whom Angelo eagerly orders admitted alone. When 
 the man has gone, he wonders why his blood rushes 
 so madly to his head, and why his feelings are in 
 such a turmoil? Next Isabella enters, humbly in- 
 quiring what he has decided, and Angelo repeats her 
 brother cannot live ; then, seeing she pretends to mis- 
 understand him, he baldly states Claudio must die 
 under his sentence. When the sister pleads for time 
 for preparation, Angelo sternly refuses further re- 
 prieve, holding forth virtuously against the heinous 
 sin which Claudio has committed. Hearing Isa- 
 bella timidly rejoin it is not considered as unpar- 
 donable a crime on earth as in heaven, the gov- 
 ernor sternly demands whether she would be willing 
 to rescue her brother at the cost of her chastity? 
 Then, as she exclaims nothing would induce her so 
 to risk her soul, he artfully hints there might be 
 charity in such a sin, a suggestion she does not un- 
 derstand. 
 
 After wringing from her an agonised admission 
 that she would sacrifice anything to save her brother, 
 Angelo plainly informs her he will pardon Claudio, 
 
Measure for Measure 321 
 
 provided she grant a sinful favour. Thinking he is 
 testing her virtue, Isabella, at first, show^s only sur- 
 prise, but when he assures her such is not the case, 
 she indignantly threatens to denounce him, unless he 
 sign her brother's pardon immediately. Angelo, 
 w^ho, this time, has shrewdl" provided for an inter- 
 view without witnesses, haughtily assures her she is 
 at his mercy, as no one would believe her word 
 against his. Then he cruelly adds that unless she 
 yield, her brother shall ' die the death,' giving her 
 only twenty-four hours wherein to decide. Watch- 
 ing him disappear after pronouncing this ultimatum, 
 Isabella wildly wrings her hands, wondering where 
 she can find aid and redress, for she is torn both 
 ways, and suffers agony for the sake of the brother 
 whom, nevertheless, she cannot rescue at the cost of 
 her virtue. 
 
 Act III. We now return to the prison, where 
 the disguised duke is talking with Claudio, who has 
 confided to him he still hopes for pardon. The friar 
 advises him, however, to prepare for death, so 
 Claudio, deeming his interlocutor the holy man he 
 seems, bespeaks his aid. With due humility he 
 listens to the sermon the duke preaches on the worth- 
 lessness of life and the necessity of repentance — an 
 eloquent speech for which Claudio has barely ex- 
 pressed thanks, — when his sister demands admit- 
 tance. It is while stepping out to make room for 
 the newcomer, that the friar whispers to the provost 
 to place him where he can see and hear this inter- 
 view unnoticed. 
 
 Meantime, brother and sister forget him, Claudio 
 
322 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 being eager to learn what comfort Isabella brings. 
 When she gravely tells him, ' Lord Angelo, having 
 affairs to heaven, intends you for his swift am- 
 bassador,' he understands hope is vain. To his 
 despairing inquiry whether no remedy can be found, 
 Isabella refuses an answer, until she has ascertained 
 he is brave enough to die should things come to the 
 worst. It is only when duly assured of his phys- 
 ical courage, that she dares impart Angelo's alterna- 
 tive, which Claudio cannot credit, such is the gov- 
 ernor's reputation for virtue. When convinced, 
 however, his first impulse is to vow she shall not 
 make such a sacrifice for his sake, but soon after the 
 fear of death seizes him so sorely that he be- 
 gins to argue that a sin committed for another's 
 sake is less heinous than one indulged in for self- 
 gratification. Finally, confessing he is afraid to 
 die and go, ' we know not where,' he beseeches 
 Isabella to save him at any cost. Although his de- 
 scription of what might befall his disembodied spirit 
 is so ghastly that she shudders, Isabella maintains 
 nothing could excuse wrongdoing on her part, and 
 chides Claudio for asking her to forfeit her soul 
 for his sake. In her righteous indignation, she bids 
 him die if necessary, promising to pray for him dead, 
 but refusing sin for him living. Then, as he con- 
 tinues to plead, she concludes he is a man hard- 
 ened to sin, to whom mercy would prove injurious, 
 and that hence it is best he should die! 
 
 It is at this moment the disguised duke reappears, 
 expressing a desire to confer with Isabella, who steps 
 aside to await his pleasure. Meanwhile, turning to 
 
 ^^v 
 
Measure for Measure 323 
 
 Claudio, the friar states he has overheard what 
 his sister has said, and feels confident Angelo has 
 merely been testing her virtue. He further assures 
 the prisoner that as no hope of pardon remains, he 
 had better make his peace wixh heaven as quickly 
 as possible. Thus recalled to better sentiments, 
 Claudio humbly begs his sister's pardon, and prom- 
 ises to leave life w^ithout regret. Next the provost 
 leads him away, leaving the friar, as requested, alone 
 with the grieving sister. 
 
 Addressing Isabella, the holy man gravely states 
 ' the hand that made you fair, made you good,' and 
 adds he would wonder at Angelo's proposals, were 
 he not aware that ' frailty hath examples for his 
 falling.' When he asks what steps she means to 
 take to save her brother, Isabella sadly replies she 
 will tell Angelo it is better Claudio should die 
 by law, than her son ' be unlawfully born,' adding 
 that, as soon as the duke returns, she will reveal to 
 him how sorely he was mistaken in his choice. 
 While approving of this decision, the friar rejoins 
 that if Isabella will follow his advice, meantime, 
 she can right a wronged lady, redeem her brother 
 from death while remaining stainless, and please the 
 absent duke. Such a proposal amazes Isabella, who 
 declares she has 'spirit to do anything that appears 
 not foul.' Hearing this, the friar asks whether she 
 ever heard of Mariana, a lady so solemnly betrothed 
 to Angelo six years ago that the contract was equiv- 
 alent to a marriage? He adds that, having lost 
 brother and dower in a shipwreck shortly before the 
 nuptial ceremony, this lady was repudiated by An- 
 
324 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 gelo, under pretext he had discovered matters re- 
 flecting upon her honour. When the friar adds that 
 she still mourns the loss of her lover, and that Isa- 
 bella can, if she chose, bring Mariana and her 
 plighted husband together once more, the maiden 
 gladly volunteers her services, provided he will 
 point out what she is to do. Thereupon the holy 
 man bids Isabella accept Angelo's proposals, and ap- 
 point a midnight tryst, which Mariana will keep in 
 her stead, an action he deems no sin, since they are 
 formally plighted. Meantime, he proposes to be- 
 take himself to the ' moated grange,' where this ' de- 
 jected Mariana ' dwells, so as to prepare her to play 
 her part in deceiving Angelo. 
 
 While Isabella hastens away comforted, the friar, 
 in the street before the prison, encounters the con- 
 stable with Pompey, whom the counsellor recently 
 pardoned, but who has again infringed the law. 
 After questioning culprit and official, the friar dis- 
 covers this man is an inveterate sinner and punster, 
 just as Lucio joins them, inquiring why Pompey is 
 under arrest? A frequenter of the house where 
 Pompey serves, Lucio indulges in doubtful jokes 
 with him, ere he is taken away. Then, under pre- 
 text of giving the news, Lucio informs the friar that 
 the duke has been reported in various places, and 
 that Angelo is ruling wisely in his absence, although 
 a little more lenity might become his office. 
 
 In reply to this statement, the friar explains An- 
 gelo is fighting against a vice so prevalent that only 
 severity can cure it. But when Lucio remarks the 
 governor is not made of the same stuff as other 
 
Measure for Measure 325 
 
 men, and that even the duke was not impeccable, the 
 friar coldly contradicts him. Pretending to know- 
 many doubtful things about his master, Lucio con- 
 tinues his tales, protesting meanwhile he loves the 
 duke dearly, and knows what he is talking about. 
 Threatening to report these calumnies, the friar, 
 after answering a few questions in regard to Claudio, 
 watches Lucio out of sight, and then comments there 
 is ' no might nor greatness in mortality can censure 
 'scape; black wounding calumny the whitest virtue 
 strikes,' for he is conscious of being innocent of 
 the crimes of which he has been so jauntily accused. 
 
 While the friar is thus soliloquising, the coun- 
 sellor appears with the provost and officers, to order 
 Mistress Overdone to prison, because, in spite of re- 
 peated admonitions, she still infringes the law. 
 When the officers have led the protesting prisoner 
 away, the counsellor sadly informs the provost 
 Claudio will have to die, as Angelo refuses to yield 
 to any intercession. He seems pleased, however, to 
 hear that the friar, — to whom he is introduced, — 
 has visited this poor prisoner, and has given him the 
 benefit of his ministrations. During the ensuing 
 conversation, hearing the friar ask whether the duke 
 was really inclined to pleasure as Lucio hinted, the 
 counsellor warmly testifies in favour of his moral- 
 ity. Then, satisfied that Claudio is in a proper 
 frame of mind to die, he goes off to pay him a last 
 visit, accompanied by the friar's blessing. 
 
 Left alone upon the stage, the friar concludes 
 that ' he who the sword of heaven will bear should 
 be as holy as severe,' and that Angelo should be 
 
326 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 trebly ashamed to punish others for sins to which he 
 is secretly inclined. He adds that, applying 'craft 
 against vice,' Angelo shall be trickecV this very night 
 into receiving the betrothed he despised, and thus 
 compelled to * perform an old contracting.' 
 
 Act IV. The fourth act opens in the 'moated 
 grange,' where Mariana is languidly listening to a 
 love-song, which she interrupts as soon as she notices 
 the approach of the ' man of comfort.' When the 
 friar enters, he finds Mariana in a less merry mood 
 than the sounds would imply, so exclaims that 
 ' music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, 
 and good provoke to harm.' Then, he inquires 
 whether any one has asked for him, and, seeing Isa- 
 bella draw near, begs Mariana to go away for a 
 while, and let him converse privately with the 
 stranger. As soon as Mariana is out of earshot, the 
 friar inquires whether Isabella has successfully per- 
 formed her part, and learns how Angelo has ap- 
 pointed as trysting-place a garden, for which he has 
 given her the key, bidding her meet him there at mid- 
 night. When the friar questions whether she can 
 find her way in the dark, Isabella explains how An- 
 gelo twice led her over every turn, how she warned 
 him a servant would accompany her, — for she is 
 supposed to be pleading for a brother's life, — and 
 how, for that reason, their interview would have to 
 be brief. Satisfied with these arrangements, the 
 friar summons Mariana, and, introducing Isabella, 
 bids her listen attentively to this lady's proposals, as 
 they have his full sanction and approval. 
 
 The ladies having gone oif together, the friar 
 
Measure for Measure 327 
 
 spends the time of waiting in meditating upon great- 
 ness. Before long Isabella returns, triumphantly- 
 proclaiming that since he sanctions the plan, Mariana 
 will help them. Then, she reminds her companion 
 not to speak, and only on leaving to whisper softly 
 * remember now my brother.' Thus schooled, Mari- 
 ana promises to play her part, the friar again assur- 
 ing her this act will be sinless, as Angelo is her hus- 
 band by pre-contract. 
 
 We are now transferred to a room in the prison, 
 where the provost offers Pompey pardon, provided 
 he will act as assistant to the executioner, who is 
 summoned to teach the new candidate his duties. 
 The conversation between these men proves lengthy 
 but uninteresting, and, as soon as they leave the 
 stage, Claudio appears and is shown his death- 
 warrant by the provost. Then this official asks for 
 Bernardine, who, instead of repenting, spends all 
 his time drinking, and sends Claudio back to his 
 cell, hoping a reprieve may yet arrive. 
 
 Just then a knock is heard at the door, and the 
 provost admits the friar, who seems surprised to 
 learn Isabella has not been seen since curfew. He 
 adds that there are faint hopes of saving Claudio, 
 news the provost eagerly welcomes, before hurrying 
 out to answer a second knock. When he returns, 
 the friar eagerly asks whether this was the reprieve, 
 only to be told no such order has come, to the 
 provost's despair. 
 
 It is at this juncture that Angelo's messenger ar- 
 rives, and delivers a paper with injunctions that its 
 orders be carried out immediately. The friar deems 
 
328 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 this the pardon just purchased by Isabella, until 
 the provost reads it aloud, when he discovers that 
 Bernardine and Claudio are both to be executed, 
 the latter's head being sent to the governor in token 
 the deed is done ! The provost seems horrified, but 
 when the friar asks about Bernardine, describes him 
 as a hardened criminal and persistent drinker. After 
 admitting such a man deserves death, the friar sug- 
 gests Bernardine's head be sent to Angelo instead of 
 Claudio's, a substitution to which the provost con- 
 sents only after the friar has exhibited a letter, signed 
 and sealed by the duke, which accredits him fully. 
 
 In another room in the jail, Pompey is comment- 
 ing on his past life, when the executioner enters, 
 bidding him prepare to behead Bernardine. This 
 prisoner is then brought in, too drunk to do more 
 than stammer he is not fit for execution, a patent 
 fact, as the friar confirms. Bernardine is, therefore, 
 sent back to his cell, just as the provost announces 
 that a notorious pirate has died in prison, whose 
 hair and beard are of the same colour as Claudio's, 
 and whose head can, therefore, easily be substituted 
 for that of the young man. Concluding this death 
 is providential, the friar orders the pirate's head 
 sent to Angelo, while Claudio and Bernardine are 
 confined in a secret dungeon, where they are to re- 
 main until the duke's return. 
 
 The provost having gone to carry out these orders, 
 the friar murmurs he will write to Angelo, an- 
 nouncing his master's return home, and bidding him 
 meet the duke outside of the city to escort him home. 
 While he is thus deciding, the provost passes through 
 
Measure for Measure 329 
 
 the room, with the head he is bearing to Angelo. 
 Just as he goes out, Isabella comes in, and the friar 
 hastily decides to keep her ignorant of his inter- 
 ference, giving her ' heavenly comforts of despair, 
 vi^hen it is least expected.' When she, therefore, 
 breathlessly inquires whether the deputy has sent her 
 brother's pardon, she is gravely informed her brother 
 is released from all earthly pain, and his head on 
 its way to Angelo! Incredulous at first, Isabella, 
 overcome with grief, finally raves she will pluck out 
 Angelo's eyes. Thereupon the friar bids her be pa- 
 tient, adding that, if she conforms to his advice, she 
 will be able to seek redress from the duke on the 
 morrow, on the very spot where the counsellor and 
 Angelo are to meet him. In case she follow his in- 
 structions he promises revenge and rehabilitation, 
 bidding her, meanwhile, carry a letter to Friar Peter, 
 whom she will find at Mariana's house, ready to as- 
 sist them both. As Isabella is about to pass out, 
 Lucio enters, assuring her he shares her grief for her 
 beloved brother, and that, had the duke only been in 
 Vienna, Claudio would never have perished. 
 
 When Isabella has gone, another short conversa- 
 tion takes place between Lucio and the friar, in the 
 course of which the young man again taxes his mas- 
 ter with loose morals, revealing, incidentally, that he 
 himself is guilty of a sin, which the friar duly notes. 
 
 We now behold a room in Angelo's house, where 
 he and the counsellor discuss letters recently re- 
 ceived from the duke, but which contradict each 
 other. Angelo is amazed that the last missive should 
 gumraon hiin tP meet his superior QUtsid^ the town, 
 
330 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 and to proclaim that any one with a grievance 
 against him shall immediately make it known. Al- 
 though the counsellor suggests the duke takes these 
 measures merely to free them from further re- 
 sponsibility, Angelo, — whose conscience is uneasy, — 
 expresses his doubts in a soliloquy after the coun- 
 sellor's departure. Still, he comforts himself with 
 the belief that no maid would have the hardihood 
 to confess her shame, and feels safe because he has 
 done away with Isabella's brother, the only person 
 who could have called him to account for dishonour- 
 ing her. 
 
 We next see fields outside of town, where the 
 duke in person delivers letters which Friar Peter is 
 to carry to the provost. After the friar has gone, 
 the duke summons his attendants to escort him to 
 the appointed tryst. Meantime, in a street near the 
 city gate, Isabella and Mariana are preparing, by 
 Friar Peter's directions, to fall at the duke's feet, 
 and denounce Angelo. While Isabella seems doubt- 
 ful, Mariana, full of confidence in her spiritual ad- 
 viser, implores her to obey; so Isabella concludes at 
 last to do so, saying philosophically, ' 'tis a physic 
 that's bitter to sweet end.' They are still debating 
 when joined by Friar Peter, who urges them to 
 hasten to the gate, as the trumpets have already 
 twice sounded, and the duke is about to appear. 
 
 Act V. The fifth act opens at the city gate, just 
 as the duke is formally welcomed by Angelo and 
 Escalus, whom, in recognition of their good offices, 
 he places on either side of him, for the remainder 
 of the journey. It is at this moment that Friar 
 
Measure for Measure 331 
 
 Peter leads Isabella forward, and that, falling at 
 the duke's feet, she loudly calls for justice! With 
 the grave assurance that Lord Angelo, here present, 
 will see it is awarded her, the duke turns to Isa- 
 bella, who rejoins he bids her * seek redemption of 
 the devil,' and implores him to grant redress in per- 
 son. Hearing this, Angelo, with pretended good 
 nature, whispers she is crazy, having vainly en- 
 treated him to spare a guilty brother's life. Isa- 
 bella, however, interrupts this speech, denouncing 
 him as a murderer, and accusing him, besides, of 
 having broken the commandments. Although the 
 duke now compassionately orders Isabella removed, 
 she insists upon a hearing, talking so wildly that 
 he first concludes she is insane, only to reverse this 
 verdict when he discovers her statements are co- 
 herent. They are, besides, supported by Lucio, the 
 time-server, who, stepping forward, testifies he urged 
 Isabella to plead with Angelo for her brother's life. 
 Thus the whole story of Angelo's guilt is divulged; 
 but the duke, pretending to disbelieve it, orders 
 Isabella off to prison for slandering so worthy an 
 official as the immaculate Angelo ! 
 
 Perceiving he can do an ill turn to one he hates 
 on account of his virtue, Lucio, who overheard the 
 friar advise Isabella to claim justice, suggests this 
 is all the fault of a man who spoke in so evil a way 
 of the duke that had it not been for his cloth, he 
 would have chastised him. When Friar Peter ex- 
 claims this cannot be true, Lucio insists so ve- 
 hemently, that the friar says his companion will soon 
 be vindicated and Isabella proved a liar. Meanwhile, 
 
332 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 Isabella is led away, and Mariana advances in her 
 turn to fall at the duke's feet. She remains veiled, 
 however, saying she has vowed not to reveal her 
 countenance until bidden to do so by her husband. 
 In her next breath, however, she admits being 
 neither maid, wife, nor widow, statements so con- 
 tradictory, that the duke questions her closely, amid 
 many forward interruptions on Lucio's part. Be- 
 fore long he hears Mariana testify that Angelo, 
 while he fancied he was betraying Isabella, consorted 
 with his own wife. At these words, Angelo bids 
 Mariana remove her veil, which she immediately 
 does, expressing great readiness to obey her lawful 
 spouse. Then, with face exposed, she explains how 
 she took Isabella's place, whereupon Angelo remarks 
 that since both women claim he dishonoured them at 
 the same time, the falsity of their accusation is palp- 
 able, and that he begs permission to settle the case in 
 person. This favour the duke readily grants, ap- 
 pointing Escalus as his assistant, and ordering that 
 the friar, who advised these two women so un- 
 wisely, be summoned to answer for his conduct. 
 
 The duke now excuses himself for a while, leav- 
 ing his deputies to judge this knotty point. After 
 questioning Lucio, who repeats the monk spoke vil- 
 lainously of the duke, the counsellor sends for Isa- 
 bella, whom he suspects of having been suborned 
 by the wicked friar to make this wanton accusation 
 against Angelo. The provost soon returns, accom- 
 panied by his prisoner and the duke, who has, mean- 
 time, resumed his friar habit. The trial proceeds, 
 the counsellor experiencing great difficulty in silenc- 
 
Measure for Measure 333 
 
 ing Lucio, who constantly interjects impudent or 
 scurrilous remarks. 
 
 Turning to the friar, the counsellor first inquires 
 whether it is he who egged the women on? Al- 
 though the friar admits having done so, he asks why 
 the duke is not present, saying he does not approve of 
 leaving the * trial in the villain's mouth. ' Such a 
 statement sounds so disrespectful, that Escalus 
 threatens torture, until the friar tells him that, not 
 being a subject of the duke, he is beyond reach of 
 the law. He adds that his ' business in this state ' 
 made him ' a looker-on here in Vienna,' where he has 
 ' seen corruption boil and bubble,' a statement viewed 
 as such slander that the counsellor orders him 
 taken to prison. Then, the forward Lucio boldly 
 exclaims he deserves double punishment for speak- 
 ing ill of the duke. Although the friar protests it 
 was Lucio, himself, who uttered these calumnies, he 
 is hustled out of the room, his accuser lending a hand 
 so officiously that he jerks off the friar's cowl, thus 
 revealing to all present that the duke has been 
 among them in disguise. 
 
 Turning to his subjects, the duke now orders Lucio 
 arrested, forgives the counsellor for his well-meant 
 severity, and bids Angelo clear himself immediately, 
 or suffer the penalty of his wrath. Seeing all is 
 discovered, Angelo exclaims his confession will be 
 his trial, and he will sentence himself to death. 
 Then the duke summons Mariana, and, hearing she 
 was legally betrothed to Angelo, bids friar Peter 
 lead them both away, and celebrate the religious mar- 
 riage, ere he bring them back to the hall. While 
 
334 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 they are absent, the counsellor expresses surprise, 
 and the duke, turning to Isabella, says she prob- 
 ably wonders why he did not use his authority to 
 save Claudio? He adds that, although he fully in- 
 tended doing so, ' the swift celerity of his death,' 
 'brain'd his purpose.' He is just remarking that 
 life, ' past fearing death,' is better than a life of 
 fear here below, when Angelo and Mariana are 
 ushered in, their marriage having meanwhile been 
 completed. Addressing Angelo, the duke de- 
 crees that, although he has now righted Mariana, 
 there should be ' measure for measure,' and that, 
 having cruelly sentenced to death a man for the 
 crime he himself committed, he deserves the same 
 penalty. 
 
 At these words the new-made bride falls at the 
 duke's feet, pleading for her husband's life, although 
 he coldly informs her it is vain, and says she shall 
 have all Angelo's wealth to enable her to purchase a 
 better spouse. As her prayers prove futile, 
 Mariana calls upon Isabella to aid her, in spite of 
 the fact that the duke reminds her it is rash to ask 
 for the intervention of one Angelo cruelly wronged. 
 Touched by Mariana's sorrow, however, Isabella 
 kneels and pleads for Angelo's life, saying her 
 brother, ' in that he did the thing for which he 
 died,' perished justly, and reminding the duke that, 
 as Angelo's ' act did not o'ertake his bad intent,' his 
 life can be spared. Instead of answering the two 
 suppliants, the duke demands how it happened that 
 Claudio was beheaded at an unusual hour, and is 
 informed it was by special order. On account of 
 
Measure for Measure 335 
 
 this infraction of the law, the provost is relieved of 
 ofEce, whereupon he immediately confesses having 
 been guilty of another illegal act, that of sparing a 
 prisoner's life. When the duke inquires this man's 
 name, the provost replies it is Bernardine, whom he 
 is bidden produce immediately. During his absence, 
 the counsellor, too, intercedes for Angelo, who, how- 
 ever, consumed with shame and remorse, craves 
 * death more willingly than mercy,' knowing how 
 amply he has deserved it. 
 
 It is at this moment the provost ushers in Ber- 
 nardine, who is followed by two muffled figures. 
 Addressing Bernardine, the duke declares, as the 
 friar pronounced him unfit to die, he has decided 
 to pardon him, in hopes he may repent before leaving 
 this world. Then, the provost brings forward one 
 of the muffled figures, saying he is ' almost as like 
 Claudio as himself.' Bidding Isabella look at him, 
 the duke states that if this youth resembles her 
 brother, he will pardon Angelo. Meantime, An- 
 gelo has perceived, with relief, that his wicked in- 
 tentions have been frustrated, and that the man 
 whom he deemed slain still lives. Such is his relief, 
 and humbled, repentant mood, that when the duke 
 bids him live and love his wife, he gratefully prom- 
 ises to do so. Addressing Lucio, the duke publicly 
 reveals his depravity, decreeing that, for slandering 
 him he shall be whipped, and that, after having made 
 such redress as lies In his power for the crime he 
 committed, he shall be duly hanged. Then, having 
 given Lucio this wholesome scare, the merciful duke 
 remits all punishments, — save atonement for his 
 
336 Stories of Shakespeare's Comedies 
 
 crime, — and Lucio is led away, still punning, for 
 nothing is sacred in his eyes. 
 
 Turning to Claudio, the duke gravely bids him 
 indemnify Juliet for all she has suffered, wishes long 
 life and joy to Mariana, congratulates the counsellor 
 upon his blameless conduct, and finally implores 
 Isabella to grant him a hearing, declaring if she is 
 willing to listen to his proposals, 'what's mine is 
 yours, what's yours is mine.' Saying this, he escorts 
 her back to the palace, bidding the rest follow, and 
 promising to reveal 'what's yet behind, that's meet 
 you all should know.' 
 
 THE END 
 

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